> A King's Return
>  by Maulkin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - Of Crystals and Cutie Marks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I couldn't help but smile as I looked over the beautiful mica crystal. The clearly defined layers of cleavage, the cloudy transparency, the sharp angles and stark edges... It, like nearly every other crystal I've ever come across, touched me like nothing else in nature could. You can keep your flowers, your trees, your scenic vistas – I know that true beauty in nature lay in the perfect form of crystals.

“I knew you'd like that,” my boss chuckled, watching my reaction as I held it delicately in my hands. I had always loved crystals and gemstones, but it was only when I started working at the church run thrift shop/food pantry that it came into full bloom – or crystal clarity, if you can tolerate the terrible pun. Crystals were donated all the time – jewelry, objets d'art, raw or partially processed stones... I even managed to score an old tobacco pipe box full of half finished cabochons, some still on their dop sticks. My love for the little beauties only grew, as did my collection, and soon I had several shelves dedicated to opals, onyxes, all manners of quartz, jade, hematite, bauxite... Several I couldn't even identify – yet – but delighted in them all the same.
I tried to hide my smile as the pastor, my manager, started trying to come up with a cock-and-bull story on the spot, fishing for a famous person associated with rocks and minerals. “You know, that was once owned by, umm... Michelangelo. Yes, he actually considered incorporating mica into the Sistine Chapel, and was inspired by this very stone!”

I tried not to smile at the old game we played. “Wow! How much for this priceless historical artifact?” I asked, feigning awe.

“You know, that belongs in a museum... But I suppose a collector like yourself would appreciate it more. I can let it go for, oh, say, twelve hundred dollars.”

“SOLD!” I called out excitedly, slapping my hand on the counter.

He gave another chuckle, the smile never having left his face the entire time. “It's your birthday, so just take it,” he said, putting away his carney salesman pitch once the gag had run its course. I grinned, cheered by the good company and generosity, but especially excited about my new acquisition.

'All mine,' a small, greedy part of me thought. I tried not to feel too guilty about that feeling – everyone had their passions, after all, and feeling pride in ownership and control over a crystal was just a simple pleasure, right? A harmless little hobby, even if I did guard it jealously.

I wrapped the pretty stone in a protective layer of paper towels and dropped it into my pocket, looking through the rest of the box of donated goods with the hope of seeing a few more stones. Unfortunately, it was all mundane stuff – clothes, old toys, bits of old treasures and forgotten detritus that their former owners had either not cared to throw out themselves or felt too guilty to put them in the bin. I shrugged, having long since accepted the fact that I was essentially sorting through people's unwanted refuse, and started worked on autopilot. That garment had a stain, it goes away. That garment is fine, it gets put in the pre-sort pile. That toy is complete but cheap, it goes in the toy box. That looks old, I'll save it for the pastor. That-

I stopped, mentally shaking myself out of the sorting-induced meditative state. I had long since developed a set of pre-set instructions that would effectively let me work all day with minimal mental effort, letting my mind wander. While it was nice to let the hours slip by as my mind followed the precise set of instructions, a customer was waiting to be helped – and that couldn't be done on autopilot. I put a smile on my face, trying not to feel or look annoyed at the interruption, and helped them. Even this had an almost sublime order to it; pleasant greeting, inquiry as to whether they needed help with something, await further instructions. This one was ready to make her purchases, so I gave a small, polite nod, and went to work. I grouped the same priced items together for simplicity tallying them, estimated the total as they waited, and gave them an exact total when I finished with the calculator – all automatic, all practiced, all running smooth as sapphire. The entire procedure continued like it had countless times before, my own design, making things run smoothly and efficiently and getting me plenty of compliments from customers and commendations from my boss.

Life was ordered, life was black and white, life was crystal clear... life was good.
Which is why the sudden burning, tingling sensation on my thighs broke me out of my happy haze, an unwelcome wrench in the works.

The customer frowned, noticing my discomfiture. “You okay?” she asked, more curious than worried. I gave a quick nod and plastered the smile on my face again – no sense letting her worry. 

“Yeah, just a rash,” I said, though I had been fine that morning and could find no reason for the sudden pain. Nonetheless, she seemed to accept this answer. I handed her the bagged items ('plastic handle held stretched so they don't fumble and embarrass themselves', I thought automatically, having identified and solved that particular problem long ago, my hands automatically performing the well-practiced motion), and wished her a nice day.

With the customer satisfied and out the door, I took a moment and felt around the area of the mystery pain. The itchy, burning sensation had faded to a tingle, and finally stopped a second later. My curiosity got the better of me. I asked my brother, Luke, (who also worked there) to watch the front while I used the restroom. He nodded, distracted, and I snickered as he struggled to figure out a customer's total - he always had trouble keeping things orderly - but left him to his work. 'Not my fault he can't stay organized,' I thought, locking the restroom door behind me. Once my dignity and modesty were protected, I undid my belt and dropped my pants, carefully looking over the problem areas. And I saw...

...Nothing. No redness, no inflammation. I felt at the spots, scratching them to see if I could find anything different, but both sides felt like ordinary patches of skin. There was simply no reason for them to suddenly itch. I shrugged it off and thought no more of it,going back to work. 

I glanced over Luke's receipt as he started adding them up on a calculator, apparently having abandoned trying to do it in his head. "Sixteen sixty two," I said automatically, and smirked when he rewarded me with a scowl. When the customer took her purchases and left, I whispered, "Not everyone can be smart - some of us have to be good at running around like a fool and face-planting on gym mats." I snickered as he threw a shirt at me. 

"Hey, a few scrapes and bruises are a small price to pay to watch the women's yoga... But hey, if you're not into that I can respect your sexual preferences," he retorted, and snickered as I threw the shirt right back.

Unfortunately, our banter was interrupted as someone stepped up to the counter - and the look on his face just screamed 'trouble'. Working in customer service gives one a feel for those sort of people, the people that always sought exceptions and special treatment, who expected the world for a discount. This particular 'customer' - and I use the term loosely - reeked of self-entitlement, and I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the onslaught. "Hello, can I help you with something?" I asked brightly, smiling as a last ditch effort to divert the coming storm. 

It wasn't to be. "Yes," he said, already testy, "I found these two items." He held up two similar shirts with their price tags showing, "They're priced differently, and I think they should both be the lower price."

'Of course they are, dumbshit,' I thought, carefully keeping my face bland, 'several people sort stuff here, you can't expect us to keep tabs on everything!' I couldn't say that, of course, so I settled with, "I'm sorry sir, but the prices are firm - we can only honor the prices as they are - you can certainly buy the lower priced one, if you wish."

"But they're the same thing!" the customer frowned, growing irate. "They should be the same price!"

"Again, sir," I said, growing impatient, "prices are firm. I can raise the prices to the same price - that will make them both the same price, will it not?" I gave him a falsely sweet smile, daring him to complain.

The customer glowered at me, but before he could speak my brother broke in.

"I think the boss wanted you to make up some food boxes in the back," he said, his face carefully blank. I frowned, wanting to give the 'customer' enough rope to hang himself with... But it just wasn't worth it. With a shrug, I strode quickly to the back before I said something I would regret. Besides, Luke knew the rules; the 'customer' would be getting what was coming to him.

There wasn't much to do in the back, but it occupied me long enough for the man to leave. When the door bells rang with his departure, I grinned and hurried to the front. "Did you get his name?" I asked, walking behind the counter once more. "If he was a fool enough to give it, we could tell the Pastor what happened and get the bastard banned..."

"He's not getting banned," Luke replied, sighing. "I gave him a food box and one of the shirts - the cheaper one, before you ask - because he'd just lost his job."

I stared at him, shocked. He just... gave him the shirt? After all the shit he put me through?! "What the hell? He's a dick!" I hissed, glad there were no customers in the store. "I was expecting you to kick him out, not-"

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" the pastor broke in. Seriously, it was spooky how he could do that. 

"No, sir," I muttered, still incensed that Luke had let the guy go without so much as a verbal warning. It was like he didn't even care about the shop rules!

I didn't talk to Luke for the rest of the shift - nothing more than what was necessary for the job, anyway. Once the shift ended, I clocked out and made a beeline for my car. I had driven him to work that day, and since he had to grab some of things from the break room I was able to leave before he realized my plan. "Teach you to be a douche," I muttered, cheered considerably as I left him to walk home.

I rolled windows down, enjoying the wind in my hair – or, at least, I would have. My hair was getting into my eyes more than usual, and I had to keep pulling the dirty blond stuff out of the way so I could drive. Just when I managed to tame that, my phone beeped with a text message. 'dud wat da hell' I could read out of the corner of my eye - but ignored it. "Can't text and drive." I muttered to myself, smirking. It wasn't like he had a long way to go, anyway - we were a mile from work, at most. When I parked in front of the house I typed back, 'Please learn to spell properly. Besides, you can practice some of your 'parkour' on your way home - I'm helping you, if you think about it'. Smirking as I heaped insult upon injury, I strode inside and immediately plopped down in front of my computer for some relaxation time, all annoyances and troubles forgotten

Even if I hadn't given my brother his comeuppance, it was hard to stay mad; my parents were gone all weekend, and it was pony night.

I started loading the MLP videos while I heated up some of last night's chili, and as soon as it finished I sat down for a pony marathon. I started with first and second parts of "The Crystal Empire". Those two episodes had always bugged me; for all the backstory and potential the writers gave the main antagonist, he only gave a few lines about crystals and some menacing growls. Still, I hadn't seen it in a while, and they were otherwise decent episodes.

I considered turning off the video as I heard my brother (twin, in fact) walk up the front steps. Luke wasn't a brony, exactly – he hadn't watched more than a few episodes, and I couldn't convince him to watch any more than he had. No, he was a brony fan. He specifically liked the high quality – and clean – music and videos that seemed to sprout forth from the fandom like weeds. The custom animations, the parodies, the songs - he could appreciate those even if he couldn't stand the show. We both enjoyed an appropriately timed “stay outta my shed” reference from time to time, even.

What I did not expect was anger. “Alright James, you sickfuck,” he said without preamble, striding into the room with the air of barely controlled rage, “I'm impressed, but that was messed up.”

I stared at him, bemused – all that over a little prank. “What?” was all I could manage on such short notice. I had expected annoyance, but he was seriously pissed.

He was having none of that, however, and my confusion only made him more annoyed. “Really not in the mood for games, ass-douch. Just tell me how to get rid of them,” he says, stubbornly refusing to make any sort of sense.

Something wasn't parsing correctly, and I wasn't sure what it was. “What?” I asked again, unable to think of anything else.

He just glared, trying to find a hint of a smile, any sign of disguised glee... but found only more confusion etched in every line of my face. “Sooo... You didn't do it.,” he finally said, flopping down on the couch. “Crap, who else could it have been...? Mom and dad don't watch the show,” he asks, more to himself than to me.

“Soooo... this isn't about having to walk home?” I asked, still unable to understand what happened and why it was so important that it should interrupt my carefully planned and scheduled Pony Time.

He sighed. “No, no, but I'll be getting you for that one,” he said with a ghost of a smile. He coughed awkwardly and blushed. "No, I've got... Marks. Tattoos, I think - I tried to scrub 'em off, but they wouldn't go away."

“Where?” I asked, relieved that I could finally ask meaningful questions. The situation didn't make any sense, but at least I could grasp it. “I don't see any tattoos...”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly – the conversation wasn't going as he expected either, apparently. “It's not in a place one normally shows to the public...”

I gave a short bark of laughter at that, unable to help myself. “Holy hell, did you get drunk last night or something? Someone slip you a roofie?” It was nice having the upper hand for once, usually I was the one in the socially awkward situation. 

He shook his head, glowering. "No, dick. I didn't have it this morning before work. When I stopped in a convenience store to use their bathroom on the way home, though, I found... them." He scratched his head, thinking hard. "I can't figure out how they did it, to be honest. I mean, I guess maybe it could have been last night, but I could have sworn they weren't there when I showered this morning.”

I laughed again, rubbing my hands together with anticipation. “'They'? As in plural? As in more than one tattoo? Do warn me before you tell mom and dad, I wanna get that on tape!”

“Wait... do you think it was them?” he asked, livid as his suspicions shifted from me to our parents. I wasn't going to be distracted, though - not when I had something so hilariously funny 

“I'm sure I have no clue,” I said airily, brushing his concerns aside. “Now, come on, you've held me in suspense long enough, what do they look like? I mean, if it's not somewhere gross - I don't wanna see your junk or anything - but show me!” What were they, I wondered? Dicks? Butts? Dickbutts? The suspense was almost too much to bear.

He he gave a fake grin and a 'knowing' smile. “I know you just wanna see this hot bod,” he said with false machismo, trying to salvage what remained of his dignity. I rolled my eyes, unimpressed, and he carefully pulled up the side of his shorts until I could see...

“...Is that a lightning bolt with wings?” I asked, nonplussed. It wasn't even a funny tattoo. What a letdown.

“Eeeyup,” he said, turning to the other side, showing me the same symbol. “The exact same tattoo on both sides, in bright, cartoony colors. Sound familiar?” he asked. He grew very smug at my continued look of confusion. I kept staring for several seconds, trying to figure out what he was hinting at...

Finally, it clicked. “Wait,” I said hesitantly, hoping I didn't make myself look ridiculous, “are those supposed to be cutie marks?”

“Took you long enough,” he gloated – it wasn't very often that he could rub things in my face like that, as he was always the more athletic one while I favored mental pursuits. “Now, you tell me what it means, you're the big brony fanboy,” he teased. “I thought it might be Rainbow's, but hers has clouds and these have wings.”

“Sorry, I don't recognize them,” I said, shrugging. “It's not like I sit there watching the show, writing down all the ponies and their cutie marks.”

He groaned. “Oh come oooon... you're supposed to know this stuff! You're the one who remembers all the pointless trivia that I don't give a shit about,” he said, only half joking.

We went on like that for a while, teasing each other – he got more hits than I did, he was always better at that kind of humor than me – before sitting down with another sigh. “So... No ideas where it came from?” he asked.

“Nope, sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, it's technically possible it was mom and dad, but they don't like tattoos OR ponies... not that I ever introduced them to the latter,” I said sheepishly.

“Ah well,” he said tiredly, no longer having the energy to care. “I'mma hit the hay, seeya. Oh by the way, did you try dying your hair again?” he asked, almost as an afterthought. “Because it looks shitty. I mean, it's not as bad as the last time you tried dying it, but it's all patchy and goth – are you trying to counteract the ponyfag?” he teased.

I cocked my head, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Your hair, it's turning all black,” he said, eying me curiously. “So... you didn't dye your hair?”
“Noooo,” I said, frowning... then snorted. “What's this? Pull the plank from your own eye – I thought only grannies dyed their hair blue.”

It dawned on him first. “...Shit, did someone dye our hair?!” he asked, rushing to the bathroom. I followed him with trepidation – it was one thing to watch him getting pranked, but now that I was dragged into it... Yeah, it wasn't as funny anymore.

I stood next to him, running a hand through my now-darker hair. It looked like I'd shoved my head up a dirty chimney, everything was black at the tips. I made a face at that, but it wasn't so bad. Not compared to-

“Seriously what the fuck I can't handle this shit,” Luke groaned, facepalming as he examined his distinctly blue-tinted hair.

I couldn't help but snicker, even though we were in similar boats. “You were saying something about my hair?” I asked, smirking a little. “What were your words? 'Patchy and goth'? I suppose it doesn't compare to 'otaku animu fag',” I started to say, only stopping when I had to dodge away from his halfhearted punches.

“Graaaah,” he groaned when he gave up assaulting me, “what the hell am I gonna do?! I can't go to work like this!” He looked around for something, anything, to help him solve the hair problem, but there was no answer forthcoming. Neither of us dyed our hair – not recently, anyway, and I only had a brief, unfortunate experience years ago (don't ask). 

“Weeelp,” he sighing resignedly, “I'm not gonna get enough sleep, but I gotta fix this. I'm going to the store for some hair dye, we can take your car-”
I snicker at that last part. “What? I'm not going to the store. I'm fine with my hair, you're the one who looks like you belong in a bad anime. You can go if you want, I'm gonna watch ponies,” I said with a self satisfied smirk.

He glared at me, the look on his face hinting at fratricide and violations of the Geneva Convention, but he ultimately couldn't find a good reason for me to come along. Satisfied, I sat back down to continue the marathon – I had already lost too much time with that debacle, and that was pony time lost I already had it back on and playing as he walked out the door, muttering darkly at my unwillingness to help. I just shrugged – if the situation had been reversed, he would have probably been just as much of a douche.... right? That was fair, wasn't it?

I finished the second part of the Crystal Empire episodes just as I heard his car pull in, and greeted him automatically as he walked past the TV... Then stopped. Right in front of it. Even though he clearly knew it was Pony Time, and he was violating the single most important rule of TV etiquette
.
“Move!” I snapped, but he just continued to stand there. Incensed, I glared up at him... but his expression gave me pause. “What?” I asked cautiously as he eyed me nervously.

“James... your eyes...”

I looked up at him, annoyance slowly turning to uneasines. “What about my eyes,” I asked, afraid of the answer.

He just stared at me, unable to speak.

“Well?” I barked, starting to panic. “What's wrong with my eyes!?”

He breaks out of his fugue and finally manages to say, his voice oddly distant, “They're red.”

I stared at him for a few moments as the words refused to sink in. Red? That was silly. I must have misheard, or he was being stupid, or... or...

I ran to the bathroom for the second time that night, hurting my hand as I nearly busted the light switch in my haste. Even for all that, though, I couldn't immediately bring myself to look into the mirror. A change in hair color is one thing; it's conceivable that someone could have dyed it in my sleep, or something. But a change in eye color? That required surgery or contact lenses, and neither of those could have happened in the past hour. My mind raced over the possibilities, but there were no forthcoming explanations; I had been alone, and my eyes had apparently changed on their own without any conceivable reason. Reluctantly, I looked up.

My hopes that it had been a trick of the light or some sort of twisted joke on my brother's part died instantly; my eyes were red. Not just dirty brownish red, not pinkish like an albino's, but RED. And if that weren't enough, my hair was no longer the patchy, bad dye-job black – somehow it had become completely jet black during the time my brother had gone to the store. And.... Wait, were those fangs?! I opened my mouth wide, hoping I hadn't seen them properly... Nope. My eyes were working fine, even if they were a sinister blood-red. I ran my tongue over one of the fangs, and stifled a groan.

I had to hold myself up on my elbows as I stared at my reflection, my legs having decided to stop obeying me some time prior. “What the fuck,” I growled, resisting the urge to bang by forehead on the faux-marble countertop. “First my brother becomes a weeaboo, and now I'm some sort of Edward Cullen wanna-be vampire douche," I mumble, staring at my reflection in disbelief.
What the hell. I just wanted to get along with my life and watch ponies. Was that too much to ask?
> 2 - Of Booze and Bewilderment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I trudged out of the bathroom. I could deal with black hair – even if it did seem longer than before – but fangs? Red eyes? I couldn't go to work like this. I ignored Luke as he ran past me, intent on fixing his hair as soon as he could, and sat back down on the couch with a flop. I considered calling my boss and telling him I was sick, but it was too late at night for that. I was just about to watch more episodes, but... I just didn't care. Even though I knew that watching some MLP would always cheer me up and give me plenty of energy – seriously, it was like sugar in video form – I just didn't feel like watching anything. Or doing anything. I... I needed a nap. Nap is good. 

I sighed and pulled myself back up off the couch, feeling like it was a pointless waste of time to sit down in the first place, and trudged down the hall... But something didn't feel right. I looked down at myself, thinking I had grown taller, but...

“Why are you doing that, foot?” I asked, as if it could answer. It didn't, of course – it was just a foot – but it seemed unwilling to obey me when I 'told' it to lay flat, rather than stand up as if they were digitigrade rather than plantigrade. I had to concentrate just to get them to lay flat on the ground normally, and even then that didn't feel natural. “Whoever did this is gonna pay,” I grumbled, walking into my room and climbing into bed without even undressing. I just needed sleep... Sleep made everything better, and tomorrow everything would be back to normal, and everything would be right and orderly and-

“AAAAHHHHH! FUCKING SHITMONKEY COCKFACE!”
I sat bolt upright, heart pounding as I heard thumping in the bathroom. “LUKE!” I yelled, “What happened? Are you alright?!”

I climbed awkwardly out of bed, legs feeling stiff and uncooperative as I made my way through my dark room by memory, and bust into the hallway.

“LUKE!” I yelled again, hobbling to the door and pounding on it. There was still no answer. “If you're hurt, I'm gonna have to bust the door down!” I grimaced, not liking the idea of seeing him buck-naked, but... he was my brother, and if he was hurt I'd have to help him, even if it scarred me for life.

Fortunately for both of us, he finally spoke up. “NO!” he shouted, sounding panicked. I heard him gasp for breath, he said, more calmly, “No. D-don't come in! I'm... I'm fine... Sorta...”

I raised by eyebrow, even though he couldn't see it.“Sorta?” I ask, confused. “How can you be 'sorta' fine?!”

“Just lemme think, dammit!” he shouted.

“Fine, alright, geeze,” I grumbled. “I hope you're happy, I was just about to sleep!”

I walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch – there was no way I could get back to sleep after that special brand of idiocy. What was he playing at, nearly giving me a heart attack and then refusing to answer my perfectly reasonable question? Damn disrespectful... Still fuming, I grabbed the remote and punched the buttons, turning on My Little Pony. “Stupid idiot brother, waking me up and being an ass,” I muttered under my breath while the video loaded. 

It wasn't long before I had calmed down – it was hard to stay mad when one of the show's songs started playing. At first I just smiled and bobbed my head along to the music, my anger melting away... 'Should have done this before going to bed,' I thought to myself with a small giggle, 'this is MUCH better than moping...' Pretty soon I was even humming along with it, bouncing my feet to the beat. Even my tail got in on the action, swishing from side to side as I sang softly, thumping against the couch-

Wait.

What?

No. No, that's not right. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong...

I froze, confused. Something didn't feel right... My feet still felt weird, yeah, but that wasn't it... My legs felt stiff, yeah, but they were already starting to act 'off'... Maybe there was something wrong with my tail?

Tail. 

TAIL?!

“YAAAAHHHH!” I shrieked, jumping up off the couch and running in circles as I tried to get away to my new hindquarter accessory. “SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

I would have probably continued along this same vein if my brother hadn't stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed and hair dyed to a more natural color, looking like he'd just been sentenced to death. “Y-you too?” he asked, his voice unusually high.

I forced myself to stop, my eye twitching as I took deep breaths to contain my nearly overwhelming panic. “Me too, what? Do you...” I stopped as I saw something twitch behind him... something that looked like it was covered in long blue hair... Something that just didn't belong there...

“Rum. Now” I growled hoarsely. 

“Fuck that. Vodka.”

The Man Code was clear; when fucked up shit happens and you can't handle it, and need to have a heart-to-heart talk, you drank copious amounts of hard liquor so you could actually TALK about it, and hopefully not remember it the next day. I was looking forward to the second part the most. 

We both walked stiffly to the kitchen in silence, neither of us willing or able to say a word. There was a bit of comfort, at least – if I had been going through this alone, I would have probably had a mental breakdown by then. But he was going through most of the things I was going through, and it was becoming clear that something had happened to both of us. 

I felt a twinge of guilt as I pulled the rum down from the liquor cabinet – we never had to be told not to, but we always knew that mom and dad wouldn't approve of having drunkards for sons – but, under the circumstances, I thought getting smashed drunk would be justified. 

***

“So,” I mumbled, eying my third glass of rum. It was already half empty.

“So.” Luke had been a bit more creative, and made a sort of vodka/rootbeer float. I had initially shuddered at the thought of that vile combination, but the idea was starting to sound better and better as the late night became early morning. As did the apple pie and ice cream he had next to it. Maybe I should have ate something before downing a full glass of rum...

He giggled, clearly more drunk than I was. “Vampony,” he snickered, his tail swishing behind him. 

I sighed, laying my head down on the table. “I swear, I'm gonna hit you if you keep that up...” We had spent a bit of time examining the unnatural growths coming out of our backsides, and we were in agreement; they were indeed pony tails. Neither of us had ever owned a pony, of course, but we both had seen enough on TV to know what they looked like. I had been foolish enough at some point to mention something about the fangs and red eyes making me look like a vampire, and his drink-addled mind apparently thought that mashing the two together was the height of humor.

“Vampony vampony vampony,” he giggled in a singsong voice, tilting his head from side to side as he slouched dangerously. He only stopped his migraine-inducing litany when his teeth clacked against his vodka-beer-float. Not one to turn down a happy accident, he shrugged, lifting it up with his teeth and tilting his head back, and chugged down most of the remainder.

I just groaned at his obstinance – despite my threat, I really didn't feel like getting up until the room decided to stop fooling around stay still. “Ass,” I grumbled, settling for that. 

"No, not ass - pony." He giggled at his own joke for full minute, his inebriation making whole situation seem hilarious... before he sat upright, getting the 'deer in the headlights' look. “Dude,” he says, the word barely slurred.

“What,” I moan, not wanting to deal with his drunk bullshit. Who the hell suggested we drink, anyway?! 

“Duuuuuuuude,” he snickered, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. I caught on and decided not to encourage him, and instead just glared. 

He finally relented with a giggle. “Dude. We gotta look up my cutie mark. But can we call it something else? Because 'cutie mark' sounds faggy,” he says, pushing himself away from the table and walking unsteadily to his room. I noticed he was also walking on the balls of his feet, but decided not to comment on it – he'd find out soon enough. And it'd be more amusing for me that way. I followed him, sighing – I was not a happy drunk. At least, not around him.

He logged onto his laptop and googled “lightning bolt wings cutie mark”. I was about to tell him he's doing it wrong – there are all kinds of cutie mark databases, we would be better of searching that – but the picture results jogged my memory. “Hey,” I said, pointing at one of the pictures, “click that!”

He looked at it curiously and obliged.... and then snickered when it brought up a picture of a pegasus in a Wonderbolt uniform. “So it's a real one, then? That actually came from the show?”

I nodded, looking closely at the picture... It was Soarin. And my brother now had his hair, tail, and cutie marks... The connections were nice, but it didn't get us any closer to figuring out why we had grown tails, among other things. The only conclusion our combined (and inebriated) efforts had come to was that it 'was not a prank, since that would be totally not chill'. Or, at least, that's how he described it. 

“That's neat,” I grumbled, “but what's causing it? Are we infected with something? That's all I can think of, as we haven't had any sort of surgery... the tails just appeared, right?”

Luke just ignored me, and started looking up 'black maned red eyed pony'.... but he only found a list of ponies. “Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, confused, before dawned on me. “Wait, you think I'm starting to look like a pony too? But... I don't have any tattoos – err, cutie marks. Crap, we gotta find a better name for those... Stallion Sigils? That sounds badass,” I drunkenly mused as he scrolled, sorting by mane color. “Alright, Stallion Sigils it is – hey, are you listening to me?” I asked, miffed at the lack of response. 

He cocked his head, looking at something on the computer. “That... does not look like a nice pony,” he said.

I flicked my eyes to the screen, and raised my eyebrows. “Sombra? I... guess? But I don't have a Cutie- err, Stallion Sigil, and I'm sure he does – ponies get them when they're young, and he's at least a few centuries old."

He shrugs. “I dunno... I don't watch the show, but I'm pretty sure that they don't have ponies with fangs... and look, right there, he looks like he could kill with those,” he said, pointing at the pony's admittedly impressive incisors.

I grumbled, annoyed with him, but he did have a point. I couldn't remember another pony with more than one of those traits, let alone all four. “Whatever. It's biological, and... I dunno, we ate something with a new fungus or bacteria in it?” I frowned as he looked at me as if I was being stupid. “Well I don't know! I'm grasping at straws here! I'd say we should go to the doctor's, but I feel just fine... You know, besides being tipsy.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that would work out juuuust fine,” he said, alcohol clearly not inhibiting his sarcasm. “I don't look forward to being quarantined and experimented upon, do you?”

“Fair point,” I grumbled, peeved that he'd thought of that before I had. I gave an immense yawn, too tired to keep pondering things. “Welp, I'm going to bed now. If you have any more disturbing and life-altering transformations, please have them quietly.”

“Ass.”

“Bite me.”

With that, I stumbled to my room, collapsed on my bed, and drifted into a deep, deep sleep. 
> 3 - Of Enigmas and Enchantments
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chaos god strode into the frozen cave confidently, unafraid. “Oh honey, I'm hoooome!” he called out, mocking. 

A charcoal gray unicorn stallion slowly emerged, unclothed and unkempt, his eyes glowing the faintest green. Even brought low, he simmered with impotent rage as he advanced on the creature. “You DARE to defile my domain with your pres-”

“Oh do shut up, you gigantic blowhard,” the draconequus said with a roll of his eyes, striding up to the unicorn without the usual fanfare. “This is important. You've sensed what I've been up to, yes? Or is that thing on your head just a glorified hood ornament after all?” His annoyed grimace turned to a smirk as he flicked the stallion's curved horn. 

The unicorn seethed in barely controlled fury, the grinding of his teeth audible. “What. Is. Your. POINT?!?”

The draconequus only laughed. “Why, to help you, of course! We may be on the opposite sides of things, but we're both villains... And it's not fair that only I get a chance at redemption,” he chuckled, fondly remembering how he hoodwinked most of the kingdom into thinking he was reformed. “Consider it my 'good deed' for this century... Besides, it wouldn't be very fun at all just going around ruining lives.” The creature grinned maniacally, a terrifying rictus that seemed to leave the confines of his face. “And I have LOTS of chaos in store for you...”

The unicorn stumbled back, no amount of pride able to conquer the fear that welled up inside him. “Wh-what are you doing?! I command you to stop!” He tried to focus his magic, but already knew he could do nothing to the avatar of chaos – he couldn't control a colt in this state, let alone a powerfully magical creature like that. Nor could he physically defend himself from whatever the vile being had planned for him. No... the best he could do was try to subvert it. And he had very little time to even attempt it.

“Five score! Divided by four!” the twisted creature chanted in a lilting, playful voice, even as he glared down at the unicorn with nothing but contempt. 

'No!' he thought, 'not yet!' He searched his centuries of knowledge and experience, trying to find a defense against such a spell... He was the mighty Sombra, surely he could save himself!

“Your memories removed, your body confused!”

Save himself... Would that work? Could he cast his own spell of Command upon himself, and make himself remember? He had no other options, and there was no time – he had to do something NOW. He started weaving the spell, putting all of his strength into it, not even knowing if it'd be enough...

“For your insolence you must pay,
Cast off to lands far far away!”

He felt his magic flow sluggishly, as if pulled by another force... 'NO!' he shouted in his mind, his body already halfway in the neverthere. He struggled in vain as he felt his mind and magic slowly being pulled away, and had no choice; he released the half-formed and less than half-powered spell as the world around him darkened and faded, and he slipped into unconsciousness...

“To scatter the six, just the start of my beeps beep beep Beep BEEP BEEP BEEP-”

I reached for the alarm clock on reflex, turning it off after a few moments of frantic, half-asleep scrabbling. 'Infernal machine,' I thought darkly, 'That was an interesting dream, and now I won't even remember...it... Wait.'

But I could. I could remember every moment of it. Unlike most dreams interrupted by my alarm clock's disorienting blare, this one didn't tatter like a cobweb in a stiff breeze; indeed, it was crystal clear in my mind. I could remember every single moment of the dream in perfect detail, far better than even the most vivid and lucid of dreams. Even my immense hangover couldn't dull its vividness – it was like I had actually been there...

It was only then that I remembered the night before and the reason for my hangover, and groaned hopelessly. My mane of thick, bushy black hair was undiminished, and I could scarcely expect the other alterations to be any better. Indeed, I could feel it trailing all the way down to the middle of my back – not just hanging down, but sprouting like a weed! “That's it, I'm calling off, I can't go to work like this,” I mumbled petulantly, grabbing the phone and calling one of my co-workers. If I could get someone to cover my shift, the boss would be fine with the switch.

I searched for “Mary”, and found it after a few moments. She was a nice girl, and seemed to genuinely like everyone. Moreover, I had covered a few of her shifts recently, so she'd be hard-pressed to not cover mine.

I smiled as I heard a click from the other end. “Hello?” she asked, her voice high pitched and harried.

Even current state, I was happy to talk to her – she was a good friend, and made otherwise-dull days at work tolerable. “Hey, Cadence?” I asked, feigning a raspy voice. “Listen, I'm... I'm not feeling well, I was hoping you could-”

I heard her curse on the other end. “I CANNOT go in today,” she said with unusual callousness. “Sorry. I have... personal issues!” she stammered, sounding panicky and scared.

That wouldn't do... I had covered her shifts, and she wasn't going to cover mine? That was just plain rude! “I'm sorry, I hate to put you on the spot like this,” I said, not really sorry at all and feeling like she owed me, “but I really, really can't go in today.”

“Then go to the doctor. If you can't even remember my name, why should I go in for you?” she said defensively, using rather flimsy logic to justify her stubbornness. 

None of this made any sense – she would practically bend over backwards to help a friend. And what was she talking about, forgetting her name? “What? What are you talking about, your name is Caden-” I stopped, realizing what I was saying, my eyes crossed in confusion. Cadence? “...Mary.” I forced out the word like a lump in my throat.

I heard her sigh over the line. “Look, Sombra,” she said, and I nearly dropped the phone right then, “I just can't come in. I'm really, really sorry... please understand...” I tried to stammer something, but she had already hung up.

I stared down at the phone at a loss for words. Why had I called her Cadence? And why had she called me Sombra? Unless... 

It was a mad idea, but it was the only one I had. Operating mostly on instinct and intuition, I called her up again and held the phone to my ear. A moment later I heard her voice on the line. “Look,” she said, exasperated, “I'm not changing my mind, I just can't-”

“I know, I know,” I said soothingly, trying to assuage her, “but...” I considered my words carefully. I needed to say something that she would only understand if she was in the same boat as me, but wouldn't raise suspicion if my hunch was wildly incorrect.

“...Do you have any... tails, to tell me?” I asked carefully, trying not to emphasize the word too much.

There was silence on the line for a moment. “Yes,” she said, sounding far too casual, “yes. A hair-raising one. It might tickle you... pink.”

I listen with bated breath, my heart pounding as I started to think my brother and I weren't alone... But I had to be sure.“Ah, EYE have one too, but it's a very dark one...”

I couldn't believe it as I heard a giggle on the line – did she find this funny?! She stifled her giggles and mumbled, “Yes, umm, I... horned, about that...”

Wait, what? “Horn?” I asked, confused and alarmed. “I don't have a-” I brushed my hair out of my eyes and yelped as I cut my hand. “OW! What the... GAH! WHAT THE FUCK-” I fumbled the phone, dropping it on the bed beside me. What... what was that? I carefully reached up, feeling along my face... and then bumped into something smooth and hard, protruding from my forehead. 

I heard a tinny voice coming from the phone, and quickly picked it back up. “-appened? Are you there?” I heard, only catching the last bit. 

“Y-yes,” I stammered, forcing myself to calm down. “Yes, I'm here... Ummmmm.... How did you know about the...” I trailed off, unable to bring myself to say it. 

“The horn?” She asked brightly. “I... Well, I woke up like that. I kinda freaked out a little bit at first, but now it's... well, I think I like it, it's so pretty! If I could pass it off as a joke, I would totally go outside right now and flaunt my stuff!” She giggled, clearly enjoying herself far more than I was. Then again, she was the kind of girl to wear outlandish hairstyles on a regular basis, so perhaps she was used to looking unusual. 

I, however, was not so versatile when it came to my appearance; I'd worn the same shirts and pants for the past year, the only variety coming from the few combinations they offered. A horn was entirely out of the question when it came to my wardrobe. I sat up with no small trepidation and looked into the mirror next to my bed, and gave a fresh groan of despair. Something sharp and wickedly curved was protruding from my forehead, changing from a steely gray at the base to a crimson red at the tip. It looked like a railroad spike had been jammed through the back of my head, pushed all the way through to the front, and left to sit there in all its gory glory. “Yeah... Real pretty...” I muttered faintly, slightly nauseous. 

“Well?” she asked. I could hear her starting to relax, even over the phone. 

“Well what?” I asked, grouchy from the morning surprises – and perhaps from being hungover as well, though that was rapidly becoming the least of my concerns. 

“Well, duh, tell me what you look like!” she said brightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'Of course she wants to know,' I thought sourly. “I assume you want to know about how I look different, as you already know how I normally look,” I said with a resigned sigh.

“Oh quit being so grumpy, I'm sure it can't be that bad,” she said, and I could practically hear her eye-roll over the line.

“Fine,” I snapped, miffed at how lightly she was taking everything, and stood in front of the mirror to confirm my fears. “My irises are red. Like, blood red. I now have fangs coming out of my mouth. I... Shit, that's new. My arms are getting... hairy. No, scratch that, furry. Fucking hell... My arms are being taken over by gray fur...” I shifted, looking down further. “What fresh hell is this,” I grumbled. “My legs are likewise covered, apparently. Also, my toes are starting to look deformed – I don't know what's going on down there... My hair is starting to turn into what I can only presume is the bastard child of the smoke child on Lost and Cousin It... Oh, right, and before I forget, I now have a gory railroad spike protruding from my forehead,” I finished with sarcastic cheerfulness. 

Naturally, all of this left her in stitches. “Oh come on, you're exaggerating,” she giggled, thinking I was making it sound worse than it was just so I could have something to complain about, but this time I was serious. I sighed, snapping a picture of myself and sending it to her even as she laughed at my description. A beep sounded as the picture went through successfully, and a few moments later she fell silent. “Oh... You're not.”

“Nope,” I said simply, slightly mollified that she was finally taking this seriously.

“I'm... I'm really sorry,” she mumbled, all levity gone. Crap, it was my turn to feel like garbage...

“Hey, look, it's alright,” I said, struggling to find something to distract her. “You, ummm... Did you check your back? I think you may be getting wings...”

“Yeah, I saw those this morning too – wait. How did you know I'd have wings?” she asked suspiciously. 

I scratched my head awkwardly. “Ummm... Look, can you google 'Princess Cadence'? You should see a link for a My Little Pony wiki, click that. If I'm right, you're starting to look like her...”

“Hrmmm...” I heard some clicking and typing in the background, and then a small gasp. “Oh my gosh! I do! How did you-”

“Scroll down,” I mumbled, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Look for a 'Sombra'...”

There was silence on the other end, then another click... “That... you're starting to look like him. I don't think I like him,” she said, and gave a nervous giggle. “No offense,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

“Yeah, I don't either,” I say easily, chuckling a little. “But this can't be a coincidence all three of us are starting to look like characters from the show. Did you read the articles?”

“Ummm, yeah, something about Cadence being a princess and Sombra being an evil king, and they fought...” She stopped, and I smirked as it finally clicked. “Wait, three of us? I thought it was just me and you!”

“Now look up 'Soarin',” I said, ignoring the question and trying not to snicker. I could at least have some fun with this...

“Ummm, okay,” she said, confused but playing along. “Alright... what's that?”

“That's Luke,” I said simply, grinning.

She was quiet for a moment... Then burst out into fresh peals of laughter. “H-he's a pretty blue pegasus?!” she finally managed to ask, gasping on the other end of the line.

“Well, not quite,” I managed to say without laughing. “but he has the anime hair down pat.”

There was more laughter from the other side. It took a full minute for her to calm down, but eventually she did. And then the reality struck her. “Ummm... I just realized something,” she said nervously. “How far is this gonna go? I can hide the wings, and I can shave the fur, but if this doesn't... stop...”

“I don't know,” I said, all levity gone. “I really don't know...”

“Well... What do you think caused it?” she asked, more pragmatic than I expected from her. 

I scratched my head. The idea that it was caused by a biological agent – a virus or bacteria or some other physical change – was starting to seem less and less likely, given that these were extremely complex physical changes. I wasn't even sure if it was physically possible – hair was dead, after all, and couldn't change its own color. I was also pretty sure there was NOTHING in the human genome for the coding of a horn in the forehead, let alone something that would allow it to grow overnight in an adult male. Any changes like that would have to be extremely complex and designed specifically for that person's body, and even then they would almost certainly be fatal – the fact that we were still alive was proof enough to me that the 'biological agent' theory had some serious flaws.

“I... I thought it might have been some sort of biological vector at first,” I said, “but now... Well, all three of us work at the store, right?”

“Riiiight,” she said, not seeing where I was going but following along nonetheless.

“And we get all kinds of creepy things in, right?”

She was sharper than I expected, putting it together before I could even start to justify my own theory. “...Are you honestly saying that we were cursed by some... magical trinket?” she asked flatly, as if she couldn't believe what I was saying.

I blushed sheepishly, trying to reform my defense. “W-well... I mean, I really can't explain this physically,” I said slowly, carefully selecting my words. “Short of major surgery, I don't see how these changes could have occurred – bio-technology can only barely grow simple – VERY simple – organs, and even then only in specially designed vats of nutrients and flesh-latticework. A full horn and fangs are completely in the realm of fantasy at this point, and they aren't even living flesh. And even if all of that was possible, if we were exposed to the same biological agent we'd be experiencing the same symptoms. At most, we would start looking the same – we wouldn't be differentiating into, well...” I grimaced. “...Little technicolor ponies from a kid's show.”

She sighed, and I fully understood her frustration– none of it was logical or predictable. We were completely in unknown territory, and we couldn't even begin to guess what would happen next. “I... I guess 'magical trinket' makes as much sense as anything... but magic isn't real!” she said, surprisingly insistent.

I was about to agree with her, but something stopped me. If I had been told a week before that my eyes would turn red in less than an hour, I would have told that person to get their head checked. If they proceeded to tell me that I would grow fangs, I would have walked away very quickly. If they continued to tell me that my forehead would have a large spike protruding from the front, I would have demanded to know why they were following me and promptly called the police to charge him with harassment and assault. Yes, assault – unlike battery, assault only requires an anticipation of harm rather than actual harm, and can be... Err, right, sorry. Back to the story.

In any case, the hypothetical stranger would have been telling the absolutely correct, and I would have been completely wrong. I couldn't take for granted that my belief about magic was also true, not when I could find no other alternative explanation that didn't involve it in some way or another. But... Perhaps there was one way to test it. I rubbed my horn, considering. If my hypothesis was correct, well... “Listen,” I said, distracted, “can I call you back? I need to check something?” I hung up before she could answer, too preoccupied with my own thoughts and feeling very foolish for even thinking them.

“It's not stupid,” I said out loud, reassuring myself. “Everything that's happened so far is insane, and it's not stupid to just test your only working hypothesis. I can approach this in a logical, orderly fashion, and it won't be stupid.”

'Yes,' my traitorous brain responded relentlessly, 'yes it is. You're going to try to do magic with your maaaagical unicorn horn,' it continued, drawing out the word with sarcastic whimsy. 

“Shut up, brain,” I grumbled stubbornly, and did my best to push my doubts aside. “Alright.... What did unicorns do in the show when they were trying to do magic? It looked like they concentrated really hard...” I frowned, thinking. What did they concentrate on? The object to be manipulated? The effect? Both? Well... I was turning into a unicorn, apparently – perhaps it would come to me if I just started trying things. Worst case, I would feel foolish and worsen my hangover.

I turned to a shotglass on my desk – apparently the party hadn't ended in the kitchen, if the mostly empty bottle of rum was any indication – and looked at it. I really, really looked at it. I tried to feel, in my mind, the perfect shape of the glass, the parabolic dip on the inside and the angled cylinder that defined its outside, all with rounded curves and surfaces. I felt its hardness, its unyielding surface, but also its brittleness – like a good shock would send it spiraling into disarray and entrophy. I carefully flicked it, eliciting a soft ring, and concentrated on that as well. I kept holding the image of the shotglass in my mind, trying to feel it from all sides and know its form.

As I contemplated the shotglass's physical form, I started to realize... It was glowing with a ghostly, pale light. 

I pushed back from the desk with a yelp, startled out of the meditative state, and blinked. It wasn't glowing anymore... I couldn't even be sure if it was glowing in the first place. Maybe I just wanted to see something, so I did? Maybe I was still drunk? 

I couldn't leave it that, though; it wouldn't be the proper scientific method if I stopped there, especially if I thought I had a result. I grabbed my water glass and downed it, hoping to placate my continuing hangover, and focused on the glass again. It was easier, and it was coming naturally. I... I could actually feel its form in my mind, it wasn't just an abstract concept. 

I stared in awe as it started to glow white again, a thin membrane of something like smoke and light surrounding the glass. It felt incredible. Not just the idea of being able to do magic – though that was itself an impossible, mind-bending thought – but I could feel something flow out my mind and through my horn, into and around shotglass, and back to me. It hummed, tickling against my senses like a gentle breeze, brushing against senses I never even knew I had. It was most acute around my forehead and horn, but I realized I could feel it with varying degrees throughout my entire body. I tried to make more of 'it' flow into the membrane, and delighted as the light grew stronger and more defined, no longer so wispy. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to call it 'magic' yet – the 'humbug' in me wouldn't let me hear the end of it.

Well... Only one thing left to do. Holding the image of the shotglass in my mind and keeping the flow of 'stuff' strong, I focused on one sensation – the glass lifting up into the air.

The cup disappeared in an instant, and there was an almost simultaneous crash above me. I yelped and covered my head and face with my arms as powdered sheet-rock drifted down on me, leaving me dusted with white and looking about ten years older. I looked up and saw a neat, round hole in the ceiling, with a glimmer of glass deep inside. I was lucky – if the shotglass were more flimsy, or if it had hit something hard, I would have been peppered with shards of glass. 

I stared at it for several minutes in silence, barely able to believe it. Finally, I picked up the phone and called Mary back. 

“Hello?” I said, my voice hoarse.

“Yes?” she asked cautiously, not sure what to expect.

“Magic.”

“Magic?”

“Yes. Magic.”

“What about it?”

“It's real.” 

I hung up on her without another word for the second time that day. Then, as an afterthought, I turned off my phone entirely – I didn't want to be distracted from my thoughts – and sat there for a long time, considering the implications. 'I can do magic,' I thought, waiting for my inner critic to come up with a snide response, but for once it was silent. I didn't feel stupid saying it; the evidence was right there in front of me – or, rather, above me, but that was just semantics. “I can do magic,” I said confidently to the empty room, and grinned – I still didn't feel silly. I could say it out loud, I could say something completely silly and outlandish without feeling like a fool, because I knew it was true. 

Ultimately, there was only one thing I could do with my newfound power...

“LUKE!” I yelled, cackling as I stood up. “LUKE! C'mere, I bet you can't do this!”
> 4 - Of Hooves and Horseplay
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wadded up ball of newspaper jittered and swooped through the air like a drunken housefly, floating erratically under the dubious control of my ghostly white nimbus of magical energy. “Fuck, come on,” I grumbled, trying to make the damn thing simply float there, but continued to fail miserably. I glared, squinting and staring at it, making all manner of faces at it, and even cursing at it – though the last wasn't really a stabilizing tactic so much as an expression of frustration – but nothing could make the damnable thing stay as it floated.

My brother, who had been amazed moments before as I made it float with my mind, could only snicker at my poor display of magical prowess. “That's... That's really something, yeah,” he said sarcastically. “I'm sure it'll be useful if you need to annoy someone.”

I grumbled in frustration, doing my best to ignore him, and tried to make the damn thing do what I wanted. With a growl I whipped it in front of my face and 'pushed' it from all sides, making the nimbus turn from ghostly pale to solid white. It finally stayed in the same place rather than flying across the room. Unfortunately it now jittered and vibrated too quickly to see it clearly, looking like an object in the videogame that was trying to clip through another. “Stupid... Little... THING! WHY WON'T YOU OBEY ME?!” I roared with fury, livid at the scrap of paper, and wished for nothing more than its complete and utter destruction.

Before I could blow a vessel, however, the bright white glow surrounding the scrap of paper turned an eerie green. A moment later it crackled and ignited. I gasped, shocked – that was new! – but immediately regretted it as I hacked and coughed up the newspaper's charred remains.

One glass of water and several nose-tissues later, I gave my brother a triumphant grin. “HAH! I can BURN things with my mind!” I crowed, getting to my feet and looking down at the pile of ash with more than a little pride. Not only had I done magic, I did something awesome with magic! Pyrokinesis! So what if it wasn't intentional, it was my first day – I was still learning. The important thing was that I had the potential... And... And...

The power.

The thought of that kind of power was, well... Simply intoxicating. It was so easy to lose myself, imagining everything I could DO with that kind of power, even in its infant stages. Each mental image more satisfying than the last. The night before, I hadn't even owned a gun – my parents wouldn't allow one in the house, unfortunately. Indeed, all my life I had been subject to bullies, and oftentimes they were physically stronger than me. I always had to rely on others for protection from the greatest threats, be it the police or the school authorities. But... I didn't need them anymore, I realized. I didn't even really need a gun, though it couldn't hurt to have one. Even without one, though, I would never be unarmed or helpless so long as I was conscious. If someone attacked me, I could just push them against something hard and knock them out cold. I could humiliate them, even – strip them down to their underwear and set them up somewhere high, they'd never mess with me again! I thought back to some of the humiliations I endured in school at the hands of petty, cruel bullies... I could make them suffer for what they did to me, suffer tenfold – no, a hundredfold – for disrespecting me, for thinking they were better than me-

“J-James?” 

I snapped out of my reverie, momentarily confused, and then shuddered as I more fully examined where my thoughts had been going. It wasn't often that I'd gone to such a dark place – not since leaving high school had I entertained such thoughts – but it was disturbing that I could slip back into them so easily. But... No. No, I'd never do any of that. I wasn't that kind of person – I wanted justice, not vengeance. I wondered uneasily just how far my mind may have gone if Luke hadn't interrupted my musings. A wad of paper was one thing, but... I couldn't use my magic like that, not against another person. Not except in the most dire circumstances... “Wh-what?” I asked sheepishly, grateful he wasn't privy to my thoughts.

He kept his distance, watching me warily as if I was a wild animal. Indeed, he'd somehow made it to the other side of the room without my noticing, and was standing near the window as if ready to take off. “Your eyes,” he mumbled nervously, not looking away from me for even a moment. “They were weird there for a minute – all green and glowy, and I think... I think they were smoking a bit.” He gave a nervous laugh, perhaps thinking himself silly, but he was still poised as if to defenestrate himself at any moment.

'That looks just like Somb-' I squashed the thought before it could form, and shook my head to try to disperse my growing unease. I might be turning into him, physically, but I wasn't that vile despot – I wasn't perfect, but I tried my best to be a good Christian and follow all the rules. Good Christians don't do those things; I was a good Christian; therefore, I didn't do those things. 'They also don't think those things,' a small part of me thought, and I quickly shoved that thought away. I didn't do those things – I followed the rules, I did everything I was supposed to do – and that should have been enough. 

I thought of a quick lie to put him at ease. “Oh, my eyes were just, umm... M-magic, you know?” I stammered, giving a forced smile. “It's unpredictable – who knows how it works, really? I'm just flying blind here...”

He nodded and relaxed slightly, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “Yeah... Yeah, you're probably right.” He scratched his neck, neither of us able to dispel the awkward silence. I was just starting to wonder if I should just walk away and go about my business as if nothing had happened when he suddenly snapped his fingers and grinned. Confused at the sudden change of demeanor, I stared. “Right! I forgot to tell you – err, show you. Anyway, look!” He turned about and awkwardly lifted the back of his shirt. 

“Dude, what the hell-” I started to complain, shocked by his sudden disrobing and hoping it wouldn't go any farther, but stopped when I saw something blue protruding from his upper back. Two somethings, actually – two feathery somethings that twitched as if they had a life of their own. 

“Well, what do you think?” he asked sheepishly, obviously trying not to smile too broadly, “I wanted to show you earlier, but you distracted me with that whole 'magic' spiel.” He stood there, awkwardly flapping his stubby wings like a child showing off a prized drawing. I snorted, rolling my eyes – I could have achieved much the same effect with some buffalo wings and a staple gun, I didn't see what he had to be proud of... 

Clearly, he thought differently. “Th-that character you showed me last night – Flying, was that its name?” he asked, nervous and excited. “He had wings too, right? A-and if you can do magic... Maybe... Will I be able to fly?”

“His name was Soarin,” I corrected testily – we were drunk when I showed him, yes, but was it really that hard? “And as for flying... Well, those things look far too small to fly with,” I said dismissively, annoyed that he'd tried to one-up me. 

His face fell as he looked over his shoulder, eying the stubs. “You sure?” he asked quietly, no longer flapping. In fact, he sounded almost depressed, like... Oh. Oh damn.

I blushed, realizing what a dolt I'd been, and tried to salvage it. “Well... Not right now,” I hastily amended. “But if they keep growing... Probably? Yes?” I hadn't realized how much hope he'd invested in those two little stubs – perhaps the thought of flying was the only bright point of the entire ordeal – and I'd almost dashed it completely like an ass.

“You sure?” he asked, brightening up once more at that morsel of hope.

I sighed and gave the wings a critical look. They were small, yes, but perhaps that wouldn't be an issue; if the popular theories were correct, pegasi didn't really fly with their wings so much as use their own instinctive form of magic to control the air around them with those wings. Besides, they almost certainly weren't full sized yet; if they had grown that much in only a few hours, it certainly wouldn't be long before they were fully sized. “Yes,” I said resignedly, praying I wouldn't have to take it back later. “Yes, you'll be able to fly, I'm sure.” If the changes were going to be continuing – and I had no reason to think they weren't – he would probably have a rougher time than I would. I was getting magic, even if I was going to look a bit scary, and magic was an adequate substitute for arms and hands. Besides that, I was more comfortable with ponies than he was – he was more of an outside observer who thought the whole 'brony phenomenon' was funny, and if things continued as they were he was going to be more intimately familiar with all things 'pony' than nearly anyone else. He needed all the encouragement he could get, and if he looked forward to flying, I wasn't going to take that away from him... Even if reality took it away later. 

His wings buzzed like a hummingbird's, and I couldn't stop myself from cracking a smile – he seemed really, really excited at the prospect of flying. Far more than I would have been, even though the thought was tempting. Even so, I wouldn't give up magic for flight – if our positions were reversed, I would have been superbly jealous. Still, no reason to rain on his parade. “Seems like you're really looking forward to flying,” I said guardedly. I could already feel a stiff burst of air coming from his direction, much more than I would expect from such tiny protrusions of flesh and feathers. Perhaps there was good reason to hope after all.

He nodded seriously at my comment, grinning from ear to ear. “Yup! I dunno, I just feel really cooped up in here. And I've, well,” he blushed, but continued unashamed, “I've always wanted to fly. You remember how I've had dreams of flying ever since I was a kid, right? And now, well...” He blushed as if admitting some great and terrible secret, and muttered,  “it just feels, well, natural? Yeah. It feels natural thinking that I'll be able to fly soon.” He craned his neck and looked at stubby growths on his back, grinning like a kid in a candy store, and finally lowered his shirt. “I can't wait for these babies to fill out, that'll be so coooool!” he said, practically bouncing. “If I could just fly, it'd totally make up for the hooves.”

I smiled to myself – he seemed to be taking all of this much better than expected. “Oh yeah, I bet flying is great,” I said encouragingly. Something niggled at the back of my mind, though, like a fly that wouldn't leave me alone.“In fact,” I continued despite the growing distraction,” you'll probably be able to use pegasi magic too – wait.” I froze, finally having 'caught the fly'. Hooves. No, no, no... Hooves? My stomach fluttered as I surveyed the fresh hell. Sure enough, the area below his knees transitioned from normal human flesh to fur and hoof. Blue, fuzzy fur and hoof. I groaned, no longer shocked at the changes, just accepting them with fatalistic despair as I looked down at my own changing legs. I was starting to look like something the Four Horsemen wouldn't feel like complete nimrods riding in upon. “Of course we have hooves,” I muttered bitterly, stomping to the breakfast table and sitting down heavily. “Why wouldn't we have fucking hooves.” I glared down at myself for a moment, then pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. I might not b able to magic them away – not yet, anyway – but I didn't have to keep looking at him. “Where's the nearest glue factory, I have a donation to make,” I muttered under my breath. 

He snickered. “Seriously, how did you not notice those earlier?” he asked, shaking his head. “I was about to freak out, but then I saw the wings... Seriously, these things are so awesome...”

For my answer, I pointed at the immense spike protruding from my head. “I was kinda preoccupied with the magical skewer. That, and, well... Magic.” I brightened up a little, despite myself. Even with the hooves, it was hard to get over the whole 'cosmic power stuffed in my forehead' thing. I could do magic! Just the thought filled me with pride, made me strangely complete. An itch I'd never known I'd had was finally scratched. As much as I complained about the horn, I really couldn't fault the results; I was slowly starting to feel magic as if the horn itself were some sort of television aerial, tuned to the arcane. Just like my brother had said about his wings, my horn felt, well... natural. Not just using and sensing magic – the horn itself felt like it belonged there. 

“Alright, fine, point taken,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. He poured himself a bowl of oats – odd, he never touched that stuff before, I thought – and then froze as his eyes widened with terror. 

I raised an eyebrow, bemused. “Bugs?” I asked, leaning in to look at the cereal and wondering if something had gotten into it.

He shook his head, gulping. “Something just occurred to me,” he said ominously. I frowned at that – wasn't there enough drama for one day? –  but he he wouldn't be dissuaded. “Do you think that these changes are going to go, umm,” he blushed as he looked down significantly. “A-all the way?”

I looked at him, nonplussed. “All the way? Well, the changes haven't been slowing down at all – if anything, they've been speeding up. I mean, now we have hooves, and I swear this horn is longer-” I stopped as he kept gesturing down at his waist, and I gave a start as I realized what he was talking about. I cringed – that was not a topic two brothers should ever have to discuss. “Oh. OH. Ummm... M-maybe? I mean, if everything else is changing, I suppose we'll be more... equine.” I snickered nervously at that, more to break the tension than anything else, and imagined all of the 'male enhancement' emails that filled my junk-box regularly. I wondered what they'd have to say about an equine-sized member.

“Don't laugh!” he nearly shouted, close to panicking as he misinterpreted the meaning of my amusement. “What if – what if I become a girl!? This isn't funny!” he said, frantic.

I facepalmed. He was taking this in a very awkward direction, but given the past few days I supposed it really was a valid concern. “You've got nothing to worry about,” I finally managed to say, wishing I could talk about something besides my brother's junk but seeing no alternative. “Soarin was... was definitely a male. If you're changing into him, you're almost certainly going to stay a guy.”

His fear and unease evaporated in an instant, and he gave a relieved laugh as he leaned on the counter-top, weak in the knees. “Oh thank you Jesus, thank you...” he whispered fervently. I was about to admonish him for taking the Lord's name in vain, but thinking about it, I realized that it probably wasn't in vain – that was probably a genuine thanks to God. He recovered quickly, and looked around the kitchen as if with new eyes. “So,” he said cheerfully, a complete about-face from his earlier terror and worry, “you want some of this too?” He held up the box of oats.

I stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, then just shook my head at his capriciousness – from the pits of despair to the heights of joy in less than a minute. 'An academy record,' I thought, unable to stop myself, and winced at my own lame meme – that joke had died at least 2 years prior. “You have what you want, I'm making a burger,” I said, wanting to get away with him for a little while, his rapidly oscillating and changing moods getting on my nerves. I walked – well, clopped – over to the freezer and pulled out a frozen burger patty, and carried it out to the grill on a plate.

Our backyard had high fences and no hills nearby, so I didn't fear exposure while I cooked my lunch. I turned the propane on and reached for the pilot light, before reconsidering. I had just learned a pretty awesome 'burn shit up' spell... But no, that was pretty dangerous. I didn't want to burn down my house on accident, or worse, turn the propane tank into a deadly fireball. I sighed and reluctantly pressed the igniter, and soon had a merry blaze going. “One day,” I muttered as I set the patty on the flame-blackened bars, “One day, I won't need you, you infernal little button.” I closed the lid and let the grill do its work, already itching to see what else I could do as my breakfast cooked. 

It wasn't long before I smelled the delicious aroma of seared meat. It became harder for me to wait patiently, no longer able to ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach with food so close... And then I realized I had forgotten a spatula. I shook my head at my lack of planning, ready to dash back inside and search for one and risk burning the meat, when I realized I didn't need one. I chuckled gleefully to myself, glad for an excuse to practice some more magic – safe magic, even, as the worst case scenario was a meat frisbee whizzing across the yard. I looked down at the patty and frowned, concentrating. It took a bit of effort, but a moment later I had surrounded the chunk of meat in my wispy aura of magic and managed to 'nudge' it over onto its other side. “I do hope that doesn't ruin the flavor of the meat,” I said, but wasn't really worried – ponies on the show used magic on food all the time, and simple telekinesis didn't seem to hurt anything. 

A few minutes later I walked – sorry, clopped, still getting used to that – back in with a perfectly cooked patty, criss-crosses of charred meat on both sides from the grill, humming contently at the simple pleasure. While I added condiments and cheese to my eagerly anticipated breakfast, my brother walked in with an emptied bowl of cereal and sniffed. Making a face, he eyed my meal with obvious distaste. “Dude, don't eat that,” he said, gagging. “It's gone bad. I hope you didn't ruin the grill...”

I frowned and sniffed it, confused. “It smells fine to me,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It smells like a normal, cooked burger patty – and I'm pretty sure I'd smell it if it were rotten.” I took a tentative bite of the meat and chewed. Salty, greasy, beefy... There was nothing wrong with the burger. I cut off a small portion and put it on a fork. “It tastes fine to me, you try some,” I said, handing him the skewered chunk of meat.

He glared at the bit of charred meat dubiously, and gave it a tentative nibble. He immediately spat the offending morsel into the sink, eyes wide with disgust. “Euugh!” he groaned, mouth wide open as he held his tongue out, and tried to wipe the remaining flavor off his tongue with a handful of hastily grabbed paper towels. I stared through the whole process, bewildered as he grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and rinsed his mouth out several times before he was finished.

I just stared at him for several moments, bemused as he cringed. “Maybe a nice turkey burger instead?” I asked blithely, torn between amusement and alarm. 

He glared at me, panic abated, and stared at my burger as if it had personally offended him and his entire family. “That... thing... is a culinary ABORTION.”

I stepped back at his vehemence, slightly offended. “Look, it may be a bit rare, but it's just a burger... It's fresh, too, we just got the patties last week and they went straight into the freezer...”

“I don't care HOW fresh they are, that was awful! It tastes the same as I remember, it smells the same... I don't know how, or why, but that... I can't eat that!” He stopped, as if just realizing something. “I... can't eat that. Why can't I eat that?” He clopped awkwardly to the fridge – his gait was becoming noticeably different, and I tried to ignore the fact that I would probably be following suit – and started tearing out all of the cooked meats. Lunch meat, leftover chicken, hot dogs – he broke off a piece of each one in turn, popped it into his mouth, and chewed it, and immediately turned back to the sink and spat it out. It would have been comical if it was happening to someone else, but I could only stare in horror as my brother tried every meat we had, and found he couldn't stomach it.

“I don't get it!” he whined, exhausted and despondent, head hanging over the sink in case he revisited his breakfast. “I've always loved meat! Remember how we used to go to those Mongolian grills and just order plates and plates of beef and marinated pork and chicken and... and...” He gave an unpleasant burp, but managed to keep everything down that time. “It was all-you-can-eat, and it was awesome! But now I just... I can't... Why can't I eat it now?!” He looked longingly at the pile of meat beside the fridge, whimpering.

I'd worked it out while he'd done his impromptu mass-taste-testing, and I wasn't looking forward to sharing my theory. I looked at him gravely and spoke, slowly, not wanting to frighten him any more than he already was. “Luke... You know we're probably turning into p-ponies,” I stammered, hardly believing my own words. “I think we're going to transform ALL the way, not just partway... and in your case, I think that means you can't eat, well, can't eat meat anymore... Ponies don't eat meat, you see. Well, most ponies, anyway – I don't think Sombra was normal in that respect, I'm pretty sure he was an omnivore if not outright carnivorous-”

“Oh, how convenient,” he broke in impatiently, staring daggers at me as if it was my fault. “YOU can still eat meat! But I have to eat... veggies... and fruits... I WANT PEOPLE FOOD, DAMMIT!”

I glowered, started to get annoyed – it wasn't my fault we were changing, and I had no patience to deal with such petulance. Besides, if he thought this was any easier for me, he was wrong. “Look, I didn't make you like this! If I had any control over this, do you think I'd want to be transforming into Pony Hitler?! When this is all said and done, you'll have the body of one of the most famous, strongest, fastest athletes in all of Equestria! And I'll be stuck looking like one of the most hated and feared tyrants!” I nearly continued my rant, but I'd said all I wanted. I settled for folding my arms over my chest and glowering, daring him to keep blaming me. The nerve of some people...

He kept glaring at me for a few moments, as if he was going to do just that... But then he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. “I know,” he mumbled, looking down at his hooves. “And... I'm sorry. That, that wasn't a way for a Christian to behave. This is all just... Just fucked up! I mean, here we are, turning into cartoon ponies, and we have no one else to turn to, no leads...”

“Apology accepted,” I muttered gruffly. I would have dragged more of an apology out of him, but I remembered the phone call earlier and grinned. “Actually, we're not the only ones,” I said airly. “I called up Mary earlier, and, well, she's also... changing.”

His eyes popped open at that. “WHAT! Why didn't you say so before?!” he yelled, excitement and frustration warring for dominance.

“Hey! Horn, remember? Was kinda preoccupied,” I said defensively. Before he could interrupt with more questions, I plowed on. “I think she's turning into Princess Cadence. You know...” I paused awkwardly. “Sombra's enemy when he tried to take back the Crystal Empire, and Shining Armor's wife.” I pushed away my unease – we just looked like them, but we weren't them. I was still friends with her, and there was a sort of irony to it. “I guess it'll funny hanging out with her. Big scary evil unicorn and a pretty alicorn princess, getting along like friends!” I snorted – apparently God, or whoever did this, had a sense of humor.

But he wasn't paying any attention – he had already picked up his phone and dialed her number. “Hi, Caden- err, sorry, Mary? Yeah, this is Luke – what? No, yeah, it's real, he wasn't joking, I saw him levitate a wadded up newspaper...” I grumbled and sat down to my cooling burger, trying to ignore their banter as I bit into it. It really did taste good, though I had to wonder – why did Sombra eat meat? Though, he did have fangs... 'Maybe he ate ponies,' my traitorous brain supplied as an answer, and I shuddered at the mental image. 'Gee, thanks brain, now shut up so I can eat this without hurling,' I thought, and tried to put all thoughts of pony cannibalism out of my mind. It was a good burger, and I wasn't going to allow anything to change that or spoil it for me. It was warm, it was juicy, it smelled delicious... I took a bite-

“Uh huh. Right – hey, James!” he called out, snapping me out of my burgery contemplations.

“What?” I yelped, meat spilling back onto my plate as I tried to talk. 

“The boss called – he wanted to know why you missed your shift.”

“Wait, what? I – FUCK!” I sprinted to my room, burger forgotten, and grabbed my phone. I waited for agonizing moments for it to turn on – why did I even turn it off earlier?! – and then tried to call my boss. I say 'tried' because a moment later I was overwhelmed with the text messages that had accumulated while it was off – mostly from Mary, it seemed, no doubt trying to find some answers. I tried to be patient as the phone beeped over and over again, one message after another demanding my attention, until finally no more seemed forthcoming. I hastily closed out all of the messages, saving them for later, and punched in my boss's number. “H-hello, sir?” I asked, gulping nervously.

“James? Where are you? Is everything alright?” he asked, his concern edged with annoyance. Uh oh... he was a patient man, but when he started showing annoyance, that was when one had to tread very, very carefully.

“Y-yeah... Well, no,” I said. “Look, something's come up, something really, really... personal. I can't explain it, please just trust me, I REALLY can't come in and I don't think I will be able to for a while.” I could never lie well on the spot.

“Are you sick?” he asked dubiously. “Is that why your voice sounds so strange?”

I paused. My voice? “Erm, yes, I'm sick,” I lied lamely, “and I'm going into the hospital, I don't know when I'll be out, it's very serious but time consuming and I'll probably be okay, b-but it's contagious-” 

The pastor sighed on the other end of the line. “Look... If you can't tell me, fine. I probably don't want to know anyway,” he said dourly, making me grimace. “I can take you off the schedule for the next few weeks, but you need to work it out with your brother and Mary for the rest of the week to cover your shifts.”

“Ummm... about that,” I mumbled, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “See... They can't really work either. None of us can. We all, umm... have the same... issue.” I groaned and thumped my head against the wall, knowing how utterly trite my excuse sounded.

There was nothing on the line for a few moments, and I wondered if he'd hung up. “Really,” he deadpanned, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“Uhhh... Yes?” I bit my lip, not knowing what else to say. There was nothing else I COULD say – nothing he'd believe, at least. I knew what kind of position I was putting him in, but I couldn't do a damn thing about it...

“Look,” he sighed, and I could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn't want to get into your business – I know you're hiding something, and so long as it wasn't illegal and didn't hurt the shop I would let sleeping dogs lie.” I frowned at that a little – we had our political and religious differences, him being a liberal Christian and me being conservative Christian, and wondered that he could have that sort of attitude... But in that case it was to my advantage, so I didn't complain. “Unfortunately,” he continued relentlessly, “that's not the case anymore, and now I need answers. This shop could work without one of you, maybe even two of you... But there just aren't enough employees to make it work without all three of you here. So. Tell me what's going on, or I'll have no choice but to replace all three of you.” He was calm, he was reasonable, and he was polite. And that made lying to him impossible. Unfortunately, telling the truth over the phone would also be impossible, or at least telling the truth in a way he could accept.

“You won't believe me if I just told you,” I said, clenching my eyes shut as I bit the bullet. He was right, I thought; he deserved the truth. “Come over to our house – I can't go outside. None of us can, at least not in broad daylight. And, umm, I lied earlier – it's not contagious, at least not as far as we can tell.”

“Ummm, alright,” he said, thoroughly confused but trusting. “I have to finish the rest of this shift,” – I gave a guilty grimace at that – “but I can be there around 6:30.”

I thanked him wearily. “Just... please, please don't freak out,” I pleaded. “And, ummm... I know you're the one who usually tells me this, but... keep an open mind?”

There was a pause. “Alright,” he said, his voice giving away nothing, and I heard the dial-tone start. He had hung up.

'That could have gone better,' I thought sardonically, setting the phone down. He deserved to know the truth, no question about that. But the truth... How could he possibly handle something like this? We could barely handle it, and I got the awesome gift of magic out of the deal, while my brother was going to be able to fly if things kept going. But my boss would only be losing three employees, and I was going to have to dump all of this on him – all at once, even. The best I could hope for was a quiet freak-out, and the worst... I pushed away thoughts of the CDC and vivisection, going pale and weak in the knees.

I took a deep breath to calm myself and tried to break the problem down into smaller chunks. First off, I'd have to make sure he didn't scream. 'Well that's easy', I thought sarcastically, 'just knock him unconscious the moment he opens the door.' I couldn't do that, of course, but I couldn't think of a way for him to see me and not have a panic attack. I took a quick peek in the mirror and shuddered, confirming my fears. Besides the diabolical horn, fangs, and eyes, my face was starting to elongate and my eyes were noticeably larger than a human's should be. There was no way for him to look at me without some sort of preparation, and if I tried to prepare him over the phone he would probably just think I was lying again. No, I needed to make my own appearance less frightful, somehow. I had to make myself normal... Or at least normal enough that he didn't flee in terror at the sight of me. 

I staggered by my brother's room, trying not to think about how awkward it was getting to walk normally, and saw that he was still talking to Cad- err, to Mary. I stopped and looked him over, a plan forming. He had blue fur down his arms and legs now, and his face was slightly bulged, and his wings idly flapped behind him... but for some strange reason, he looked utterly natural. Almost relaxed, even. More importantly, he could cover up most of his alterations, and even the ones he couldn't cover up were less frightful than mine. I nodded to myself – if I couldn't greet the pastor, maybe he could.

“Luke?” I asked, knocking on the door. He looked up, annoyed, his eyes flicking meaningfully at the phone and back towards me. I shrugged and smirked. “Alright,” I said airily, walking away, “I guess you don't wanna know when the pastor coming over...”

There was silence for a moment, followed by the rapid thumping of hooves. Before I could turn around, I felt something heavy slam into me and knock me onto the mercifully thick carpeting. 

“Ow! Get off!” I grumbled, trying to pick myself up, but he just kept holding me down. I may have misjudge the intensity of his reaction.

“NO! What did you do?!” he demanded, panic edging his voice. Yes. Yes, I had definitely misjudged his reaction. My bad. 

“Look, I tried to lie, but come on – ALL THREE OF US are going to be unable to work for at least several weeks, and he saw right through me when I tried to lie about being sick.” I tried to squirm free, but he had me pinned. “He deserves to know why!”

He just ignored me. “Wasn't your secret to tell... You shouldn't have told him about her,” he said protectively. 

'Wait... about her? Is that what this is about?' I thought, and things started to click. Of course. Him and Mary were never really a 'thing', but he had feelings for her. And now, nothing I could say would justify, in his mind, what I had done by revealing her secret. 

I sighed and stopped struggling, realizing I had other tools at my disposal. “It was the only way,” I said defensively, and then smiled. “By the way,” I grinned slyly and turned my head to look at him, “how strong do you think my telekinesis is?” While he still outraged and focused on keeping me pinned, I concentrated on him, trying to envelope him with my magic. It wasn't until too late that he realized what was going on, and he could only give a yelp of surprise as I pushed him up and away.

I realized my mistake a moment later; I had the burgeoning power of an adult unicorn with none of the finesse or power regulation. I pushed him much to hard, as I had with the shot glass earlier that morning, and he flew through the air and crashed into the wall with a sickening crack. I froze, horrified at what I'd done. 'Oh God please let him be okay oh please oh please God-' I prayed fervently as I stumbled to my feet and ran to him. “LUKE!” I shouted, resisting the urge to shake him awake, “Are you okay? Come on, you're fine, please say something...” I started hyperventilating as panic took over, my vision shrinking to a dot as he didn't answer, why didn't he answer, please God PLEASE MAKE HIM ANSWER-

His groan snapped me out of my panic attack and I finally breathed, spots dancing before my eyes. “Fuck, are you okay?” I managed to croak, not daring to touch him in case he had a spinal injury.

He coughed (thankfully there was no blood) and gave another groan. “Ow... What... what the fuck was that for,” he asked, and amazingly he started climbing to his feet. He got up easily and stretched as if he had done nothing more serious than slip and land on his ass.

“You're alright?” I asked, staring in amazement. “How can you be alright!? I saw you...” I gulped, unable to continue, and glanced at the cracked sheet-rock wall and the almost cartoony imprint his body had left in it. 'No one could have got up from that,' I considered carefully, 'the human body can't take...'

I stopped that thought, realizing that I couldn't think of him as physically human anymore. He looked more pegasus than human by that point. I remembered all the times in the show that a pegasus had crashed, and how easily they seemed to shrug it off. It made sense that they'd be built for crashes and falls associated with flight – and if my brother was turning into one, he would be optimized for it, too. I closed my eyes and thanked the Lord for my luck; if he hadn't been a pegasus, or if he hadn't been as far along in the transformation as he was... I shuddered at the thought.

But he was fine. He even got to his feet without much trouble, and I edged away – surely he would be livid. I would be, in his shoes.

“I-I'm sorry,” I mumbled, trying to stave off the flurry of anger and harsh words he would surely release, “I just wanted to see what I could do with my horn, I didn't think-”

“Dude, I'm fine,” he cut me off, annoyed. “Yeah, that sucked, but it's nothing worse than when I fall at the gym. Shoot, it doesn't even feel that bad, I think I was just a bit shocked...” He trailed off as he looked at the wall where he hit, eyes going wide as dinner plates. “...Holy shit. How hard did I hit that thing?!”

He turned to me, more than a little confused, and I gladly shared my theory with him about pegasi and falls – anything to get the conversation away from the fact that I had just thrown him across the room with enough force to crack a wall. He nodded numbly, and I wondered if he was taking in a word I said, but kept talking anyway. It helped calm my own nerves at what I had nearly done. 

“So, umm, yeah,” I finished lamely. “You can fall really far now, probably. But,” I hastily amended, “let's not test that.”

He only nodded again... and fell forward onto his hands. I gave a start, worried I really had hurt him, but before I could say anything he started beating his wings – now a good deal larger than I remembered. The feathers had apparently filled out more while I was on the phone with the pastor, and didn't look completely ridiculous. “Wh-what are you doing?” I asked nervously. Surely he couldn't fly in here, it was totally irresponsible and rash! I looked around nervously at the expensive, easily broken TV, as well as all the family photos and other sentimental knick-knacks on the end tables. “You can't fly in here, you'll break something!”

He just grinned and raised an eyebrow at me. “Pot, meet kettle,” was all he said, before lifting his wings up high and bringing them down, hard and fast, nearly knocking me backwards with the gusts coming from them. 'So yeah, apparently they do supplement their wings with air-magic,' I thought distractedly, before yelping with surprise as the expensive TV started to tip over. I focused and tried to steady it with telekinesis, and only just managed to tilt it back up in time. Unfortunately I couldn't save anything else – almost all of the pictures had fallen by then, some even breaking with sharp cracks and tinkles. This finally got his attention, and he stopped flapping to look around at the devastation. 

“Oh crap! I... Dammit!” he said, looking around in panic at the devastation he'd wrought. 

I considered berating him for his recklessness, but one look at the massive dent and crack in the wall made me cringe. All in all, I probably did more property damage than him... So I shook my head and trotted as quickly as I could to the cleaning cabinet. “Look, don't worry, we can fix all of this,” I said, putting on a falsely cheery voice. “See, we have four and a half hours, I'm sure we can sweep all of this up and maybe put a picture over-”

*beep beep beep!*

I stopped, feeling the chill of foreboding. Surely not. It couldn't be the boss, it was far too early... I picked up the phone and cursed, seeing the pastor's name by the 'new text message' alert. 'Well, maybe he was just checking up on us,' I thought hopefully making sure we were alright. He couldn't be there already... I opened the text.

'Shop dead quiet,' it read. 'forgot an appointment. Closing early – will come in at 2 instead of 6:30.'

I shifted my eyes to the corner of the screen, where the time was displayed, already hearing footsteps coming up the driveway. It was 2:01. Of course it was. 

“Luke,” I hissed in a harsh whisper. “I think we might be f-”

*DING-DONG* 
> 5 - Of Shocks and Searches
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who's that?” Luke whispered nervously, wings fluttering in agitation. 

“Read this,” I whispered back, handing him my phone as I hurried past him, hoping against hope that it wasn't the pastor. I stood up on my tiptoes – tip-hooves? – to peer through the peephole, and saw a depressingly familiar face. “Crap,” I mumbled under my breath, panic rising. I did the only thing I could think of.

While he was reading the text message, I got behind my brother and pushed him to the door. “You answer it, I'm outta here,” I said gruffly, fully intending to let him deal with the impending shitstorm. Before I could make good on my retreat, however, I felt a sharp pain in my tail. “Let go!” I hissed, and tried to slap away his hands.

He shook his head vigorously. “No way! We're in this together!”

“Look,” I said carefully, trying to sound reasonable and calm even while my heart hammered, “if you keep your shirt on and, I dunno, wrap that couch blanket around your legs, you'll look almost normal – sick, but normal. Throw on a pillow and stick a thermometer in your mouth and no one will be the wiser. But what do you think he'll do if he sees me?!” Visions of screams and curses danced through my mind, panic and pandemonium, and the dreaded CDC... I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Come on, he has to see you first! And I certainly can't answer the door like this!”

He glared, annoyed, but nodded reluctantly. “Fiiiine, I guess that's fair,” he grumbled, letting go of my tail. He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his waist, hiding his furry legs and hooves. “Just get out of sight, okay?” he said testily.

Needing no more encouragement, I ran around the corner without another word and hid in the side room. The last thing I saw was my brother tucking his wings against his back and walking to the door. I pulled the bedroom door nearly closed, only keeping it cracked to listen.

The front door opened a moment later. “Ummm, h-hi pastor,” my brother greeting him nervously. “Please come in, and close the door – I don't want people to see...” He trailed off awkwardly, clearing his throat

The pastor, to his credit, did so before asking any awkward questions. “Does this have anything to do with why your hair's blue and brown?” he asked, referring to my brother's failing dye job. The fast-growing mane had rendered his work pointless; the dye only made his attempts more obvious.

“Ummm... Yeah, that too,” my brother mumbled awkwardly.

The pastor was silent. “What's wrong with your face?” he asked nervously. “And... why are all these pictures broken?”

My brother stammered awkwardly, trying to explain, but the pastor interrupted. “Look, just calm down and start from the beginning, I promise I won't judge.”

“Alright,” I heard Luke respond meekly. “Could you sit down, then? It's really... Well, you'll just want to be sitting down for this.” I heard the pastor sigh, but he cooperated – a moment later there was a creak as he presumably settled on the couch. A second creak a moment later was probably my brother joining him. I nodded to myself, satisfied – all according to plan, so far, if he didn't make a fool of himself and balls it up.

'Good, now they can talk this out like civilized adults,' I thought, nodding to myself in satisfaction. Then I had an idea. “Hey!” I called out, unaware of how deep my voice had become, “turn on My Little Pony! It'll be easier to show him!”

“Was that James?!” the pastor asked, startled. My brother started to answer, but the pastor must not have heard. The couch creaked, and footsteps approached the bedroom door. “James, why are you hiding? What's all this about?!” the pastor nearly shouted, far too close for comfort. I gave a yelp and slammed the door shut before he could get a look.

“L-look!” I stammered, trying to sound confident, and only then realized just how different I sounded. I coughed and tried again. “Look, just go along with it! You'll figure it out, we just... Need to do it right!”

“Please pastor,” my brother said with unusual gentleness, trying to keep the peace. “We want to tell you, but we can't do it all at once. Please sit down and just watch. I promise we'll do our best to explain, but you'll have to go along with it for now.”

The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. After a few moments I heard soft footfalls moving from the door back to the living room, and then the creaking of the couch as the pastor sat down once more. I sighed with relief – he was still cooperating. Good. I honestly didn't know what I would have done if he tried to force the door open. “Well, go on, then,” he said, his voice strained as he acclimated to the strange situation. “Show me.”

I waited, trying to be patient as my brother turned on the TV and the Xbox. “Which episode?” my brother called out a minute later. 

I wracked my brain, trying to think of the one that featured Soarin – anything depicting Sombra wouldn't only muddle the situation more. “Uhhh... Look in season five, something with 'Wonderbolts' in the title,” I called back. He gave a confirmation as he found it, and we waited for the video to load.

The episode started, and I cringed as the theme-song began playing – that wouldn't help our case. Fortunately my brother had remembered the song, too, and we only heard a second of it before he fast-forwarded to the actual show. “Now, I haven't watched this myself,” he said defensively, “my brother is the brony, not me, but it should help you see where we're coming from.” If the pastor thought this was strange, I couldn't hear it; he remained silent, and I can only presume he watched.

The show went on as I remembered it. Rainbow Dash had graduated from the Wonderbolts Academy, and Soarin was putting her through her paces to see what they could do with the new Wonderbolt Trainee. The focus was on Rainbow Dash, true, but Soarin got plenty of dialogue and face time. 

The episode ended, and my brother started speaking before the pastor could get a word in. It was rehearsed, from the sounds of it, as if he'd been thinking it all up during the episode. Well, it certainly showed. “So, now that you've seen the episode,” he began in his best, and very poor, formal voice, “you have some idea what we're dealing with – and why we're so confused.” I groaned – why did he have to ruin everything?! He continued digging himself deeper, of course, and I could only watch as things went downhill from there. “So, it is with great consternation that I inform you that I am, err...” He blundered to a stop, at a loss for words. He finished without grace or finesse, his forthrightness and bluntness the only saving grace for the little coup-de-grâce as he said, “I'm turning into Soarin.” I resisted the urge to bang my head against the door.

There was a pregnant pause, and I heard nothing for several seconds. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to chew out Luke for being such a damn fool – perhaps he hadn't completely ruined everything after all. But the silence continued for far too long, and considered peeking around the corner to see what was wrong. Before I could, however, the pastor finally spoke. “I'm afraid you'll have to run that by me one more time,” he said faintly. “I could have sworn you just said you were turning into a... an animated cartoon horse.” He gave the nervous laugh of a man who hopes that he's the butt of a bad joke but fears that he isn't.

My brother sighed – I could just picture him rubbing his temple – and it was a few moments before he spoke again. “Alright, time for Plan B.”  

I frowned. Plan B? We hadn't talked about a plan B... My confusion only grew as I heard the couch creak as someone stood up from it. Was the pastor getting something? Confusion turned to alarm as I heard the soft floof of a blanket falling to the floor, and then outright horror as I heard the flutter of wings – it wasn't the pastor getting up at all. “What are you doing?!” I yelled, feeling as if the floor had dropped out from under me. “This wasn't how it was supposed to go!” With an anguished cry I yanked the door open and sped around the corner, only to find my fears confirmed. 

My brother stood, proud and uncovered with his wings spread – in retrospect, they actually did look impressive, even only partially grown – and stared at the pastor defiantly. “See?” my brother said, voice terse. “I'm turning into a pony. I don't know how, or why, but that's the truth.” 

It was the first time I'd ever heard the pastor swear. 

When he caught sight of me, it was the second time I'd ever heard the pastor swear.

And, while we're speaking of firsts, it was also the first time I'd ever seen the pastor faint – first time I'd seen anyone faint, actually. His eyes bulged and he slumped back on the couch, out cold. 'At least he's not yelling anymore,' I thought grimly, and looked up at my brother. 

“Why didn't you stick to the plan?!” I hissed. “Look what you did!” I pointed at the pastor, glowering at Luke accusingly.

“We weren't getting anywhere,” he grumbled, glaring right back. “Besides, he was handling it OK until you came in with...” He gestured at me, indicating 'everything'. 

I glowered, grumbling, but turned back to the pastor. “We fucked up,” I muttered, gently prodding the pastor's foot with my hoof. 

“Eeeeyup,” he said stonily, sighing heavily as he scuffed the floor. He trotted out to the kitchen, muttering, “I'll be right back.” I ignored him and sat on the couch, trying to think of what to do next. Had the pastor called his wife beforehand, and told her when to expect him home? Maybe. In which case, if he didn't get home in time and didn't answer his phone, she might call the police. Worse, he might have told her where he was going, and the police could surround us without warning. I bit my lip, not liking that thought. We couldn't stay in the house. Maybe we could just leave? Well, my brother might have been able to – his wings looked like they were filling out nicely, perhaps they would support his weight – but it was getting harder and harder to even walk normally, and I couldn't yet walk on my hands. Maybe we could drive somewhere-

I snapped out of my reverie and yelped in surprise as my brother dumped a pitcher of cold water on the pastor, forcing him back to consciousness with a splutter and groan. “What'd you do that for?!” I demanded, stepping back as the cold water sloshed against my shins.

He just shrugged, supremely unconcerned. “That's how you wake up unconscious people, right? And we need him conscious.” he said, matter-of-factly, and crouched down beside the pastor. “Heeeey there buddy,” he said, giving to the poor soaked man a falsely cheery grin. He gently patted the pastor's face with a fresh towel. “Sorry about the water, but you were out cold and, well... we need to talk.”

The pastor squinted and looked around slowly, blearily. “Whazzat? Huh? Oh.” His eyes settled on my brother's cheery rictus, and frowned. “That was real, then,” he groaned, grabbing a couch pillow and burying his face in it as if to hide from the fact. I considered doing the same to hide my face, but the damage was done – he'd already seen me. 

'Ah well, can't make things worse,' I thought resignedly, clearing my throat. The pastor turned to me and recoiled, but didn't scream or curse or faint. 'A good start,' I thought, and gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, I felt the same way this morning,” I mumbled awkwardly, and resisted the urge to scratch my neck – a nervous tick. “We're turning into cartoon ponies. Except, well, we're not cartoons, we're real.” Truly, I was the pinnacle of smoothness.

He just stared at me, eyes flicking from my horn to my eyes to my hooves, unable to settle on any one abberation. I shifted in my seat, feeling more and more discomfited. “Uhhh... Hello?” I mumbled, trying to stop his awkward staring. “I'm still, well, me, and I'm pretty sure we're not contagious. If we... were...” I cursed my stupidity as his eyes went wide with terror. Apparently he hadn't considered that possibility yet. He was probably too preoccupied over our changes to consider much of anything else. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, not contagious,” I finished lamely.

“That's... that's good!” he said, his voice unnaturally high. I tried to keep my nerve as he composed himself. “Really, I'm, umm, glad to hear... that.” He kept darting his head from side to side as he tried to keep us both in view. I thought his neck might snap if he kept that up. 

I frowned, realizing he must feel surrounded with me on one side and Luke standing on the other, and tried to make the situation less tense, and the pastor less likely to freak out and tell the CDC. “Luke, could you please sit down?” I asked, patting a nearby patch of couch, far enough away that it wasn't awkwardly close.

My brother frowned, cocking his head in confusion. “Why? I'm comfortable here,” he said, stretching. He didn't notice the pastor cringing away from his extending wings or hooves.

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Please come sit over here before the poor guy has a panic attack!” I nearly shouted in exasperation. How could he not know how these things worked? Personal space was the basic rule of courtesy!

My brother raised an eyebrow, nonplussed, looking from me to the pastor and back several times as he put two and two together. He finally did, and gave a sheepish grin. “Err, sorry pastor,” he mumbled, awkwardly sitting down next to me on the couch.

I shook my head in exasperation as I realized I had lost my train of thought. “Where was I?” I asked, trying to hide my annoyance. 

“You were saying that your condition wasn't, umm, contagious.” He gulped at the last word, but otherwise sounded more like his normal self. I gave a mental sigh of relief – maybe we would get through this civilly after all – or at least without involving the authorities.

I nodded. “Yes – all of this stuff happened over night – way too fast for these kinds of changes to be caused by something biological. Besides, I don't think anyone could engineer a virus or bacteria or prion or whatever to make these,” I gestured at my whole body, “-kinds off things. Plus, my hair wouldn't change color – hair's dead, it can't be altered as if it were alive. And if it were some sort of infection, we'd both be exhibiting the same or very similar symptoms, most likely.” I belted out the explanations rapid-fire, trying to overwhelm him with evidence, but as I spoke he reached around and scratched his back as if expecting wings to be sprouting from it. I grimaced, realizing what I'd have to do next, and prepared myself for another breakdown. “It can't be a disease,” I said resignedly. “Diseases are biological. They don't, umm...” I squeezed my eyes shut, took a breath, and blurted out, “Diseases don't give you magic powers.”

He stared at me for several seconds, brow knitted as if I was a particularly mind-bending Escher painting and he was determined to figure me out. “You have magic powers,” he said, voice emotionless and flat. I couldn't tell whether he believed it or not. 

I eyed him nervously, hoping I wasn't sending him into another panic attack. “Should I d-demonstrate?” I stammered, trying not to think of how a pastor – an admittedly liberal and 'open minded' one, but still a pastor – would react to something ostensibly condemned by the Bible. True, there were no 'familiar spirits' involved, nor necromancy, nor any of the other things that seemed to define the 'magic' forbidden in the Bible, but it was still a touchy subject.

He didn't give any opinion one way or another as he slowly nodded, watching me intently. Well, he did say yes, even if it wasn't in so many words... I looked around for an object, and settled on the throw-pillow he had set aside. “Alright, please don't freak out,” I mumbled, already concentrating, and managed to get it to float relatively steadily in the air. 'Aha!' I thought triumphantly, in spite of the circumstances, 'apparently I just needed practice!'

The pastor wasn't as thrilled about it as I was. His eyes grew steadily larger as he watched the pillow glow and start gliding unsteadily upward, as if it were impersonating the world's largest mosquito. He finally turned to my brother and broke the silence. “Can... can he do magic, too?” he asked, his thin veneer of calm flaking away.

I quickly withdrew my magic and let the pillow flop down harmlessly – out of sight, out of mind, I hoped vainly. Meanwhile I tried to frame the intricacies of pegasus magic in a way that was both concise and informative for someone with no familiarity with My Little Pony canon – how they technically had magic, and how they probably channeled it through their wings and hooves to fly and manipulate weather, and how theirs was probably more an instinctual and kinetic form of magic than unicorn magic, how the different tribes all had magic of their own... And then my brother broke in and cut off my train of thought. “Nope!” he said simply, pleased with himself and gently flapping his wings. “I think you need a horn for that. I'll be able to fly, though!” 

I grumbled, resisting the urge to tell him off for being so damn wrong, but it wasn't the time. 

The pastor sighed and rested his chin in the palms of his hands. “Of course you can fly,” he mumbled tiredly, looking like he had a headache brewing. I could almost hear his preconceptions shattering as he tried to accept everything he'd been shown. Transformations, ponies, flight and magic... it was a lot to take in, especially all at once. He rubbed his temple and continued. “Alright, you clearly can't work in the shop – and Mary too, if she's going through the same thing.” I looked at him in disbelief as he started sounding normal again – he was taking charge of the situation and establishing order. If he could do that, he could probably accept that his employees were turning into characters from a children's show. He wouldn't like it, of course, and he would probably be under a great deal of stress for the next several weeks... But he could get through it. He could handle it. And that meant no surprise visits from the police, FBI, or CDC, and all of the unfortunate consequences they would entail. I closed my eyes in relief for a brief moment, and relaxed.

He continued, his voice growing stronger as he got a grip on the situation. “But we need to fix this. Somehow. You said it wasn't a virus or anything like that, do you have any ideas what it might be?”

Ah, there was the rub. The pastor always seemed to know how to ask the most awkward questions. “Well, yeah, but you're not going to like it,” I mumbled, not wanting to share my theory.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I've spent the entire morning covering my job and yours because my employees have grown hooves, horns, and wings. In the past hour, I have sat through a perplexing children's show, been startled more times I can count, said things I never say, been shocked into unconsciousness by mind-numbing terror, been shocked back into consciousness by a deluge of frigid water, and seen things no one else on earth has ever seen before or should ever see again! My world has been turned on its head, and I am treading the edges of madness.” He said this all with the placid air of someone discussing the weather, his serenity unbroken as he continued his calm litany. Perhaps he wasn't handling it as well as I thought... I edged away from him for my own protection. “So,” he continued cheerfully, “believe me when I say that nothing would seem out of the ordinary at this point.” 

I cringed, still reluctant to share, but he did have a point. None of this made sense, anyway; why should the solution? I cleared my throat and arranged my thoughts, trying to find a way to say it that didn't sound like gibbering nonsense. And besides, it wouldn't do any good to refuse the potentially deranged man, anyway. “The only thing I can think of,” I began hesitantly, “is some sort of enchanted object in the shop. Something common that all three of us activated – not you, but me, my brother, and Mary. It couldn't have looked expensive or old or it would have gone straight to your desk, but it also couldn't have been so unremarkable that only one of us handled it, as none of us have worked at the same time for weeks.” I pondered, organizing my thoughts and deducing what we could reasonably know about the mystery object.  But nothing jumped out at me. I couldn't think of any likely Magical Macguffins that I had shared with my brother or Mary. A few shirts, sure, but they were just ordinary shirts. I pushed away the doubts, shaking my head – it was the only lead I could think of, and we were going to exhaust that possibility before we discounted it.

“Alright,” he said, nodding to himself. “it's nearly dark, we can head to the store soon. Do you have anything to hide.... Umm, that?” he said, pointing at my horn. 

I grimaced. “I don't wear hats, but... I guess I could make some sort of turban? Is that racist?” I asked uncomfortably, shifting in my seat.

“It's necessary,” he said firmly. “Some dark glasses wouldn't hurt, either.” He turned to Luke. “And you need to put on a sweater to hide those wings. As for your hooves,” he stopped for a moment, twitching at the word as if it caused him physical pain, and tried again. “As for your hooves,” he said slowly and firmly, “you could try some thick, heavy boots.” I nodded gruffly, glad that things were getting organized, while my brother trotted to the closet and pulled a jacket over his back. “We can't do much about your faces,” he continues as I started searching for some concealing clothing, “but hopefully it will be too dark for anyone to notice.” 

I grabbed some linens from the closet and took them into the bathroom with me. It took several tries to get it to stay wrapped around my horn without unraveling, and lots of tweaking and adjustments to make it look more natural, but eventually I had a passable turban. It was stereotypically large, but at least it wouldn't cause a panic. The rest of the outfit went on more smoothly – the shades fit like normal, and I found that the boot's ankle holes could be tied snugly around my hooves. I finally stumbled back into the living room and gave the pastor a tight-lipped smile, hiding my teeth. “How's this?” I asked, turning around and swishing my tail, proud of my work even as I missed something crucial.

The pastor, to his credit, took the unintentional revelation in stride. “Just hide the tail and you'll be fine,” he said shortly, turning away. I cocked my head, confused, then yelped as I realized what I'd forgotten. I meekly tucked my tail into my pants and down my leg, hiding it from view.

I found my brother already waiting – he had finished up much more quickly than I had, only needing to get boots on after his jacket. He was not good at waiting. “Finally,” he groused, and stumbled outside. I rolled my eyes and followed, heading out to my own car.

I grumbled as I fumbled in my pocket for my keys, my hands feeling stiff and uncooperative. I groaned as I realized they were probably turning into hooves, too. I wondered how long I had before there wasn't any human left in me, and even these crude disguises wouldn't hide my new form... It wasn't a pleasant thought. But there was no time for navel-gazing – there was a car door to unlock, and I'd be damned if I let it defeat me. If my hands wouldn't cooperate, well, I would simply use magic! I pushed my worries away and carefully, carefully tried to levitate the key into the lock. It took several attempts and a few minor scratches in the paint, but I finally managed to get it in. “Yes!” I said, grinning like a child who had finished their first macaroni picture, and unlocked the door... and stopped. I cringed with embarrassment as I realized I could have just pulled the lock-knob up through the window; telekinesis doesn't care about barriers. I gave the door a dirty look before climbing in, grumbling about it being good practice.

Heavy, awkward footfalls alerted me to my brother's presence. He was blushing. “Your turn to drive,” he mumbled. I frowned – no it wasn't. I'd driven him the last few times, and... Oh. I looked down at his hands, and caught a glimpse of them before he hastily stuffed them in his pockets. His nails were turning broad and hard, and his fingers seemed much shorter. I might have laughed and told him to drive his own car if he wanted to play like that, but my own changes seemed to be following his with an hour or two delay – I wasn't in any position to tease him. “Err... Alright, hop in,” I muttered, this time expediting the door-unlocking in a more intelligent manner. I fumbled with the ignition as he took shotgun, and decided not to wound his pride more by buckling his seatbelt as if he couldn't. By the time he'd belted himself in, I'd only just started the car. I looked behind me and started to back up, attempting to telekinetically guide the steering wheel. 

Dear reader, please mark these words carefully; magic is not an adequate substitute for real hands when it comes to driving. At least, not with my unpracticed and fumbling skill. The only reason we didn't end up wrapped around a telephone pole was my excruciatingly slow pace, and even then there were several near fender-benders. I had to pull over at one point to calm down – I didn't want to do to my steering wheel what I did to the wad of newspaper, or anything else my by-and-large unknown magic was capable of. 

We both staggered out of the car into the store's parking lot, grateful to have solid ground under us. “I can't wait until I can fly,” my brother said nauseously, and I felt a brief moment of envy as I thought of puttering around in a car for the rest of my life. Then I snickered, realizing how silly it was to be jealous of a pegasus – I was a unicorn, and if I was as powerful as Sombra was, I could probably teleport! Even if he was a Wonderbolt, I could still get around faster than him. Probably less noticeably, too – I could stay on the ground, but he'd have to zip through the air in plain view of everyone.

“Heh, that's nothing, I'll be able to just warp wherever I want,” I boasted proudly, trotting on all fours past him, head held high. “Why, I bet... Ummm...” I looked down at myself, my gloating cut short as I realized how quickly I'd switched to a horse's gait, and blushed profusely. “Crap,” I grumbled, and forced myself to stand on my legs properly, like a human. I could do it, but it ached – it was like trying to limbo everywhere, my body just wasn't meant to bend that way for an extended period. Unfortunately, I had no choice; I'd have to walk normally if I wanted to pass as a human. “Let's just find this magic juju,” I grumbled, wincing as I walked as normally as I could.

My brother nodded, his sweat running down his brow as he grunted and walked along slowly behind me. I winced – of course, he was farther along in that transition, and he was probably incredibly sore already. I paused for him to catch up, trying not to be impatient as he hobbled along closer.

We made it to the door without incident. All the curtains were drawn but light spilled from the cracks between them, giving off a warm, friendly glow. I fished for something to tell him, something to keep him positive. “And hey, maybe you can fly my around sometime when your wings grow in!” I thumping his back cheerfully. He nodded and gave a hesitant smile as we clopped through the threshold together. I closed and locked the door behind me and he gave a grateful sigh, dropping onto all fours behind me. 

If the pastor noticed his change of locomotion, he didn't show it. He was already at work, looking through the curio cabinet where we kept all of the older, more exotic looking merchandise – careful to not touch anything, naturally. “Sooo,” he said dubiously, eyeing the knickknacks, “how do we tell which is enchanted?”

My brain locked as I considered the question. How did one uncover an unusual magical object that apparently looked normal and non-magical? I groaned, realizing we hadn't even considered the 'how' of the plan. “I don't know,” I admitted, eyes downcast as I scuffed the floor. “I didn't think about it, I guess.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed at my oversight, and rubbed my forehead, accidentally knocking my horn with my hardening hand. “Ow!” I grumbled, my sensitive new appendage aching, “why are horns so damn... sensitive...”

Of course. I had a magical aerial stuck to my forehead; if anything could detect enchantments, it was my brand new face ornament. “Hey guys,” I mumbled, not wanting to get any of our hopes up, “I think – well, my horn is sensitive to magic, and I could probably sense any enchantments if I got close enough!” I tried not to grin to broadly at my own creativity.

My brother scratched his chin, considering. “That might actually work,” he said, nodding with approval. “By the way, how's it feel?” he asked out of the blue, reaching over and poking my horn.

I winced and pulled away, glaring at his rudeness. “Ouch, hey, careful!” I grumbled, rubbing it gently. “How's what feel, the horn?”

He rolled his eyes. “Magic! How's it feel when you 'sense' it? What about when you use it?”

I frowned, still miffed at his rudeness, but it was a good question. “Well,” I began, thinking carefully... then grinned as I realized how to get his goat. “Well,” I started again, trying not to snicker, “you know the feeling when a storm's brewing, and you're standing out in the middle of the whipping wind and lashing rain? All of that power? And when you stand by a window in a cold room on a sunny day, and the sunlight feels like it's seeping into your skin and bones?” I asked, waxing poetic and laying it on thick.

His eyes widened with surprise. “Y-yeah?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah... doesn't feel like any of that,” I snickered, and dodged away before he could hit me.

“Douche,” he grumbled, sticking his tongue out even as he grinned a bit.

We would have continued on like that for a good while if the pastor hadn't interrupted. “Gentlemen, we're supposed to be working,” he said patiently. While we were technically off-duty, we still had an artifact to find. Well, that was fine with me; that just meant more horn-practice, and I was itching to get better with magic. The more stuff I could do with my new skills, the better, I thought. My brother and the pastor started looking around the shop for stuff to bring me, stuff that my brother had handled and the pastor hadn't (and still wisely wouldn't). Meanwhile, I got to work 'scanning' stuff directly.

Now, I say I 'scanned' for magic, but... well, you don't 'scan' with your eyes, you look. Likewise, I didn't really 'scan' with my horn, I just held it close to what I wanted to examine and tried to feel for magic. It usually wasn't very much beyond a small whiff, like background noise, something I could only detect because I was actively 'listening'. I did start noticing some patterns, though; wooden things gave me a slight tingle down the horn, and I couldn't figure out why. It was only after my brother brushed past it and sent a similar but stronger tingle that I realized what was causing it. Living things, it seemed, must contain magic, and even things that used to be alive must retain some residual power. I shook my head. It was interesting, of course, but not very useful for finding what we were looking for. I continued on.

I slowly walked through the shop, trying to ignore the ache in my back as I kept a wary eye – err, horn – out for anything strange. It didn't take long; my horn tingled as I walked past the antique's hutch. I frowned and peered inside – I thought that the pastor handled everything in there? - but kept looking anyway. Nothing really jumped out at me as strange or suspicious... Ah well. I slowly working my horn from side to side as if it were a metal detector and soon realized that the disturbance was coming from a large, well-formed quartz crystal. It was one of the few that escaped my collection; I already had several beautiful chunks of quartz, and I couldn't afford it even with the pastor's generous employee discount.  I opened the hutch and tilted my horn towards the crystal, and felt my very teeth buzz with magic. My horn practically vibrated with the strange energy, and I thought I could hear a faint sound coming from both the stone and my horn – there was definitely something unusual about that thing. “Hey guys?” I called out nervously, “I think I found something...”

I continued scrutinizing the enigmatic stone. Had it been manufactured, or did it occur naturally? If it was physically natural, what about the magic? So many questions, and I couldn't even speculate on the answers. Still, it... It felt good. Despite all of the oddness, it felt good, natural even. I thought back to earlier, when felt right to use magic, too, but this was different. Using magic felt natural for my body. Whatever was special about the crystal seemed like it was special for me, too – something special not just to my changing body, but to me. Like it was a quality I shared, an aspect we had in common...

My eyes drifted down to the base of the crystal, and what I saw disquieted me. While the upper parts were whole and pure and clear, the bottom was fractured and marred. The crystals had not formed well there, as is usual for quartz crystals, probably because it formed too quickly and with too many impurities in the solution. For some reason the sight of the... the disorder... made my skin crawl. As natural and right the upper part of the crystal felt, the lower areas felt wrong to an equal degree. I let my magic flow without a thought, my horn glowing as I cast a spell, power flowing as naturally as my breath as I set the crystal to rights. I didn't know why I was doing it, it just felt like the right thing to do. Like I was meant to do it.

The base of the crystal, cracked and milky from poor formation and imperfections, started to glow. It slowly turned translucent as the impurities were purged from it, particulates of matter migrating to the surface falling onto the shelf as fine dust, while the cracks sealed and filled with tiny crackles and pops. The hexagonal surface of the perfect upper crystal cascaded downwards, spreading its uniformity down across the bottom, bumps sinking and gaps filling as the crystal seemed to flow like water.

“What was that?” my brother whispered, breaking me out of my reverie. I hadn't heard him approach, so absorbed I was in my work, and he was looking over my shoulder as I, quite literally, worked my magic. I looked up at him and then back at the crystal, and my eyes widened as I saw the changes I had wrought in it. The chunk of quartz was slightly smaller, but it was a clear, pure crystal. It no longer sat on a foundation of base and bastard rock, but on a perfectly smooth hexagonal bottom. I picked it up carefully and looked it over... Not a single imperfection marred its surface or its inner material. It was... perfected. The thought sent an odd thrill of joy down my back, and I couldn't help but grin.

“I.... I dunno,” I finally answered. “I just... I think I fixed it?” I awkwardly rolled it between my hands, enjoying the sharp, cool smoothness on my transitional hands.

He looked disappointed. “So that's not what we're looking for?” he asked, frowning and poking the quartz. 

I winced and snatched it away, grasping it protectively. “No,” I muttered, frowning at his disparagement of my work. “But... Look, it's better now. I made it a pure crystal.” I held it up for him to look at, giving him another chance, but he just rolled his eyes. He never appreciated my crystals...

“Look, we have to focus here – you can look at pretty crystals AFTER we're back to normal,” he said shortly, and trotted off again. I glared after him. Yes, finding the mystery item was important, but he could at least acknowledge my work...

I shook my head. Some people just couldn't appreciate beauty. I wiped the purged impurities from the shelf and set the crystal back in its rightful place, my eyes lingering on it for a moment before I closed the hutch. 

***

The rest of the search was uneventful. We found nothing. Some of the gemstones we came across held the same allure as the quartz, but nothing spoke of hidden enchantments or sorceries. As far as I could tell, all crystals had the same 'feeling' to a greater or lesser extent, but it was a simple, natural 'feeling' – a curse, I surmised, would feel unnatural and more complex, perhaps with a whiff of will or intent. I sighed, giving up after our third sweep, and leaned against the counter.

“I'm not sure there ever was a magic doodad,” I mumbled to myself, idly prodding at random things without any real hope. “Maybe it wasn't something in the shop – maybe someone did this to us, somehow?” I idly floated a t-shirt, giving it a futile scan before bending and folding it with just my mind. Apparently my magical prowess grew with my horn, the latter looking fully grown at that point. “I mean, if I can use magic, why can't someone else?” I continued, musing. 

A cold trickle of intuition led me to pursue that thought. I probably wasn't the only person who could use magic; others almost certainly had that ability. And if someone had cast a spell on us, why couldn't they cast it on anyone else? What if we weren't the only ones being transformed into ponies? But who would do something like this – there was no benefit to them, as far as I could see. If they was making a pony army, well, that plan backfired rather spectacularly; if I ever caught whoever did this (if indeed it was a person, and there wasn't a third option I had missed) my only thanks would be a hard buck to his or her head. No, a pony army was almost certainly out of the question. Maybe they just did it for shits and giggles? It was possible, but unless someone really loved chaos for the sake of chaos...

My mind turned to the character from the show, Discord. He would certainly love all this chaos, and if he had the power to turn 3 people into ponies he would certainly do it to others. And then... Well, he'd sit back and watch the show. Discord wasn't real, of course... but then, neither was the Joker, nor was Soarin or Cadance or Sombra – but that didn't stop impersonators. An image started to form in my head as I built upon this train of thought, crystallizing what I knew into a cohesive theory, and I grinned to myself. It was a plausible theory; others probably had magical powers, and a small subset were probably criminals, and a subset of those were criminally insane and fancied themselves to really be fictional villains. Given what we knew, how unlikely would it be that someone had magical powers, and was unhinged enough to believe that they were the 'Spirit of Chaos'? Indeed, it would be a self-reinforcing delusion; his magic would only cement the idea in his mind. He would believe himself to truly be the Spirit of Chaos encarnate.

What would he do from there? Well, he would have probably started small, of course, but Discord didn't torment humans; he'd need ponies if he was to be Discord 'properly', if his psychosis was to be sated. So, he would turn people into ponies – and isolate them, of course, half the fun would be in letting them think they were going mad – and then sit back and watch the fireworks. It all made perfect sense – at least, as much sense as could be expected under the circumstances. It fit the evidence, at the least

I trotted on all fours to the other two. “Guys!” I said excitedly, “I think I figured it out! Some magical guy went crazy and thought he was Discord, and so he went around turning everyone into ponies! Because, you know, Discord likes to mess with ponies, and... Ummm...” I blushed at their nonplussed expressions. I swear, that sounded better in my head. 

“Err... Let me try again,” I said, forcing myself to calm down and speak sense. I explained my theory about how there must be others who could do magic, and how someone powerfully magical and mentally unstable might think themselves a god of chaos, and how it logically followed that a madman with magic might think he was Discord. From there, the 'turn people into ponies' conclusion seemed to be a given.

My brother looked at me dubiously. “It works,” he said after a moment's hesitation, “but... something's missing. It seems too simple, like it doesn't account for everything...” He furrowed his brow, contemplating.

I just shrugged. “Look, it's the best I got. We can modify the theory as we find more evidence, but at least it's not contradictory to the evidence. Shoot, some of it is probably true.” I turned to the pastor for his opinion.

The pastor was silent through all of that, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke.

“Who's Discord?” he asked, puzzled.

I sighed and turned to my brother. “You wanna take this one?”
> 6 - Of Aviation and Aggrevation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We all crowded around the lone computer in the back office. “Alright,” I said, turning to the other two as I waited for it to boot up, “we're going to watch the very last episode of the series, so you're going to need a little background.” I started explaining Discord's history, from his first and second defeats to his 'redemption' in the third season, and left out the few roles he had in the next few seasons. My brother and the pastor nodded patiently, indulging my admittedly bumbling explanation as I slowly pecked at the keyboard. It was slow-going – my usually nimble fingers were reduced to short, barely functioning stubs, and I couldn't type like I had before. At least I had magic to compensate – it couldn't be that hard to type by magic, right?

I focused on the keys and tried to 'feel' where my old muscle-memory knew the right keys were. It wasn't the same, but there were similarities – the sense I got from it was that I was 'touching' it all at once with massive, blob-like hands that weren't actually attached to me, but still relayed sensory information. Needless to say, it was an odd experience. Still, I could 'feel' the keys, and started to type. Unfortunately, and I was learning this lesson very well, magic simply does not act like a pair of hands; I would try to press one key and I'd end up pressing several at once, or else push the wrong one completely. At one point I had to ease back on the magic, my frustration having fueled the pressure and made the keyboard creak with the strain. I finally stopped the failing experiment and went back to pecking at the pony-unfriendly interface with my wooden hands, grumbling about poorly designed hardware.  

Hasbro had cracked down on Youtube – again – and had deleted most of the videos, but I eventually found a good enough quality version of the episode hidden under a clever name. I hit play and started streaming, pushing my chair out of the way so the other two could watch.

I'll be honest... I didn't like the last episode. It went against the tone of the entire series and it didn't tie up any of the loose ends – indeed, it just created MORE unresolved plotlines. What happened to the Mane Six after Discord cast his mysterious spell? What did that spell even do? What about Celestia and Luna? Did everyone just die? Shoot, it would have been a better ending if they just killed everyone, at least that would have made sense and closed the story. And the very last scene didn't even fit in; why did they bring Sombra back just to have him be put under the same mysterious spell? It was as if the writing team thought, “Hey, you know what the fans want to see closure on? Sombra! No, no, forget the Mane 6, Sombra's what the fans want!”. At least, that's what they thought until their presumably drug-fueled madness came to an end, while their collective hangovers made completing the disparate scraps too much to bother with. And so, they submitted the eclectic – nay, schizophrenic – abomination to the animators, who were fed up with the nonsense and just went with it. That's my pet theory, anyway – and if it doesn't make sense, well, neither does the episode. 

I shook my head – no matter how poorly written the episode was, Luke and the pastor had to see it if we were to all be on the same page. I skipped the intro before it could start, not wanting to subject the others to it. I liked it myself, but it really was an acquired taste. We watched the episode in silence; I was too embarrassed to say anything, while the others probably found it too strange to interrupt. I cringed, anticipating their confusion at the final scene, and considered stopping it just shy of the non-sequitur about Sombra, but something unexpected happened. They cut straight to the thankfully silent credits without showing the final scene; they skipped right past it without any explanation. “Huh? What gives?” I asked the computer, dragging the time pointer back a few seconds to see if the show glitched. But, no – it just replayed the scene where Twilight was cursed, and again with right to the credits. “That was odd, why didn't it end with Sombra in his cave, like it should have... Ah well, it was a pointless scene anyway,” I said, shrugging it off and swiveling in the chair, “the episode was better without it. Not that it was very good, mind...”

I looked up at the other two, trying to gauge their reactions. The pastor seemed mildly confused, his brow furrowed as he tried to order his thoughts. Not surprising – that episode hadn't made much sense to the fandom, much less a non-brony. My brother, however... 

He was staring at the computer screen, expressionless. Catatonic, even. I frowned and stopped fidgeting, my head cocked as I watched him. I knew the episode was bad, but was it that bad? I waved a hand – well, a hoof, it was more of a hoof at that point – in front of his face, but he didn't respond. “You okay?” I asked gruffly. Still no response. “Luke, stop being stupid.” I eyed him, waiting for him to laugh and reveal some sort of obscure joke, but still he continued to stare with disturbingly vacant eyes, mind a thousand miles away...

And just like that he came back to himself. One moment he was dead to the world, unresponsive to anything we said, and the next moment he looked around mildly as if nothing was wrong. “Huh, that was unexpected.” 

I started to agree with him, but before I could asked why he chose that moment to impersonate a vegetable he continued. “Why was Soarin in that episode? He didn't seem to have anything to do with the plot. Not that the plot made much sense, anyway.” 

“Hang on, what?” I asked, even more confused and clinging to the dwindling hope that he would deliver the punchline. When none was forthcoming, however, I slowly and carefully said,“Soarin wasn't in that episode...”

He frowned. “Yeah he was,” he said indignantly, “I saw him right there at the very end. It was right before the credits. You must have seen it,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Soarin was flying from Discord, Discord was toying with him...” He paused and shuddered. “Yeah, that was way too intense for a children's show. I don't know how they got on the air.”

“Luke,” the pastor spoke up, giving him a measured look, “what on earth are you talking about? The show ended with that purple horse with the wings and horn-”

“Twilight,” I interjected, unable to stop myself. He waved me off.

“Twilight, fine – it ended with her being attacked by that dragon with antlers – Discord, was that his name? Yes, anyway, Discord attacked Twilight, and then it went to credits,” he looked over Luke closely, as if worried he might have a seizure, “and then you... You went catatonic. Your brother tried to talk to you, but you just stared at the screen. You wouldn't respond.”

My brother looked back and forth between us, unnerved. “What are you talking about? Look, I can prove what I saw,” he said, an edge of panic in his voice as he scrolled back the time marker. “Alright,” he said, hitting play. “So, there's Twilight in her chambers, here comes Discord... Discord hits her with the curse... Next scene- eh? What? N-no, it went to the next scene with Soarin, it didn't go to credits, I just saw it,” he stammered, speaking quickly and rewinding again and again, becoming frantic as he searched the same five seconds repeatedly.

“Luke,” the pastor interrupted softly, and gently pried my brother's hoof off of the mouse. “Luke, it's not there. Both me and James saw it with our own eyes, and we both saw how it ended. Soarin wasn't in this one. Maybe your mind is being affected by the changes?” he asked kindly, as he would a frightened animal.

Luke hung his head. “I... I swear I saw it,” he said nervously. “I'm not crazy, I know what I saw...”

I frowned through their exchange, remembering back to the time I first watched the series finale. It was with a brony friend, and we had a very similar conversation after the episode ended. I thought he was pulling a prank, saying I went rigid for a good 30 seconds into the credits, so I brushed it off at the time.  With what had just happened to Luke, however, I was no longer sure it was a prank. I typed 'my little pony series finale sombra ending', but found nothing relevant. I tried a few more ways of phrasing it, but that failed too. I typed in the same thing but with soarin instead of sombra – still nothing. I had the creeping feeling that we were both sharing this, just as we seemed to share whatever was turning us into ponies – only at very different times, concurrent relative to our first viewing of the episode. It seemed that neither of the endings we each saw had actually been in the show. The pieces started falling into place; my brother and I both became catatonic during our first viewing of the season finale's ending – why was still a mystery, but that much was reasonably certain. It was also reasonably certain that it was no coincidence what 'missing scene' we viewed, as they both contained our respective ponies and Discord's curse upon them. But it couldn't be the changes that initiated the vision; I saw the season finale the day it came out, and that was long before I started to transform. I briefly considered a frightening possibility, that the episode itself might initiate some sort of enchantment on random people, but quickly discarded it – my brother had only just seen it, that couldn't have been the cause. 

“Luke,” I broke in, “you're not crazy. Or if you are, I am too. I'm pretty sure I went catatonic and had a vision when I first saw the season finale – just like you did a minute ago. And it couldn't have been caused by our changing bodies, I saw it years ago. Since I haven't seen the same 'vision' since then, well... It's pretty safe to say we're not crazy. There's gotta be something else to this.”

My brother gave a sigh of relief – apparently he was really worried his perception of reality was being debased by the changes. “Thank you Jesus,” he said fervently, leaning against the wall for support.

I couldn't help but smile at that – thank you Jesus indeed, we had another clue. It couldn't be a coincidence that Luke and I both changed and had visions of our own characters being cursed by Discord. There had to be a connection. I didn't know how or why, but it was too much of a coincidence that we had the same hallucination triggered by the same event, containing our respective ponies being inflicted by the same curse by the same entity. But what did the visions mean? I considered it; maybe the Discord in our hallucinations was a sort of mental avatar of our subconscious knowledge, or a representation of a subtle and unconsciously felt magical link, to the real culprit. In any case, there was at least one more data point to collect...

I grinned at my brother, and he returned a puzzled frown. It was a 'What are you grinning about?' sort of frown, and an annoyed one at that. I just tilted my head towards the video on the screen. He still looked perplexed, so I gave him a hint.

“Mary,” I said, my grin turning into a self satisfied smirk. 

He looked confused for another moment, but then it all dawned on him at once. “You want Mary to see it!” he said, a broad smile stretching across his face, now blend of human and equine features. “And then she'll have a vision just like we did!”

I nodded, still grinning and superbly self-satisfied. “Yup! And we'll probably find some answers. Tell me,” I cocked my head at him, “what kind of...” I paused, operating more on intuitive leaps and analogies than any solid reason. I pushed away the doubt – there had to be a connection, and data was data no matter how little we understand of it. I started again. “What kind of feeling do you get from the Discord from your vision? Is he like the Discord you saw in the rest of the show?”

“What? They're the same thing, aren't they? How could... wait.” He frowned and looked thoughtful. “It's... It doesn't feel the same. He feels more real, somehow.”

I nodded. The other depictions felt like shadows, almost, while the one in the vision felt like the thing casting the shadows – like a real, living being. It didn't make any sense, but intuition was rarely straightforward and sensible. I cackled gleefully, rubbing my hands/hooves together. “I think he's linked to whoever did this to us. You can feel it too, can't you? Maybe it's an altered memory or something, maybe it's a magical connection, but if we can figure out why he's so familiar and alive compared to the show-”

“We might find out who he really is!” he finished for me.

I laughed, superbly pleased with myself. “I might find out, you mean – you hardly did a thing! Just let me do all the thinkin',” I teased, ignoring his dirty look. I was getting closer to the solution, and the knowledge made me happier than I'd been since the whole mess had started. Some freaking ANSWERS for all of the madness were finally in sight. I might find a cure! A solution for my ponification! All I had to do was find out who that person was, track him down, and work from there. No more dead ends, no more goose chases – I was onto something real. 

I had a real goal.

The pastor stepped back at that point and let us discuss it amongst ourselves – whether it was out of respect for our wishes or an attempt to segregate himself from the madness, I didn't know. Still, he had tried to help us out when we needed him, and I couldn't ignore that. While my brother called Mary – who had apparently been kept informed by Luke's text messages while I wasn't looking – I turned to the pastor. I stood up on wobbly, transitional legs and carefully made my way to him, not wanting to trip. He eyed me nervously as I extended a mutated hoof/hand. I considered dropping it, but he eventually took it and shook it. “Thanks,” I mumbled, unused to thank-you's, but he really had helped us out. 

“Just try to, ummm, get better,” he said, maintaining a bad pokerface as he looked me over, eyeing the changes I'd undergone in the few hours he'd seen me. I was definitely more pony than human at that point, and was quickly approaching “uncanny valley” levels of creepiness. Having decided I'd strained his credulity long enough, I headed out the door.

My brother hung up the phone and grinned, following. “We're heading to Mary's,” he said, smiling broadly – and with a touch of goofiness, too, as if he was anticipating more than just answers. 

I snickered. “Shall I stop so you can pick up some flowers for her? She might not have had dinner yet,” I teased, earning myself a playful punch in the shoulder. Despite my teasing I was getting hungry, and we couldn't exactly just do a drive-through. “Think we should order something when we get to her house?” I asked, staying to the shadows while the pastor locked the door behind us.

He frowned. “I dunno... What can we eat? Or, well, what can I eat, you can probably eat the same stuff you could before,” he said bitterly. I would have none of it.

“You're a pony now,” I chuckled, making my way to the car – even as awkward as it was to walk, it was hard to dampen my spirits when things were finally beginning to clear up. “Go eat some flowers for all I care – look, there's some in that planter!”

He glared at me for even suggesting it, and started giving me a scathing response, but was interrupted by his stomach. It gave a low, rumbling, angry growl like a beast, and I stifled a snicker. I climbed into the car and watched, amused. He followed a minute later, some white sap smeared on his cheek and a bit of dandelion fluff stuck in his face fuzz. He stared straight ahead without a glance at me.

The ride was uneventful; I was getting better at careful manipulation and regulation of force, and found I could stabilize things by sticking my arms through the gaps in the wheel to provide additional guidance. Still, I took it slow – I'd had enough near misses for one day. The last thing we needed was an accident and the accompanying government scrutiny. I pulled up by the sidewalk in front of Mary's house, and looked around carefully. “All clear,” I mumbled, seeing no one, and we awkwardly climbed out of the vehicle. It was really starting to ache, walking on two legs instead of four, but we had to at least look human at a passing glance. 

“I can't wait until I can fly,” Luke groaned, falling down on all fours when we reached the darkened porch – Mary had thankfully had the foresight to leave the lights off, so we didn't need to be worried about exposure while we waited – and knocked quietly with a fore-hoof. He no longer had even vestigial hands, and I wasn't much better. I was pretty sure that we'd be full-on pony by the next morning. Still, that would have its advantages if things kept going like they were.

“I can't wait until I can teleport,” I replied smugly, trying to one-up him.

“Dude, that's nothing compared to flying through the air,” he snickered, poking my side teasingly. “You earth-walkers will just have to settle for watching me glide on the wind, a lord of the skies, riding thermals and soaring through clouds-”

I snorted. “Getting stuck in them, too! You know they're solid for pegasi, right? Anyway, you don't even know what teleporting is like – or flying, for that matter! And while you're busy with your head literally stuck in the clouds, I'll be getting things done and saving hours of travel time.”

“Oh, and that's another thing – cloud beds look awesome,” he said, unperturbed. He blew a rasberry at me with astoundingly poor timing – the door finally cracked open, and a pair of lavender eyes peered out at him from the darkened interior just as he was really letting loose. He yelped in embarrassment and surprise and caught himself, stopping abruptly and scuffing the porch floor with a hoof. “Uhhh... Hi Cadence,” he muttered bashfully.

Mary giggled at the sight of him, knowing she'd walked in on a playful argument, and smiled warmly. It was eerily reminiscent of the pony from the show. “I'm still Mary, silly,” she whispered, opening the door wider and booping him on the nose. I resisted the urge to gag. “Quick, come in,” she continued, awkwardly pulling the door all the way open with a fully-formed hoof, and ushered us into the darkened room. I followed my brother in, shutting the door behind me as I did, and nodded in approval – blinds drawn, lights out, no witnesses. She'd been thorough. Now that we were safe she finally turned on the lights to greet us properly. I turned to thank her for her consideration and forethought. 

The words died on my lips. I expected to be delighted to see her, even in her altered form. She was a good friend, after all, and I couldn't think of anyone more fitting to represent the 'Princess of Love' – she certainly fit the character. She looked the part almost to the letter, too – she was even farther along than Luke, and besides a few patches of un-altered skin she was a perfect real-life analogue to the cartoon.

So why did I recoil at the sight of her?

It made no sense; I liked Mary. Not like my brother did, sure, but we got along well together, we were friends. I didn't even know what made me flinch, it happened so fast – was it anger? Disgust? Fear? It was like something suddenly forced itself to the forefront of my mind, overriding all rational thought and reacting. Whatever it was, it felt a strong... something, for her. I didn't know what it felt like, except that it wasn't a positive emotion. But just as quickly as it came, it fled back to the inaccessible recesses of my mind like a forgotten dream. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but the unease lingered. Maybe I was just hungry, or sleep deprived, but I doubted it. I coughed and spoke up. “Hey Mary, I'm starving, mind if we order something?” I asked, trying to shake off the feeling that something wasn't quite right. 

She turned to me with a smile and started to speak, but froze the moment she laid eyes on me. She yelped with surprise, her face a picture of shock and... was that fear? It was gone too fast to know for sure, but something told me my suspicions were correct. She was afraid. Of me. A friend she'd known for years, and looked out for her when rude, rambunctious, or outright licentiously creepy customers came into the store and bothered her. I grimaced, surprised how much it hurt to see that look on her face, even for an instant. But it did make an odd sort of symmetrical sense – I was starting to see patterns in all of this, even if the larger pattern was inscrutable. She had just felt the same thing I had, the same unbidden surge of irrational feeling. Wonderful. More mystery, more things that didn't add up but were somehow appropriate and consistent.

In a split second the fear disappeared, replaced by confusion. “James?” she asked hesitantly, taking a tentative step forward.

I closed my eyes with a sigh, wondering every first impression was going to be tainted by fear. “Yes, it's me,” I muttered resignedly, trying to get it over with. It didn't help that I looked like the result of a death metal band designing a My Little Pony character. “I know I look... weird, but it's still me under all of this.” I scuffed the floor, hoping that my dark fur had grown in thick enough to hide my blush.

She looked down at her hooves for a moment, abashed, then firmly met my gaze. “I'm sorry you changed into... whatever that is,” she said, waving a hoof dismissively, as if it were of no actual importance what I looked like, “and I'm sorry I reacted like I did. It was wrong, and you don't deserve it. It's not your fault you look like that.” Of course, she had read me like a book. She always was good at reading people, knowing how they felt.

“Not your fault either,” I said gruffly, just wanting the conversation to be over – I wasn't fond of emotional talk, but that girl could discuss her feelings all day long if given half a chance. I fished for a good segue into a different, more interesting topic. It had to be something we could both relate to, something that would make her forget the earlier awkwardness... 

I grinned, the perfect topic popped into my head after a moment's thought. “Besides, it's not all bad,” I said, turning to a magazine the end-table. I concentrated for a moment, focusing on the bundle of papers, and smiled as the simple levitation spell came to me easily – it was becoming second-nature. Better yet, it had the desired effect.

Her jaw dropped. She watched the magazine with ever-widening eyes as it slowly floated upwards in total defiance of gravity. I snickered as I watched her, loving every moment of her shock and amazement. “I... You said you could do magic,” she finally stammered, still fixated on the softly glowing magazine. “I thought you were being metaphorical or something!”

I chuckled and released the spell, letting the magazine flutter to the floor in a heap. “Nope! I'm now a magical gothic unicorn stallion – mostly, at least,” I said, looking down at myself. The changes weren't bothering me as much as I thought they would. In fact, that they were almost complete had somehow made it less disconcerting. It was much more comfortable than the halfway stages, with the cumbersome body and awkward gait. It started to feel less like I was mutating into some sort of freakish monstrosity and more like I was putting on an old, familiar garment. 

I considered trying to do more things with my magic – that 'incinerate' spell definitely needed more investigation – but the look of betrayal on my brother's face gave me pause. What on earth was bothering him? All I'd done was show her a spell, and she really seemed impressed by it – oh. Of course he was annoyed, I had just upstaged him in front of his crush. I resisted the urge to facehoof and simply started walking away – she wasn't my squeeze, and it wouldn't profit my anything to get between them. Ah, but that wouldn't do, I thought; it was already out, and Luke would probably bug me for it later... I had to nip that in the bud. “Oh, and Luke can fly,” I said easily, quickly and effectively diverting all of the attention to him instead.

His eyes flew open in surprise as I put him on the spot. “I can fly?” he stammered, and struggled to recover. “Err, yes,” he said more firmly, “yes, I can fly,” He glared at me before turning to Mary and giving her a confident smile. “It's not much yet, but I figure I just need practice,” he said, swaggering into the kitchen and towards the back door.

Either Mary hadn't noticed the awkwardness of the exchange, or she chose the tactful path and ignored it. Probably the latter. “You guys can do such awesome stuff, I'm so jealous!” she said, even though she didn't sound the least bit envious. Indeed, she sounded positively excited for us. I smiled a little – she really was a sweet girl, and a good friend. I prayed that none of that would change as we tried to find a way to change back. In the meantime... Well, why shouldn't she join in on the fun?

“Actually,” I chuckled, “you can probably do both! Those wings and that horn, they aren't just decorations. And if you're turning into a genuine alicorn, you may well be stronger and faster than both of us. Physically, anyway,” I said, loath to admit that she could be more magically powerful than I was – Cadance never seemed very powerful in the show, so who really knew? It took me a few moments to realize that she had fallen behind. I turned back to ask what the holdup was, only to see a look of utter shock on her face. 

She froze and stared. “I... I can?” she asked nervously, taking a step back and eyeing both of us. While she had been thrilled at our skills, the thought of sharing them seemed to frighten her. 

I cocked my head, wondering at her reaction. Why didn't she like the idea of a little power? “Ummm, yeah, I think you can,” I said carefully, trying not to scare her further even as I struggled to understand what was at all frightening about the prospect. “It's totally up to you if you wanna learn them, though.”

Luke nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. “Come on, we can both practice together!” he said eagerly, practically bouncing on his hooves as his wings fluttered. That seemed to convince her; she smiled and followed, eager to see her friend have fun even if she had doubts about her own involvement. It didn't hurt that his excitement was contagious – even I wanted to come and watch him fly for the first time, if he indeed could fly. If he couldn't... Well, at worst he'd have a bruised ego, and I'd get to feel smugly superior to his foolish attempts.

I followed them out, not wanting to miss out on his first attempt at flight no matter the result. As we strode onto the soft turf and I looked around, however, I noticed something distressing.

“Those fences are only a few feet tall... If he flies, he might be seen!” I whispered urgently, looking around with a nervous eye at the disturbing lack of cover. 

Luke groaned at my hesitation. “Look, I'll just try to hover, alright? And even if I flew up high, well, who looks up? Plus, it's dark! No one's gonna see blue against a blue night sky!” he assured me nonchalantly, stepping into the open air of the yard and spreading his well-developed wings. 

“BRIGHT blue against a DARK blue night sky!” I hissed, but he was already flapping. With a groan of anguish I stepped back into the shadows, preparing for the worst. Perhaps the CDC would be more interested in a stupid pegasus than a brilliant unicorn...

It only took a few steady beats of his wings before his hooves left the ground, his face lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning. He beamed at all of us as he beat a steady tempo in the air, hovering effortlessly – and fortunately had the forethought to keep any gleeful giggles bottled up. I grumbled, looking about warily for any onlookers, and for the first time since I'd got my horn I was a little jealous of his wings. But only a little – mostly, I was just worried he'd do something stupid. Aaaand there he went; he floated higher as I watched, and before I knew what he was doing he was level with the roof – easily in view of anyone nearby. 

“Luke!” I hissed, my annoyance turning to panic, “you gotta come down!”

I don't know whether he heard me, but I don't think he would have listened if he had. And I couldn't really blame him. I grumbled and fell silent as he rose higher and higher, the ecstatic look of purest joy never leaving his face as he left the ground far behind. In a few moments he was well beyond any quiet attempts to call him down, so I waited in silence for him to come back on his own.

Mary was the first to speak. “So... He really can fly,” she said in a hushed voice, barely able to believe it herself. I nodded and turned to her, sighing – since no one was shouting about a flying pony, I figured we were in the clear for a while. Safe, at least, until he came back down.

“Yeah,” I replied simply. “Yeah, he can. It's almost like he was born to fly, he took to it so naturally... If that were me, I would probably be fertilizing the ground below,” I joked nervously. “But, well... I don't know.” I turned to her and frowned. All of it felt too natural, too right. “What if we turned into, I dunno, the Thundercats instead of these ponies?”

She balked at my question, staring. “Wh-what?” she asked, nonplussed.

I fumbled to explain. “Well, see... we're turning into these ponies from an animated cartoon, right? Things that aren't real? What if we'd been turned into something else, from a different cartoon series? Would that feel natural, too? What if we turned into the Carebears?”

She shook her head and giggled. “Of course that wouldn't feel natural, we're not Carebears, we're-” She fell silent, her eyes widening. 

“Go on,” I urged. “We're what?”

She coughed and tried to regain her composure. “I-I was going to say, we're ponies... But, we're not ponies. We're human beings. I'm Mary, not some pony princess,” she said, looking down at herself in confusion. “And you're James, not Sombra. Why should this feel natural – it's not natural at all!”

I shook my head with a snort. “Don't worry about it, it's probably just a symptom of whatever's making us change,” I said dismissively. Fake-Discord probably thought it'd be a fine joke to play on us, making us feel 'natural' in these bodies. “As I was saying – this feels natural, right? It feels like it's part of who we are, like these bodies mesh perfectly with our skills and our natures. At least, superficially – I would never want to be a tyrant like Sombra,” I chuckled nervously, trying to push away the uneasiness of that train of thought. While we waited for Luke to come back, I filled her in on the current theory.

She listened patiently as I explained about the visions we both shared, and how we thought that there was someone behind our transformations – someone powerfully magically and insanely deluded. Her eyes widened as I told her about some of the things Discord did in the television show, and how we could probably expect the same behavior from the mystery maniac. 

“So... You think he turned us into these things to assuage his psyche?” she asked, catching on quickly. 

I raised my eyebrows in surprise – I hadn't thought about that. I thought maybe he was just doing it for fun. “That's a good point,” I mumbled, wondering why I hadn't thought of it... But then, she was much better at figuring people's motivations and feelings than I was. 

She nodded slowly. “So, why us? Out of all the people in the world, why would we be targeted?”

I frowned. “I don't know. I've been thinking it was some sort of common physical vector – touching the same cursed object, watching the same cursed thing – but now I'm not so sure. He could have drawn names out of a hat for all I know.”

She pondered for a moment. “Well,” she started hesitantly, “maybe it wasn't something we came into contact with. Maybe it has to do with who we are...”

“Who... who we are?” I asked, shivering. I was nothing like Sombra, even if I did find my new body strangely comfortable.

“Well,” she said carefully, trying to spare my feelings, “this body feels very natural to me. And you said it yourself, that body felt natural to you. Maybe there's an element of... Well, similar in heart and mind? It would make sense for someone with such delusions to seek out people similar to the ponies in the show to turn them into what his delusions say we are?”

I grimaced – she had a good point, there. “Look,” I mumbled, “you really are a kindred spirit to Princess Cadence,” I admitted reluctantly. “You're sweet and kind and you... well, you know how people feel and you always bring people together. I suppose I can't think of anyone who would make a better Cadence. And Luke... Well, he's a natural athlete and acrobat, and he always likes showing off. He also knows when to relax and when to push his limits, just like Soarin' from the show. But,” I stared at her with a touch of defiance, “I am NOTHING like Sombra. I would never do... well, whatever nebulous things he did. I mean, I'm not some sort of power-mad dictator, I'm just...” I stopped at the look on her face, stricken. “What?” I asked, fearing the answer and reluctant to hear it.

She paused, considering, and quickly shook her head. “It's nothing,” she said hastily. I opened my mouth, incensed and fully intending to demand she tell me, when a dark shape swooped down from the sky and landed lightly on the grass. We both turned to watch as Luke trotted on all fours towards us, nearly bursting with glee. “That was so awesome! Did you see me! I did flips and barrel rolls and-” His face fell as he looked between us, crestfallen at our lack of enthusiasm. “W-well... I thought it was cool,” he muttered, bowing his head. 

Mary quickly smiled and hugged him. “No, no, that was awesome!” she whispered excitedly, “we were just talking about some really heavy stuff.” 

I grimaced, hoping he wouldn't ask about it. Fortunately, he was more interested in his own first flight. “Oh, okay,” he said, brightening immediately and talking enthusiastically about all of the aerial maneuvers he performed and how it felt to fly through the air unfettered. “I can't wait until you can do it too, it'll be so awesome to have a flight buddy!”

We all trotted back inside, the two of them talking animatedly about flying and how cool it was while I was deep in thought. How could I possibly be like Sombra? I wasn't a tyrant, I didn't want to see ponies suffer. But... that was all I really knew about that evil pony. Besides the two Crystal Empire episodes at the beginning of season 3, there was no information on him. We had no idea what his character was like, beyond “evil dark nasty overlord”. For all I knew...

...For all I knew, I was very much like him.

Still dwelling on those disconcerting thoughts, I allowed their conversation to go on without me. It drifted from talk of flight, to aerial maneuvers, to whether they'd have to learn to preen, to how fast they could fly... all things that might have interested me if I weren't silently occupied with my own depressing notions. But it wasn't long before the topic came back to the transformations. 'Can't leave it well enough alone,' I thought tiredly, mentally wrenching myself out of the rut and trying to look at things in as coldly logical fashion as I could manage. It wouldn't help to mope, nor would it solve anything by running my mind through the same dreary cycles. 

“Cadence,” I broke in, trying to keep my voice level, “you never got to expound on your theory – could you elaborate?” 

“Oh, is that what you two were talking about?” my brother asked, eyes brightening and wings fluttering. If I had been in a better mood it might have cheered me to think of how expressive pegasi could be with their wings, but at that moment could only look on stoically. “Well, go on – the more ideas we throw around, the more likely we are to come up with the right one.”

Mary managed to keep a smile on her ponified features, but it no longer reached her eyes. “Well,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, “I was just telling Som- err, James, that we seem to somewhat match the ponies we're turning into – at least, in personality and skills,” she added quickly. Luke looked between her placating smile and my carefully expressionless face as she continued. “I think that whoever did this may have selected people based on how well they matched the characters in the show. I read up a bit on Soarin – his hair's adorable, by the way,” she said, reaching forward and brushing Luke's mane and making him blush like a schoolboy, “and, well, Luke certainly likes to fly through the air at his gymnastics place. Plus, they both know how to relax and how to be serious when they need to – and they're both totally comfortable in either situation.”

Even with my heart weighed down as it was, I couldn't resist a smirk at Luke's discomfiture. He scuffed at the floor, his blush showing clear through his fur, as he stammered, “W-well, you're... You're really good at reading people. And you're always gentle and kind, and, umm...” He struggled to find the word, trying to pin down exactly what key quality they shared. “...Uncorruptable,” he finally said firmly, nodding to himself. 

I frowned, but he was right; there was always something about Mary that made her seem immune to any nastiness that came about. No matter how belligerent or nasty the customer was, Mary took it in stride and never got mad or petty or vengeful. She simply served them as best as she could, and even if they didn't like it – even if they hated her for it – she didn't let them take away her joy. 

An uncomfortable silence grew as they both pointedly avoided looking at me. I had to break the silence. “I hate to bring up the elephant in the room,” I muttered, “but what about me? Am I anything like... like that thing?” I tried to keep up a brave facade, hoping that they would immediately deny the idea, insisting that I was an exception or dropping the theory entirely. Unfortunately, no rebuttal was forthcoming. If anything, they looked thoughtful. 

My brother spoke, and far too quickly for my liking. “You do get mad really easily,” he said, frowning and giving me a contemplative look. “And, well... You do seem to lack empathy sometimes. And you are a real stickler for the rules. I wouldn't call you 'lawful evil', but sometimes you take it too far. It's like you care more about the rules than the people the rules are supposed to help.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Was that really what they thought of me?! I... The rules were there to protect the shop, and I HAD to protect the shop since no one else would – or could! But before I could recover and tell him just how wrong he was, he spoke again.

“And I've seen you with customers, sometimes,” he continued, holding up a hoof as if listing things off even though he had no digits to do so, “When they're being jerks, well... it's not obvious, but I can tell that you enjoy turning them down. The pastor might not see it, but I do.”

I glowered at him, feeling betrayed. “Y-you're wrong,” I stammered stubbornly, unable to meet their eyes. “I... I just follow the rules. And I like it when I can enforce them – that's all! I like it when jerks get what they deserve, I like it when – STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!” I bellowed, indignant at their looks of pity and concern. 

I instantly regretted the outburst, but the damage was done. I squeezed my eyes shut and physically forced myself to calm down, taking deep breaths to steady my heart and ease the tension in my neck. When I spoke again, I was back in control of myself. “You're wrong,” I said coldly, firmly, glaring at Luke. “I'm not evil, I'm not a tyrant, and even if I do have a few negative qualities... I'm not a monster.”

“Hey, I never did-” Luke started to shout, but Mary interjected.

“Please, James,” she said kindly, trying to keep the peace, “we have no idea what kind of criteria the person used; it's hard to imagine anyone as evil as Sombra, and he may have had match you based on more subtle personality traits. Or, as you said, he may have simply drew names from a hat, and we just happen to match our characters really well.” It was an interesting theory... but too little, too late.

“I need to use the toilet,” I said gruffly, walking stiffly on all fours down the hall and into her bathroom. I resisted the urge to slam the door – that would just be childish – but made sure to lock it as loudly as I reasonably could.

Luke was wrong. That was all there was to it.
> 7 - Of Accomplices and Antagonists
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I had to calm down. I had to relax, but Luke's words kept running through my head ceaselessly, never giving me a moment's peace. Who did he think he was, trying to tell me who I was? And Mary, she didn't deny a word of it, she just went on with her usual placating garbage, never saying it outright, but I knew what she thought... I knew who I was – how could they know me better than I myself did?! Idiots, the both of them. Sentimental idiots who couldn't see the difference between cruelty and steadfastness, between callousness and order. 

I forced myself to calm down. They were wrong; that was all there was to it. What they thought didn't matter in the slightest. There was no sense dwelling on it any longer – I resolutely forced the thoughts away, trying not to dwell on them. Unfortunately, just like consciously trying to not think of a pink elephant, that 'pink elephant' kept coming back. It wouldn't do to not do something, I realized; I had to occupy my mind with something else and leave no room for it to rear its ugly head. I couldn't pull their poison out, I had to push it out. And that meant I had to find something with which to occupy myself. And what better to keep oneself occupied on the loo, than a good book?

Fortunately for me, Mary had rather sensibly kept all her bathroom reading tucked away in free-standing magazine rack. Insensibly, however, it was kept out of casual reach. I rolled my eyes and telekinetically pulled the rack towards myself, and started perusing its contents. It was stuffed to the brim with all manner of reading material. I saw the usual assortment of girl's magazines and immediately disregarded those; they would only make me more angry with their ridiculous surveys, counterproductive advice, and dubious tips. I likewise turned down the girly looking fiction books – while “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic” was an excellent show that happened to be targeted towards girls, it wasn't necessarily true that shows targeted towards girls would be good. Indeed, experience suggested that girl shows were useless, sentimental tripe. 

Just as I had settled for reading the least annoying of the girly fiction books, something at the bottom of the pile caught my eye. I cocked my head and took a closer look. Peeking up at me through the morass of ruffled papers were the letters “C.S Le”

I tried to grab it with my hooves, but that only crushed it further. Cringing, I pushed the other books and magazines out of the way before gingerly levitating the bruised and battered book. I looked it over, but was little disappointed; I had hoped that it was one of the Narnia books, but it was instead one I was unfamiliar with. “Mere Christianity”, the title read. Still, it was by C. S. Lewis, so how bad could it be? Curiosity piqued, I started to read.

By the time I'd finished the first few paragraphs, I'd started to calm down. After the first page, all thoughts of the other two had fled. And for a good reason; it was a good book. Not what I expected, certainly – I half expected another fiction book, but instead I found a refreshing account of Christian beliefs and behavior, with a hefty dose of apologetics mixed in. At least, that's how it started – it seemed to be building to something else, but I wasn't sure what. It was a stimulating read, to say the least.

Before I could finish the chapter, though, the doorbell rang. I froze and listened. 'Who would be coming around at this hour?' I thought, setting the book down and stepping forward gingerly, turning off the light and leaning forward to press my ear against the door. The front door opened, and I heard muted voices. There were no yells or thumps – a good sign – but beyond that there was nothing. I frowned. Could they be attacked quietly? I didn't think so, but it was too quiet for my comfort. I strained to hear what was going on, hoping the other two were safe, and nearly left a mess on the floor when someone knocked on the bathroom door right by my ear. As I stumbled back and fell onto the toilet, fortunately seated, the person on the other side of the door spoke.

“James,” Mary's voice – well, Cadence's voice, as it wasn't Mary's any longer – said. “Pizza's here.”

***

Dinner was a subdued affair; neither of them seemed to want to look at me. I knew what they wanted to talk about – it was plain on their faces that they were worried about me – but I didn't want their pity or their opinions; they were beneath me. They were wrong. Fortunately for me, they seemed to have taken the hint. Unfortunately, this left precious little to talk about. After they in turn gave several feeble attempts to strike up some conversation, only to rebuffed by my short, unenthusiastic answers, they sunk into silence as well. Better to eat in silence, I thought, than to listen to their self-righteous prattle.

I finished my dinner quickly, not wanting to linger with my interfering dinner-mates, and trotted out to the living room to watch some TV. The other two stayed in the kitchen, still eating. As I turned on the television and sat on the couch, getting comfortable, I heard them start talking softly amongst themselves. About me, no doubt. I turned up the volume to drown them out, fuming, and reminding myself of how little their petty, narrow-minded opinions mattered.

I couldn't hold onto my anger for long, though, nor did I wish to. The day had been long, I was tired, and there was nothing good to watch. It was the perfect recipe for drowsiness, and it wasn't long before I had trouble keeping my eyes open. I must have eventually konked off right on the couch – and was most likely snoring, if that carried over into my new body. And then the dreams came.

***

The landscape around the village – if such a flimsy assembly of hovels and ramshackle huts could be called such – was a nightmare. The trees twisted unnaturally, growing fruits of either toxic vividness or drab dullness, and all looked inedible for even a goat, let alone a pony. Still, the ponies had to eat; the earth ponies bucked the least corrupt looking trees, the pegasi plucked the most edible looking fruits, and the unicorns did what they could with their magic to test the magically tainted fruit. Of the small pile the pegasi and earth ponies could scrap together, the unicorns had to discard most of it – the enchantments they could detect were too dangerous to risk, even on the brink of starvation. Some of it was too dangerous to even dispose of in the refuse pit, and had to destroy it with a feeble burst of magic. 

They were all starving. As grateful as they were to the Great Sisters for defeating Discord, they couldn't fill their bellies with gratitude. Despite their victory, however, Discord's terrible reign had left its mark on the world, and his chaotic magic still lingered and corrupted the very earth and all things that grew in it. Some places were worse than others – and the village was one of those places.

A young unicorn colt – so young he didn't even have a mark on his flank – numbly looked over the fruit he was supposed to be examining. He was just learning to use his magic, and it was hard work. With a snort, he sat on his haunches and bent down over the fruit, scrutinizing it carefully as he called on his magic like he'd been taught. He wiped his wild ebony mane from his eyes with a charcoal gray hoof, and tried to sense what enchantment it held. If it wasn't too dangerous, it could be edible. The vividly red fruit looked warped and bent as if it was made of melted wax rather than vegetation, but even then he could recognize it as a former apple. He'd seen pictures of them in books. His horn flared as he detected a wisp of magic from it. After a few more moments of dutiful concentration, he puzzled out what the magic was supposed to do. It seemed harmless enough – it was a simple color-change spell, more prank than trap. He released his magic and sniffed it. It smelled okay – probably safe to eat. Probably. 

He looked up at the tree it came from, wondering if any more relatively-safe fruits were to be found. Unfortunately, most of them looked even worse than the one he held. But even as twisted and corrupted as they were, he fancied he could still see them as apples. He gave a disgruntled snort. They SHOULD be apples; that was what nature intended. They SHOULD be good to eat, they SHOULD be tasty, and they SHOULD be free of any unnatural enchantments. He looked down at the ex-apple he held, his belly rumbling. Well... He'd already sorted several other passable fruits, and he had to eat if he wanted to keep working... Surely no one would mind if he ate one piece of his own work?

Unfortunately, his work looked unappetizing. It smelled okay – though he'd never smelled an actual apple before – but it felt and looked like a withered kidney. Maybe if he thought really hard – if he pretended it was as it should be – he would be able to enjoy it better, perhaps? The slate gray colt closed his eyes. Yes, he thought. Yes, he was holding an apple. It was firm and ripe, it was a deep red, it was round and dimpled on both ends. It smelled delicious. He thought really hard on it, his horn feeling warm as he held the image in his mind, trying to pretend it smelled and felt better than it really was. He pretended, as hard as he could, that it was as it should be. He lifted it to his mouth, holding it awkwardly in one hoof, and... Wait. It really did smell delicious. And it really was firm and round and–

He blinked open his eyes and gasped in astonishment as he found himself holding an apple. A real apple. It had no marks or blemishes, it was not deformed, it did not smell like saccharine or poison – it was as it should be. It was...

The epiphany hit him, and his flanks started to glow. He had brought it back to its natural form. He hadn't just dispelled the chaos magic, he had brought it back to order – he had made it what it should be. 

The tingling in his flanks grew, finally catching his attention, and he looked down. The smile on his face broadened until it hurt as he realized what his purpose was, and what it all meant. He would bring order to chaos! He could bring things back into their natural rhythm, make them be what they were designed to be! And his marks proved that; a pure white diamond adorned each flank, each perfectly square and each bisected by two clean lines. It was a symbol, he'd learn later, for order itself.

“How touching.”

The cynical voice broke into the dream, and as the vision melted away I found myself in a cave. I turned to confront the voice and found myself facing an abomination. 

The show did not do him justice; Discord was not some cartoonish prankster, and he was not 'cute' in any way. He was a dragon – or at least, he had definitely saurian features, perhaps with a little bit of equine mixed in with the mane. While the show made him out to be a patchwork of different creatures, the producers were not thinking literally enough; he appeared to be crudely sewn together from various different animals. I could see the stitches. If someone hacked apart various animals, cut vast chunks out of a dragon's body crudely stitched the assortment in to replace the lost pieces, he would look much like the result. 

The 'thing' leered down, its jaundiced eyes filled with a malicious madness. I couldn't bear to meet its gaze. “Enjoying your stroll down memory lane?” it asked. The producers chose a good voice, at least; despite the creature's size, its voice was higher than expected, and eternally taunting.

At that point I realized I was dreaming, or something very much like a dream, and felt myself become more coherent... and terrified. “Wh-what the fuck are you?!” I called out, though I knew who he looked like and sounded like. 

“Oh, still can't remember?” the being teased, folding his mismatched arms across his chest and leaning back against the cave wall, supremely smug. “Hrrmmm... I don't know if I should spoil these things for you – it is such good fun to watch you flounder around in the dark.”

And then it clicked. Of course I'd have visions, I'd had them before – and they were all caused by the very person before me. And no matter how he looked, he wasn't actually Discord. I found my courage in the fact that this couldn't be real – not physically, anyway – and spoke up, defiant. “You... You're the person we're trying to find! That lunatic who turned us into ponies!” I growled, pointing my hoof at him accusingly. 

I hadn't expected him to break down and give up, or perhaps deny it and insist he was the real thing, but I also didn't expect his mocking laughter. “So close! Oh, this really is hilarious. Perhaps I'll wait before I tell you, this really is too funny.”

He was absolutely infuriating – the madman was taunting ME?! He DARED to speak to me, as if he was my better?! I snorted and growled, finding a furious sort of courage, and stamped forward. “Listen to me you mad little freak,” I hissed as I advanced on him, charging my horn with my fury and getting ready to unleash it on the dream-avatar. It might not actually do anything, but it'd show him I wasn't someone to be jerked around, and was CERTAINLY not someone to look down upon. “We're going to find you, and when we do we're going to make you mrff-MRGL!”

With a snap of his fingers he literally zipped my mouth shut – the zipper tab hung from the side of my maw, jingling softly with my movements. Before I could respond, he moved in close and bent down, forcing his terrible visage uncomfortably close to mine. “Now listen close, my little pony,” he cackled unpleasantly. “You're not the one in control here; I am. Why, I could kill you right now–” I gave a muffled scream as I felt pure agony tear through my body, but still he somehow kept my eyes wide open – “or I could make you utterly mad.” The walls grew faces and started to bleed black ichor, shrieks echoing from their cavernous mouths as they closed in on me – and still I could not close my eyes.

As abruptly as they started, the pain and hallucinations vanished. I collapsed onto the cave floor and shut my eyes, but he would not leave me be. “So, here's the deal. You amuse me, and you live! Stop amusing me, and you die! Isn't that simple?” he asked in mock sweetness.

The sudden pain and terror unmanned me, leaving me gasping for breath and shuddering. I'm ashamed to say that my courage was gone, and simply I laid there in a huddled ball with my eyes shut tight, praying for the nightmare to end. 

The madman posing as Discord wasn't finished, though. “What?” he asked in a falsely pitying voice. “You were so defiant just a minute ago.” I gave a yelp of terror as a loathsome claw caressed the back of my neck, and tried to scurry back away from it. That just earned a laugh from the sadistic monster. “Awww, is the little pony scared of the big mean draconequus? Is the lil' colt gonna cry? Is – ACK!”

“BEGONE FOUL CREATURE!” a voice rang out, interrupting and overriding him. “You may have cast me out of Equestria, but the realm of dreams is MINE to command!” I recognized that voice – even as different as it sounded from the show, there was no mistaking the Royal Canterlot Voice or the rustic vocabulary...

I finally risked opening my eyes in time to see the draconequus-avatar hurled through the wall and into the inky void beyond, and finally disappear into nothingness. On the other side of the cave stood none other than Princess Luna in her full glory – well, minus her usual regalia. It was still impressive to see her graceful build and flowing, star-woven mane and tail. She panted at the effort, but was grimly satisfied at her work. “I'm sorry he was allowed to torment you like that, my little pony,” she said, closing her eyes in concentration and giving one firm flap of her wings, sending the dream-scape cave fluttering away like cobwebs. A calm, clear meadow faded into existence around us to replace it, the moon shining down to bath everything in soft, mellow tones. Satisfied that the dream was made well, she turned to me. 

“Now, I have much to tell you and not much time to tell it,” she began formally and gravely, finally opening her eyes. When she laid eyes on me, however, her regal demeanor vanished in an instant and was replaced by wide-eyed shock. “Oh my goodness you're Sombra,” she said in soft disbelief.

I looked at my savior and blushed, sheepishly grateful. “I-I know I look like him,” I quickly explained, “but I'm not. See, me and my friends sort of transformed into ponies-”

She cut me off firmly. “There are other ponies with you?” she asked, having recovered from her shock. She was no longer kind and calm, though – she was stern and commanding. Like I'd done something wrong, or couldn't be trusted.

I gulped, trying to look as benign and cooperative as possible – if she could over-power that evil bastard, I definitely wanted to be on her good side. “Y-yes, Luna – wait, you know about all this? You were turned into a pony too?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. 

She eyed me carefully, weighing her words. “And just who, exactly, are you?” she said, disregarding my question. “What is your real name? And do not lie! I shall know – this is my realm, after all!” She flapped her wings imperiously, her mane and tail billowing.

“M-my real name? J-just James,” I said bashfully, scuffing the floor with a hoof. She really was taking the role seriously – didn't she realize she wasn't actually Luna, even if she did have Luna's body and power?

She stared at me for several moments as I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Finally, she came to some sort of decision. “Very well... James,” she said, her voice still firm but without the accusatory edge to it. “Who are your friends, and what do they look like? Are they with you now?”

Relieved at the nicer tone, I answered more confidently. “Well, there's my brother – Luke is his name, he's turned into Soarin – and there's my friend, Mary, who's become Princess Cadence. They should still be in the house where I'm, err... I am sleeping, right?” I asked, looking around. Was it a dream? A vision? Something else?

She nodded curtly and sighed. “Yes, 'tis a dream or I wouldn't be able to so easily cast that beast aside.” She paused, considering, and nodded grimly. “In any case, this certainly complicates things,” she muttered, pondering to herself to herself. “I'll have to talk to each of them individually – this must be handled delicately.”

I cocked my head, confused. “Err... What must be? Also, you didn't answer one of my questions – aren't you one of the people that turned into a pony? I figure it's more than just the three of us.”

She paused, hesitating to answer. “Yes,” she said simply, but didn't elaborate.

I frowned, annoyed. She knew something and she wasn't telling me. Why couldn't she tell me what she wanted them to know, and trust me to take the message to the others? Why did she hesitate with her answer? Before I could ask, though, she turned around and lifted her wings high. “Now, AWAKEN!” she cried, bringing them down one final time and sending me flying into the air like a feather. I shrieked as I tumbled into the darkening sky, surrounded by the void as the stars and moon and everything else disappeared. 

***

I yelped and leapt off the couch, and promptly buried my snout in the soft carpeting of the living room. It was about an hour before sunrise, and the dim light of the first hints of sunlight painted everything in washed out shades of gray. Groaning, I slowly got to my hooves... and gave yet another groan as I regarded my form. Expecting it hadn't made it any easier to swallow; I had finished the transformations overnight, and was completely and utterly equine in form. Well, as equine as Sombra could be. Ah well, there were more important things to worry about than my physical body's new shape.

I gathered my thoughts, trying to piece things together. We had a potential ally, one that could help us get back to normal – even if she was infuriatingly enigmatic she was about it. That was good. I got up, wincing, and tried to find a paper and pencil – I'd eventually have to tell the others, and I needed to have my thoughts organized. So, we had Luna on our side, and apparently watched over our dreams. Great! Well... Maybe.

The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. She used to be human, yes? And she was changed by the crazy Discord wannabe, right? So how was it that she could beat him, if her power came from him? It was possible that she herself was some sort of psychokinetic, like psuedo-Discord, but what were the odds of that happening? Moreover, she didn't just look like Luna – she seemed to really believe she WAS Luna. Perhaps he twisted her mind, too? But, then, why not twist ours and make us believe we, too, were the characters we were becoming? And if she was more powerful than him, how could he even twist her mind in the first place.

None of it made much sense, but I wrote down what I knew. I'd have to discuss it with the others later – perhaps they'd have some insight. In the meantime, I tried to get back to sleep; it had not been a pleasant night, and it felt like I barely got a wink of shuteye. 
> 8 - Of Smackdowns and Schisms
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When everyone was awake, I gathered the others in the kitchen and told them about the 'meeting' I'd had with the strange Luna impersonator. They took it about as well as could be expected. They were both dubious, of course, and I could scarcely blame them; under ordinary circumstances, visions would have strained credulity. A quick reminder that we had been transformed into magical talking technicolor ponies, however, put things into perspective and they fell back in line. 

“Soooo... That's it, then? Some delusional person is going to try to contact us in our sleep? You don't know anything else” Luke asked dubiously.

“Yes – a delusional person who is apparently stronger than the psychopath that transformed us,” I said, annoyed that he would dismiss my reconnaissance so quickly. “She did boot him out pretty easily, after all. If we can get some leverage over her, we might solve this whole thing quickly and easily.”

Luke frowned, raising an eyebrow and looking as if he was about to speak, but Mary smiled placatingly and broke in. “I'm sure she's in the same boat as us, James – she'd probably be delighted to help us, just as we'd be delighted to help her.” I shrugged noncommittally – whatever got it done, I didn't much care. 

We kept tossing ideas back and forth, brainstorming and mulling over what we knew as we tried to put the information to use. In the end, though, we realized we didn't have enough information to act on anything; we couldn't contact her, and what we did next hinged upon further meetings with her. While we did have confirmation that others were in fact turning into ponies, we couldn't do anything about that, either; any online search would most likely put up some red flags on some government server, ad we could have 'men in black' arriving at our front door with tranquilizers and body bags. It just wasn't worth the risk, I decided, and quickly shot down any ideas to the contrary.

Still, we couldn't sit there and do nothing; things needed doing. I'll spare you the details, but turning into ponies required a good deal of financial re-organization. I helped Mary get her expenses set up for online payment, as well as budget things out. That didn't take long, though, and we were done before noon. Online jobs were a whole different beast, though, and while there were ostensibly plenty to be had, we couldn't find anything reputable – they were mostly scams and one-off jobs with shady companies. Even as I searched, however, I couldn't help but think I'd forgotten something important... like something was looming closer that we'd completely forgotten about...

And then my pocket buzzed.

By silent and mutual assent, we all had kept our pants on for the sake of modesty and convenience. While the ponies in the show didn't seem to need clothing, we were... Well, we were built along similar lines as real ponies – and that meant that we had precious little except fur to cover our modesty. Fortunately for Mary, there was no need for coverings over her chest; unlike human girls, fillies didn't seem to have any obvious breasts. Or was it udders? In any case, they weren't noticeable and I wasn't going to be rude and ask where she kept her mammary glands. They were out of sight, and all we needed was pants to protect our modesty and carry around our stuff.

In any case, I still kept my phone on me, and a moment later I awkwardly levitated it out and flipped it open. On the screen was a new text message. From mom and dad. Who had apparently just come home, and were wondering where the heck we were.

I groaned and held my cell phone in my telekinetic grip, wondering what to do. 'We're at Mary's, sorry we didn't tell u earlier', I typed back, stalling for time, and called out for Luke. Great... Another wrench in the works.

Unfortunately, Luke didn't answer. I cursed and started checking every room in the house. It was only when I looked in the garage that I found him, rhythmically lifting and lowering buckets of water with his wings. He was... Working out? I knew he had trouble just waiting around idly, but it seemed he was becoming more and more like Soarin, even in personality. That... was a good thing, right? I suppose that working out was better than just sitting around and getting frustrated. Still, he was out of earshot and was wasting my time – didn't he realize we were making important plans, and that his workout regimen would impede our progress? Idiot.

“We've got a problem,” I said curtly, not bothering to hide my annoyance. 

He frowned at me, raising an eyebrow. “Dude, chill,” he panted, setting the buckets down and cocking his head. “What's got your panties in a twist?” he asked, giving a playful smirk. I growled, annoyed that he wasn't taking me seriously, and didn't say a word. I let my phone do the talking for me; I levitated it right in front of his face, perhaps rudely close, but there was no way he could miss the message. It got his attention, at least. “Oh fuck!” he shouted, wings fluttering in agitation. “I completely forgot!”

“I'm glad you finally understand the gravity of the situation,” I remarked dryly. “Now, I have a plan, and if we're careful then neither of them have to know anything-”

“We've gotta tell them,” he spoke over me, heedless of what I was saying. I stared at him, mouth agape as he strode past me. He... He ignored me? How could he IGNORE me?! And he was going to disobey me, too – completely reveal everything, even the stuff about me! It took me several moments to find my tongue, but when I did I was furious.

“We don't have to tell them a thing!” I shouted after him, trying to catch up. 

He finally took notice of that. “Excuse me?!” he shouted back, rounding on me and glaring indignantly. “They're our PARENTS! This is a pretty big fucking deal, and they have a right to know!” He huffed and scuffed his hoof on the carpet. “And here I thought you were the rule stickler, the 'responsible' one... What's gotten into you?!”

I snorted. “I take it back; you clearly don't understand the gravity of the situation. You don't, in fact, understand a damn thing!” I hissed, glowering. “We can't trust anyone!”

He shook his head, at a loss for words. He looked at me as he would a stranger. “Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked softly, warily. “Just yesterday you had no qualms giving the pastor an eyeful of us – what's happening to you?”

“I... That was different!” I floundered, even as I realized, with shock, how easily I'd let others in on our secret. It was time for damage control – how hadn't I realized what a blunder it was to tell him the secret? I chalked it up to panic, but the problem remained. He had to be silenced, somehow. Either by holding some sort of blackmail over him, or... “You're... you're right,” I muttered, and saw him sigh with relief. It was short lived. “I have to fix this. I'm going to go find the pastor and... And make sure he doesn't say anything. One way or another, I'm going to ensure his silence.” I felt myself grow cold and analytical and ruthless, but I welcomed it. I had to do what needed to be done, and squeamishness was an unacceptable weakness. “Maybe if we kidnapped his wife and held her hostage? No, that wouldn't work, we'd have to keep her fed. Does he have any pets? It may be macabre, but I'm sure I could find a way to-”

I did not see the hoof coming. I only felt a searing pain in the side of my head, saw a flash of white, and knew no more. 

***

“-never been like this – at least, not this bad. I don't know what's going on.”

The words washed over me, and though my ears could hear it my mind couldn't hold it. I drifted in and out, only catching a few words and phrases.

“-should we do? We can't just keep him locked up!”

“I know, but what choice do we have? You saw how he was!”

“Even if we do keep him tied up, he still has magic – and we can't keep him unconscious forever.”

“I don't know – maybe we can drug him! That'll fuck with his focus, right? And worst case, I can just buck 'im again-”

“EXCUSE me?! You're not drugging your own brother, and you're certainly not going to keep bucking him! Look, we just need to talk this out-”

I groaned, slowly coming back to the waking world – and thoroughly regretting it. “Shut uuuuuuup,” I whined, their voices pounding on my head like hammers on a cracked anvil. Even if I could have understood what they were saying – and at the time I had the mental acuity of a rum-soaked pudding – the throbbing pain took precedence. 

'Sleep,' I thought. I needed to sleep more. Sleep good. 

I pushed the world away again, trying to let my mind drift off, but an annoying pink blob filled my vision. “Are you okay?” it asked, concerned. 

“Bleargh,” I managed to reply – a far cry from the “No, go away pink blob thing,” I was trying for, but given the circumstances it was a valiant effort. 

“Do you need some water? Food? Are you – PUT DOWN THAT BAT!” Pink Blob shrieked, the sound sending a fresh bolt of agony through my skull. 

I groaned, lolling my head to the side to try to get away from the painful pink noisemaker. Doing so brought something new into my field of vision: a blue blob with a smaller brown blob protruding from it. The brown blob fell and clattered abominably.

“Fine, but I'll buck him if he tries anything!” the blue blob promised, its volume annoying but tolerable. 

“Out! Get out!” the pink blob yelled again. I tried to cover my ears to block out the terrible sound, but my hooves weren't cooperating. 

There was soft grumbling, but the blue blob finally disappeared. Now if only the annoying pink one would go away, too.

“How are you feeling?” it asked, refusing to leave me to my misery.

“Narghhh,” I replied, clearly and concisely conveying my feelings about the whole situation.

“I have some ice here,” the pink blob said, mercifully softer than before, lifting an oddly colorless blob and pressing it against my face. I yelped with shock at the sheer iciness of it, but as the cold seeped in the pain faded away. It also started to clear my head, and the pink blob finally resolved itself into the form of Princess Cadence – or, rather, Mary wearing Cadence's body. Unfortunately, the same cold that eased the pain also left me too awake to slip back into blessed unconsciousness, and I was fully aware of the deep ache in my temple. There was only one thing for it.

“Got anything to drink? Something hard?” I rasped, hoping to dull my awareness of the pain at the very least.

She gave a surprised giggle and carefully tipped a bottle of pills against my mouth. A few of them rolled in, and were soon followed by a cool glass of water. I grumbled but swallowed the pills obediently, figuring they couldn't make me feel any worse. 

“These should help with the pain,” she said kindly, awkwardly re-stoppering the bottle and setting the glass aside. 

I tried to think back to what happened. It was still fuzzy, but I remembered something bad had happened, and I needed to stop it... Something about our parents... No, no, it was after that... Something about the pastor? Yes. Right! The pastor! I had to find him and make sure he wouldn't talk! But... Something else happened. I had started to tell my brother what was wrong and how I was going to fix it, and then... Oh that little bastard.

“I'm going to pluck his feathers,” I half growled, half groaned. Finally remembering the sickening crack of a hoof against bone, I tried to reach up and feel how much damage had been done. Something was stopping me, however. Something that felt like a thick coil of hemp fibers, wrapped tightly around my hooves and barrel. 

“Bwuh?” I stammered, the reality settling in. “Oh hell no... Untie me!” I shouted, and immediately regretted it as fresh pain blossomed in my temple. 

“Just – just relax,” Mary said, trying to stay calm and hold the ice pack in place. “You went a little crazy back there, and you said some stuff you didn't mean.”

“Like hell,” I muttered darkly, but didn't try to get up again. I didn't think my head could handle it.

She pursed her lips but didn't reply. Instead, she forced a motherly smile and, in as pleasant a tone as she could muster, asked, “If you promise to sit down and talk – and NOT try to go kill your brother or threaten the pastor – I'll untie you. And... Maybe get you something harder,” she mumbled as an afterthought, wincing as she lifted the ice pack and surveyed the damage underneath. 

I didn't have many options. “Fine,” I muttered. “Not like I'm in any state to kick his plot right now, anyway... Wait, what'd you give me? Alcohol might not be the best idea if that was a powerful painkiller...”

“Something called 'bute',” she said lightly, abruptly looking away. At my nonplussed look, she sighed. “Anti-inflammatory medication for horses. And, well, ponies.” She kept her face carefully guarded.

I frowned. Something was missing from this picture. “Why would you have that lying around?” I asked slowly, my brain still foggy.

“I didn't,” she replied lightly, fidgeting and adjusting the ice pack.

That didn't make sense – how would she have it if she didn't own any? I was clearly missing something, and from the way she was acting it was clearly something important, and probably something I wouldn't like. “...Alright, I'll bite,” I grumbled, gritting my teeth as my head throbbed. “Where'd you get it?”

“I didn't,” she said, busying herself with preparing a fresh ice pack. “Your parents did.”

My brain froze for a moment as it tried to process the information. When it finally got out of the 'oh-fuck my life' loop, I could only find one coherent response. “WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE?!” I shouted, and immediately regretted it. “Ow ow ow fuuuuck,” I groaned, clenching my eyes shut as my head throbbed with pain. 'Alright, got it,' I thought sardonically. 'No more yelling. Yelling equals pain, yelling bad.'

“Why,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “are my parents here?”

“Because your brother told them what happened, of course. Don't worry,” she added, her face impassive, “they don't know why you were hurt, and they haven't seen you tied up. I told them that it was an accident when Luke tried to fly, and he backed me up on that.” I frowned, wondering if the saw eye-to-eye on that, but let it go – I found that I really didn't care about their little snits as much as I cared about the massive fuckup they planted right in my lap.

“When did they get here?” I asked tiredly, trying to stay calm so my head wouldn't hurt so much. By the light from the window, it was either dusk or morning. I felt a moment of panic. “How long was I out?!”

“Take it easy, now,” she said, holding me down with a hoof as if I might suddenly leap up and run out the door, “they just got here this afternoon – they're out getting some more supplies now.” She gave me a placating smile and pressed the fresh ice pack against my brow.

That didn't bode well at all. “What did they say?” I finally managed to ask, trying to keep my temper in check. 

“Well, they saw Luke first – they almost panicked, but I guess he can think fast when he needs to. He told them some private things so they'd know it was really him.” She paused and giggled at that. “Did you really dress up like the blue power ranger for a week when you were in elementary school?” she asked, her eyes glittering with suppressed mirth.

“It wasn't for a week! It was just around Halloween, I got the costume early,” I protested, grumbling. It didn't help my case, apparently, as she stuffed a hoof in her mouth to keep herself from laughing. “And... And... Shut up!” I grumbled petulantly, and perhaps even pouted a bit. 

That opened the floodgates; she snorted and openly laughed, unable to contain herself any longer. “That must have been adorable!” she giggled, looking down at me with fondness in her eyes. “You must have been such a cutie when you were little!” A moment later, though, her mirth faded to contemplation, and that to wary concern. “I've known you for years,” she said slowly, as if struggling to find the words, “and I've never seen you talk like that. I know that these past few days haven't exactly been pleasant for any of us, but... Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something's been bothering you, and you just had a breakdown? I promise I won't tell anyone.” She padded softly to the door and pushed it shut with a hoof, ensuring a semi-privacy.

'Other than you two looking down on me like some monster, nothing,' I thought bitterly. It wasn't a fair thought, I knew, but I clung to it like a life-raft. Being angry was just easier. “I'm fine,” I said, forcing calmness on my voice. “I guess I did panic a little back there. It's nothing, really.” I gave a weak, fake chuckle, and hoped she'd be fooled by it. “I only want to hurt my brother a little, now – we're back to baseline levels!”

She didn't share my mirth, and I realized my error – while an easy lie and offhand humor might work on others, Mary had a knack in seeing through to the heart of a person. She always seemed to know what others were feeling, even if they gave no outward signs of it. And now she knew I was hiding something, and that something was bothering me – something I wouldn't share with her.

“...Alright,” she finally replied after a very pregnant silence. “If you want to talk about it, I'm always available.” Without another word or a backwards glance, she strode out of the room and shut it firmly behind her.

“That could have gone better,” I grumbled to myself, sighing and getting comfortable. 'They're probably going to talk about me behind my back some more,' I thought bitterly. Well, fuck 'em. What they thought didn't matter, anyway. I shifted onto my side and closed my eyes. Floors seemed more comfortable in my equine form, at least when they were padded with carpeting. Sleep didn't come easily, though; the ice melted quickly, and I hadn't the wherewithal to get up and get more myself or to ask for help. It was a long while before I drifted back into a fitful, restless sleep. 
> 9 - Of Revelation and Consternation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The village had been transformed almost overnight. A proper orchard flourished, no longer twisted by Discord's foul magic, and gave fruit according to its kind; apples from their trees, grapes from their vines, berries from their bushes. The soil, too, had been cleansed from the taint, and honest grass and true flowers grew where once noxious vines and brambles choked the ground. The very air seemed cleaner, fresher, newer. But the biggest change was in the ponies themselves. A new light and life had seemed to come into them, and almost shone from their faces like sunlight and moonbeams. The little black unicorn did not quite understand it, for he had never seen genuine hope before; there had never been anything to really hope for. For the first time in his life he saw more smiles than frowns, more laughs than groans. The ponies, no longer struggling to survive, were free to be who they were. The nightmare was over, it seemed; morning had come.

Older, stronger unicorns quickly sought him out to learn the new magic, of course, and he was only too happy to oblige; he had not yet learned the hubris of secret knowledge and the pleasure of hoarded power. It took many practical demonstrations to supplement his own awkward words and explanations – he was still young, he hadn't the knowledge to say in words what his heart and mind knew – but before long most of the other unicorns could cast it themselves, and helped to hasten the purification. Soon, everything in sight of the village had been cleansed and set to rights. Had he known the word he would have compared it to Eden; as it was, it was the best thing he'd seen in his short life, and he was all grins and giggles for days on end. 

Sudden whoops of joy caught his attention, and he followed the others' gazes to the sky. Descending in twin rainbows of pastel pinks and subdued blues were none other than the Great Sisters, the Champions who defeated Discord! His heart soared at the sight of them. As the Sisters landed, however, he found he could no longer see them; others were already crowding around them, blocking his view. Still... They were there! In his very village! He quavered with excitement, and hadn't yet the worldly experience and knowledge to wonder why they were there; it was good enough for him that they were. Without any consideration for decorum or dignity, he pushed and wormed his way through the crowd to get a good look at the two heroes.

He made his way through the sea of legs and tails, using his small size to his advantage, and finally caught sight of them. The Sisters glowed in a light of their own, more beautiful and powerful than the tales could convey, and the sight of them stirred something in his heart. Fleeting images ran through his mind, notions that he could be like them, great and good, mirthful and powerful, untouched by Discord's blight... The sudden yearning was so strong it nearly ached. He pushed on, so inspired, to get a better glimpse of the ones so powerful and pure. He stopped at the edge, however, as the reality of the situation sunk in. They were great and good, yes, and had done deeds fit for legends, and brought peace to the land. What dealings could they possibly have with a little nobody, like him? Nothing. They couldn't possibly have anything to do with him, he realized, his heart sinking and his ears drooping. Moreover, what would they do to him if he was rude, or disrespectful? He gulped, unsure, but he didn't want to find out; he quickly shied away, hiding behind the first few rows of onlookers, feeling a good deal safer away from their gazes. Still... it couldn't hurt to see them. So long as he stayed out of sight, he reasoned, he would be fine. He watched them through the shifting legs and swishing tails, wishing to get a better look but fearing being seen himself.

The elder swung her head around to regard the crowd with a radiant, mirthful smile. The colt gave a startled 'eep!' and ducked away, earning him a few disapproving frowns from the older ponies around him, but the Sister didn't seem to notice. When she finally spoke, her voice was like a thundering storm but merry as a summer breeze, and he nearly shied away again. “WHO HAS CLEANSED THIS VILLAGE OF DISCORD'S TAINT?”

There was a chorus of answers as each of the adult unicorns in the village claimed a measure of credit for their work. The elder laughed, and to the little colt's ears it was sweetness itself.

“VERILY YOU HAVE, MY DEAR PONIES – I HAVE SEEN YOUR WORK WITH MINE OWN EYES, AND YOU HAVE DONE WELL! BUT FROM WHENCE CAME THIS NEW SPELL, THIS NEW MAGIC?” 

All of the boasters fell silent, and the rest of the gathered ponies shifted awkwardly. The colt suddenly found all of the nearby ponies looking down at him, clearly expecting him to stand up and claim credit... but he was too shocked to move. A moment later there was a frightened squeak, and he found himself pushed forward, out of the protective ring of anonymity and right into the midst the two Sisters. He stared up at them, eyes wide and jaw slack, for several moments. Then, with a whimper and whine, he fell flat onto his barrel and tried to hide himself under his own hooves.

There was a bemused silence as the two sisters regarded the terrified colt. They turned one another for a moment, conferring wordlessly, and the younger stepped forward.

“Excuse me little one,” the younger said, her voice soft as moonlight, her Royal Canterlot Voice forgotten, “are you the one we seek? Did you devise this spell? Did you find a way to free things of the foulness?”

The colt, still terrified at being addressed directly by the two great and powerful creatures, managed a squeak and a hasty nod. 

“Well then... Can you tell us how it works?”


***


“I gotta stop waking up like this,” I grumbled, my head throbbing abominably as I slowly rolled to my hooves. The ache was somewhat diminished, but no less persistent. I had hoped it would be gone after a good night's rest, and wondered just how fast unicorns healed – surely not as fast as earth ponies, I reasoned, but almost certainly faster than a human. After all, if I had still been physically human, that kick could have very well killed me or left me brain-damaged. 

As I hazily contemplated the merits of pony regeneration, the dream replayed in my mind. I usually forgot dreams soon after waking, unless they were particularly enjoyable or interesting, but that one was 'sticking' for some reason; I could see it as clearly in my mind's eye as if it had just happened. Then something odd happened; I started to remember more than just the dream I'd had moments before, farther back, as if the dream had been much longer than I first thought. It kept going back, well before the dream's beginning. I frowned, confused, but it soon dawned on me; the new dream was obviously jogging my memory of an old, forgotten one – the new one was probably some sort of logical continuation of an old, forgotten one. I snagged onto the trail of thought, curious to see what was there, and the details of the earlier dream unfolded in my mind's eye. Soon it was just as clear as what I had just dreamed. Still, the clarity itself was odd. Dreams were almost never that detailed, and with the morning they would go to pieces like an old web in a breeze. Maybe the concussion had something to do with it? Or perhaps the physical alterations to my brain made me better able to remember these things? I had no idea. 

The only answer was the rumbling of my empty stomach. A look out the window confirmed that it had been far too long since my last meal; it was either very late or very early, and most likely the latter. Oh well. Perhaps there would be something in the fridge.

I stumbled out into the hallway, still dazed with the long sleep and vivid dreams, and pondered over the strangeness of it. It was rare I even remembered my dreams, let alone 'continued' where an earlier one left off. It was kind of nice, though, like picking up a story in a book I'd thought lost. Even on an empty stomach I could appreciate a good 'book'. 

Speaking of which, I peeked into the bathroom and searched for the book I'd been reading earlier. While it was poor manners to read while others were at the table, there was nothing wrong with reading by your lonesome. In any case, I liked reading. I couldn't turn on the TV, anyway, as it might wake the others. Besides, I was bored... And, well, it was a good book, even if it was annoyingly pointed sometimes. In fact... I grinned as an idea came to me. I could multitask! Probably! I was no longer limited to two hands; I could have as many 'hands' as I needed, my own concentration the only limiting factor. I opened the book, levitating it before me with one telekinetic 'hand' and started to read, and absentmindedly rummaged through the fridge with an occasional glance with my other 'hand'. 


The fridge didn't have much in it, but I managed to make do with some leftover chinese food. Beef, chicken, pork – neither of the others could have it, and I was craving something more substantial than veggies. I grabbed something from the counter as an afterthought, not paying much attention to it as I trotted quietly back to the table with the goods in magical tow. I was too hungry to even worry much about heating it. 

“Alright, let's see,” I mumbled to no one in particular, levitating a fork full of some sort of pork dish to my mouth as I searched for where I left off, and started to read quietly to myself.

“In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. 
Unless you know God as that—and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison— you do not 
know God at all. As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking 
down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see 
something that is above you.”

“Well, that's all fine and dandy,” I grumbled, annoyed that I'd come to a 'prickly' spot so quickly. “But what if they're being stubborn idiots who won't see reason? Of course you have to make them see reason, and if not you have to do what needs to be done...” It was a feeble justification, I knew, but I wasn't in the mood for deep navel gazing. Unfortunately, the pork had lost its savor; I grabbed something else that looked good as I searched for a more pleasant part to read – some good news, for instance. 

I read on, chewing as I did so, and found my mind wandering as I suddenly felt more awake. 'Hrrmm, good crunch,' I thought distractedly, biting a chunk out of the jawbreaker sized object, reading on to the next paragraph. I swallowed, enjoying the visceral texture, and almost immediately started to feel better. 'Nice cleavage, too. I don't recognize the flavor, though... Wait. What am I eating?'

I stopped chewing, perplexed, and looked down. It was all I could do to not shout and wake the house; hovering before me in my telekinetic grip was a quartz crystal, cut and polished in the shape of a sphere. And I had just eaten a chunk of it.

“What the FUCK?!” I hissed, dropping the book and stumbling to the bathroom, holding my mouth shut so I wouldn't drip blood anywhere – surely the inside of my mouth was torn to ribbons! Had I really just eaten a mouthful of quartz?! What the hell was wrong with me?! I... Oh God I swallowed it. Oh God please help me... That's it. I had to throw it up. That stuff would kill me if it went through my digestive tract, I was sure of it; all those sharp, hard edges would tear up my intestines, and that would almost certainly send me into septic shock. It wouldn't be pleasant, gagging up the shards of crystal, but a torn up throat was better than dying a slow, painful death as I rotted away from the inside.

I don't know how long I stood over the sink, trying to vomit, trembling with mortal terror. In my desperation I poked the back of my throat with a toothbrush, and managed to retch up some of it that way. But... it didn't make any sense. My throat felt fine; there was no tearing, no blood, no pain. Moreover, the pieces I could get up – yes, I had to sift through the pieces, I had to make sure I got most of it – the chunks were rounded and polished clean, as though from a strong acid or tumbling. They didn't look so much like fresh shards of glass as something you'd find washed up on the beach.

Dazed and confused, I plopped down on my flank and stared in the mirror. Quartz was tough. It wasn't as hard as diamond or sapphire, but it was definitely on the upper end of the Mohs Hardness scale. But somehow I had managed to take a big bite out of it, chew it up, and swallow it... And somehow my jaw, teeth, and throat were no worse for wear. Indeed, I felt better for having eaten it – my headache was easing, at least, though that could have been the adrenaline. And... Well, the crystal still looked appetizing. There was only one thing for it; I had to test. I had to know what the hell my freaky new body was doing.

After thoroughly cleaning a fresh chunk of the crystal – indeed, I'd ran it under hot water for a solid minute, and washed it clean with soap three times – the 'experiment' was ready. I eyed the tiny crystal dubiously. Surely I couldn't eat that... It was insane. At the very least I would chip my tooth, and that would be that. But then, how had I bit through the solid sphere of quartz it in the first place? Moreover, nothing had been 'normal' in the past few days – why should this be any more normal? I grimaced – nothing was making sense. It didn't help that my belly rumbled, and the crystal looked more and more delicious with every passing moment. I made a face, and gently laid the tiny rock on my back molar and closed my teeth on it, ready to stop at the first sign of pain.

But no pain came. Instead, the hard little stone fractured like rock candy and crumbled in my mouth. I stopped, my reflection looking back at me with wide eyes, moved the pulverized stone around with my tongue. It felt like there was sand or grit floating in my saliva, nothing worse than that. 'In for a penny, in for a pound,' I thought, forcing myself to push past the strangeness of it all, and started... chewing the grit to a powder.

I'll tell you now, no one was more surprised than I to find that not only could I chew the rock, I could actually taste it. Unfortunately, while I can describe the texture – it was a pleasant, gritty, dusty sort of texture, though I don't expect any human to see it that way – I can't describe the flavor. Just as one cannot describe green and red to the colorblind, I can't describe the taste of something the human body was never designed to ingest. Suffice to say, it was pleasant, and while I could taste a sort of earthiness to it I could also taste something else. And, just as one might have specific cravings for certain foods – sweets, meats, vegetables, fruits, etc – I found that I had a craving for raw minerals. 

I looked in the mirror, unsure of what to make of the new development. “I eat rocks,” I mumbled to dumbfounded reflection. “I... Yeah. That's a thing that's happening now, apparently.” 

I stared for several moments, trying to bully my brain into some sort of answer, but my brain was apparently out to lunch – perhaps indefinitely. Without another word I trotted back out to the kitchen, keeping my expression carefully blank. I tried not to think about what I was doing as I grabbed a pen and paper, and started writing a note. 

“Mary,” I wrote in clumsy script, my telekinesis not quite having the fine control of my old hands, “I'm sorry I ate your decoration thingy. I'll buy you a new one. ~James.”

Satisfied, I sat back down at the table... and went back to eating the crystalline sphere. I was hungry, and my body was telling me that the mineral was exactly what I needed. So, trying very hard not to think about it or notice the grooves my teeth left in the stone, or how pleasant it felt to grind the granules to powder, or how satisfying it felt when the mixture ran down my throat and into my stomach, I finished my meal. I didn't even touch the rest of the food; I wasn't hungry for it. 

After packing the rest of it away I went back to the room I'd woken up in, and tried to get back to sleep. At least my headache was gone. 


***


The little colt simply couldn't believe it; the Great Ones wanted to teach him, personally! He was so excited he couldn't stop prancing around like a foal. They even had chariots – flying chariots, flown by a pair of pegasi – to bring them back, and he got to ride in it with them! And so he was flown back to their castle, and a few minutes later he landed in a well-tended courtyard.

“What's that?” he asked, insatiably curious. He had only ever known the village and what he could see from it; the adults never let the foals and young colts and fillies wander very far, it wasn't safe. 

The elder gave him a kind smile, and answered. “That's a statue,” she explained patiently. “We use those to commemorate important ponies. That one is Starswirl the Bearded, and he devised over 200 spells.”

The colt's face lit up as he regarded the immortalized unicorn, and he trotted around it to get a better look at it. That unicorn had made so many spells... yet he himself had already made one. He stopped, and turned to the elder Sister. “Do you think I'll ever be like him? I-I've already made one spell,” he stammered excitedly, trotting quickly on his little legs to catch up to the royal pair. 

Still smiling serenely as the dawning sun, the eldest cocked her head. “Maybe,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Maybe one day you'll grow up to be as wise and powerful as he was. Or maybe...” She bent her head down to his level, and waved him closer. “Or maybe,” she whispered conspiratorially, “you'll be even greater!”

The little colt stared at her, eyes wide as he something trembled inside him. That strange hope flared up again, urging him on. Could he... Could he really be a great pony like Starswirl? Was it even possible to invent more than 200 spells? Maybe... maybe he could do more than that – maybe do something better than invent a whole bunch of spells.

A new thought occurred to him, and he blurted it out without thought. “Could I even be like you?” he asked.

He immediately felt like he'd crossed some invisible line. The eldest froze, a look of utter surprise on her face, while the younger regarded him with what was almost outrage. 

“I... I don't think that's possible, dear,” the elder said, her features smoothing as she regained her composure. She reached down and ruffled the colt's mane. “All's well,” she assured him. “The curiosity of youth is easily forgiven, and you meant no ill. Now, off to the dining hall with you! I'll not have my new student starting his first day with an empty tummy, waggling around like an empty sack!” She grinned and reached down with a hoof, tickling his side, making him giggle and shy away. “After you have had your fill, seek out one of the servants – they will help you get settled in. Your schooling begins tomorrow – be sure to get plenty of sleep! James. James. JAMES!”


***


I flailed my hooves in the air, dazed and incoherent as I was yelled into wakefulness.

“James! What's this about?” Mary's voice said from the other side of the door. 

“Huh?” was all I could manage. As you are no doubt aware by now, early morning inquisitions are not my strong suit.

“That crystal ball thing I had sitting on the windowsill by the counter – this note says you ate it?”

The previous night's 'oddness' came flooding back, and I groaned. At least she sounded more confused than angry. Still... how does one tell their friend that one ate their decorations?

“Ummm... Yeah, about that,” I stammered, playing for time as my foggy mind tried to come up with something that didn't sound absolutely insane. 

The silence stretched as I tried and failed to find adequate words. “Well? What happened?” she asked through the door, sounding more and more confused. “Was it some sort of Freudian slip?”

With a sigh, I realized I couldn't avoid it; I had to tell her the truth. There weren't any fragments, anyway, so I couldn't lie and pretend it just shattered. I opened the door to face her, and struggled over the next few minutes to not sound absolutely mad as I explained to her exactly how and why I ate her quartz.

She was silent throughout the whole explanation, clearly as dumbfounded as I was. 

“You... really ate a rock.” It was a statement, not a question. I nodded sheepishly. 

“...Do ponies eat rocks?”

Well, that came out of the blue. “What? No, of course they don't,” I said dismissively. “Ponies eat mostly vegetables and fruits and such – you know, horse food. Only dragons eat-” I stopped. I hadn't made the connection before, but it wasn't entirely unheard of for creatures of Equestria to eat rocks – or, more specifically, gemstones. I knew from the show that dragons ate gems, and there was a good chance that diamond dogs ate minerals, too... 

I frowned, my brow furrowed. “I... Do you think the guy we're looking for screwed up the curse? Maybe he accidentally made me part dragon, or part something else that eats minerals?” I mumbled, more to myself than to her as I considered the the facts. My mind was already categorizing the things I knew and sifting through them as I said it. Alright; I definitely wasn't a normal pony, not by a long shot. I had a blank flank, freakishly colored eyes, carnivorous teeth, and a mutant horn that no other unicorn seemed to possess. I could consume meat, and apparently minerals. Oh Lord, please let me be be able to process minerals. I cringed as I imagined what kind of hell it would give me if I couldn't 'process' what I'd eaten, and was grateful that they'd at least be smooth when they 'passed'-

“Huh. Maybe. Alright, whatever,” she said, thankfully breaking me out of my disturbing inner reverie. There are some things a person just shouldn't have to think about. She continued, blissfully ignorant of my fears. “It's not important, anyway. I've got a bed of milky quartz in the backyard garden, knock yourself out. Just... don't eat any more of the décor, okay?” She gave me a warm smile, the kind of smile that said 'it's okay, but let's not talk about it'. I nodded bashfully, and followed her out to the living room.

“Soooo, um, are my parents here?” I asked, fishing for a different topic. 

“Huh? Oh, no, they're still at their house,” she said, chuckling. “Though, they did eat here last night. I can't say it was a very comfortable dining experience, what with having to eat with my face and hooves,” she giggled, and despite her words I could tell that she really did have a good time. Of course, she always has a good time; I have yet to meet someone that she didn't get along with that wasn't either violent or mental or both. I grinned at the thought of her eating with my family – it was just like her, hitting it off even with a face covered in food and wearing a pony's body. She smiled, cocking her head inquisitively. “You look like you're feeling better. Is that headache gone?” she asked, eying the spot on my head. 

I nodded – all that remained was the occasional twinge if I moved my head too quickly or bent my neck at odd angles. “I think so, yeah...” Perhaps my body knew what it needed to heal? I always craved lots of vitamins when I got a cold; perhaps my body needed raw minerals to repair itself more quickly? Food for thought. 

The conversation drifted from there as we prepared our breakfasts – she went all out making pancakes and eggs, while the extent of my cooking involved placing more of the leftovers in a microwave safe bowl and pressing a few buttons. To my relief, I was actually hungry for 'real' food, and no just rocks. We talked as we ate, and I tried to teach her some basic levitation so she didn't have to eat with her mouth and 'feet'. She took to it quickly – it wasn't long before she could levitate a fork and knife, and carefully cut her pancakes into bits. I cocked my head and watched her, considering - maybe males had more raw power, while females had more refined control. Or perhaps she was just more magically gifted than I was – she was wearing the body of an alicorn, after all. Ah well – no reason to bother her about it, she was learning how to do it and that was what mattered. It was pleasant, teaching her what I knew – as little as that was, of course, but it's not every day you learn to move things with your mind. She seemed to regard it as funny, almost, like it was a toy, but maybe she just saw magic differently than I did. 

Of course, the pleasant conversations and experimentation couldn't last long. We eventually finished the meal and lapsed into silence, and she looked perturbed by something. I lacked her natural empathy and her ability to 'know' what people were feeling, so naturally I assumed I'd done something wrong. 

“Ummm... Are you actually mad about the quartz globe?” I asked, blushing and fumbling for some reasonable explanation. “I've got something similar at home if you want it, I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind bringing-”

She waved a hoof dismissively, the contemplative look never leaving her face. “No, no, that's fine,” she muttered. “It's just, well, Luna contacted us last night.”

“Us?” I asked, frowning. 

“Yes – me and Luke. She pulled us into a dream, I guess, while we were sleeping. We discussed some stuff, but in the end she said she had something important to tell us. And, well... She doesn't want you to know what it is.”

I stared at her, nonplussed. “Wait. You're joking, right? That's stupid. Unless she's organizing this year's Secret Santa, why would she tell you something she can't tell me? She doesn't really know any of us, why should she trust the two of you and leave me out?”

Mary, to her credit, commiserated like a master. “I know, right? I mean, we've been friends for years and I barely know her. It must feel like she's trying to drive us apart. But... Still. I'm not sure she'll tell us unless we give her our word.” She blushed apologetically. “And it may be something really important...”

I winced, annoyed. Who was this 'Luna' to have problem with me? I hadn't done anything to earn her ire, and now she was trying to leave me out of the loop? Nope. Not gonna happen, she-wench. “Thanks for telling me,” I said, forcing a pleasant expression on my face. “Whatever she's up to, it can't be just to help us; she must have some ulterior motive. She doesn't know us, after all, and she can't really care for our success and failure that much. There must be some benefit to her if she's going to all this trouble. I think, if she really feels this is important, you can probably force her hand. Tell her that it's all of us or none of us – that, even if she tries to keep me ignorant, you and Luke will tell me anyway. But be sure to be aloof about the actual information, though – give her the impression that she's the one who really benefits from us, or whatever plans she has for us, and that we can do without her.” It wasn't really true, of course – we had no other leads, and like it or not we probably needed whatever information she could give us – but I wasn't about to be led around by some stranger. 

She looked dubiously at me. “That sounds really, really manipulative,” she said, frowning. “Don't you think that's a little extreme? Can't we just, well, talk it out? She seems like a reasonable person.”

I shrugged matter-of-factly, and gave her a firm look. “She needs to know that she's not the boss of-”

of me

“-of us. She can't go along like this, acting like she's the one in control of things.” I said, thumping a hoof on the table to emphasize the point. 

Mary stared at me, and again I felt like she was looking into my very heart. Well, fine. I spoke the truth, she couldn't deny the truth. 

“...I don't think she wants to boss us around,” she said finally. 

Ah. Apparently she could deny the truth... Damn. How was I the only one who saw this 'Luna' for what she really was, who recognized her little power games?

“Alright,” I said dismissively, “do what you want. If we're going to be a team in this, I'm sure you'll tell me later – even if you do have to break your promise to her, or lie to her outright.” It was a low blow, but the implications were clear; she had to choose whether she'd be with me or 'Luna'. 

She was silent for a few moments, collecting herself. It was my turn to be surprised when she gave me a look of disgust. “Just stop,” she finally said, just as firm as I had been.

“Stop what, exactly?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and hoping I hadn't miscalculated. 

Too late. She'd found her tongue and her spine, and she got to her hooves. “Just stop. Stop being conniving, stop trying to boss us around, stop trying to manipulate us – you know, your friends? – just to get your way. You're not the boss here; we don't answer to you. We're in this together, as equals. Just... stop treating us like your subordinates, and start treating us like your friends.” She grimaced as if swallowing a bitter pill, but even so she seemed relieved to have that all out in the open. She'd apparently been holding it in for a while. But there was no look of victory on her face – only a steely sort of sorrow. 

I stared at her, at a loss for words. She never spoke like that to me before, never been... Pushy. Never looked at me with disgust. It would have been easier if she'd shouted, but she only held her ground as peacefully as she could manage. Worse yet, I knew deep down that what she said was true and well earned – I had been treating them like soldiers to command rather than friends to help. Worse, I'd been playing on their guilt and their loyalty to do so. Everything she said... it was true. It stung to realize just how petty I had been. How I'd screwed up. How selfish I was when it mattered the most. It made me feel like...

...Like it would be easier to justify myself than to examine my fault. It would certainly feel better than that gnawing guilt. I narrowed my eyes, a rebuttal already on my lips. 

“Alright. Let's talk about treating people like friends,” I said, regarding her coldly. “You two have been treating me like some sort of monster. My own brother kicked my head in for, what? Brainstorming some ideas? Panicking? And now that someone's trying to come between us, to split our group, you're going to side with her? Tell me, what kind of 'friends' would do that to an alleged 'friend'?”

She looked as if I'd splashed her with a bucket of ice water. “I never said I would-” she started to interrupt, but I plowed on. 

“And now," I all but shouted, giving free reign to my temper, "all I've done is try to remind you of where your loyalties should lie – with your friends, not some random stranger who is by all accounts delusional – you have the GALL to treat me like I'm the bad guy here?!”

“Now hold on!" She had to raise her voice to be heard, but even so she refused to get angry. "See, you keep on twisting things-”

“I'm not going to stand here listening to this,” I growled, shoving past her and heading to the back yard. Useless, interfering filly...  She didn't care one bit about keeping the team together. Didn't she realize she'd have to take a hard line with this 'Luna', or else we'd end up following her instead? And, so what if I tried to be the leader? Someone had to lead the group, and neither she nor Luke were up to the job. It had to be ME.

Stomping into the back yard, furious at her, and looked for a cool, quiet place to calm down. A likely patch of crushed rock caught my eye. At least Mary was true to her word on that account; her garden had a bed of cool, clean milky quartz, and there was a large empty area under the shade of the eaves. Normally crushed rock wouldn't be the ideal place to lay, but it was oddly appealing. Without another thought, I trudged over to the bed of stone, shifted it into a comfortable pile a few inches high and a few feet wide, and curled up on top of it. 

“Really is comfy,” I muttered, starting to calm down. I surprised at how it felt against my coat. The points and jags didn't seem to even bother me, and instead it was almost like laying on a beanbag chair. With a look to the left and right to make sure the coast was clear, I gingerly nipped one and tried a sample. Hmmm... A bit more grainy than the regular quartz, but good. I sighed and rested my eyelids – that argument took a lot out of me, I realized, and I wasn't fully healed. Maybe just a quick nap...

Naturally, I was out like a light.


***


The colt had grown up. He'd found his place in the world as a student of Celestia and a practitioner of the magic of Order. He was proud of his skill and self-satisfied, and was admired throughout the kingdom for his pivotal involvement in the cleansing of all the Chaos magic from Equestria. Well, most of it, anyway. And there was the rub.

“But, Celestia,” he said, frowning as he tried to keep up with the solar princess. Curse her almost absurdly long legs and stride. “Why not get rid of ALL of the chaos? Surely the nation would be better off without it!”

“You mean, bring it to order? Bring it back to its original nature, before it was corrupted by Discord?” she asked, giving him her usual, infuriatingly mysterious smile.

“Well, yes,” he said bluntly, surprised at how easy the argument had been won. She already saw his point; he wouldn't have to belabor it. “So, when can we start? The chaos magic is contained for now, so I suppose it's not pressingly urgent, but all the same I'd like to-”

“Have you not considered,” she asked, stopping and regarding him with the same smile, “that the Everfree has always been chaotic? Even before Discord?”

The unicorn stopped. The thought had never occurred to him that something could be naturally... chaotic. “I... Wait, what?” he asked, eye twitching as he tried and failed to fit the new concept in his mind. Everything had to be ordered, everything had to be in its place. Nothing could NOT be where it was meant to be, because if it was not meant to be where it was meant to be, that would be a contradiction! And contradictions went against the fundaments of logic, which itself was one of the foundations of order! It didn't-

“There is more to magic – and life, and all things under the sun – than Order, Sombra,” she said sympathetically, seeing him struggle with the very idea that anything could be inherently chaotic. “In this case, there is also balance. Magic needs a place to be wild and free, or it will be chaotic where we don't want it to be. Moreover, the geography of the area predisposes it to unpredictable magical phenomena – the random lightning storms and weather, the wild growing flora and fauna, even the flows of magic behave in a chaotic manner. And all of that is as it should be.”

He still wasn't taking it very well; she could see that plainly on his face. She stretched a wing comfortingly over his barrel in a sort of hug. “You're a creature of order; you and I both know this,” she said. “And should I ever need advisement on a matter of the magic of order, rest assured I will seek your council. But in this matter, I ask only one thing of you.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness?” he asked, still holding to the glimmer of hope that she might relent and let him bring order to the forest.

“Just trust me,” she said simply. “Trust me and accept that I know more about the greater world than you do, and that the Everfree's chaos is not evil or harmful to ponykind.”

He could not understand how chaos could commingle with order and not cause problems for all involved. He could not even understand how something could be inherently chaotic. He could, however, understand that he'd just been told, by his monarch, to drop it. The metaphorical logic-loop in his mind ceased its endless execution, his mental program reaching an alternate 'return' statement. The Royal Interrupt had unfrozen his processor. He could not understand natural chaos, no; but he could understand the rightful authority of the crown. He felt the tension leave his neck as he accepted it.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he said contently, bowing to her. 

Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change and formality, but she shook it off – he was odd, but he was good in his own way. “Take care, my little pony!” she said. The black unicorn blushed watched her trot away, his heart at ease. No doubt she was busy with some royal business, and-

“Kiss her you fool!” a mad voice cackled. The dream around me froze, the illusion broken, and began to fade away.

I stumbled, my mind divided – on one hoof I was Celestia's student off to study more about the magic of order, and on the other I was a human trapped in the body of a pony. The latter quickly won, however, and after a few moments my disorientation faded. I would have had more time to consider that odd division, but I recognized that voice... and it chilled me to the core.

“F-fuck! NO! Leave me alone or... Or I'll get Luna!” I stammered, terrified.

Discord tsked, lounging back in a recliner and reaching into a bag of popcorn kernels. He tossed a few raw kernels into his mouth, where they proceeded to pop and fly out his nose. It might have been amusing if his casual manipulation of reality, the way he turned things on their head, wasn't so clearly a threat. “Really now, cowardice doesn't suit you. Nor does 'running to mommy', though I doubt you could even make her notice you. Not that your pride would let you, I expect.” He smirked, taking a bite out of a cup of soda and drinking a box of Junior Mints. “Anyway, I'm feeling nice today, so I promise not to give you the screaming horrors so long as I don't feel like it.” He snorted a few loose kernels out of his nose and climbed to his hodgepodge legs, dusting off his paws and claws and making the recliner and food disappear. “Now, regarding my amusement – are you listening? It really is in your best interest to keep me amused! – here's my dilemma. I can't tell which would be more entertaining, telling you the truth or watching you bumble about in the dark. So, help me decide.”

I eyed him suspiciously, expecting a trick. “Wh-what? What are you talking about?” I asked levelly, not trusting his dubious promise not to hurt me. The Discord from the show was utterly capricious, and this imposter seemed even more insane and unpredictable. “What is there to know? Is it how to return to my original form?”

He looked at me, dumbstruck... and then burst into laughter. “Oh, oh, this is too rich!” he giggled, falling to the floor and kicking his legs, clutching his belly as he cackled. “You, you are just too much! All of these clues, all of these hints, and you still haven't the faintest idea what's going on!”

I wanted to tell him to shut up and get to the point, but my prudence was greater than my valor; I kept silent and waited for his little fit of malicious laughter to subside. Best not to poke the 'dragon'. 

When he finally got control of himself once more, he gave me a gimlet eye. “Ya know,” he muttered slyly, scratching his chin, “I suppose I could do both... I could tell you the truth, but in such a way that you would never accept it... Best of both worlds! You'd be tormented by the edges of the truth, AND you'd keep bumbling around like a foal! And you're just stubborn and proud enough for it to work! Yes, yes, Discord you are a genius!” He clapped his hands, tittering unpleasantly as he leered. 

“What are you talking about?” I managed to ask steadily, barely following what he was saying. 

He snickered a bit more before climbing to his feet... And then burst out laughing again at the sight of me. The heat rose to my cheeks; clearly he found me utterly ridiculous. 

“Now, hold on, there's no need to be insulting,” I grumbled, pride wounded enough to speak past the fear. “I just-”

“You're really Sombra,” he managed to choke out without preamble as he wiped tears from his eyes, still laughing hysterically.

“-just – wait. What? Yeah, I look like Sombra, I get that-” 

“No, no!” he giggled, ignoring my fuming as he kept laughing at me. It was getting old. “You ARE Sombra! Born and raised! There is no other Sombra but you! You are the – what was that term you used? Pony Hitler?” He snickered, giving a Nazi salute as a stereotypical mustache and SS hat decorated his person. “Well, Heil mein Fuhrer! Heil King Sombra!” He gave a mocking bow, eyes gleaming with malice as he leered. I shrank back, expecting some sort of prank or trick. “And now that I've had my fun... Now that I've planted my seeds of worry and doubt... Wakey wakey!”
> 10 - Of Learning and Lassitude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Flying is awesome. You can't debate it; flying is simply the best thing there is. Yeah, I had lost my hands in the trade, but let's be honest; hands are overrated. Because fuck the ground, I had clouds. 

I flew from one cloud to another, using them as both cover and resting areas, and looked at the suburbs in the distance. It all looked so tiny from up in the clouds, it was hard to imagine I lived down there. Harder still to imagine I could fly right back there without much effort at all. I couldn't hold it in any longer; I laughed with pure joy as I felt as if the sky itself was open to me, as if even the most remote places in the world were within easy reach. The thought of flying across the country on a whim, or even across the ocean and to a whole different continent... The very possibility made me feel drunk. My head was literally and metaphorically in the clouds. 

Unfortunately, that would have to wait. It'd taken a bit of cajoling on my part, but I'd managed to convince my parents to smuggle me to some remote and uninhabited mountains for a day or two. They thought it was too risky at first, but finally relented when I told them I'd be going whether they took me or not – I couldn't stay in that house any longer. Being cooped up bothered me even when I had a human body; with the new pegasus body and all the energy and instincts that came with it, I was going crazy. I had to fly; it was a biological imperative, and the longer I ignored it the more irritable and jittery I became.  It didn't help that James seemed to be going off the deep end. Seriously, what was with him? He'd always been a bit of a dick, but ever since the transformations he'd gone from “annoying prick” to “antisocial, sociopathic a-hole”. 

It might not be all his fault, though, I thought. I'd turned into a pegasus, and while I was still 'me', it still affected my thought processes, mood, and behavior. While I didn't watch the show myself, I knew enough to figure he wasn't wearing a 'normal' unicorn's body. I blushed sheepishly, slowing to a glide as I approached a fresh cloud and landed with a small 'fwomph'. Maybe he wasn't entirely to blame for his sudden craziness; the stress of the past few days must have been getting to him, and if he had some crazy, evil instincts to go on top of that, it could have made him snap like he did. With a wince, I realized I may have been a bit too hasty in bucking him across the face. I'd have to apologize, I realized. That was all there was to it. 

Still, no sense worrying about later; it was a beautiful day with some crazy awesome updrafts, and I fully intended to enjoy myself. Let tomorrow worry about itself, I thought, and don't let it poison today's joy. “Roller coasters ain't got nothin' on me!” I cackled to the wind, going into a steep dive and buzzing the treetops, startling a flock of birds into flight as I passed. 


I was still grinning like an idiot as I landed in front of my parents a few minutes later, breathing hard but still full of energy. All in all, they were taking things surprisingly well – after the initial shock, they seemed to have mostly accepted that I was still the same person even if I was in a different body. Still, some things never change...

“Stop walking so close to the edge!” my mom said, her teeth grinding in consternation. She hadn't my flight nearly as relaxing as I had, it seemed.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, right. I could fall off. Then what would I do?” I deadpanned, flapping my wings pointedly. I considered 'accidentally' tripping off and hovering back into view after her inevitable scream, but that would probably be pushing it. 

Dad, meanwhile, just chuckled and watched the exchange. While he never – well, rarely ever – did something to freak her out, he'd known about her fear of heights for longer than I'd been alive. “Stop taunting your mom,” he said, carefully keeping his face out of mom's view so she wouldn't see the amused look on it. At least one parent didn't have agoraphobia. 

We'd set up camp in the middle of a copse of pine trees near a cliff edge, giving us both privacy and a great view. Anyone looking our direction, if they could even see me against the blue sky, would just assume I was a bird. Open sky, clean air, and privacy – it was the perfect place to camp for a few days while I got used to my new body... and got away from my brother while he worked out just what the hell was wrong with him, and maybe calmed down a bit. 

“If you two are done teasing me,” mom said, pouting with exaggerated offense, “we've got dinner to make.”

I'm not going to lie, mom's a great cook. At least, she is when she's not experimenting, but even then it's usually okay. So it came as no surprise when she pulled out a cooler full of various vegetables, as well as a wok and some oil. “I was thinking some sort of Indian stir-fry,” she said proudly, looking through the ingredients. It really, really did sound good, and I certainly could do with a good meal after all that flight practice... which made what I had to do all the harder.

“I don't think I'll be having any,” I sighed, trying not to look too longingly at the food as my pony nose caught the delectable scent. 

“What do you mean, dear?” she asked distractedly, setting the wok up over the fire and pouring some oil into it. Damn her and her delicious meals...

I kept my eyes resolutely on her and forced myself to say it. “I've got to get used to foraging for food, because we're probably going to have to live off the land. For a while.”

She stopped, her back towards me. I could hear her breathing heavy, and it broke my heart when her voice choked. “Y-you can't seriously think of going after him... That's suicide! Please, you're still happy and alive, this can still work! We'll take you flying every week – no, every day!” she said, finally turning to me, her face the picture of a mother's misery.

Oh crap. She was crying. Fuck fuck fuuuck... I felt like the world's biggest asshole as I forced myself to keep going. “I know, but we're not the only ones he's done stuff to – there are innocent people all over the country – all over the world, maybe – who are in the same position, and we need to find them and group up so we can beat him. We have to find him, and somehow make him turn us and everyone else back. I know, it's risky... But I can't just live like this forever. I can't get a job like this, and I can't keep living off your charity.  Please mom, please don't cry...” Dammit, it's not fair, she can't cry, that's emotional blackmail... I completely deny any and all allegations that I was crying – my eyes were just watery from the propane fire's smoke. 

I am eternally grateful for what my dad did next. While mom tried to come up with some excuse to make me stay, he stepped in and hugged her from behind. “Honey, it's okay... It's his decision to make, and for what it's worth, I think he's right. He can't live like this forever; it wouldn't be right for him or us. And he can't just ignore people that need his help. It's not in his nature.”

I stood there awkwardly for the next few minutes while he calmed her down and reassured her that everything would be alright, and that we wouldn't be going it alone, etcetera etcetera ad nauseam. 

When dad finally managed to get mom calmed down, she gave me a sheepish smile. “I still don't want you to go,” she said candidly, “but... it's your decision to make. Just, please be careful? It won't do anyone any good if you...”

“It's alright,” I mumbled, more somber than I ever remember being. “If it's too dangerous, we'll back out and try something different. You didn't raise fools, mom.”

Alright, fine, I'll admit it; when she hugged me, I may have hugged her back. Just a little bit. Still, it went better than I expected – there was no yelling and no harsh words were exchanged, so all in all I think it went well.

When we'd all calmed down and talked it out, everyone felt a bit better. Mom still didn't like it, no matter what I said, but at least she understood my reasons and respected my choice. Dad didn't see many other options, so he accepted my decision as informed and reasonable. It was settled; I'd rough it out in the wilderness and try to see if I could live off the land, camping out in a tent with basic survival equipment. I tried to insist on staying on my own out there while they went back home, but they had a point; if I caught some sort of parasite or other illness, or was attacked, I had no way to contact anyone – thumbs were a prerequisite for using a cell phone. So, they'd be camping nearby while I tried to live off the land. Also, it had other benefits...

“Oh!” mom said, giving a giggle as she wiped the last of the tears away, “I forgot! I made a pie for dessert... I don't suppose you'll be wanting any, though. I'm sure you'll find some nice berries.” She smiled sweetly, and started putting the pie back in the cooler.

Oh that evil, wonderful woman. 

I regarded the pie with eyes like saucers, snapping my mouth shut so I didn't dribble all over the ground. Was that... was that crumble on top? And she – no, no, that's not fair! She brought ice cream too! Oh that was low...

“...Just one slice,” I mumbled weakly, folding like wet newspaper.

An hour, two thirds of a pie and half a pint of vanilla ice cream later, I slumped to the ground with a grateful burp and fell into the warm embrace of sleep.

***

It was a good thing Luke left; if he hadn't, James would have undoubtedly been clocked out twice in as many days. The way things were going, I wasn't sure I wouldn't have done it myself!

'No, that's not right,' I chided myself. 'Forgive him, he's probably just stressed. Give him a bit of time, and he'll come around. We can work this out together. We've been friends for years, and he may be a stubborn ass sometimes but he always comes through.'

I lifted a hoof to my chest, breathing in deeply as I reviewed all I'd done. Maybe I'd been too hard on him, but what was done was done; all I could do now was wait, and hope he would calm down. Satisfied I'd done all I could, I let it go. I exhaled, releasing with it all the stress and worry I'd been feeling over it, and set my hoof firmly on the ground. It was in God's hands, and I just had to have faith that He would take care of it. Satisfied, I went on to the next order of business; getting a handle on this whole magic situation.

I was torn; magic was something that was condemned by the Bible, so I'd been raised to believe. But the practices referred to in the Bible called upon 'familiar spirits' and other entities to do one's bidding, or involved ritualistic sacrifices, or acting as mediums, or other sinful or spiritually dangerous activities. I did a bit of research, and the magic in the show didn't seem to include any of that – shoot, it didn't even use badly mangled latin like in Harry Potty. It seemed that a unicorn (or alicorn) just concentrated and poured some sort of 'energy' into their horns to make stuff happen – like they had the natural ability to manipulate some unknown form of energy. In short, there didn't seem to be anything in the occult to it, nor demons, or anything spiritually dangerous. It seemed like Equestria just operated on a different set of rules than Earth, rules which included the manipulation of unknown forms of energy. 

What made up my mind for me was my friends. We'd all decided we were going to try to fight this 'Discord' character, whoever he was, however powerful he was. I couldn't hold a gun, not without heavy modification, and there was no guarantee a gun would even work against something like him. No... I needed magic. I needed to stand with my friends and be able to defend them. What he could do, I had to be able to undo; what he severed, I had to be able to mend. I had to be able to stand up against the enemy that 'prowled like a lion, seeking whom he may devour'. I wished there was another way, but it was the only tool at my disposal. 

Still, I prayed – for protection against evil spirits, for guidance in following God's will, for wisdom in knowing what I would NOT do. Some of what I could do might have been innocuous, yes – levitating objects, creating light, igniting things, etc – but what they showed in the children's show probably wasn't the extent of what magic could do. There could very well be ways to use magic that weren't right under any circumstances, things which stained a person's soul... Perhaps irredeemably. I shuddered at the thought. Those things I would not do, could not do, no matter how desperate the situation. With that in mind, I set off to practice. 

I stepped out back, intent on training in the peace and tranquility of the morning sun, but a snore from the garden told me I wasn't alone. There, in the shadow of the eaves, was James. Sleeping on a pile of rocks, rather than a bed, like a slumbering dragon. Ooookay. Odd choice of bedding aside, I neither wanted to wake him from his peaceful sleep nor did I want to talk to him right at that moment. I'm not proud of it, but I was still frustrated with him. So, with a sigh, I trotted quietly back into the house to practice in the living room.

Magical exertion, I learned, could be just as tiring as physical exertion. The bucket of bagged water I tried to levitate strained my limits, and it took me several tries to even get it off the ground. By the end of the practice session, though, I had managed to lift it clear above my head. I felt much more tired, yes – but I could also tell I was getting better at it. I grinned triumphantly at the bucket, wiping a trickle of sweat from my brow, and lifted it once more. I was definitely stronger than I had been just minutes before. Perhaps the rules of the magical weren't so different from the rules of the physical world.

Still, I was exhausted. I needed sleep. No, I needed to shower, THEN sleep. And perhaps a snack... Cake sounded delicious. That must be why Auntie liked it so much, if she exerted herself like this every day just to raise the sun-

I caught myself in the thought, confused, and laughed. 'I must really be tired,' I thought, amused as I trotted into the shower and turned on the water. 'I really thought Celestia was my aunt, for a moment there!'

One hour, relaxing shower, and slice of leftover cake later, I climbed into my clean bed and fell into a calm, pleasant dream. 

***

“Nyaaargh... What the fuck.” I opened my eyes, feeling as tired as I had when I went to sleep earlier that morning. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was in my eyes. Stupid sun. Stupid Discord. Or, rather, 'Discord' with air quotes. 'Stupid insane bastard who just thinks he's Discord but actually isn't because he's stupid and insane' just didn't roll off the tongue right.

I laid on the pile of milky quartz, trying to bully my brain into full wakefulness. As much as the sun smarted my eyes, it did help make me alert. It wasn't long before I could contemplate the vision – dream meeting? pain in the ass clusterfuck? – and break it down. 

Okay, so, he thought I was really Sombra. Well, that might have been useful, if he was afraid of Sombra, but clearly he wasn't. To him, I was apparently just another toy for his amusement. My nostrils flared and my eyes narrowed at the thought. Well. We'd just have to prove him wrong. Before we killed him, of course. There was no way we'd ever let him live, not after what he'd done to... To us. And all those other people, of course. My own grievances weren't even a factor! No, we had to kill him for the good of everyone. 

I considered that line of thought. I'd never killed someone before, though the thought of killing 'Discord' didn't really disturb me. Still, I'd thought about it on a technical level. Toxins, explosives, shrapnel, blades, traps, good ol' fashion guns... If it were an ordinary person we had to kill, it wouldn't be very difficult – especially with magic. But we weren't trying to kill an ordinary person; we were trying to kill someone who was more magically powerful than we were, and, while mad, was apparently quite crafty and devious. Even if we could try every method at our disposal at once, while he least expected of it, his death wasn't assured. We simply didn't know enough about him, or if he could even be harmed by conventional attacks. No... We needed magic. Something he wouldn't expect – or at least something he couldn't easily counter. 

'What does a man who fancies himself a Draconequus fear?' I asked myself, deep in thought. Sanity, stoicism, logic? Obedience? Law and justice? There was a tingling at the back of my head, the words seeming to glow like neon in my mind's eye. But no... It was something else. Those were all part of something... larger. Grander. And then the epiphany struck me; what an agent of chaos fears is order. The very thought sent a shiver down my spine, the concept seeming to fit perfectly. It was like... Like I was born into order. Like I was made for it. I suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach; that wasn't the first time I'd had those thoughts. Those dreams with the black unicorn, with the Sombra analogue, how...

No. That was nonsense. I wasn't 'born into order', I just had an ordered mind. Yes, if I were a Dungeons and Dragons character, I'd definitely be on the lawful end of the spectrum – so? Lots of people are naturally more 'ordered' than others, just as some people are more chaotic. It meant nothing; they were just dreams, just random bits and bobs from my subconscious arranged by my unconscious mind into a coherent narrative. They were nothing more than that, and they certainly weren't proof that I was Sombra. 

Still... I had his body. That meant I probably had a measure of his power – and if it took the elements of harmony to defeat him, he was almost certainly a powerful unicorn. I grinned at the thought. The body might be strange, but I could certainly appreciate the power that came with it.

“Let's see what this horn can do,” I practically purred, looking for something upon which I could inflict as much damage as possible. Ah – a spare cinderblock, no doubt left over from some backyard project or another. Sturdy, solid, resistant to heat and corrosion and all manner of physical harm... Perfect!

First, the heat. Levitation was alright, but it wouldn't cause any direct damage. The odd spell I'd cast a few days prior was promising, though; direct thermal damage was a possible avenue of attack, and if I could do it suddenly and powerfully enough I might have even been capable of small explosions. The difference between a block of candle wax and a jug of gasoline, after all, was mostly in the time it took to burn. 

Remembering back to the time I accidentally cast that spell, I tried to get back into the same frame of mind. I was... frustrated. Angry, even. Well, that was easy enough – I was certainly frustrated and angry right then, at least a little. All I had to do was 'feed the fire', as it were.

I glared at the piece of masonry as if it'd done me some grievous personal ill, and concentrated on directing the flow of magic at the rock. At the same time, I thought of that vile, cackling, unsymmetrical face. How he taunted, how he laughed... How he hurt me. How he inflicted this curse on me.

How I'd make him hurt worse than he'd hurt me. 

That did it; I felt the flow surge, no longer like a trickle of water but like an arc of plasma, a jet of flame. I watched in satisfaction as a spot on the rock started to sizzle and smoke, slowly turning cherry red. Hrrmm... Still a small spot. Not much bigger than a silver dollar. 'Pathetic,' I thought in disgust. 'Sombra, your body's capable of much more than that!'

twitter twitter

I screwed up my face, and imagined I was using the spell on 'Discord' himself. I imagined him screaming in agony as I sent a dart of pure heat through his heart, killing him... The spell grew stronger. The spot had grown to the size of a grapefruit, the center starting to sag and bubble as it turned to molten slag. Still... I could do better. 

tweet chirp twitter

I imagined him begging for mercy, pleading for his life. I imagined my satisfaction as I ignored those pleas, and instead started burning him alive, piece by piece. I relished the thought of his anguished cries of pain, his unbearable suffering as he was under my complete and total control... The spell grew stronger still. Much stronger. The torrent of magic filled the air, flowing through me and out of my horn, leaving a scar in the air itself as it shrieked towards the stone like a demon. Most of the brick's surface was glowing white hot, and I had to step back before my mane caught fire. 

tweet tweet tweet chirrip chirrip twitter-

“Shut UP!” I shouted, turning and glaring at the bird, furious that it would dare to interrupt my practice. I locked my eyes on the infernal little beast and saw it for a single moment. Then it exploded in a puff of feathers and flame. Shocked, I watched the glowing embers and chunks fall to the ground and cool, the only remains of the tiny singing bird. 

I stared at it for a moment, the flow of magic slowing to a stop as the chunks and feathers cooled. “...Well,” I mumbled, “that was interesting...”

Note to self; don't get distracted while casting a powerful spell. And definitely don't change your focus. 

Still, it was overall a successful test; much of the brick's surface still glowed slightly, even in the sunlight, while what remained looked like the remains of a lava flow. I had plenty of power, it seemed – I didn't know the exact amount of power necessary to raise a cinderblock's temperature to melting point, but I was sure it was quite high – and all it took to unleash it was... Was hate. Pure, unbridled hatred, and a will to utterly destroy. I wondered briefly what a good idea it was to perform hate-based magic, but dismissed it. Power was power; I had to use what I had, and that 'thermal-destruction' was the only offensive one I had at my disposal.

I wasted no time spraying the block and the errant birdy-cinders down with a hose – that much heat could cause a fire, and though I was still annoyed with Mary I had no intention of burning down her house. Then I grinned – Mary would definitely want to learn that spell! Who wouldn't? I could melt things with my mind. I don't care who you are, that's awesome. I started trotting to the house, head held high with the new accomplishment, proud to share my knowledge with other, less talented people...

...And promptly face-planted, my legs not obeying me. I flopped down on my side, panting and gasping for breath as I realized just how much that spell had taken out of me. My vision blurred as my heart gave slow, weak beats. I belatedly realized how close I'd come to killing myself from the exertion. I shuddered, wondering what would have happened if I'd tried for more...

Yeah... I wasn't getting up anytime soon. I laid there on the dirt, trying to steady my breathing as my heart beat fitfully, the edges of my vision dark. I needed rest. I needed it right then and there. Even as I felt hunger start to gnaw my insides, I closed my eyes and let go. One minute, a trembling breath and a feeble cough later, I sunk to the ground and fell into a deep, dark oblivion.

***

One by one we realized we were once more aware and conscious. One by one we looked around and found ourselves in a shimmering glade woven of starlight and aurora borealis, glimmering under the bright summer moon. One by one we saw her, in all her majestic glory; the monarch of the strange neverthere of dreams, the Princess of the Night. She regarded us imperiously, and we each instinctively knew that her will was supreme in the world where we were only transient guests.

“We need to talk,” she said curtly. 
> 11 - Of Memory and Magic
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We all stared as the 'Princess of the Night' spoke, her demeanor as grave and graceful as ever. 'Showoff,' I thought sourly, snorting. Surely my Luke and Mary wouldn't fall for such a transparent attempt to impress... Ah. Well, apparently they would. I rolled my eyes at the two of them, but they were to enraptured by the sight of 'Luna' in all her glory. Didn't they realize how pretentious she was being?

She looked us over, one by one, and narrowed her eyes when they landed on me before turning back to the group at large. “I had intended to share this with only two of your number,” she said, her eyes flicking towards me once more, “but events have forced my hoof. I'm sure you've all had 'visions' by now, but they've been as forgotten dreams or disregarded as nonsense.”

I rolled my eyes, already suspecting what she was going to say next, and was not disappointed. 

She continued, giving no indication that she'd noticed. “I tell you now, those weren't nonsense, nor were they dreams. They were memories of your past life.”

Luke and Mary were predictably shocked by the news, gasping in surprise and immediately rattling off questions and exclamations. I grumbled off to the side, wondering how they could both be so gullible. We KNEW that this 'Luna' was addled in some way, most likely by the curse that 'Discord' put on us; why were they falling for it now? A pony – a person, sorry – could rationalize away anything if they were really determined – whatever this 'Luna' had to say, it would doubtless be no different from other conspiracy theories.

The poor deluded fool wasn't finished, however, and kept up the regal charade. I could only imagine where she learned to talk like that. Maybe she had been a fan of particularly bad soap operas. “You are, all of you, returning to your original forms. Each of you was cursed by Discord to live as a human for five and twenty years, and now that the curse is breaking down you have turned back into your old selves. Your memories, however, are lost; I do not know any craft to restore-”

I couldn't hold it in any longer. “Oh come ON. This is ridiculous!” I shouted, giving my brother and my friend matching looks of disgust. “Those 'ponies' aren't REAL. They are MAKE BELIEVE. For goodness sake, they're bloody cartoon animals! I've seen you both in Walmart – little plastic figurines, devised by some corporate think tank to get the most profit. None of you are...” I stopped, confused; rather than the sheepish looks I expected, they looked wary and defensive. “Why are you staring at me like that?!” I demanded.

'Alright,' I thought, 'time out! Something's not right here.' They should have been lining up behind me, joining me in telling 'Mrs. Princesspants' here what was what, and getting on with what really mattered – getting us back to our old selves! Instead, they were acting like I was about to pounce and... Oh. Right. They believed her. Why the fuck did they believe her over me?! I sighed and rubbed my forehead around the base of my horn, trying to remain calm – blowing up wouldn't get them on my side. “Look,” I said levelly, adopting a reasonable tone as I explained what I thought were some very basic concepts to them. “I'm not debating that something very strange has happened. I'm not even going to try to speak for Ms. Starshine over there,” I said, earning a raised eyebrow from the midnight blue alicorn. 'Time to tackle the heart of the issue,' I thought, and continued. “But, come on, guys... do you REALLY think I could ever be a tyrant like that? Even assuming that these creatures are real, it just doesn't add up! You've known me my whole life, Luke – you know I'd never enslave anyone, or conquer a city, or, or whatever other sins the fictional character did in canon – or in another galaxy or universe or whatever. And you! You've always been able to figure out people's motives, Mary! Shoot you've known what people have thought and felt even if they didn't know it themselves! So tell me; am I capable of enslaving a bunch of cute pastel ponies and ruling a kingdom with an iron hoof, fist, or whatever else may sit at the end of my appendages?”

Their wariness had diminished somewhat, replaced by confusion. They looked at one another, conferring wordlessly, and I sighed with relief. Surely they'd see reason. Surely they'd see that I wasn't some sort of monster, that I had their best interests at heart, that I was the only one fit to lead our group and that I knew best how to-

“You always had a silver tongue,” Luna said coldly, regarding me with a regal stare. “But even if you deny the facts of your own eyes, you cannot hide them.” Her eyes and her horn glowed, but by the time I realized what she was doing she had already cast her spell. Something leapt from her horn and into my head, something electric and cold and shining like moonlight. Then, for lack of a better word, it hooked onto something inside. I gave a yelp of surprise and revulsion as I felt something being pulled, something both physical and mental, but there was no pain. It pulled farther and farther, and the dazzling lights resolved themselves into a shape. A complex network of either solid light or brilliantly glowing mist poured out of my head, unraveling into a dizzying three dimensional web. I was too shocked to say a word, but she appeared unsurprised by the light show.

“Normally this would be invisible,” she said, her own horn glowing as she tugged at various nodes and vertices to reveal the larger pattern, “but in the realm of dreams one can visibly see the metaphysical forms of enchantments and spells as a physical analogue – or at least, as physical as they can be. With enough skill, one can decipher the purpose and nature of a spell, though in this case it's not necessary; I'm almost certain that it's a failed memory enchantment.”

I was only half listening, engrossed by what had been... well, been residing inside my head. How on earth had that got in there? Moreover, what did it do? It was an enchantment, I already knew that on instinct, but it was somehow familiar even though I was sure I'd never seen anything like it in my life. The shape of it tickled my memory, nagging at the back of my mind... 'That's not right,' I thought, frowning as I spotted an irregularity in its form. I scrutinized a few of the pathways, immediately noticing how they broke the pattern; while the others were clean and terminated in nodes or vertices, these seemed to trail off and darken as if broken. I idly wondered if I could fix them...

She continued speaking, even as I contemplated the strange web of light and magic. “What you should notice is that there are no ties to any other unicorns or spell-casters, no links, however faint, that stretch across the void and bind the enchantment to the will of another. The only binding is to the subject. That can only mean one thing; the enchanter is the enchantee. It was a self enchantment.”

I snapped out of fugue as I felt the web suddenly rush back at me, shuddering as it poured back into my head and filled the vacancy it had briefly left. Now that I knew it was there, I could feel it. I shook away the willies, reminding myself that it was just magic – not parasites or insects or anything else that would give me the heebie-jeebies. “That's nice and all,” I growled, trying to recover from the shock of the ordeal, focusing instead on the anger of the violation, “but what is your point?”

“Simple,” she said without missing a beat, smirking in such a self satisfied manner that I wished nothing more than to blast the look off her face. “You cast it; you put the enchantment on yourself. Tell me, do you remember doing anything of the sort? Weaving any sort of complex spell-work?”

“W-well no,” I stammered, caught off guard. I tried to think of a good counter, but I was still processing what I'd seen. She pushed on before I could fumble for a rebuttal.

“Oh? No ideas where it came from? Well, you've done it before. After all, we have proof in your own head that you devised the enchantment yourself! And if you're correct – if there is no past life for you to have forgotten – you can certainly do it again. So? Go on! Put lie to my words!”

That bitch was relentless, and she was getting on my last nerve. I glowered. “Fine, you want a spell? I'll give you a spell!” I shouted, furious, and snarled as I charged my horn with the essence of thermal-destruction. I didn't want to kill her – well, not right then, but if she kept pushing it I might have been sorely tempted – so I focused my attention on a nearby tree. With a savage roar I balled up all my hate, all my frustration and anger and loathing, honed it to a point, and lashed out all at once. The tree was immediately immolated. 

“There!” I panted triumphantly. “See? I can do PLENTY of magic, and-”

“You really are deluded, aren't you?” she said conversationally, her head cocked, regarding me as if I was a curious lab specimen.

“I – what?!” I froze, dumbfounded at her unexpected response. I'd just incinerated a tree – what more proof of magical prowess did she need?!

She extinguished it the flames, taking her time and ignoring me as she did. “You performed a spell,” she explained, turning back to me with a cool stare. “Not an enchantment. You clearly do not know how to perform even basic enchantments – do not deny it, and don't throw another tantrum, 'tis unbecoming of a stallion, even one such as yourself. Yet, you refuse to see what's in front of your very eyes. You refuse to acknowledge what's already apparent to everyone but yourself.” she poked my chest with a hoof, and I was still too shocked to respond to the rude slight, “You are the one who made that enchantment. And you,” – another poke! The nerve! – “have no memory of ever doing so. You've seen the evidence; take it to its logical conclusion. You are at least capable of that, if my memory serves rightly.”

My mouth worked like a fish's on dry land, but no words came out. No one had ever talked to me like that. 

Her face softened, and she gave me the one thing I couldn't stand, the one thing I couldn't allow: pity. “This can't be easy for you. All you can remember is life as a human being, and it would seem you were decent enough – at least, you were decent by the standards of Man – if you've made friends with Cadence and Soarin. But you cannot ignore-”

I'd reached my breaking point. She'd talked down to me long enough, and I would have no more of it. “You know NOTHING about me!” I hissed, shoving her hoof away. Resisting the urge to gore her on my horn, I turned away. “You are a sad, mad little creature, and I won't let you poison my friend's minds with your lies! Come on,” I said, turning to the other two, “we're leaving! Or waking up! Whatever!” I strode past them, confident they'd follow, but I only heard my own hoof-steps. Confused, I turned back. “Well? What are you waiting for? We're leaving! We're not listening to this mad-woman any longer!”

Mary's eyes were fixed on the ground, and she scuffed her hoof. “I... I think she's making a lot of sense,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. I ignored the tear that rolled down her cheek, too incensed by her betrayal to care very much. 

Luke was much more blunt. “Dude. You need to chill the fuck down and listen.” He gave me a hard stare, and I could only gawk. E tu, Brutus?

“You should listen to your brother, James.” The 'princess' gave me a cold, implacable look. “It is by his own good nature, no doubt, that your darker one has been kept in check. It is his influence that has helped curve your eviler desires.”

“Evil? I'm not evil!” I growled, glowering and stamping the ground. “I'm a good person! Have you seen where I work?! A food pantry, helping homeless people, giving them clothes and food-”

“Even if that was out of the goodness of your heart rather than just the rules of your place of employment,” she said, cutting me off yet again, “I've heard all about what you intended to do to the pastor that runs the vaunted 'food pantry'. Tell me – how was that 'good'?”

I balked, my argument cut short. How did she... I glared at Luke, who was suspiciously refusing to meet my gaze. I squeezed my eyes shut, and reconsidered my approach even as her words ran through my mind. “Look,” I muttered, trying to sound calm and in control, trying and failing to silence the thoughts buzzing through my mind, “I was stressed-”

-people get stressed all the time, and they don't try to hurt innocent people-

“-and I wasn't thinking clearly-”

-yes you were, you were thinking all too clearly, you chose to be cold-

“-I'm really a nice guy-”

-nice guys don't want to kill people just for being a potential threat, nice guys don't fly into a rage over tiny little things, nice guys don't burn down trees and lose their temper just to prove a point–

“-I go to church, I pay my tithe, I-” I floundered, justifying myself, but she once again cut me short.

“-Blow up at the smallest of slights, look down on others as intellectually and morally inferior, and let your pride override your good sense. Oh, and we cannot forget your penchant for revenge and wrath. Yes, I know,” she said, frowning. “You've always had those problems. You've had them for hundreds of years, and you still haven't learned.”

I gaped wordlessly at her, momentarily lost for words. I tried to ignore what she said, to disregard it – she was mad, she was delusional, she was a talking pony princess – but no matter how I tried to dismiss the source, I couldn't... I couldn't deny that what she said was true. I wasn't always the nicest person... But I couldn't really be Sombra, could I? She was mad. Ponies were from a cartoon for goodness sake... But then, what about that web of light, that network of magic I could still feel buried in my mind? She was right about that, as loathe as I was to admit it – at least, she was right that I had no memory of creating it myself. Something didn't add up. The data was contradictory; there were too many conflicting variables, too many paradoxes. Something had to give, and for the first time I wasn't sure it wasn't going to be me.

The azure alicorn continued implacably, urged on by my silence. “Unfortunately, because of your past and your nature, you cannot remain with Cadence and Soarin. I cannot risk it. I will not allow harm to come to my subject, nor can I allow my fellow alicorn to risk herself for your sake. You must part ways.”

It was like a wrench in the works, bringing the circular and fruitless workings of my mind to a halt. Part... ways? No. “Wh-what?” I asked, coming back to reality and feeling the bottom drop out of my stomach. I'd always had my brother, and I'd known Mary for years. We were close, and we'd only grown closer since the transformation. “No. No! You said it yourself!” I stammered frantically, grasping at straws, “they're the reason I'm not... If you take them from me... How could you take away the only check you think I have against becoming the person I was?” I didn't believe her, but I could only turn her own argument against her.

I stopped my fumbling as a stronger voice interrupted. “And just what right do you have to command me to do anything, let alone to abandon a friend in need?” The pink alicorn beside me stepped forward. Mary had finally spoke up. There was fire in her eyes, and I really started to worry she actually WAS Cadence – she certainly looked regal enough for it, right then. “If what you say is true,” she continued, steel in her voice, “then I am your equal, and you must respect my sovereignty. And I will NOT leave a friend when he needs me most – when we need each other.” Even as doubt crept through my mind like worms, I couldn't help but give a small smile. If she really was Cadence... She was showing her true colors. 

My brother was less eloquent and verbose, but no less firm. “Yeah,” he said, placing himself between me and the lunar princess and standing beside Mary, “he's family. I don't care if he was Sombra, he's my brother and I'm not just gonna abandon him.” 

The alicorn before them raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised. She took it in stride, however. “Surely thou realizes thine true identity by now,” she said, frowning. “Whatever japes Discord has played with your hearts, you have no more shared blood with Sombra than with a zebra. He is not your kin, Soarin, and he was the enemy of all free people before your memories were purged. You cannot travel with him safely. You must leave him to his own devices; I will watch over him, for he can do me no harm in this place and cannot reach me in the material world.”

“He's not dangerous!” Luke said, stamping a hoof. “Yeah, he can be a jerk. And a prick. And a control freak. And an asshole. And – erk.” 

I prodded him with a hoof. “Hey, come on!” I hissed, “you don't have to be hurtful!” He glared back at me, rolling his eyes, then turned back to the princess.

“Anyway, yeah,” he continued, “he might not be the nicest, but he's not dangerous to us, and we can keep him in line if he spazzes out again. Even if he was Sombra, he isn't anymore.”

I'd hoped that she would concede the point – wasn't the show all about friendship and harmony and such? – but my hopes were dashed. “That is exactly what I'm worried about,” Luna said, not missing a beat. “He is enchanted, and if I have guessed rightly that enchantment holds his memories at bay. It might remain dormant and never activate for as long as he lives; it might begin functioning tomorrow. I dare not try to remove it without a clearer understanding, lest I activate it or permanently damage his mind. If his memories do come back, will he be the same person he is now? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps it will drive him mad, the sudden rush of memories breaking his mind. Perhaps the old Sombra will return, and we will have another foe – and your 'brother' will be no more. Perhaps he will simply have new memories, and remain the same person. There is too much at stake to place things in the fickle hooves of chance.” She turned to Cadence and regarded her sadly. “He means much to you – well do I know the power of friendship – but please, I ask you as an equal; do not risk yourself for this one. The whole of Equestria needs you, every single soul needs our guidance and aid. Do not risk all of our little ponies for one, no matter how dear to you.”

I paid little attention after that; the possibility of those memories residing in my own head, locked away... I felt a chill, the network of magic in my mind seeming a great deal more sinister than it had when it floated placidly outside of my head. But that chill was nothing compared to the doubt, nothing compared to the hunger to know. What if she was right? What if she was wrong? What if there was a third option, one none of us had anticipated? The questions ate at me like worms in a carcass. I had to know! How could I go on not knowing who I was, what I was?! It was a question without an answer, an equation without a solution, a logic loop without a terminating statement. It was a splinter of madness that would not leave me at peace. I had to know!

I considered the web, instinctively probing it with my sense of magic. I could still feel it, less distinctly than when I could behold it physically, but still enough to sense its network of nodes and vertices. I could still see it in my mind's eye. I tuned out the conversation around me – none of it was as important as the knowing – and focused instead on the enchantment's form. It thrummed with contained and structured energy, and within that structure was encapsulated information – lots and lots of information. I could access neither, however; its structure somehow prevented that, locking away the information among its nodes and pathways. But there was still that chink, that flaw in the pattern, grating against my senses. It wasn't right. I could feel that much – the ragged, trailing edges that terminated in nothing, the dullness like a corroded wire, and needed to be repaired...

'That part connects there,' I thought absentmindedly, still considering the form. It took me several moments to realize the significance of that; I knew how it was supposed to look. Dread and excitement warred in me as I regarded the damage. I knew how to repair it. The implications of that rumbled at the back of my mind, the warning lights flared, but I ignored them. I could repair it, I knew instinctively how to do so. I didn't know how I knew, but it was enough that I could.

I could finally know. 

I ignored my reservations, I ignored the danger, and decided to scratch the itch. Pushing aside my reservations and my hope as irrelevant, I concentrated. I linked the proper nodes in the proper formation, forming complex geometries and flows of magic, operating on instinct and insight. Finally, there was only one last connection to make. I hesitated, Luna's words coming back. What if it drove me mad? I pushed that away, disregarding it – not knowing but always feeling guilty, always wondering and never knowing who I was, that would drive me mad. I had to know. What if it changed me, what if my identity was subsumed by the new memories? I cringed at the thought, but memories are just information – I would still be in control. Surely I could just choose not to repeat what those memories showed me? And, besides...

I had to know.

I would know.

I made the last connection. And then I screamed as I was buried in a great wave of knowing. 
> 12 - Of Denial and Domination
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I struggled to maintain my sense of self as the memories poured into my mind, a relentless torrent of sensations and images and thoughts and concepts. My vision doubled, then tripled, then became a confusing haze as I tried to hold on to reality. The others gave a start at my scream, and I tried to call for help, but it seemed lost as if in a tempest. The memories were too much. I felt a surge of pure sensory information, the strength of the memory stripping me away from the present, immersing me in it, washing away my sense of self. 'Oh God' I silently prayed in my panic, 'please don't let it break my mind I don't want to die I don't want to stop being oh God oh God oh–'

***

“The preparations are complete, Your Majesty,” I said, levitating a diagrammed scroll and comparing it to the ley lines and reagents. Months of research, a full year of careful preparation and review, and even longer to get the support I needed had culminated in this day. Several years ago, another unicorn had been monitoring the magical bonds that held Discord entombed in stone. He found that they were steadily weakening. It was slow, but in less than two centuries the demon would break free. Some suggested that the Princesses simply refresh the spell periodically, but I spoke against it; we could not afford to leave everything up to to them, to 'put all our eggs in one basket'. If, Maker forbid, something happened to the elements or one of the Sisters, the bindings would fail in a matter of decades rather than centuries, and Equestia would have to deal with the monster without the aid of the Elements – or, more likely, be plunged once more into the chaotic perdition of his cruel whimsies without any real hope of an end. It was eventually decided that I would seek a more permanent and modular method to keep the spell strong, and I took on the mantle with pride – and, perhaps, a little trepidation. 

It didn't take long to realize that it was his inherent Chaos magic that was eroding the spell; I could practically feel the tendrils of his power eating away at it like roots through sandstone. Devising a solution was not so simple, however, but careful study and experimentation revealed an answer – one requiring many different applications of magical binding and Order magic, as well as some research into the more arcane and esoteric arcane fields. But, found it I did. Despite the complexity of the minutia and the difficulty of the implementation, the concept was relatively simple and sound; we would take the natural Order magic of the surrounding area and turn his own chaos against him. The more he fought against it, the more nature itself would bear down on him, tightening his bonds even further, like a Chineighs hooftrap. I had suggested we take it a step further and use the excess Order magic to further erode his Chaos magic, eventually either killing him or transforming his inherent magical nature into that of Order, but the Princesses, for some inexplicable reason, were unwilling to permit that. They told me that I was to keep him entombed in stone, and no more. For the life of me I couldn't imagine why they wouldn't bring that creature to heel – and, besides, it just made sense to have multiple contingency plans for dealing with such a creature. Ah well – they knew what was best, I supposed.

Even if some of their reasons were a mystery, the Princesses needed me to do a job – and I didn't intend to disappoint them. I went over the checklist one more time, scrutinizing every item with a gimlet eye. Everything would be perfect, and while there were multiple levels of safeguards in place I would have preferred not to use them. Satisfied with the list, I finally turned my attention to the group at large. The greatest ponies in Equestria were all gathered for the binding ritual. The most intelligent Unicorns were at the core of the group, the inner circle, and were there to weave and form the enchantment – the purpose and will of the spell. Behind them were an equal number of the most powerful unicorn sorcerers, ready to lend aid in reinforcing the thaumaturgical constructs and, if necessary, take over should their primaries fail. They would, naturally, be giving the spell its strength and fortitude. Around the outskirts were royal guards in specially enchanted armor, which designed to absorb and disperse chaos magic so they could fight Discord directly, if the need arose. Finally, at the outskirts of the circle, observing and overseeing the work, were the two Diarchs of Equestria – silent and watchful, adorned in their elements like armor, grim and severe as befitting the occasion and their station. Only the guards could match their austerity. They were our final line of defense, ready to lend aid in the event of a catastrophic failure. If something went horribly wrong, they would use the Elements to return Discord to his stone prison.

I cleared my throat, addressing the primaries, secondaries, and guards. “Everyone, do one last check over your gear and your part of the binding ritual. I don't want any mistakes, no matter how minor – Equestria depends on you, and we will give them only perfection. If anyone isn't feeling up to this, speak now; it's better to leave now and postpone this for another day than find yourself staring into the eyes of a fully animate – not to mention, insane and royally pissed off – draconequus.” I hoped that no one would step down – it would take another month at least to make the preparations for another attempt – but I wasn't going to break my own rules for the sake of expediency. We had to do it right, or not at all.

Fortunately for me and my state of mind, no one stepped forward. I nodded stiffly, satisfied, and turned to the Princesses. They were there to aid us, but I had no proper authority over them, so I meekly asked, “Are Your Majesties ready, as well? Your presence is absolutely necessary, should something go wrong, and I would be loathe to-”

“No, we are fine. Please proceed,” Princess Luna answered shortly, clearly as impatient as I was. I winced and nodded, crossing off several other items on the checklist, and looked to Celestia. Despite her grimness at the situation, she gave a small smile and nodded. With her blessing, I turned back to the scholars and engineers and cleared my throat.

“Let us begin, then. Charge the reagents and start engaging the runic matrices, just like we practiced.”

We started loosening the magical bindings that kept him in his stone form – only slightly, though. Just enough to slip another enchantment in around him. Fortunately we were prepared for the mental onslaught as his mind was partially freed. 

'Oh?' a wry, mocking voice poked around inside my head. The spell weavers frowned, but they were too busy with their own part to give him any heed. The guards, ever wary for an attack, shifted restlessly and looked sharply around the room. The voice continued. 'What's this? It's soooo impolite to just barge in – you should at least have the decency to knock first!'

“Ignore him,” I told the assembled ponies, “he's powerless. He'll say anything to save his wretched hide.” They already knew that, of course – my briefing was thorough, and we'd accounted for the possibility – but it helped to remind them of that. “Focus on your duty.” Even as I said it, I knew there was no need; each face I saw was intent, determined to keep this monster imprisoned forever. 

'Duty,' the voice giggled. 'Such a funny word for such a dull concept – and worth just as much as its homophone. You ponies really are amusing creatures, you know? I think I'll keep some of you as pets, once I reclaim what is rightfully mine. You think I can't do anything from here? Why, I already have...'

And then I felt it – tendrils of chaos creeping out from the statue, far stronger than the tolerance parameters allowed. Something was wrong. “Stop! Stop the unbinding, we went too far!” I called out, rushing forward to check what went wrong, trotting around the statue and examining it directly. I found no problems there, no unusual surges of magic from the inside. How could there be a containment breach? We'd monitored him for the past year, and every escape attempt had been examined and plotted out. He was a god of chaos, yes, but even he had some predictability, and his power output within the statue eventually came out to a standard bell curve. But this... this was far outside of anything we'd ever seen from him by several orders of magnitude. It made no sense! Everyone present had gone over the equations multiple times, and each agreed on the amount of power necessary to achieve the unbinding we needed. Why wasn't the unbinding stopping? Why didn't the tendrils of chaos stop? Why didn't-

Someone wasn't stopping. 

I stared at the unicorn, still not understanding. “Stop the unbinding!” I shouted – had he lost control of the spell? His secondary stepped forward, perplexed. “Hey, he said stop – do you need help?” the other unicorn asked, reaching a hoof forward. A fraction of a second later, the confused secondary was sent flying backwards as the primary's protective shield shimmered to life. 

Then it clicked. It wasn't stopping because he didn't want it to stop. “TRAITOR! HE'S A TRAITOR!” I shouted, even as I tried to sense what the rogue unicorn was doing and how he was protected. Unfortunately, my probing tendrils met a lot of 'static' – the bastard was using chaos magic to disrupt my attempts to 'read' him.

Seeing my frustration and thinking himself victorious, the rogue agent turned and leered at the assembled ponies as he continued undoing the bonds. “The TRUE Lord of Equestria will return!” he cackled, his eyes wild and gleaming with a malignant magic. “BOW TO THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING, WORMS!”

'I LOVE this guy!' the voice chuckled merrily. I ignored it.

The Primaries fled, as per safety protocols, needing no further prompting to teleport or run away. Once they were out of the way, the secondaries cast up a shield around the statue, a shield especially designed to counter Discord's chaos. The guards stood at the ready, weapons leveled, forming a bulwark between the shield and the rest of the assembled ponies. The Sisters stood at the back, getting into position and readying their own potent weapons of Harmony.

All of the fallback procedures were being followed perfectly. The only problem was I was trapped on the inside, and the unicorn was going to break through the bindings before the Sisters could have the Elements ready. In a few short moments, I would be trapped inside a magical shield, at the mercy of the immense power, cruelty, and creative vindictiveness of a mad draconequus. I pushed aside my welling panic – I had to think fast, and panicking would get me absolutely nowhere. Even so, it looked hopeless; there were only a few moments left before he would completely undo the bindings and unleash the God of Chaos upon me, and I hadn't the power to undo his shielding – nor did I know what cantrips that might set off if I did. The stallion had been planning this all along, and he had no doubt planned for a direct assault. I had to find a way around it, somehow, and... Wait. 

I examined the flow of magic connecting him to the statue. It was just as inscrutable as his shield, foiling all of my attempts to read it, but it was also Chaos magic. Still, even static could convey information; there was no hole in his shield to allow the threads to pass through. Therefore, the shield was attuned to allow chaos magic to pass through it. I felt a moment's despair – adding MORE chaos to the situation wouldn't help at all, and would almost certainly hasten my end – but I didn't have to add something chaotic to the equation. I just had to find something that was already chaotic to pass through his shields.

I looked around desperately for something chaotic, but the reagents of the spell were all neutral at best. The diabolical bastard had planned for that; of course he knew we wouldn't have anything to use against him, as we'd all be using Order magic! Dammit! If only there was something nearby, something chaotic, something that could pass through his shield...

Something large and heavy made of stone. Right.  

Resisting the urge to facehoof for my brief lapse, I concentrated on the statue, surrounding it with a ghostly white glow. The unicorn just cackled. “You think you can hold the God of Chaos in stone? Buffoon! Imbecile! Did your mother bed a Dog, or did you just -erp?”

That was all he could manage before I toppled the statue down upon him. He wasn't killed, no – it landed in such a way that he received a nasty blow to the head, but left enough space underneath so he wasn't crushed or gored. Still, with him unconscious his spells dissipated harmlessly, leaving Discord trapped in stone. He couldn't get out, not quickly at any rate, and we were safe for the moment. What's more, Discord knew it.

'WHAT?!' the voice shrieked, even as I turned my attention to re-binding the enchantment around him. 'No! NO! You can't do this to me, I'll kill you, I'll string your entrails-' It was a quick and dirty job, but it would hold for a while. The fact that it silenced the evil bastard was just a happy byproduct.

Then it was quiet. The sudden calm left me disoriented, shell-shocked, and I wanted nothing more than to lay down somewhere comfortable and try to get my bearings. Unfortunately, I still had a job to do. I turned my gaze to the demented unicorn before me, and levitated the statue off of his prone form. He wasn't bleeding, and he was breathing. Good. He could be properly interrogated.

“Wake UP!” I shouted, gathering my magic into a malevolent ball and sharpening it to a point. “Wake up, you vile bit of scum! WAKE UP AND ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES!” He was not responding; clearly, he needed some encouragement. I lashed out with my mind, forcing my will upon him, pushing tendrils of order magic into his body to bring it under my direct control. Once I had his nerve endings under control, well... Nothing wakes a person up like pain.

He gave a shriek, waking immediately as I electrified every nerve in his epidermis, no doubt feeling as if he were immersed in boiling lead. I maintained the spell for a moment before relenting; more would come later, if necessary. “Now,” I said gravely, letting only a cold glare show on my face, “you will answer for your crimes. I will personally make you feel every bit of pain you sought to bring upon us.” I gave a small surge of magic, sending him writhing in agony for a few more moments. When it subsided, he was left panting and whimpering, curled up into a ball. Pathetic little coward. “During the course of your punishment, we will break your mind apart and examine every little piece; it won't even matter if you lie to us. We will know the truth. And, when you are reduced to a gibbering, senseless wreck, we will execute you like the traitorous vermin you are.”

I heard heavy hoofsteps behind me, and turned to find the Princesses striding towards us, grim and serious. “Ah, Your Majesties!” I said brightly, anticipating the prisoner's just desserts. “I was just telling this traitorous scum what he could expect – I will aid you however, necessary, of course, and I look forward to justice being served. What is your pleasure?” 

The lunar princess regarded me coldly. I looked at her, confused. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty? I have secured the prisoner – he is under my complete control, never fear! He could no more cast a spell than a pegasus could.”

She said not a word to me, and turned to the wretch on the floor. He cowered away from her, eyes full of fear – as well he should fear her! – and gave a pathetic whimper.

“Sleep,” she said, horn flashing, and the traitor fell unconscious.

Before I could ask the lunar diarch she'd put the prisoner to sleep so suddenly, she rounded on me. She was livid. Not at the traitor, as first I thought – at me. I looked to Celestia for clarification, but there was no kindness there. 

“By the Maker, what do you think you're doing?!” Luna was more angry than I'd ever seen her.

I looked anywhere for support, but none was forthcoming. The guards were, naturally, loyal to the Princesses, but even my fellow researchers were avoiding me as if I had horn rot – at least, the ones who weren't looking at me with outright disgust.

“I'm sorry the ritual failed, Your Highness,” I said respectfully, bowing and lowering my eyes. “And I'm sorry I allowed a traitor into our midst. If you'll allow me, I can help to rectify the situation and extract all of the information we need from the prisoner-”

“YOU WILL EXTRACT NOTHING FROM NO ONE!” 

I shuddered, ears ringing as the Royal Canterlot Voice nearly blasted me off my hooves – but it didn't come from Luna.

I gulped, truly afraid. Luna was always known to have a short temper, but if Celestia was angry at me... “I-I know I failed, Your Majesties,” I stammered, trying to maintain my composure and keep my limbs from shaking, “b-but it was an honest mistake; there is no treachery in me, only foolishness. I am truly sorry for any danger I may have put you in, and-”

“This is not about the failed ritual, fool,” Luna said incredulously, regarding me with shock and disgust. “You tortured a fellow being! Such cruelty has never been known in our kingdom!”

I looked from one diarch to the other, confusion warring with indignation. A threat to the crown was a threat to all of Equestria! “But... He would have killed you if he could... He deserved it, and much more...”

“But he did not.”

Celestia regarded me coldly, eyes unwavering, and spoke with the finality of a judge and the authority of a god. With her wings outspread, she towered above me and spoke. “This Kingdom is not one of darkness, but of light. Goodness reigns here, and justice must always be tempered with mercy if it is to remain so. Thus, you are twice the transgressor – first for taking upon yourself the mantle of authority unlawfully, and second for unlawful execution of that authority. It is for this that I judge you.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, unmoving. Not a sound could be heard as she remained deep in thought. Finally, she opened her eyes and regarded me with the same finality... though it was tinged with sorrow. “Sombra. For your crimes, you are stripped of your position and your command. Furthermore, you will have no authority over any other thinking being, pony or otherwise, ever again. But justice will be mingled with mercy, that you may learn its value; you will have the chance to atone for your crimes, and your research may continue. But you may not use magic on any other sentient being without their consent. Do you understand?”

I could not bring myself to speak. How... How could everything have turned so bad so quickly? And how could they twist the law in such a way? They couldn't have mercy on a criminal – to do so was to ignore the harm done to the victim! And that stallion... He tried to victimize all of Equestria in the most terrible way, to doom us all to a second reign of chaos! I had been disgraced – for no good reason, they had reduced me to all but a prisoner. The floor felt as if it was falling out from under me, and numbness crept over my limbs. My future, gone. My greatest work, the permanent binding of the Chaos God, to be finished by another. My standing in the court, my pride, my dignity, all ruined. They had reduced me to nothing... Falling, falling, falling... Wait... I was falling! What the fuck!? AAAAAAA-

***

“-AAAAAAHHHH!”

Who was screaming? Why was I so disoriented? What the fuck had just happened? WHY WAS MY THROAT SORE??!

“YOU BUCKING IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!”

Oh. I was screaming. And so was Luna, apparently. Those questions were answered, at least. I had only a brief moment to reflect on where the pretty pony princess had learned to swear like a sailor when pain tore me to my very core, severing me in ways I had never known I could be severed. My vision doubled – no, my very experience of self doubled – and briefly I was torn between the utter despair of watching my future crumble before my very eyes, and the utter terror at the mental onslaught I had unleashed upon myself. Two people at once – but not two people, the same person experiencing twice what one should, two disparate times and two sets of eyes and two thundering hearts and two minds and two moralities and two ids and two many and too many and TOO MANY-

*SMACK*

And one sudden pain in the side of my head. Ah, hello real world, we meet again. Kindly fuck off and die. 

Luna raised her hoof to deliver another blow, but hesitated when I fixed her with clear eyes. “I... Had... To know!” I gasped, fighting off the surge of memories. I could push them away... But the tide was coming in again, threatening to take me out into the maelstrom. 

The lunar princess gave something between a groan and a growl, and charged her horn. “Great. On top of all the complications you've thrown at me, now I have to keep you from coming apart at the seams.” She was definitely sounding less regal – perhaps the stress was bringing out her human side. I opened my mouth to tell Celestia how funny that was, but she – Oh God, the memories were creeping back, I couldn't give in, I had to focus. The real! I had to focus on the real!

“Hit me some more, PLEASE! It's coming back! Don't let it get me, HIT ME!” I shrieked, fighting back the tears as my head felt as if it were being both overfilled and torn apart. I looked up at her with pleading eyes, begging her to help me stay grounded in reality-

I have never seen a shorter hesitation. It surely approached the Planck limit, if there was one.

One good Alicorn-empowered throttling later – and let's not forget, Alicorns have the strength of Earth Ponies along with their powers over the winds and the arcane – my headache subsided. At least, my magically induced, personality-and-mind-splitting headache had subsided. All the existential and mind shattering aches and pains were diminished, and all the fresh, physical aches and pains kept me well tethered to the present with exquisite clarity. I groaned feebly – at that point I wasn't sure I preferred the present to the past, and was halfheartedly considering the benefits of a complete personality breakdown. I just prayed that none of the pain would transfer over when I woke up. I didn't have much time to worry about that, however.

“Time is short,” Luna barked shortly, “and Somb- your friend – needs your aid. You must do what you can in the physical world to prevent him from hurting himself. And he WILL do so if he isn't restrained – he will endure several centuries of thoughts and feelings and experiences before the day is through.” I barely registered the shock and concern on my brother and my friend's faces as they were whisked away out of the dream, presumably to do as she asked. All the while I felt the pressure continue to build at the back of my mind, threatening to consume me again.

My focus was already wavering as Luna – yes, I knew she really was Luna by then, I couldn't deny it any longer – bent down and spoke to me. She was surprisingly calm, even as I strained and writhed. “I'm going to try to save you from your own stupidity,” she said matter-of-factly, her horn glowing. “Not for your sake, mind – you deserve this, and far worse. But I would not face two foes at once, so, for the sake of my kingdom, I will try to preserve the person you have become and prevent the old Sombra from returning.”

“H-how?” I asked, straining to keep the sights and sounds of another time at bay. It wouldn't be long before the dam broke...

She cocked her head and gave me a half smirk. “Do you think the Princess of Dreams cannot distinguish between fantasy and reality, and help others do the same?”

There was a flash... and just like that, I wasn't alone in the visions.

***

Too. Damn. COLD. “It should be illegal to be this cold,” I muttered darkly, glowering at some passer-byes as if they had done me some great personal wrong. “'Most orderly place in the Kingdom' my plot – if they couldn't control the weather, how could they be any more orderly than Canterlot?! These 'Crystal Ponies' don't know the first thing about Order...”

Those were my thoughts... No, not mine. Yes? No? I...

I suddenly found myself forced into the back of my own mind, 'hearing' all the internal gripes and complaints of my other 'self', seeing through his eyes and hearing through his ears and smelling through his snout. It was... Not pleasant. But at the very least I had an 'outside perspective', and was no longer torn between two selves. The memories were no longer being forced into my mind; I was simply experiencing them from a firsthand perspective.

“I had no idea you were such a whiner,” a voice said with a sniff. Luna strode into my vision, blocking my path... And my body kept walking forward, heedless of her. I tried to stop my hooves, but I could not control them. I tried to tell her to move, but my mouth would not work. And then... I simply passed through her. She reappeared a moment later, floating ahead of me gently like a feather on the wind, and taking in the sights of the Crystal Castle. “Did it not occur to you that the cold doesn't bother them?”

'Oh, right, a memory,' I thought, relieved. 'Well, of course I know that now, but what's her problem, I was just grumbling about the bad weather...'

“My 'problem',” she frowned, “is that a former tyrant may return because his new incarnation has the curiosity of a cat and the discretion of a monkey, and so I must protect him from his own locked-away memories.” She blinked, then smiled mischievously. “Oh, and yes, I can read your thoughts here.”

I mentally blinked. '...I'm not sure how I feel about that. Wait, no – that's a lie. I know how I feel about it, and I don't like it. Please stop.'

“Can't,” she said airily, landing lightly trotting alongside me with a smirk. “not until I can be sure you're stabilized, and won't turn back into the raging tyrant you were before. You'll just have to put up with my meddling until I find a more suitable arrangement.”

I grumbled at this but eventually fell silent, having no better suggestions – well, none that were productive, anyway. Suggestions of what she could shove into various anatomically dubious locations probably didn't count as 'helpful', I suppose.

Sombra – or, rather, his memory-body in which I was currently an unwilling occupant – continued to plod up the stairway in the Crystal Castle towards the defense wing. It's where he'd been assigned; research and development for the defense of the Crystal City, with focus on using the natural order magic of the area to their advantage.

The natural order in the location had an interesting affect on the city's inhabitants, particularly the earth  ponies. Earth ponies, I knew – though I did not know at the time how I knew, the knowledge just 'came to me', as it were – are intrinsically tied to the land they work, through both their labor and their magic. An earth pony's magic is in their labor, after all, and as they fortify the earth they work – be it through the quarrying of stones or the tending of orchards or the tilling of fields – they are themselves fortified. They become a natural expression of the land. In the case of these Crystal Ponies, however, the earth they worked and its natural Order magic had lent them a certain luster, and in some cases even the translucence, of crystals. 

Sombra knew this, I could 'see', but he didn't care much for it; what interested him was the source of their change, and how he could harness that power to redeem himself. He trotted up the stairs with renewed vigor, the cold no longer bothering him as he carefully fanning tiny ember of hope. He could be redeemed; he could be more than redeemed, he could be great again, greater than before. It had been his idea to create a central nexus to focus and control the energies of the area, as well as the natural power generated by the Crystal Ponies. His gaze fell upon the Crystalline Core, and shivered with anticipation. His new work... His new claim to immortality, the project that would mark his place among the great. It would make him famous in his own life, but more importantly... He would have his pride back. He would no longer be in disgrace. He would no longer be a laughingstock, at home and in this lesser dukedom... He shook his head, trying not to dwell on his gilded exile. Once the project was complete, once the Princesses forgave him and promoted him to his proper place at their side, it wouldn't matter any longer. He could celebrate and put the past behind him. But for now...

“What did the Duchess decide?” my mouth asked against my volition. I mentally shuddered, realizing how deeply immersed I was in the memory, and carefully pulled back. I'd have to be more wary – I really couldn't start thinking like him, even if... Even if I technically was him. I forced myself to use my own thoughts and my own memories and examined things with a fresh perspective. The Core immediately caught my attention – it looked like spun glass, but I knew from my past self's knowledge that it was of the purest, strongest, most thaumaturgically infusible crystal available. It was shaped like a cardioid that had been rotated about its axis of symmetry to create a three dimensional figure. It was, to put it simply, beautiful – in our eyes, at least. It was orderly, it was perfect, and it would serve his purposes exactly as he intended. Beautiful. 

A roan unicorn, Sombra's co-worker and frequent bearer of bad news, put down the scroll he'd been perusing and turned to give him a wan smile. “Oh, she approved it...” he said slowly, looking tired and strained. “...Conditionally.” 

Sombra resisted the urge to face-hoof, and had to be satisfied with a groan and longsuffering sigh. “What does she want changed this time?” he asked, keeping his temper in check. He still had hope that it was something minor, easily changed, and wouldn't materially interfere with the Construct's functioning...

“Oh, just a few things... Like, the entire shape of the Core,” he said airily.

Sombra was shocked into silence, and didn't respond when the other unicorn pushed the scroll towards him. When he finally did start breathing again, it was with rapidly deteriorating composure. “That... That can't possibly work! She's ruining the project, if we follow her design the Construct will only operate at-”

“43% efficiency,” his partner said calmly. “Yes, I ran the figures. It will still, technically, 'work', for a given definition of the word, though if we wish to retain...”

Sombra wasn't listening. He simply stared down at the new design – no doubt drafted by somepony with far more technical knowledge than the Duchess would ever have – and wondered where his life had gone. The Princess's decree had been followed out to the letter; he could no longer demand anything of anyone, not even the palace servants, even those ostensibly put in place to serve him. Any time he wanted something, he had to either do it himself or humble himself to ask – not demand, but ask – someone to do it for him. His own 'secretary' would only give him what he wanted if he asked nicely, and if she didn't like his tone she would simply file her hooves and ignore him until he got the message. Everypony else found this humorous, naturally, and it was all he could do some days to not try to 'teach' them lessons in respect. But worse, far worse than those indignities, was having to deal with her.

The Duchess of the Crystal City had to approve every major change he wished to make, and he wished to make several. The entire city, if he had his way, was to be turned into a magical collector and focus, harnessing the ambient Order energies and bending them to a given purpose. Ley-lines would run through the streets, just below the surface, collecting ambient energy and transporting it along predetermined paths; thaumaturgic crystalline capacitor and battery assemblies would maintain an even, well-regulated flow to prevent spikes or deficits in any given sub-network; hubs and vertices would direct the flow to the proper channels, and to some extent could even be remotely controlled and altered; and the Central Nexus, with the Crystalline Core at its center, was the brain and the heart of the entire city-wide construct, and would act as the focus and control for the lion's share of that collected energy. If all of the light falling onto the city were to be collected into one place and harnessed to do useful work, it would be less powerful than the structure he was trying to create. That is, if a certain somepony would pull her head out of her plot and stop ruining his designs for such frivolous, empty-headed notions that anypony with more than two functioning brain cells would know was a load of horseapples!

He had tried to be reasonable at first. The ley-lines themselves were a headache, but he had masterfully compromised; by having them as a durable surface layer rather than digging up the streets to lay them underground, he had served both his sense of the utilitarian and her 'pretty frou-frou' nonsense equally well. The capacitor/battery assemblies were another story, however; while he had painstakingly sought an arrangement to balance the load while staying only on public properties, a single assembly station was in a spot where the Duchess wished a new garden to be built. “This city must be comfortable as well as beautiful if we are to increase tourism revenue,” she explained to him as she would a child, heaping frustration upon frustration. He eventually found another suitable setup, but it required the shutting down of two businesses and a household to build the housing areas. The hubs and vertices, too, proved a point of contention; while the solid-state devices could be made simply and hidden unobtrusively, the variable and controllable ones were large and utilitarian, and often housed in cumbersome, squat gray boxes the size of small cottages. He had to get rid of more than half of the variable controls, and just hoped that he wouldn't need to alter them later. He did not envy the thaumatrician who had to climb into the solid state devices and manipulate them manually – mostly because, he realized, that thaumatrician would likely be himself.

Despite all the forces acting against his will, however seemed to be coming together; he was finally going to leave his mark on history, he was finally going to be a person of brilliance and importance to be remembered through the ages, he was finally going to see his dreams realized...

And then he saw the new design for the core, and began to seriously consider regicide as a solution to his own personal Gordian Knot.

I, meanwhile, was too shocked by the new design to pay my host much attention. While the crystal cardioid suspended above the table was only vaguely familiar, the new design on the drafting paper was a shape I knew well; it was the spitting image of the Crystal Heart from the show. Accounting for cartoonish simplification, and considering the context and associations, the conclusion was all but certain. 'Sombra... I... We, made the Heart?' I struggled to fit the idea into what I knew of Sombra and the Heart – how could a tyrant make such a force of good, one that was even used to defeat him? – but the evidence was right before me. Sombra and his team had constructed the Heart.

The conversation continued around me, Sombra growing more and more agitated as it went on. “It's a CORE for buck's sake!” he growled, waving a hoof at the new design as if something lewd was drawn on it. “It's supposed to be functional! It doesn't have to be pretty –  it just has to work! It CERTAINLY doesn't have to look like an old, overpriced knick-knack you'd see in a Chineigh shop!!!!”

“Tell that to the Duchess,” his co-worker replied easily, well accustomed to Sombra's diatribes and shrugging it off. “As it is, I think we can make it work. A rotating assembly would simulate much the same shape with only a slight drop in efficiency-”

But Sombra would hear none of it. “That's not the bloody POINT!” He shouted, rounding on his partner. “We shouldn't HAVE to change this! It's perfect the way it is! What's her reason this time, eh? Is it not pretty enough? Does it not catch the light just so when the sun rises? Did it just not fit her new decor?!” Just as he started to really build up a head of steam, a calm voice came from the doorway.

“Actually, yes,” the voice said. It was a hateful, awful voice, a voice that heralded furious revisions and sleepless nights. It was a voice that sowed disorder and grief whenever he heard it. That voice, of course, belonged to the Duchess. 

Sombra turned towards her slowly, trying to keep his face neutral even as it twitched and spasmed with barely controlled rage. “To what do we owe this... pleasure, your majesty,” he said at last, nearly choking on the last word. 

“Well,” she chirped with false cheeriness, her horn glowing beneath her crown as she casually levitated his tools and papers in a manner she knew would get under his skin,  “you've complained to me, personally, about every little change I've made to your 'Construct'. So, I thought I'd save us both some time and come to you directly. I'm sure it's such an honor for you, dear.” Her sarcasm was far less masked; she could afford it. She had him by the stallionhood, and they both knew it.

He managed to get control of himself again. His features smoothed, he conversationally replied, “How pragmatic. If only that virtue would extend to more important matters... Say, the shape of the Core?” If I had not been inside him, I wouldn't have been able to see the fury seething below the surface. 

The Duchess smiled sweetly as poison. “Oh, I assure you, it's a very pragmatic decision. The old design – it was ugly! What will the tourists think of an ugly old blob of crystal?”

He started to respond, but stopped and processed what she'd said. Tourists. Tourists? TOURISTS?! “Pardon me,” he chuckled humorlessly, “but I must have misunderstood – you seem to think that the core – the controlling focus of enough magical energy that, in the wrong hooves, could level this building – is some sort of tourist trap!”

She paused, as if thoughtful, then nodded. “Yes, that's about right.”

He glowered at her, livid and struggling to find the words to fully encompass that feeling while still retaining his job. “This is my life's work!” he finally managed to stammer. “You can't-”

“I can, and I will,” the Duchess replied haughtily, her mouth set in a firm line as she dropped all pretenses of politeness and charity. “Or do you forget to whom you speak? This is MY city, and I shall run it as I see fit. And if I wish to use this little project of yours to generate additional revenue for my city, well... I shall.” She smirked at the end of her little speech, and turned to leave, feeling she had won the contest of wills.

He stared after her, speechless. How could she possibly be so blindly, blinkeringly ignorant to not see the full potential of the Construct? How couldn't she see the danger, and the waste, of her proposal?! There were so many things wrong with everything she said, he didn't know where to begin. He finally settled for the obvious. “This Construct,” he called after her, his voice cracking as the familiar feeling of despair threatened to engulf him. No, he was so close to his dream, he couldn't stop now... He tried again. “The Construct... It can function as a weapon, if certain small changes are made to it. It can function as anything, really, anything that can be done with magic. You know this; it only needs to be turned to a purpose, and it will focus its power to that task. If any of those 'tourists' gains control of it – or, Celestia forbid, an enemy of the state-”

She yawned and waved a hoof dismissively, glancing at him over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. “There will be guards to protect the Core, and only a select few ponies even know how to operate it – and half of them are in this very room. Even if somepony did manage to subdue the guards and gain possession of the Core, they wouldn't have the faintest idea of how to put it to use – and if they tried, we'd know immediately where to find them based on its unique magical signature – not to mention the crater it would leave should they use it improperly. Besides, once it's fully automated and its function is fixed, altering it would require a massive, concerted effort by several individuals acting in unison.”

Fixed purpose? FIXED PURPOSE?! The hollow, empty sensation grew stronger, but he pushed on, struggling to speak. “You can't do this! The entire purpose of the Construct was to do useful work – ANY useful work – that required otherwise impractical amounts of magical energy! It was to be modular, it was to be variable, it was to do whatever it was we could think of! To fix it to one purpose... It's madness! It's wasteful! It's just plain STUPID!!!”

“Again you forget your place!” she snapped, whirling around and stamping a hoof, glowering dangerously as her horn flared. Sombra watched her warily, heart pounding, not knowing what he would do if she attacked him... But her anger subsided, and she calmly adjusted her crown as if nothing had happened. “I think your ego has grown overlarge,” she said, her voice once again cloyingly, dangerously sweet. “I have no further use for you here; you are to report to Celestia for reassignment. And I will be informing her of your failure to reform. In great detail.” She batted her eyelashes and drove the last nail in the coffin as she crooned, “Perhaps there's a rock farm somewhere that needs your assistance... You have a fondness for crystals, no? You can help 'order' them, from dirty to dirtier to dirtiest...”

His vision seemed to darken as the despair finally overcame him. 'Not again', Sombra thought. 'I can't be disgraced again... This was my last chance...' He yearned to lash out at her, to wipe that smug grin off her face, to show her that he was the one with the power, that he was the one in control, that she was nothing...

But he did nothing. He had no fight left in him; even if he did trample her into the ground as he so dearly wished, to smash her head upon the cold, hard stone floor of his workshop, the guards would subdue him. And even if he did somehow defeat them, the whole castle would be alerted and he would be a marked pony. And even if, by some miracle, he escaped, first the castle, then the city, then the inevitable patrols they'd send searching for the regicidal unicorn... What then? He had nowhere to go. Once again, his ambitions were slain; once again, he would have to start over.

Once again, he was nothing.

He stumbled out of the room without another word, without a looking at or acknowledging anyone, a pony in shock. He paid no heed to the conversation going on behind him between the Duchess and his ex-co-worker. “Oh yes, on more thing,” she said, as if nothing was amiss and she hadn't just personally shattered another pony's dreams, “'The Core' is far too formal... I think 'The Crystal Heart' is a much nicer name, don't you?” He didn't care about the murmer of assent that followed. He didn't blink as the guards matched his pace and flanked him, 'escorting' him out of the castle and onto the train to Canterlot. He didn't respond as the world around him dissolved, and I found myself in my own 'body' once more. But even though I had only watched all of that unfold (though admittedly from an intimate point of view), I felt the same sense of loss. It was distant, but it was undeniably present. I found that I not only had my current memory of having watched it, but of having actually lived through it myself. It was... disconcerting, to say the least. I was still getting the memories, it seemed, but in a much less mind-rapey way.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Luna broke the silence. “What a charming little autocrat,” she commented blithely. “Had I known she was such a little beast, I would have had you sent somewhere else. And to think, half the rumors in Canterlot said that you and her were an item...”

I moved my jaw, grateful to be able to use it again, and tried to remain impassive. “Erm... Yeah, she was pretty unpleasant,” I said distractedly, still examining the loss I felt. Then I registered the second part of what she said, and could almost feel my brain slip a gear. Her... and I? I shuddered. “Wait, what?!” I glowered at her, shocked and offended. “How could you possibly think we were... Eww! Just, eugh!” I shuddered again, my brain going places against my will, and I... Nope! Nope, nope nope! That that was officially over, do not pass go, kindly go fuck off, brain!

She chuckled at my discomfiture, and I continued to glower until she stopped. “Oh come now, you two fought like husband and wife! Most of the staff seemed to think she was simply trying to get your goat!” I shook my head in vigorous denial, too disgusted by the thought of it to say anything. “No? Well, didn't you have a special somepony? Not even a wistful thought about some pretty mare?”

I frowned, and realized I could remember... Well, everything before that day. It was muddy in some places, and a few days were almost entirely absent, but... “No... No mares,” I said, surprised. “Never saw much use for them, usually.”

She looked offended for a moment, then gave a start and snickered, smiling roguishly. “...What about stallions?” she asked, snickering.

“I suppose I had a few tolerable aquiantances – wait. Gah! NO!” I shouted, incensed. “No! I wasn't interested in mares or stallions!” I growled, glowering. As she continued to snort and laugh at my discomfiture, I blurted out, “I didn't have time for anypony else, I only wanted power!”

And there it was. I gave a start, realizing what I'd just admitted to myself and the Princess. Such a damning Freudian slip. She was just as shocked as I was at my pronouncement, but... It was the truth. At that time, I only cared about my own power, my prestige and status in the world. I... I didn't know any sort of love. I didn't care to, either. And, what was worse, I wasn't really sure if I'd changed that much since then...

“...Well, there goes the other half of the rumors about you,” she said wryly, and I glowered at her clear disappointment and lack of concern for my dignity. She sighed and regarded me levelly, but there was a bit of sympathy in that look. “If we had seen you then... If Celestia and I had seen what she'd done to you, we would have had 'words' with her, and your punishment would have been finished. Indeed, if you had come to us and told us what happened, we would have done precisely that. Our... Informants, had been keeping us up-to-date on your progress, and we were very close to intervening already. But you never came. As it was, we thought that the rumors flying around were true – that you and her were... Well.” She coughed politely and blushed. “We saw no need to intervene when you seemed to have found your place in the world, at her side.”

I cocked my head, confused. “You mean he didn't?” I asked. I was sure that going to the Princesses was exactly what he intended to do... “But he – I – was pretty resigned to it. I DEFINITELY didn't have... anything to do with her,” I stammered, blushing, but she at least had the decency to remain impassive that time. “Why wouldn't I follow through? Why didn't I go to you and Celestia with what happened? I certainly didn't see any other choices at that time...”

The Lunar Diarch gave a humorless smile. “It's been a small mystery for a long while, but my Sister and I had never found a suitable explanation. You passed the gate guard, but beyond that we know nothing for certain until we were informed that you were back in the Crystal City. We simply assumed that you two became more 'intimately acquainted' after she sent the letter but before you set foot in the castle proper, and decided that discretion was the best course. But that clearly wasn't the case,” she said at my deadpan look of denial. “Perhaps now we'll have some answers.”

The world around us came back into focus, colors fading into the murky greyness and resolving into solid objects. I braced myself to be 'taken over' again, to find myself a rider in my own body as I watched yet another memory unfold, but nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, I found myself unchanged. Confused, I looked about – and yelped as Sombra passed through my barrel. 

“Sorry,” Luna chuckled without a hint of sincerity, “I think I've got the kinks worked out, now. You get your own 'body' for this little soiree.”

“You could have warned me,” I grumbled, following my memory-self as he trudged up the path to... Canterlot Castle? Oh. Right, of course. Several days had passed, and he had made his way back to Canterlot in disgrace, I suddenly knew. He had a robe drawn about him, obscuring his face, and kept his head bowed. Though I had my own 'body', I still felt the memory's thoughts and emotions – and he was utterly miserable. He plodded through the gardens, past the various statuary and tended bushes, and wondered where everything went wrong. He wondered if there really was something wrong with him – if he, not everyone else, was the cause of his problems... He wondered if, all the times he thought he was doing right, he was doing evil. The thought made him shudder, but something was broken and he didn't know what! Nothing was going right, everything had fallen apart, and he didn't have any answers. How could he...

HIM.

He stopped, seeing a familiar, hateful sihouette. Why Celestia kept him there, he didn't know. He glowered up at the stone Draconequus as all thoughts of personal wrongdoing evaporated from the onslaught of indignant fury. He wasn't the one that sent a cultist into his ranks and interrupted his ritual. He wasn't the one who tried to betray the entire kingdom and usher in a new age of chaos! Yes, he had tried to deal with the traitor brutally... But that swine deserved it!

“I'm going to go find a pickaxe,” he growled after several moments of seething silence, glowering up at the statue, “and then I'm going to see just how much a stone can hurt.”

'Oh? Is that any way to treat an old friend?' a lilting, jeering voice crooned. 

I watched, confused, as Sombra snapped his head around in shock, looking around for the source of the voice... and slowly turned back to the statue, his heart pounding. “You... How are you breaking free?” he asked, taking a few steps back as panic crept into his voice. He looked about for somepony, anypony, who could help. “I need to get the guards, I need-”

'You need to stop,' the voice said with uncharacteristic seriousness, 'and listen to my proposal. I'm still stuck in here, if that's what you're worried about – if I weren't, don't you think I'd have escaped already?' the voice asked petulantly.

I could feel Sombra's reservations. He didn't trust the Draconequus, of course... But, what did he have to lose? “What could you possibly offer that could make up for what you took?” he asked suspiciously, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

'Well, I took everything from you – and for that, I'm truly, truly sorry,' the voice said. Sombra couldn't decide whether Discord was mocking him or if he really was that bad at faking sincerity. Perhaps it was both – the tales of the mad creature spoke volumes of his capriciousness. 'But, I can at least give you back a measure of your dignity. How's that sound?'

Sombra stared at the statue, wondering just what his game was. “Talk,” he growled, “or I'll try my hoof at groundskeeping – the gardens could use a new gravel-bed...”

He heard the sound of sarcastic clapping in his head, and the gleeful voice cackled victoriously. 'Wonderful! Now, let's see...' The draconequus proceeded to tell the dubious Sombra about a certain book hidden in the old castle – the Sisters' old castle, deep within the Everfree forest. One spell in particular, he explained, would allow him to control the minds of others, to bend their will to his – without the need for constant concentration and overpowering magical strength. It wasn't even a standard enchantment or curse, and didn't leave the characteristic magical signatures – it would slave the targets will to the caster. 'It's really not my style, that one,' he said with airy disdain, 'being the Spirit of Chaos and all that. I much prefer to just go in and mess with the works, and see what happens! But you... You like Order! It fits you like a glove, bossing people around and making them do exactly and precisely what you want... How very boring. How very you.' He tsked as if disappointed, but continued before the unicorn could object. 'Anyway, I'm surprised you didn't discover that spell yourself. Like I said, it's perfect for an ambitious, strapping young horn-head such as yourself!'

Sombra was torn. On one hoof, it made perfect sense for him to find that book, learn the spell, and cast it on that wench of a Duchess. On the other...

“How can I possibly trust you? Even if this isn't a trap, how will I know I can even trust that book? For all I know, you aren't sending me off to find the very spell that would free you completely!”

The voice laughed. 'Oh, that's easy! It's a journal – Starswirl the Bearded's journal, as a matter of fact,' he crooned, as if anticipating a delectable morsel. 'What, do you think he divulged EVERYTHING he learned, eh? Do you think he just researched the nicer, fluffier branches of magic?'

Sombra's eyes widened with shock. Starswirl, the very pony he'd looked up to, his inspiration for greatness... Of course. “That... actually makes sense.” he muttered, his brow furrowed as he rubbed his chin. “He would have researched magic – any magic – for the sake of that knowledge. He said as much in his memoirs. And a unicorn of that power wouldn't want that kind of knowledge to fall into just anyone's hooves. But I never knew...”

'Of course not,' the voice said dismissively 'Celestia wouldn't tell you about that, she wouldn't want to 'sully his reputation',' he pshawed, sounding disgusted. 'But people like you... You always have to know, don't you?”

The black unicorn was silent, deep in thought. Finally, after a full minute of consideration, he spoke. “Everything you've said so far – if truthful – is self-consistent. Moreover, it makes sense. Just one last question...” He glared dubiously at the statue, sure he had the draconequus cornered – if the demon hesitated, he'd know it was a wild goosechase. “You're not doing this out of any love for me; what do YOU get out of it?”

The statue started to titter... and then the titter became a chuckle, and the chuckle became a full-blown laugh. It rang in his head maddeningly, a multitude of voices in demented chorus, before it finally answered.

'I get to watch!'

Sombra, ill at ease and uncertain, slowly backed away from the statue. When the laughter did not die down, he turned tail and fled back down the path, towards the castle gate and away from the cackling mad-god. Either the creature was telling the truth and he would find the key to his ambitions within the castle... or he would not. But if he did not act, his future was gone already. He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

The world started to dissolve once more, and Luna regarded the fleeing figure with resigned sadness. “I think we have our answer.”

I squirmed uncomfortably, still trying to grasp all I'd seen – all I'd learned about who I was. I didn't like where things were going, but I was still desperately hoping for something, anything, to justify what I'd done. Something to show everyone that I wasn't... That I hadn't been the kind of person everyone thought I was.

Luna gave me a measured look, and opened her mouth as if to say something... But closed it and shook her head. “This is what you've done,” she said, the world around us once again a dull gray fog. “You cannot change it, you cannot deny it, but you don't have to let it define who you are today. You still have that choice.” I looked up at her warily, trying to keep my face and mind blank, to push away those painful thoughts...

I twitched, feeling a jolt as if I'd woken up on the very edge of sleep, and found that I could recall several days worth of new experiences. I knew I had succeeded, that the book was in the old room as the Draconequus had described it; I knew I stored it in my saddlebag, disguised as my own journal; and I knew, by heart, the spell that could allow me to control the minds of other sentient beings and bend them to my will. It was surprisingly easy – and more surprising was how naturally it meshed with my Order magic. Whatever Discord was playing at, he had told the truth on those points – the spell would allow me to, almost effortlessly, insinuate my will into the mind of another and put their skills and talents to any purpose I wished. 

I shuddered at the knowledge, but I couldn't get it out of my mind – it was permanently a part of me. I could no more forget it than I could forget how to drive, or how to solve algebraic equations. I could even remember how I first practiced with it. I came across a small group of Diamond Dogs on my way back to the Canterlot train station, and forced my will upon them. I ran them through a gamut of simple tasks – first marching instructions, then making a pyramid out of rocks, then a silly dance. Satisfied, I forced them to flee and finally withdrew my hold on their minds. It wasn't my proudest moment – the silly dance in particular had left a bad taste in my craw – but it was proof of concept. I could control the minds of sentient beings. And now, days later in the memories, I saw my old self standing before the opened doors of the throne room. He had rendered docile the two guards flanking it by means of a weaker version of the spell, convincing them that he was no threat, and that he had an appointment with the Duchess. He otherwise left their wills intact, but it was a small comfort for me.

He walked inside with a slight limp, his robes tattered with days of hard use, looking much worse for wear. Even so, he had to keep his head down so she wouldn't see the look of triumph on his face. He cast surreptitious glances around the cathedral-like throne room, looking for witnesses... and found himself alone with the Duches. Good. What's more, she was too immersed in a book to notice him at first. When she finally did, she gave a start. 

“Who let you – wait. Sombra? I thought I told you to leave this city,” she growled haughtily, setting the book aside and climbing down from her throne.

Sombra, not wishing to raise the alarm, did something he'd never done to her before – ever. His pride only allowed it for as a means to an end – his final victory over her, disguised as defeat. He bowed low, his muzzle nearly touching the ground, and begged in the most piteous voice he could manage, “Please, your Majesty, I have come to ask for my old job back. You were right. I... Was wrong.” That last part was so difficult to say that even the memory of it stung my pride.

She stopped, eyes wide with surprise, but quickly masked it. A catlike smile spread across  “Well,” she chuckled, turning about and pretending to consider it, “that position is already filled – I can't really give it back. Besides, you don't really deserve it back, in any case. Perhaps there are other positions available – something of a more personal nature-”

He didn't let her finish. As soon as her back was turned, he wormed his way into her mind... And once he was sure his will had pushed out her own, he took complete control.

She froze, slackjawed and vacant eyed, as she became a living puppet. A small mental push made her turn around and face him.

“Say my name,” he said simply, confirming what he already knew to be true.

“Sombra Sartus,” she said without inflection.

He nodded. “Who controls you, heart, mind, and will?”

“Sombra Sartus,” she said again, exactly as she had before.

He smirked and nodded once more, satisfied. “Good. Now, stop looking like a damned zombie and put that mind and heart to use – though your will shall forevermore be mine, and mine alone.”

She gave a start as if waking up from a deep trance, and looked about without surprise. “What do you desire, my Lord?” she asked, her normal demeanor back, though made all the more eerie for her deference.

He shivered, a tingle going down his spine, enjoying his first taste of power after such a long dought. Still, despite how enjoyable it would be to waltz about the castle with his former tormentor as his own personal slave, he knew he'd have to be more subtle if the charade was to continue. “First, you are to display no signs of subservience to me – not in public, not where anypony can see you. That would ruin this little ruse, and, well,” he gave an unpleasant smile, “we wouldn't want that, now, would we.”

“Certainly not!” she said, offended at the very idea. And why shouldn't 'she' be? She was, essentially, just an extension of Sombra's will. A slave in all ways.  

I watched with a growing dread as my past-self went on to explain his plan – how she was to promote him to the head of the project, and make him her personal advisor. How she was to explain things, in case someone became suspicious of the sudden turn-about. How she was, in short, to fully bind herself to his will, and to promote his own power and prestige in the process, while hiding it all so that she could never be free again. He had it all worked out... and not once did he ever seem to care that he had essentially destroyed another person. 

I shuddered, turning away from the one-sided conversation. “I think I know how Scrouge felt about those ghosts,” I muttered, taking some pride in the fact that I would never, ever do something like that – not again, at any rate. I was better than that, surely; one couldn't grow up in America without seeing slavery as one of the greatest evils, on par with rape and murder. It simply wasn't condoned, and it definitely wasn't done. “At least I'm not that person anymore.”

Luna cocked her head, considering. “Do you really think that?” she asked after a pause, my past-self continuing to hash out the details of the Duchess's mental domination. “Tell me, why do you think you're better than he?”

“Because I wouldn't do anything like that, duh,” I grumbled, wondering why she was belaboring the point. “I may not look it now, but I was white before this transformation. Let me tell you, there's nothing quite like being a white male in public school to get 'slavery equals bad' hammered into your head on a yearly basis.”

“Ooooh, I see,” she said, nodding condescendingly. “So, you think you're better, not because you have a pure heart or a desire to do good, but because you were trained to do so. Tell me, did you train yourself?”

I balked, surprised and angered at her nerve, at her accusation. “You... I'm not some dog to be trained! And what does it matter, I-”

“You were raised in an environment where such things were taboo, and so you didn't do those things which were taboo. This does not make you good, it merely makes you adaptive to your social environment. Tell me honestly... How much sympathy do you really have for the Duchess? Right now, that is.”

I shifted from hoof to hoof, flustered and defensive. “That's irrelevant. I wouldn't do it to her, that's what matters,” I growled.

“You have no sympathy for her, do you?” Her voice was level, without accusation, but still it stung. I kept silent, unwilling to admit that she was right... But so what if I didn't have sympathy for that bitch? Wasn't it enough that I knew what I did was wrong? That it was against the rules, and that I wouldn't do it again? Why did it matter what I felt for her, so long as I obeyed the rules?

She waited for my answer, but when none was forthcoming she nodded to herself and sighed. “At least this world gave you the structure you needed to curb your evil acts... Even if you didn't benefit from it yourself. Even if you're still the same old person, just as wretched as before.”

I glowered at her, unwilling to bend. “If I follow your rules and do as you say, that should be sufficient for you. I don't need someone telling me what kind of a person I should be, how I should live, so long as I'm not hurting anyone else. Besides, I thought you were here to protect me, not to judge me!”

She raised an eyebrow and regarded me coolly. “I suppose it's enough – for the world, at least – that you behave in a decent enough manner. But that's not what I'm talking about, now; I'm trying to protect you from yourself, you dolt. Following different social mores under the threat of punishment doesn't change who you are – all it does is mitigate the damage to others. You may not do the same evil you did before, but you will still be just as miserable and lonely as ever.” She sighed, raising a hoof to her forehead and rubbing it, deep in thought. When she finally spoke again, it was with unusual candidness. 

“When I returned from my own banishment,” she started, hesitant but with growing determination, “I was cured by the elements. But few knew the depth of the transformation that took place that night. Most of the ponies in my kingdom think that I was possessed by some sort of dark magic or evil spirit, and that it was none of my own doing. Their beliefs are incorrect. It was all my choice. I fed my envy, and I gave into the darkness. I embraced it. And when my sister brought the elements to bear against me, I still chose the darkness over the light. So...” She sighed, shaking her head, and I wondered if I'd have to bear the same regret before all this was over. “They cast me out. The Elements cast me out. It was a thousand years before I was given the choice again, before I faced the Elements once more. This time, however, they did something that they did not do before. I suspect, because they were used by those who understood their power, they did more than just blast me – they showed me the truth. They showed me exactly how black my heart had become, how my own selfishness and greed had stained my soul. They showed me, in a brief instant, how deplorable I was compared to the goodness in those six mares. But, more than that truth... They gave me a choice.”

She no longer looked regal. She didn't even look particularly intimidating. She was, however, more sober than I'd ever seen her, and her intensity... The implications of someone so high, brought so low, awoke a profound dread in me. She continued, her words coming softly but with undeniable authority. “They gave me the choice to either allow them to purge me of my evil, or to be purged with my evil. There was no third option, no tertium quid. After seeing how wretched I had become, how miserable I was and how far I'd fallen... I couldn't continue like that. I thank the Maker for that second chance.”

She sighed, and quickly regained her aplomb. “Which brings me to you,” she said, frowning once more, and regarding me sternly. “You have the same choice, and you are in much the same position that I was. Though you will never be a threat to Equestria again, you are still just as lonely, just as miserable as I was – you simply do not know it. And how can you? You are devoid of all love, mercy, and kindness, just as I was when I gave in to the darkness. And though I do not have the Elements of Harmony to change you as I was changed, I can at least help you to see the truth. You are wretched, Sombra, and the sooner you can admit that, the sooner you can put your path to rights.”

Even though I could think of no logical basis to deny her claims, I refused to accept it. Too stubborn, perhaps. Or maybe I was just desperate to cling on to whatever scraps of pride I had left. I told myself that there must be some justification for what I'd done, or that I was fundamentally different from the person I'd been before. Unable to think of anything sort of rebuttal, I gruffly mumbled, “Let's just agree to disagree, okay?”

She sighed, turning away and watching as the world around us dissolved. “Pearls before swine,” she muttered, and moments later we were once more surrounded by the gray void. 
> 13 - Of Subterfuge and Self-Deception
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“By the Maker, another one?!”

I watched with ashen detachment as my past self went through an all-too-familiar procedure. He took the 'trouble-maker' aside – this time a Crystal Pony with a chip on his shoulder about the way he was running things – cast the spell on the hapless victim. Moments later there was only one will in the room, only one real person left; the other was no more than a puppet. Sombra's standard for what constituted a 'trouble-maker' was becoming a rather arbitrary and vague, of course. At first it was only the very worst criminals, the ones who showed no remorse for breaking the law and would continue to break it if given the chance – no, the irony was not lost on me, thank you – but his newest mind-slave's only crime was to lead a protest against weaponizing the Crystal Heart.

“Yes,” I muttered resignedly, “another one.” I turned away as my past self gloated, patting the new slave on the head as if he was a pet, and sent him off to do his bidding. The Crystal Pony would soon rejoin the rest of the protesting group, and over the next few months he would sabotage their efforts from the inside. The new slave would stir up infighting and fuel rivalries on one hoof, while pushing for more and more violent acts of protest on the other. Eventually, he planned to have the slave plan out a full-blown act of terrorism. He and whoever remained to follow him would be caught before they could pull it off, of course – Sombra wouldn't let them do any real damage to the city, and that would bolster the citizens' faith in the police force. The damage to the group's reputation, however, and anyone associating with their beliefs and goals, would be catastrophic. Such tactics had become commonplace for the unicorn, and the city was finally starting to move in the direction he wished.

“Now, off you go, my little street urchin,” my past self chuckled, leering unpleasantly as the protestor went off to do the will of his master. “Perhaps I'll free you once you're safely in prison... though, I suppose that's not very likely. I could always do with more eyes and ears to monitor the criminal underworld, and what better place to do that than among the criminals?”

The Crystal Pony nodded eagerly, grinning like a fool, but caught himself and put on a hard, dissatisfied look and stomped out of the room – the very image of a disaffected, rebellious youth. Sombra, meanwhile, sighed and stepped out of his office a few moments after, shaking his head and affecting a patient, paternal air, and trying very hard not to smirk. “Hopefully he'll grow out of it,” he said for the sake of the guards flanking his door – the room was magically sound-proofed, so he wasn't worried about what they might have heard from inside – and walked down the halls with the dignity and poise befitting his position. Despite his grim and serious demeanor, however, he was practically walking on clouds. Everything was going his way for once; his name had spread through the City as a just and fair advisor, speaking with the Duchess's authority and acting as her mouthpiece whenever she was too busy to bother with the Affairs of State. His newfound fame and respect was helped along, of course, by mentally dominating the heads of all the major newspaper outlets, but he wouldn't let that little detail sully his mood. He also ignored the fact that much of the peace and cooperation among the governing bodies and factions was mostly due to the same control over the leaders of the selfsame factions and governing bodies, using them to lead those under their command to whatever goal he chose. But best of all – and for this one he at least had some justification for his vanity – the Crystal Heart, as it was now being called, was fully operational and ready for its first test run. 

I, meanwhile, was repetitively thumping my head on the ground, too tired to vent my frustration with words. I'd stopped trying to justify what I'd done; as I saw more and more memories revealed, not even 'for the greater good' could excuse my wrongdoings. It had become abundantly clear that I had only cared for my own personal power and prestige, and any obstacles – be they objects, ideas, or ponies – were dealt with swiftly and severely, and most likely permanently.

“How many lives did you destroy, Sombra?” Luna asked harshly, the silence growing too long as it became clear I had no more to say on the matter. “How many ponies did you afflict with that vile curse?”

I halfheartedly thumped my head against the floor a few more times before finally giving it up. “At least two hundred and fifty four, by my last count,” I snorted, still laying on the floor and staring at nothing in particular. “But don't worry – I'm sure we'll have an accurate figure by the end.”

“This is no laughing matter!” she said sharply. It was her turn to glower, but I just looked up at her with mild amusement – truth be told, I was glad for the distraction. Anything to get my mind off the terrible deeds of my past. “Don't you see what you did to them?!”

“Of course I see what I did to them,” I muttered bitterly. “Why do you think I've been trying to concuss myself for the past hour?” It had, of course, been a rather pointless endeavor, which quickly became apparent after the vigorous initial attempts resulted in no more than boredom. It seemed pain and damage weren't actually possible in that mindscape – but, I reasoned, it was the thought that counted. 

She snorted, apparently unimpressed by my self-flaggelation. “What, exactly, did you seek to accomplish? Had you succeeded in this ill-conceived attempt, you'd have only made yourself simple. Your guilt would remain.”

I snorted defiantly. “Why should I have to remember all these horrible things when I'm not the person who did them?” I asked simply, glowering. There was no way I was anything like that monster, I thought. “I thought I wanted to know... Isn't it funny? I wanted to know so bad before. Now, I just want to forget. I'm sure I learned a decent memory spell at some point, and when that memory comes back... I'm gone.” I blinked, wondering if it would hurt... Would it be like an oblivion? Would I just stop existing, and another 'person' exist in my place? I didn't know... But I was sure it was better than the knowing.

She stared at me, and for a moment I wondered if she was going to snap. “...After all this, you're just going to go and forget it all again? Why the BUCK did you unlock all this in the first place, if you were just going to undo it all!?” It was her turn to bang her head against the wall. She gave up more quickly than I did, however, and took several calming breaths. But despite my hopes that she'd blast my mind away herself, she regained her composure all too quickly. “That won't work,” she continued, calm and rational once more. “If you thought about it for a moment, you'd know why. You couldn't live without knowing the truth before; and now that you know the truth, you claim that you can't go on knowing it. Even if you stripped away everything you've remembered, you'd just be in the former situation, seeking the latter. No matter your state, you'd always seek the opposite; you would never be satisfied, never be at peace, and you would constantly be driven to desperate madness by your own mind. That. Won't. Work.”

I twitched, struggling to ignore her reasoning, but it was easier to just redirect the conversation. “Why should I have to remember the mistakes of someone who doesn't even exist anymore?” I asked dully, refusing to engage her.

She was implacable. “If 'he' did not exist any longer,” she said evenly, brushing her disheveled mane out of her eyes, “then you should have no issues remembering what he did; you would not share his guilt. If that was a different person's memories, you could live with them without suffering any personal condemnation. You can reason; if you really believe what you say, accept your reasoning and move on.” She glared at me, challenging. I met her gaze for a moment... then looked away. She snorted. “And there it is; your own heart betrays you. You do feel guilt over the memories, no matter how you try to rationalize it away, or deny it. The old Sombra isn't well and truly dead.” she said, nodding with self-satisfaction.

Damn her. I was heartily starting to wish that she hadn't walked through my memories with me, seeing what I was like... I could either admit that I wasn't a creature of logic, or I could admit she was right. Grinding my teeth, I climbed to my hooves and squeezed my eyes shut. “Just shut up,” I growled, “and let me watch. You owe me that much! It's YOUR fault I was so desperate in the first place – if you hadn't sent me there, I wouldn't have had any reason to do these terrible things!”

She blanched at that, and I watched with vicious satisfaction as I saw the barb strike home. So she did feel guilty about that – and it was fresh guilt, too, an old wrong freshly learned. Good. That would make things more even, at least. 

“Time passes at a crawl in this place,” she said quietly, stiffly turning away, “and the memory surge has slowed to a trickle. I will leave you to your thoughts for now.”

And just like that, she was gone. I was alone with myself, left to watch my past march by like a hideous parade, alone and without support. With a cringe, I began to regret my decision... But quickly pushed that thought away. “Useless, interfering filly,” I growled, haunched over as I was left to watch by my lonesome.
> 14 - Of Cooperation and Competition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know how 'long' I sat there by my lonesome, if time even had any real meaning in that place, but weeks of memories had come and gone before I'd calmed down enough. She was simply wrong, I told myself; she couldn't help it, so there was no use being angry with her. I wasn't what she thought – I wasn't who she thought, not any longer, not for twenty-five years – and if she wouldn't accept it, well, that was her problem. Not mine. 

But, where had she gone? “Luna?” I asked, looking about. The thought of her witnessing my darkest moments was bad enough, but to have her skulking about in my mind, rifling through my memories like a burglar... That wouldn't do. Where did she go? Where could she go? And how could I not sense her?

“Relax,” she said shortly, stepping into my field of vision as though from nowhere. “I said I would ensure you wouldn't come to harm, and I can't do that while, ah - 'rifling through your mind like a burglar', was it?” She asked coolly. 

I snorted, dismissing it – so long as she kept her hooves to herself, I didn't care. “Just keep your nose out,” I growled.

“Snout,” she corrected, raising an eyebrow. “You don't have a nose, now, you have a snout. Best get used to the vocabulary.”

I rolled my eyes, wondering how one with so refined an upbringing could be so petty, and turned back to watch my past unfold. At least she wasn't enjoying it any more than I was...

But, what was this? I felt... giddy. Excited. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't coming from 'me', strictly speaking, but from me. My past self swelled with pride as he trotted down the corridor like a unicorn twenty years younger, more pleased with himself than he'd been for ages. I pushed inwards, seeking the thoughts of the memory... and broke into a grin. “See there?” I asked smugly, pointing to past-me. “I wasn't all bad. I did some good, too!” 

We were in the open area just below the castle, which had apparently undergone recent, major construction – recent to the memory, anyway. Most auspicious were the two spires of pure crystal, one jutting from the floor, barely taller than a pony stood, the other hanging from far above until it terminated just a foot above the lower spire. The area around the base of the lower spire had been excavated and cleared away to make room for a latticework of crystalline machinery and conduits. Sombra – my old self, that is – was inspecting everything with a critical eye, and so far it seemed to be running smooth as silk. His excitement was infectious – I found myself growing giddy with anticipation. Rightfully so, as well – he was almost finished with his greatest work. 

“This is the day we did our first tests on the Construct,” I said, and despite my earlier annoyance with Luna I was eager to explain. I had the memories of how I'd made it, after all, and how much sweat and toil, how many sleepless nights had culminated in that day. It was like Discord's binding all over again, but this time I'd made sure that nothing would go wrong. I suppose I was reliving it again, in a way. “It's primary purpose, of course, was the defense of the Crystal City,” I continued without prompting, trotting around it and trying not to giggle like a fool. I stopped and sat on my flank, gazing up at the crystal heart and wishing I could touch it – it was so beautiful, even in its bastardized and unchangeable form. With a jolt, I suddenly remembered why. The Heart had already been keyed to the entire system, and scrapping it would require a reworking of nearly everything. Moreover, my colleague’s idea had mostly solved the drop in efficiency; a rotating assembly had, indeed, simulated much the same shape from a thaumaturgical standpoint. Besides, I had to admit – watching the Heart spin-up and accumulate power during the simulation tests was much more exciting than a silently floating cardioid. I had reluctantly allowed it to remain in its new shape.

My past-self spoke. “You'll be ready to cut the power in case things get out of hoof?” he asked his colleague, thumping the unicorn's shoulder with uncharacteristic camaraderie, looking over his work.

“That's right,” the collegue said stiffly, not meeting Sombra's gaze, and snapped his toolbox closed. 

“Something wrong?” Sombra asked, frowning. “Best say it now, we don't want to pump kilothaums of power through this thing only to watch it fail spectacularly...”

“No, no, to the best of my knowledge the Construct is perfectly operational,” he said, carefully aloof as he levitated his toolbox and tucked it in his saddlebag. “No, the problem is with you and the Duchess.”

Confusion etched Sombra's face. “What? But now that we have an understanding, she's taken her nose out of our business and allowed us the freedom to build this great machine as we wished. I don't understand the problem.”

“Your business, Sombra, and the freedom to build it as you wished.” The unicorn sighed, shaking his head and fixing my old self with a steady, sober gaze. “When the Duchess fired you,” he said slowly, carefully, “I couldn't blame her. Your blatant insubordination should have got you removed from the project ages ago. Don't get me wrong, I didn't like losing a co-worker, but I couldn't fault her for it.”

I grimaced as I felt Sombra's anger swell up in his chest, and as he surreptitiously ignited his horn I realized what he was about to do. Still, the other unicorn continued talking, oblivious of the danger. “I was poised to be promoted to the head of this project – I was so excited I told my wife the good news immediately, and we'd already made plans to move out of our little apartment and into a real house... Then, without any warning or explanation, you and the Duchess suddenly became... close." He glowered bitterly down at his pack for a moment, then continued. "She snatched the position out from under me and gave it back to you, with no explanation. I don't know what happened, and I don't want to know what happened, but I can't work in a place that-”

A tiny flash of Sombra's horn ended the thought, brushing away the unicorn's free will and turning him into yet another mind-slave. There was only the slightest pang of regret as my past self pushed thoughts and commands into the unicorn's mind, forcing him to act naturally and continue as if nothing had happened. 

“-that does not celebrate your expertise as much as it should,” he said, barely missing a beat. The entire process had taken less than a second, and unless someone watched very, very carefully, no one would have been the wiser. My past self had grown much better at that, I noted dourly.

“Don't worry, dear friend,” he said kindly, smiling warmly at his new mind-slave. “Once the city knows of my deeds here, they'll appreciate me as they should.” 

Luna watched from the sidelines, her eyes narrowed. “Such a momentous occasion, truly,” Luna said dryly. I growled, but remained silent.

The unicorn in the memory, meanwhile, nodded smiled contentedly, and unpacked his bags to get back to work. 

I watched as the final preparations were made, and felt a moment of disquiet. I could remember what it had been like back then – I'd even been fond of him. If I had kept my temper, I wondered, if I hadn't been fired, what would have come of it? Would I have done everything I had? I didn't know – and that bothered me. 

My own enthusiasm chilled, I watched dispassionately as the final countdown commenced. If all went well, the Construct would release a small, contained burst of concentrated Order magic, designed to purge all evil and dark magic from the area. Sombra, meanwhile, was eagerly waiting to see all his labors come to fruition. The Heart began to spin, and even operating at a tiny fraction of its full potential it was still an impressive sight. Pure Order magic swirled and coalesced around the Heart, and soon it was almost too bright to look at without eye protection. 

“5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Activate.” The technician pulled down the lever and activated the device.

There was no warning; pain ripped through his body, knocking him off his hooves and leaving his mind reeling. He felt something sever, some magical connection snap, and a multitude of others momentarily disrupted. When he finally came to his senses, he found several others staring down at him with concern. 

He immediately climbed to his hooves, glowering darkly as he looked for whoever was responsible. “What went wrong?” he barked. “Who sabotaged my Construct?!”

There was a confused silence as ponies exchanged uneasy looks. “N-nothing went wrong, Advisor,” a timid voice finally said. “The Construct operated exactly as it was supposed to. Nothing failed, and everyone else is fine...”

But that wasn't entirely true. Sombra's heart went cold as he watched his newest mind-slave squeeze his eyes shut, shuddering, and look about like he had just come out of a dream. When Sombra reached for the tendril of consciousness that connected him to the hapless pony, he found the link broken. He had lost control of one of his slaves... and his entire plan could be in jeopardy. 

Panicked thoughts ran through his mind, and he readied a mass-casting of the spell on every pony present. He had to keep it contained, he couldn't let the secret out, he was so close... But it wasn't necessary. Before he could release the spell, the other unicorn simply walked towards him without any signs of anger or distress – only mild confusion. “Sorry,” he said easily, “I think the stress has been getting to me – I must have dozed off for a moment. In any case... I resign. I just can't work in a place with such blatant favoritism,” he said stuffily, packing his saddlebags once more and leaving without another word. 

Sombra stared after him, mouth agape. How did that unicorn escape his grasp? He quickly felt for the other threads of control, and found them all sound. He probed deeper, and sensed disturbances from every single one he checked – they had all experienced a moment of vertigo and confusion just moments before. It was several tense minutes before he finally puzzled it out. 

In hindsight, he had missed one glaring flaw in his plan – the spell he used to enslave others to his will was, of course, dark magic. Naturally, the Construct had disrupted the spell, and completely eliminated it for the one mind-slave in its range. He shuddered to think of the fallout if it had severed all of the spells, or if there had been other mind-slaves present. He should have realized it sooner, and cursed his hubris for overlooking such an obvious detail. It wouldn't happen again, he decided. He was just lucky that the unicorn didn't seem to remember a thing. Still...

I glowered at my past self. He wasn't one to leave loose ends...

“Wait!” he called out, quickly catching up with the unicorn and putting on a friendly smile. “That's no way to leave – we've been friends for too long for that. Tell ya what – I've been saving up some brandy for a special occasion, and, well, we both earned it. Come on up to my office, we can share the bottle. I'd like to end things amicably, with no hard feelings, if you're up for it.”

If there's one complaint I have about Order, it's that it's far too predictable. 


***

“...Is he okay?”

We woke up at the same time, and with one look we knew we'd both experienced the same 'dream' together – if it could even be called a dream, since we were both sort of 'there' at the same time. When we found James in my garden outside, we weren't really sure how to get him safely back indoors – he wasn't having a seizure as we had feared, and thank goodness for that, but he wasn't exactly sleeping peacefully. We eventually managed to manhandle - ponyhandle? - him back into my house, however, and onto the couch with the help of my levitation magic and Luke's steadying wings. We couldn't figure out how to get him to lay still and not flail about, but Luke eventually covered his barrel with pillows and sat on top of him, pinning him down and keeping his restless squirming to a minimum. As awkward as it was, it was the best and only option. I volunteered to make us some lunch, and turned the TV onto a station so my friend-turned-pegasus wouldn't get too bored.

I wasn't yet certain what my new body was comfortable eating, so I did a 'sniff test' on everything that looked appetizing. Spinach was a keeper – as were the mushrooms and the kale. Perhaps a nice saute? I started heating and oiling the pan when Luke's worried calls reached me from the living room. 

“Cadance? He's not moving anymore!” he shouted urgently, followed by the sound of a tower of couch cushions toppling to the ground. A moment later I was dashing into the living room again, and found Luke frantically examining his brother. 

“Is he breathing?” I asked, feeling useless – as powerful as I supposedly was, I couldn't even help a friend. Luke, however, had some training as a medic, and was handling it far better than I was. 

“Yes... Hang on,” he said, frowning and putting his hear to the unicorn's chest. His frown deepened as he lifted his head. “Heart rate is high – but that's normal for a pony, right? I mean, my own heartbeat's a lot faster now...” He shook his head and looked his brother over, but apparently couldn't find anything wrong. “Is it over? Do you think maybe he's sleeping normally now?” he asked, scratching the back of his head with a hoof.

“Maybe,” I mumbled dubiously, and gently prodded his side. When that didn't elicit a response, I poked harder. I kept it up, prodding and poking more frantically and forcefully, until Luke gently pushed my hoof away, shaking his head. I stopped and blushed when I realized I'd probably left James with a few bruises.

“I got this,” Luke muttered, and took a deep breath. Before I could ask what he intended, however, he was already bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Hey! James!” my friend shouted, “Your computer's running slow, I'm gonna go click a bunch of those ads and install some stuff – they say they'll make it run faster! Oh, and your external hard drives look dirty, I'm gonna put them in the washer.”

Still there was no response.

“Yeah... He's not sleeping,” Luke muttered darkly. “You wouldn't happen to know any spells to detect brainwaves, would ya?”

I shook my head, blushing and wishing I could offer more help. My friend was in need, and I couldn't do anything to help... wait. What was that smell?

I yelped and dashed back into the kitchen, awkwardly levitated the pan off the burner, then dumped it in the sink to douse it in water. Just what we needed – on top of turning into a magical pony princess and my friend going comatose, I'd nearly set my house ablaze. We had no sustainable way to get food, no adequate way to prepare it, and the less said about the bathroom situation the better...

“Things can't keep going on like this,” I mumbled, looking forlornly at the ruined pan. “This neighborhood is no place for us... We have to get out of here. Please, James, wake up...”

***

Time is a funny thing in the mind, and it was no different in the mindscape. Some memories seemed to pass as if I was actually living through them again, laboriously slogging through every last detail. Others flew by in a rush, easily filling in the gaps in my mind with their sheer banality. Months, even years passed in such a way, as I saw my old self consolidating his power and... Well, surprisingly, doing a good job at running the City. Technological innovation continued, with the Heart providing the raw power where it was needed. That's not to say that my old self had become 'nice' – he continued to put more and more ponies under his dominion, but even that seemed to taper off as his will to command was satiated. I dared to hope that, perhaps, those were the worst of his crimes... But then I remembered back to the show, how every single Crystal Pony seemed to have suffered something terrible under his dominion, and stifled that hope. He wasn't done yet, oh no...

Then, abruptly, time started to flow as normal, and I found myself looking at... myself. Well, a reflection anyway. Years had passed, years of peace and prosperity for him and most of the Crystal City, and now...

“I'm old.”

It had crept up on him so gradually that he had only just noticed, but the signs were unmistakable. A graying muzzle, a mane shot through with white, a heaviness in his bones that never seemed to fade... He was nearing the end of his life, by unicorn standards. Order magic could sustain him for a time, but not indefinitely – indeed, he had already relied on it heavily to preserve his vigor, and even that was suffering from diminished returns. Soon he would need constant infusions to keep his body functioning at a normal level... After that, he would need it to keep function at all. And when that failed... What then?

He shuddered, turning away from the mirror. Surely there was a solution; a body was just a physical thing, and physical things could always be mended, improved...

...Improved?

He stopped dead in his tracks, contemplating that idea. A building could be made stronger, harder wearing, yes, as could any system, and perhaps even a new building could be made to house all the old equipment; surely the same could be done with a body? But... But...

He hadn't the faintest idea how.

Sombra had never studied much about transmutation or transmogrification of the body – that branch of magic was always too chaotic for his taste, and when done incorrectly could result in permanent injury, disfigurement, death, or any combination thereof. No, he was quite content with Order magic, and whenever he was injured he could simply encourage his body's natural order to unfold and repair itself. But that was no longer enough, he realized. The parts were failing, and their natural order was crumbling away. No... he needed to delve into magics he found unsavory, repugnant...

...Even Chaotic.

He sighed, furrowing his brow as he squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the Royal Guardens. “No other options,” he muttered, horn flaring as he focused his will. A moment later he stepped forward onto soft grass, the smell of freshly cut turf and well-tended flowers assaulting his nostrils. He sneezed and opened his eyes once more, looking about in disgust – such lax security! Here he was, on their front doorstep, and the Princesses hadn't even protected it from a basic teleportation spell! Sure, they were alicorns, and they probably didn't have much to fear themselves, but what of their subjects? And such frivolous waste of resources – the amount spent on the garden's upkeep could have hired at least a dozen soldiers, surely. Ah well, he couldn't complain too much; their oversights were to his advantage. He could do what he wanted, and do it without attracting too much attention. 

Even so, it wouldn't do to skulk about. He rummaged through his saddlebag, levitated out a pair of reading glasses and a book, and sat down on a nearby park bench as if to enjoy a pleasant spring afternoon in the Gardens. Without his uniform, he looked like any other unicorn – he could be somepony's grandfather.

A moment later a small voice floated into his mind. 'Subtle.' it admitted grudgingly.

He smirked. “I've had to be, yes,” he muttered, and hummed softly as he pretended to read. Only his unmoving eyes would have given him away.

'Rather presumptuous, don't you think?' the voice asked testily, its usual amusement absent. Coming back here, no doubt seeking my help. You've been such a dullard with what help I've so graciously bestowed upon you, why should I even hear you out?'

“Consider it a diplomatic visit,” the unicorn muttered, chuckling. “One head of state to... well, an ex-head of state, I suppose. But perhaps you're busy – what, with standing around all day, being shat upon by feathery vermin...'

'Such a clever mind, wasted on such dullness. Well, out with it then –  what exactly do you want this time, eh? A spell to balance your accounts? Maybe something to wipe out a pony's creativity and spontaneity completely, so they'll make more obedient drones?' the voice practically spat, unamused.

No sense beating around the bush, Sombra thought, especially since it just encouraged his incessant nattering. “I'm getting old, Discord, and I do not wish to die. Ever, if possible.”

The voice paused, then chuckled. 'Well of course you don't!' it jeered, its grating amusement back in full force. 'No one ever wishes to die! But unless you're a primal spirit like me, well, that's not going to happen. I won't let it, for one. It wouldn't do to have real competition,' the voice tittered, edged with malice. 

“Then you are of no use to me,” Sombra said casually, packing his book. If Discord wouldn't help him, surely there was some other method to preserve his life–

'I only said I wouldn't make you like me,' the voice continued smoothly. 'I didn't say I wouldn't help you with your little dilemma...'

Sombra paused... and finally opened his book back up, pretending to read once more. “Why would you help me?” He asked, more curious than suspicious. The answer could very well be 'because it's Tuesday', for all the capriciousness of the mad creature.

The voice giggled evilly, clearly relishing whatever was going through its malicious mind, before it finally answered. Because if you succeed, we'll BOTH get what we want.'

“What, you'll find some amusement in this? More of your twisted entertainment?” the unicorn asked dubiously, frowning into the book. “Surely you didn't expect anything else from me. What could you–” Sombra paused, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, and waited for a patrolling guard to pass by. “What could you get from it?” he continued when the coast was clear. “You certainly didn't seem pleased with how I've been running the City... To be perfectly honest, I don't how you expected anything else. I'm not like you – all I do serves the greater good all ponies, while you just... tear things apart.”

The voice chuckled, clearly amused, and I snorted at my past self. Seriously? Even I could see what a lie that was. That led to an uncomfortable thought, however – if he couldn't recognize it, how did I know I could? I quickly pushed the thought away quickly though, shying away from it. I was a good person, I told myself once again...

The voice chuckled in Sombra's mind. ' And here I thought you wouldn't be amusing... Irony aside,' the voice continued, 'Because... Well, here's the thing about unicorns,' he said delicately, giving rare consideration to his words. It was so strange compared to his usual flippancy. 'They die.'

“No, really?” Sombra grumbled, unimpressed. He was tempted to walk away right then and there – he didn't have to put up with that kind of thing, he was the ruler of the Crystal City in all but name, the most powerful unicorn alive, perhaps who had ever lived...

'As do pegasi, as do earth ponies, as do the donkeys and the griffons and every other sentient species that lives in this world,' the voice continued blithely as if it hadn't been interrupted. 'That's just their nature; there's nothing in their bodies that's designed to last forever. In fact, the only things that don't seem to die – of old age, at least,' he hastily amended, snickering malevolently – 'are alicorns. Why, if they're not killed they could live for all eternity!'

Sombra knitted his brow, wondering what the draconequus was getting at. “You're saying that I should become an alicorn?” he asked dubiously. 

'No no no no noooo,' the voice laughed, 'perish the thought! You, become an alicorn? And here I thought you had no sense of humor! No, no, you're simply going to take on their power and longevity.'

“Oh, is that all?” Sombra asked dryly. “How silly of me, let me just consult my 'Immortality for Dolts' manual and I'll be all set. Quit wasting my time and get to the point!”

'There's no need to be rude,' the voice muttered petulantly. 'It's not like I've lied to you – not yet, anyway. But why should I lie, when you'll be doing my dirty work for me?' 

“What dirty work?” Sombra asked, even as he had the creeping suspicion that he already knew.

'Again, there is nothing in unicorns, pegasi, or earth ponies that can live forever,' the voice said slowly, patiently. 'But if you could take the essence of what makes an alicorn an alicorn, and mingle it with your own...'

'So that's where he's going with this,' the unicorn thought. “...I could live forever,” he breathed, an ember of hope flaring in his barrel. Finally, the mad creature was speaking sense. Then the hope faltered. “But... what happens to the alicorn in question?” he asked, once again suspecting that he already knew the answer.

'Oh, they have to die, of course – this kind of magic always comes with a price, and a steep one at that!' The voice gave another high, grating laugh, and making Sombra wince and grit his teeth.

“And you want me to kill one of the Princesses,” he muttered darkly. There was always a catch...

'Or both!' the voice laughed, equal parts malice and cheerfulness. 'I'm not terribly picky, but I don't imagine either would be very happy with their sister's killer. Still, it's up to you – surprise me!'

“So that's your game,” Sombra whispered, quickly putting things together. “I kill the Princesses, and with them out of the picture the power of the Elements would fade. You'd be free to escape...”

'Ooooh, well, there is that,' the voice replied dismissively, 'but, see... I can't escape immediately – you know this, you've examined the spell that binds me here. You'd have time to prepare, after all – perhaps find the Elements and try to use them against me? I'm sure you could manage...' Sombra still couldn't tell whether the Draconequus was mocking him or just that bad at lying. Perhaps it was a little of both. Most likely the creature didn't really care, and merely reveled in the confusion it sowed.

The unicorn considered the cost of the proposal. On one hoof, he was going to die sooner or later if he didn't find a way to keep his aging body going. On the other, immortality would come at the price of unleashing Discord upon the world once more, and that also didn't bode well for his continued existence. Either way, battle would be inevitable – fight death on his own, or fight the Sisters and eventually Discord. “...You don't think I'd win, do you.”

The voice hrmmed, pondering the question, then tittered. 'See, that's the thing,' it began, its voice full of malevolent mirth. I don't know! What I do know,' it continued, sinking to a threatening growl, 'is that I'd rather die than spend an eternity trapped in this stone prison. And I know you don't want to succumb to the ignominy of old age. So, we'll both get what we want. You'll kill the princesses and gain their power and longevity, and I will finally escape. After that... Well, we'll just see, won't we!'

Sombra pondered the treachery of the Draconequus. Certainly, there were risks. Great risks. Not the least of which was that he'd eventually have to face the monster he'd unleashed upon the world. But... He wouldn't be just a unicorn any longer, if the plan worked. He'd be so much more than that. “I will kill you, you know,” Sombra said casually, turning the page of his book. “I'll have the power of two alicorns, and with the Heart fortifying my body and magic I'll be unstoppable.”

'Oh, I'm sure you will,' the voice crooned sarcastically, amused at the unicorn's bluster. 'In any case, I will share with you the secrets of immortality... And you'll do with them what you will. Far more fun that way, don't you think?'

He idly wondered if Discord had been so infuriating prior to his imprisonment. “I'm not playing games, Discord, and I'm tired of your ceaseless nattering. Just give me the damn information.”

'Tsk! Temper temper! You really should consider a hobby, work out some of that anger... Oh, that's right; being boring is your hobby. Ah well.' Before Sombra could even begin looking for a pickaxe, however, the Draconequus started to tell him the location of another book – also by Starswirl, and even more carefully hidden than the last. 'See, he didn't like to keep everything in one place – far too easy for others to find,' the voice explained. 'And the knowledge in that book is particularly dangerous. Much of it came from Tirek's brother himself, and... Well, he wasn't so nice before he became friends with that batty old wizard. Came from another universe, he did, and it wasn't full of happy magical pastel ponies, I can tell you that much!'

“Uh huh. That's nice,” Sombra muttered absentmindedly, writing down everything vital while ignoring the rest of Discord's inane ramblings. The sooner he left the lunatic behind, the better. He nodded over his notes, closed the book... then stopped. “This spell is heavily biased towards Chaos magic, yes?” he asked, choosing his words carefully and adopting a casual tone. “I can't imagine that such a radical transformation would be a simple change.”

'Oooh yes, such a delightful spell, a personal favorite of mine,' the voice giggled.

“And, this spell will need reagents infused with potent Chaos magic, correct?”

'Yeeeessss,' the Draconequus replied with diminishing patience. 'You're going to have to find those yourself, I'm afraid. Can't help ya there.'

Sombra smirked, raising an eyebrow. "See, you're wrong about that." He gave the statue a predatory grin, and continued. “You know, I've always felt you were too long in the tooth – and, well, finding something chaotic enough for this sort of thing will be rather trying for a unicorn of my advanced age...”

'What are you – YAAAAAAAAAAH! THAT HURT, YOU BASTARD! You put that back right now or so help me–'

Sombra teleported back to his room without another word, heedless of Discord's mental shouts of pain and rage. He had what he needed, after all, and as he examined the petrified stone tooth he couldn't help but smile. Yes, he needed the reagent. Yes, he probably could have acquired it in some other manner. But there was something just so satisfying about making that creature hurt... Maybe he wouldn't kill the beast immediately, after he beat the everloving daylights out of the vile thing. Maybe he'd toy with the creature first. Yes, that sounded... Delightful.

“Annoying git,” he muttered, carefully sealing the tooth in a protective vessel, and went to work. Godhood waited for nopony, and he still had some kinks to work out of the plan.
> 15 - Of Rituals and Rejuvenation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, that's what you were planning,” Luna muttered darkly, the world dissolving once more.

Oh, yes, she was still there. I'd forgotten, she'd been so quiet – she was probably learning just as much as I was, if not more. She understand the context better than I, after all. For instance, she had that annoyingly knowing look as she watched my past self cautiously tread through darkened halls and noisome air. “What do you mean?” I asked after I couldn't bear it any longer, even as I kept trying to piece together what I knew from the memories I knew from the show. 

She paused as if reconsidering what she was going to say, then shook her head. “You'll see soon enough,” she said dismissively, her mouth set in a frown. 

I rolled my eyes at her elusive answer and tried to match her dismissiveness; begging for the information was only a little more infuriating than her knowing she was withholding something from me. Instead, I tried to focus on the scenery of the new memory – or, rather, the lackthereof. It was certainly the kind of place where one would expect to find a tome of dark magic, and the air itself seemed to resonate with malevolent intent. Upon consideration I realized that it could very well be the case; just as the Crystal City was saturated with natural Order magic that sought to bring structure and regularity to nature, and the Everfree with its rampant Chaos bringing forth uncontrollable weather and strange creatures, it seemed that the cave Sombra found himself in was steeped in dark magic. The unpleasant energy crawled under his skin, raising gooseflesh and sending shudders down his spine. He resisted the urge to hurry, however; the place was riddled with traps, and his reflexes weren't getting any better with age. A scorch mark had already made its home on his flank, and his heart was hammering in his ribcage; another close call like the last one and he wouldn't have to be fatally injured, a heart attack could very well do him in. No, even though the place left his nerves frayed and his teeth ground to nubs, he would take it slowly. He wouldn't let it kill him, even if it killed him! And if that led to a peculiar contradiction of thought, well, he had other things to worry about. 

Luna, however, seemed unperturbed by the malevolence of the cave. “Well, this is new,” she said, knitting her brow as she examined her surroundings with naked curiosity. “I've never seen the likes of it... But these walls are not natural – they were cut into the stone by magic, I'm sure.”

As interesting as all that was, both me and my past self were fixated on the pedestal in the next – and seemingly final – room. It was dimly but evenly lit with a crimson glow, but there seemed to be no source. The air itself seemed reluctant to part before him, as if it had been kept locked away for too long and had forgotten how to flow. The walls, too, reeked of age, odd symbols and glyphs smoothed by time to near illegibility. The only thing that didn't seem to be older than the foundations of Equestria itself was the single book laying in the center, upon a simple stone plinth. 

“Sombra, what is this?” came Luna's urgent voice, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. She wasn't looking at the book, however; she was focused entirely on the wall, or more accurately something on it.

I frowned, reminding myself that this was a memory, and despite my memory's trepidation I strode across the room to see what she was seeing. “What's what?” I asked, somewhat off-put by the intensity of the query.

“That!” she snapped pointedly, stepping aside so I could see the vague symbols. As I moved closer, however, they seemed to swim and warp before my eyes, only growing more uncertain the more I tried to concentrate on them.

“Should those be doing that?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut from the vertigo. 

She gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “No, not if you'd seen them properly when you walked these halls in the flesh. Even a careful glance would have been enough – dreams can oftentime remember details that the conscious mind cannot. But no – you did not even stop to examine them, did you?” She pondered the implications of this, slowing to a stop as she knitted her brow. “Tell me... does it seem odd that someone admittedly curious and intelligent would pass by such strange writings without further thought? Would you have willingly left without a second glance, let alone a charcoal rubbing or carefully drawn picture for later analysis?”

I had already felt my past self's curiosity pique at the sight of the ruins, and though his attention was still fixated on the book he was already making a mental checklist of what he had on hoof to trace the symbols for later study – ink and vellum was more his speed. But if what Luna said was right, I had never actually scrutinized them. “...No. No, I would not have left this place until I had discovered every secret I could safely uncover,” I said slowly, looking around the room with growing unease. I could 'hear' him prioritizing things in his mind, even telekinetically 'feeling' about for his supplies – yet he never actually got around to doing it, or we would have seen them clearly. What had stopped him?

Even as I watched my old self approach the book and pedestal, practically salivating over the wealth of knowledge contained within the room, the shadows seemed to deepen. My horn itched as something... stirred. His ear flicked, his breath shortened, and though it was only a memory I felt terror of my own. What in Equestria was that place? What made Starswirl hide a book there, of all places!?

Just as memory-me slid the book into his satchel, resolving to come back later when he had the nerve, the air around him burst into a maelstrom. There was no wind, not from a natural source at any rate; the corridor to the surface twisted and turned, allowing not a breath of fresh air to enliven the tomb-like stillness. Something was making the air come alive around him, to churn and froth like a beast chained. There was a malevolence in there, he could feel it like an ache in his horn, just behind his eyes. There was something in there, and he had disturbed it. 

I watched, my own heart pounding as my past-self fled in terror. He'd had enough; he didn't know what that thing was, or what it intended, but he had no intention of finding out. It was fortunate that he had disabled all the traps on his way through, or he would have certainly fallen victim to any number of them as he stumbled to the surface. When he finally reached fresh air and sunlight, he fell into a dead faint and knew no more.

I turned to Luna, hoping for an explanation, but she was just as astonished as I was. “What the buck was that?!” I asked in alarm, forgetting my earlier annoyance at her.

As it turned out, we were both equally ignorant. “I have no idea,” she admitted with such bluntness it took me off guard. “It's completely outside of anything I've seen or experienced before.”

Surely she had to know something – she counted her lifespan in centuries! “You have no ideas, at all? Nothing?” I asked, certain she was still holding out on me...

She frowned, biting her lip, and shook her head. “I don't think so, no. If you had understood the writing when you went in there, you would have subconsciously remembered what they said and we may have gleaned more from that ill-fated jaunt. Sadly, there was no meaning in the memory – just vague, half-remembered shapes. But maybe...” She frowned, thinking hard, and a moment later I found myself standing back in the ruins. I blanched, starting to panic, but caught myself. It wasn't a memory – at least, not like the terrifying one I'd had earlier. It was more like a memory of a memory – and one Luna apparently had complete control over, as she moved it about and manipulated it with ease. “I think I may have seen the words for 'order' and 'chaos', and perhaps 'binding',” she said quietly, almost to herself as some of the symbols resolved into vague shapes, “but even those are uncertain.” The princess continued to scrutinize the wall for several long moments, then gave a mirthless laugh. “Just when I though I'd solved one mystery, you posed me with another. If nothing else, this little traipse through your memories hasn't lacked for excitement.” 

I grumbled at that, hoping for less 'excitement' in the future, or at least excitement that wasn't so pants-fillingly terrifying without even the benefit of some certain knowledge. We had no more time to ponder the enigmatic specter, however, as Luna waved away the mental construct and took us to a memory of... Well, me sitting at the desk in my study, planning and scheming. Again. Just as I had when I planned Discord's binding, just as I had when I planned out the Construct, just as I had when I poured over the first tome Discord sent me after... Half my life seemed taken up by my next 'grand plan'. It was a wonder I hadn't spontaneously grown a greasy handlebar mustache and cultivated a villainous laugh. I pushed the thoughts aside once more – the old sins of someone else, that's what they were.

Even so, I could definitely commiserate with his desire for secret knowledge and power. Indeed, those tomes were more dense with information, my past-self scarcely knew where to begin. We both practically drooled as we poured over the dusty old pages, the scholar in both of us delighted by such a find. However, I wasn't the only one in my mind, and the other occupant was apparently not privy to all of my past-self's thoughts.

“We do not understand... How is this significant?” Luna asked, peeking over my shoulder. “All of the other memories were great turning points, or events of import. Why aren't you doing anything... interesting?” She frowned and prodded at the book, and I resisted the urge to wave her off. She had a point – it seemed that every memory that was mundane would fly by, integrating into my own mind with ease, and only those of great importance and choice seemed to linger. Why this one would be so special wasn't as easily apparent to an outside observer, I suppose, but I was 'in the know'. I smirked, sharing his relish as he realized how very close he was to his goal. His thirst for vengeance was infectious, as was his hunger for power – and both desires tantalized, like a breath of wine before the sip, or the sizzle of meat before the meal. Oh, to be finally rid of his frailty, and of the Princesses who had cast him aside like an old garment – to take on his rightful mantle, and–

“OUCH! What the hell, Luna?!” I growled, snapping out of my reverie and wondering if she'd left a hoof-print in the side of my head.

She glowered, eyes narrowed, her hoof still raised to give me another sound whack if it was warranted. “I might not be able to see his thoughts clearly,” she growled, “but I can still read thine own as clearly as thine tome!” She huffed, disgusted. “Different person, indeed... You were enjoying that – you were reveling in it! Have you no remorse at all?!”

I glowered at her, trying to dismiss her words. “Of course I have remorse,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes “I do feel bad about what my past-self did, and, believe me, it won't be happening again – different person, remember?”

She glowered at me for several long moments, eyebrows raised. “And what about just now?” she asked impatiently. “Nothing to say for that?”

I glowered at her for a long moment. “For what, exactly?” I asked stonily, suspecting I already knew but not wanting to give her more ammo if she didn't. Hopefully, she was just angry at what my old self was doing, and-

She glowered, frustration and anger bringing an ugly flush to her face, raising her hoof as if to strike me again, before abruptly lowering it once more. “You know EXACTLY what, you dolt!” she nearly shouted, advancing on me, and was soon snout to snout. I backed away quickly, realizing I'd miscalculated – she was definitely angry at present-me. She continued her relentless tirade, forcing me back further and further until I ran into a wall. It might have been humorous, if I hadn't been on the receiving end. “You... You were wallowing in it! With him!” she jerkily pointed at my past-self, . “You were thirsting for such wretched, vile things... How can you seriously think you're ANY different?!”

I stopped cold, my traitorous mind actually considering that. How was I different from my past-self, really? The answer came easily after a few moments, however. “Simple,” I said, oddly calm. “I didn't make the same mistakes.”

The Princess of the Night stared at me for several long moments, at a loss for words, then sighed and closed her eyes with a little shake of her head. “Why do I even bother,” she muttered, sitting back and giving me a bit of breathing room. “You'll never change... You didn't make the same choices, not because you're any different, but because you never had the same opportunities to do so. Be honest,” she said, unnervingly frank as she took a few steps back and regarded me warily. “Be honest, at least with yourself if not with me – if you were in his hooves, wouldn't you have done the exact same thing?”

That... struck far too close for comfort. I glared at her, trying to shake it off... And huffed, deflecting the issue altogether. “Who are you to look into a person's mind and judge him for it?” I growled, fuming. “Who put you over me, to judge my heart?”

And there it was. She just stared at me, looking... tired. “I can't help you,” she said, bags under her eyes. She sighed again. “I will keep watch over you for this ordeal, and I will help keep your mind sound if needed – for the sake of your brother and your friend – but as for you...

She just shook her head, and was gone.

I looked about, bemused, half thinking she'd come back a few moments later with an “And another thing!”, or some parting shot, but... no. She was gone. “Good riddance,” I muttered, with more rancor and bravado than I felt. I was effectively alone to face the memories, and from what I'd gleaned from the show and from Luna's own reactions... I hadn't seen the worst of it. A little worm of fear curled in my stomach, and I wondered if I'd regret my stubbornness later...

My past self continued to pour through the pages, completely oblivious to the drama that had unfolded around him. He had already skimmed through much of the dusty tome, and while he'd found a great deal of new and exciting things to further research, his main focus had been for rejuvenation and life-extending spells. He'd found the spell Discord had described, and already had it planned out. Now, he was looking for something else... “Let's see,” he muttered quietly, a hoof gently tracing a few faded letters, “how to get the upper-hoof on those two ninnies... Can't use that on the Sisters until I'm much, much stronger... My victory must be assured... Oh yes...”
I sighed, delving into my past-self's stream of consciousness to get a better idea, and nodded as my suspicions proved correct. More plans. I watched over his shoulder as he methodically worked his way through the book, page by worn page. He was already working out a plan of action. 

Like most uncertain or dangerous experiments, one had to start small and work one's way up – and this was no exception. Going directly for his ultimate goal – the immortality of an alicorn – would require him to somehow separate one of the Sisters from the other, itself a dubious prospect, and then perform the ritual upon her. How he could contain a single alicorn notwithstanding, he would still have one very angry and desperate alicorn to somehow prevent the other from murdering him with great prejudice. There was no way he could do that in his current state, he realized – he was simply too old, and too weak. There was, however, an alternative – a stopgap measure to give him back his strength and vigor, so he might at least stand a chance.

He set aside the book, and picked up a different one – 'Exotic and Legendary Fauna', the title read – went through each of the entries he'd marked earlier, one by one. His mind was already made up, but he wanted to be sure.

The old unicorn once more went over the entries, one by one... The phoenix had potential, as a creature of endless rebirth. It was his goal, after a fashion – to be born anew in an immortal body, never to know the kiss of death... But the creature was not sentient. He had no idea what effect it would have on his mind, and there was no certainty that the consciousness persisted from one regeneration to the next.

The next bookmark was illustrated with a wispy blue stallion, galloping upon what seemed to be an artistic rendition of a winter wind. Wendigos, too, he considered, and were indeed immortal – or, at least, no one had ever seen one die. Command over elemental winter magic would certainly be a boon, of course, but there was one fatal drawback; they were incorporeal. They had no physical body of flesh and blood, and would likely be incompatible for the ritual – to say nothing of the dangers of trying to combine a creature that relied on a body for continued existence with one that appeared to be mostly magic. 

He skipped ahead through nearly half of the book, coming to a rest upon what appeared to be an amalgamation of sticks and leaves in the form of a wolf. Certainly their regenerative properties would be a great boon, as would their ability to compose a physical body from random detritus... But, like the phoenix, they weren't sentient. Indeed, he didn't even know if they were alive; the popular theory was that they were more like golems, animated by the chaotic magic of the Everfree. No, no, definitely not...

The next was difficult to discern, at first; it appeared to be a patch of night sky in the shape of a bear. The Ursa Major was also a possibility; like the Wendigo, no one had ever seen one die. Unlike the Wendigo, however, this was more likely due to a lack of research on the subject, as they certainly had cubs. Even still, they might have worked out if not for the fact that no one had actually lived to study their biology in-depth, and he didn't know if they were some sort of flesh-and-blood creature or a being of magic, or something in-between. There were simply too many unknowns; he reluctantly dismissed that option, though not without promising himself to research them personally in the future, even if he had to kill one to do so. 

The last entry might have adorned a fantasy book; it certainly wouldn't have raised any eyebrows on the front cover of a Monster Manual. A great lizard sat upon a mound of gold and jewels, its eyes faintly glowing, trails of smoke trailing up from its nostrils. The dragons might not be immortal, but some of the dragons alive in his time were older than the Princesses. They were potently magical, and their hides were resistant to both magic and mundane – particularly in the form of heat – and their mastery over arcane fire was unmatched. Even so, they were creatures with real, physical bodies, with flesh and blood and bone, and they were entirely sentient and intelligent, roughly equal to ponies in that department. 

I stared at my past-self as he chuckled quietly to the emptiness of his study, watching as he closed the book and set it aside. “Let's see now,” he mumbled softly to himself, humming as he unrolled a bit of parchment and filled a quill with ink, then started penning a letter. He wouldn't be hunting the dragon himself, oh no – that would be far too dangerous, far too many chances for polilitical intrigue, not to mention the potential loss of his mind-slaves and the catastrophic danger that would spell for his rule. No; he'd make a dragon come to him. He would spread rumors of vast riches and hordes of gold and jewels, making sure that those rumors spread far throughout Equestria, guarded only by a weak little kingdom far from aid and rescue. How could any dragon resist such a hoard, ripe for the plunder?

I snorted, pulling back from my past-self's gloating and smirking, and snorted. “I'm nothing like you,” I grunted – to who, I don't know. I was alone with myself; only silence greeted me.

***

Things were coming to a head; I could already feel my past self growing impatient, desperately wishing to extend his life and compound his power to wage war against the Sisters and achieve real immortality. An image from the show flashed through my mind, a memory of my human life and not one of my life as Sombra – ponies in chains, hopeless and enslaved to a tyrant, and later too terrified to willingly remember what they went through. As terrible as my past-self was before the transformation, I knew he would get worse – hundreds were enslaved by that point in my memory, but the city itself was largely unmolested. Not everything had come to pass, not yet – but the differences between the Sombra depicted in the show and the Sombra I saw in the memories were growing both fewer and smaller. Every dark deed I had committed was being paraded before me by my own teacherous mind, and I could no more stop it than I could stop thinking.

He had started by militarizing the city – subtly, so as not to attract undue attention, though the patrols were better armed and armored overnight – and continued his research and experimentation with the Heart. It wouldn't do to allow it to be used for its fixed purpose; a fully-powered blast would have devastated him as well as whatever was attacking the city, if the test-run was any indication. No, he realized he'd have to make it a directed, coherent beam of purifying Order for it to be of any good use. 

Several days passed in the memory without incident, and my past-self soon had an experimental prototype. I looked down at its schematics, then at the contraption, then back at the schematics... and groaned. Either by coincidence or by some grand design beyond his knowledge, the thing looked like a death ray from a bad 50's sci-fi novel. “Wonderful,” I muttered distastefully, “it seems I channeled the spirit of a mad scientist... That settles it – I can't possibly be him any longer, I have too much taste.” 

He certainly looked the part. My past-self's graying hair, lab coat, and protective goggles did nothing to dispel the 'mad scientist' airs he had going, and the unquestioning obedience and servitude exhibited by all ponies present certainly didn't help matters either. Any humor I might have had about the situation, however, was quickly dispelled; even without the telltale signs of a mind-slave, I could remember every face and every name of those present, as well as the exact moment my past-self had killed their free-will and made them his own. That mare there was from a rival team of researchers, and she was one of the first. That stallion had criticized Sombra's methods, and tried to go above the unicorn to get his plans approved – another early slave. That one was the head of the budget committee, and tried to cut funding for some of my past-self's projects. That one raised prices on their produce when Sombra let slip that he needed it; that one splashed mud on him as they drove by in a carriage; that one didn't say 'please' and 'thank you' for some polite social niceties... Not a single pony present had a will of their own, all were bent to Sombra's. It was eerie to think that he had been the only 'real' person there, the rest just perverse little marionettes following his every whim and desire. Of course, my past-self hadn't been bothered by any of that at the time; Sombra only cared about the results, and he would get them no matter how many 'little people' he had to step on to do it... 

Progress continued with my past-self's usual level of care and efficiency. Everything was going like clockwork; they'd have the weapon fully operational by the end of the day, at that rate. They had just begun the preliminary tests, charging the crystalline capacitors and batteries across the network, when the doors flew open and a pegasi guard in full battle-gear crashed-landed before Sombra. Annoyed, the unicorn glowered and levitated the gasping pegasus to eye-level. The pegasus's armor was badly dented and scratched, and some of the feathers on his wing were singed. Sombra cared not. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” he asked testily, horn flaring and ready to attack if there was treachery involved – but no, it was a guard of the city, not one of the princesses' puppets. That one, too, was under his control. Mostly under his control, at least – something had spooked him badly enough that his instinctive terror was overriding some of Sombra's influence.

“Dragons!” the guard gasped, wincing and struggling to stay standing. “They're attacking!”

No. That couldn't be right, Sombra thought. He must have misheard. Dragons were greedy creatures, surely they would not be willing to share the spoils with others. One dragon, that was the plan – only one should have shown up. “...Dragons, plural?” past-me asked with a sinking heart. At least his over-planning had paid off – the Construct could handle a few dragons as well as one, it certainly had enough stored energy and output capacity to take on-

“We... we couldn't count them before we had to retreat, sir!”

Sombra's mouth went dry as his heart hammered in his barrel. “Estimate, then,” he forced himself to say, already dreading the answer.

“At least 300, possibly 500, sir!”

All thought of further testing and calibration fled; there is nothing quite like an impending dragon attack to rubberstamp a project's completion. 

“RAISE THE PLATFORM!” Sombra shouted, carelessly dropping the injured pegasus as he climbed onto the device. He sent out orders rapid-fire, not bothering to watch as mind-slaves scurried about to do his bidding, making everything as right as it could be. If he was lucky, nothing would blow up in his face. If not... Well, the energy output of the device would probably kill him and everyone in the room too quickly for him to feel much pain. In retrospect, it would have probably been better to make sure the super-weapon was ready BEFORE trying to lure a great ugly lizard into his City. That's hindsight for you.

Finally, with agonizing slowness, the Projector rose into position and, with a low and steady hum, began to charge. And not a moment too soon – the dragons had nearly reached the edge of the city. The guard had not been exaggerating – there were hundreds of dragons on wing, all heading directly for the castle. With a sinking heart, he realized he'd made yet another critical error – the rumor he'd started hinted at the gems being in the castle itself... 'No time for regrets,' he thought frantically, turning the weapon to face the flight of ravenous dragons. Far below him, the ponies of the city looking toward the castle with wary hope in their eyes; as threatening and imposing as the veritable army of dragons appeared, they were confident in the power of the Duchess and the Construct. They'd all heard the stories, about how much raw power the thing contained – surely that would be enough. They waited in silence, watching to see what would happen, little bubbles of hope feeding the power of the Construct.

Sombra fiddled with the controls, adjusting the focus to lay down a wide arc of magic, hoping to incapacitate enough dragons that the city guard could deal with the rest of them in short order. It was designed to stun – his original intention, after all, was to capture one alive. He watched the charge indicator climb with agonizing slowness as it accumulated energy from the entire city, drawing it up and into the Heart, and from there into the capacitor arrays. Finally, it was ready – and hardly a moment too soon. He didn't have to wait long before they were in range...

When he finally bellowed the order to fire, a massive, blinding burst of white light flew from the weapon's barrel with the suddenness of lightning and the report of thunder. The city watched with trembling anticipation as the wave of energy spread and raced towards the dragons, who were already faltering and struggling to avoid the strange phenomenon. Seeing the dragons so terrified, the ponies below cheered and whooped as the waved rushed over the invaders, overcoming them, repelling them...

At least, so it seemed, for a moment. 

The wave passed over them, stunning many and dazing all, but the power of the Coherent Order Projector had to be spread over a mile of dragons and the empty air between them. Imagine, for a moment, a shotgun shell full of sand; up close it would be devastatingly lethal, and even from a short distance it would do serious damage, but at ten yards it would do little more than annoy the target. So it was with the Projector; as much energy as it released, it had an even greater area to disperse it over. The dragons were quick to recover, and were much, much more angry than before.

He had failed. Order broke. “We're all gonna diieeeee!!!” a lone voice shrieked from far below, and the guards could not stop the ensuing panic. Ponies ran to shelter, screamed for loved ones, or just sat down and cried as they lost all hope and prayed for a quick end. Some raged at the ones in charge, livid that they'd been deceived, fighting the very guards who continued trying to defend them. Some broke into storefronts and began looting, though where they intended to flee with their ill-begotten goods was anyone's guess. Still others simply... snapped. Overcome by the terror and madness, they ran and ran and ran, heedless of what they ran into or how they hurt themselves or others, snapping and kicking at anyone unwise enough to stand in their way. 

There was no more confidence in the City and the Construct; there was only fear, anger, and madness. But mostly fear. Palpable, tingling fear. He could feel it at the back of his neck, crawling under his skin, he could taste the bitter tang at the back of his throat like blood and bile, he could... Wait. The weapon was recharging. He looked down and found the charge-meters glowing once more, brighter and brighter as they measured vast stores of energy climbing quickly, almost exponentially. How were they doing that? Was it malfunctioning? No, the other meters were displaying the same inexplicably climbing charge. Where were they getting their power? The natural Order magic of the City had been depleted, he could feel that himself, and would take time to replenish. What was going into the capacitor arrays?

He looked about, confusion and curiosity momentarily overcoming his worry, and saw the ley lines in the streets glowing as they channeled energy to the central nexus. But they weren't glowing their usual pale white, no – they were charged with something else, something that glowed sickly green and purple, something that squirmed and writhed and sought only to escape its confines. No, no, it couldn't be Order magic, Order never felt like that...

Then it dawned on him. The Construct drew energy from the ponies of the city, and they were practically radiating fear. A single pony's fear might not do much, no... But an entire city of terrified ponies, crying out in despair, breaking and braying and brawling and bawling and trying to do anything, anything, to stave off the coming storm for even a moment...

Well. That was a different matter entirely. A different magic entirely, too. 

The Projector was already overcharged – dangerously so. The entire array was rapidly approaching its maximum safe capacity, to say nothing of its suggested capacity, and would turn into into a very expensive and destructive thaumic bomb in short order. If he didn't do something soon, it could have very well taken out the entire castle and several surrounding blocks... And still the dragons continued their relentless advance, roars and peals of laughter growing steadily louder every moment, already thinking the battle won and the city theirs.

He narrowed his eyes and snorted. 'This is MY city,' he thought savagely. 'These are MY subjects, and no one's going to hurt them but ME!' He glowered down at the “Fire” button and, with a burst of magic, pressed it remotely.

Another wave of energy burst forth from the Projector's barrel, boiling and roiling like a storm of fire, green swallowing purple swallowing black swallowing green again as the magic struggled against itself, tearing itself apart even as it clung together like a mass of rats on driftwood. It was not the unified power of Order, nor was it the capricious whimsy of Chaos; it was Fear itself. And where Order could only command and purify... Fear could destroy. And destroy it did.

Just like that, the battle was over. The screams of the ponies below fell into silence, the rumbling of a thousand wings stilled, the uproar and rioting in the streets brought to order in a single instant. The dragons caught in the direct blast... there was nothing left of them but a fine red mist. Death was instantaneous. They were the lucky ones; those who only caught the edge of the wave were a much more grisly sight, and will not be described here – I'll leave the details of a half-alive dragon to your imagination. Only a very few escaped mostly unharmed, perhaps with a tattered wing or a few inches missing from their tail, but those few 'lucky' survivors had already turned tail and fled. The enemies of the Crystal City was either dead, dying, or retreating; he had won. 

The silence in the City was punctuated only by a few halfhearted cheers, mostly from ponies far from carnage who hadn't fully realized by what manner they had been saved. Perhaps they thought the dragons had been teleported away – they were doubtless in denial. A few empathic souls were were even trying to help and comfort the grievously wounded creatures, hopeless though it was. Most of the rest, however, were still. No, not 'still', that wasn't the right word – they were petrified. They continued to give off massive amounts of fear, still charging the capacitors even though the threat was neutralized. 

He looked about, fearing there were more dragons nearby, but there were none in sight. Was there a new threat? No, there didn't seem to be – there was stillness in the streets, and nothing sought to harm them. He considered again that the Construct was malfunctioning, that the readings were erroneous, but all the readings agreed with one another. The capacitors, emptied by the blast, were already a quarter charged once more. He sent the order to disengage the Projector from the Heart, all the while trying to figure out where all the power was coming from... But it was the same source as before; the ponies of the city were terrified. Looking down at their faces, he soon worked out why.

Whereas the dragons inspired a blind panic, the natural reaction of prey towards a predator, he had engaged more than just their basic instincts; he'd inspired fear in their hearts and minds. And, of course, it is in the heart and mind that their true magic resides. It was only natural that they keep billowing that fear energy like heat off a furnace; he held a metaphorical sword to their collective throats. Most of the ponies in the City hadn't been born during Discord's reign, but everyone had heard the stories of the terror and pain and madness they'd endured at the hands of the chaotic tyrant. But Discord had been defeated and they'd rebuilt their civilization from the rubble, and thought themselves free once more. They thought they were in control of their lives once again. When he turned the Construct against the dragons, however, when he'd shown the kind of power he had, that comforting little delusion melted away like fog under the sun's harsh glare. Everything they owned, everything they did, was once again subject to the will of someone else.

He could have destroyed them all with a single command, if he wanted, and the reality of it was finally dawning on them. And they were afraid.

I shuddered, pulling away in horror as my past-self took it all in with unmasked relish. The quiet of the city was the hopeless stillness of a conquered people, their upturned faces all etched with fear as they realized, one by one, that they were no longer free citizens; they were subjects. They were his subjects. And he was loving it all. 

A ghastly grin stretched across his face as he surveyed his city – no, his kingdom. Aw hell, he already planned on usurping the Princesses, why not surpass them as well?

It was his Empire. His beautiful gem, his Crystal Empire.

Still, there was much work to be done, my past-self thought – and the first order of business was to handle all the dangerous buildup of thaumic power those little fear engines were generating. It was time to put the Construct through its paces. “Shunt the excess energy out to the network, I want a steady bleed-off. Might as well do some capacity testing,” he said airily, feeling several years younger as he hopped off the Projector. Enough power to vaporize a wing of dragons in-flight... Perhaps he would be ready to wage war against the Princesses after all. All he needed was a dragon's essence to perform that dark ritual, and he could stand a fighting chance. 

Ah, the fly in the ointment. Though he had won that battle, the entire purpose was spoiled. No dragons. None captured alive, at any rate, and a corpse wouldn't do. The one thing that could dampen his spirits, the thought of dying, still haunted him. That maddening, unresolved problem. Perhaps, if he was quick, he could send out an order to capture one of the survivors alive for 'interrogation'. Surely that wouldn't attract too much attention, he thought – it was perfectly understandable for the Duchess to seek out answers and retribution for the unwarranted attack on the city...

Fortune seemed to smile upon him for once, however. A pegasus guard, one under his control – not the one from before, that one had fallen unconscious from exhaustion some time during the attack, and Sombra hadn't cared enough to take notice – landed before him and gave a low bow. 

“Sir, we have captured one alive.”

He didn't dare believe his luck at first – surely he'd misheard. “You what?” he asked softly, his traitorous legs trembling with suppressed glee.

The pegasus nodded. “Yes, Sir! It was wounded, but not fatally – the blast tore off its wings, and it couldn't escape with the others. We've herded it where you commanded, and it's ready for you.”

To be young again, strong again – to no longer worry about his body failing, to no longer go to sleep at night and wonder if he would wake up the next morning, to no longer fear an ignoble and inglorious end as a helpless invalid... The very thought sent a shiver of delight down his spine. He would be the immortal, all-powerful ruler of all of Equestria. All he had to do was perform a little ritual, snuff out a single life, and he would be set on that golden path to glory.

“Take me to it. Now.”

***

The dragon was younger than he had expected – either just entering adulthood or at the end of adolescence. From what little light the torch sconces permitted, its ashen gray scales and deep crimson fringe of spikes glittered faintly, their sharp edges clearly defined even in the dimness. Easily twelve feet long from tail to snout, its wings would have filled the room if they hadn't been reduced to ragged and singed stumps. Even so, it might have been a more impressive creature if it wasn't bound and chained, immobilized on the floor, its vulnerable chest exposed. 

It grew active at the new arrivals, straining against the chains to no avail. It could still move its mouth though, much to Sombra's displeasure.

“Please,” it begged in a low, rumbling voice, its eyes darting about while its head was held immobile, “I'm sorry. I was just following orders – please, let me go...”

Sombra ignored its pleas, and turned to the unicorn jailor in charge of securing the prisoner. “Why is the creature's mouth not bound?” my past-self growled, displeased. The jailor, under Sombra's control, winced and levitated a heavy set of chains – or, what was left of them. Great chunks had been gouged from the dull metal, shorn away as a knife through clay. 

“It's a warp-dragon,” the unicorn explained nervously. “Its breath can tear small holes in space. We tried to seal its mouth shut, but it kept jetting fire out between its teeth and, well...”

“And did you not think to use spell-resistant steel?” Sombra asked testily, unimpressed. He surrounded the ruined length of chain in his magic and unceremoniously tossed it aside.

The jailor paled, realizing the obvious mistake, and gulped nervously. “N-no sir... Shall I get one now?” he asked, adopting an annoyingly ingratiating tone even as Sombra turned away. My past-self simply snatched away the jailor's key ring and passed it to another guard.

“You,” he growled, glaring at the earth pony, “you're the new jailor. Pray you don't fail me like this one has.” The new jailor looked less than pleased by the 'promotion', but was wise enough not to say anything. “And as for you,” he turned back to the terrified ex-jailor with a glower, “You're on cleanup duty – and you would have been well-served if the dragon had taken a bite out of your flank.” He snorted with disdain. “When I tell you to secure the sacrifice, I mean it.”

The great lizard froze at the last part. “Wait... Sacrifice?” it asked, panic creeping into its voice. “What do you mean, sacrifice?! Let me go!” It renewed its struggles, making the chains rattle and creak ominously.

Sombra just chuckled at the pathetic sight – from a safe distance, of course. “You there, failure of a guard – check its bindings. If it's going to break free and kill someone, I'd rather it be you.”

The unicorn blanched and trembled, but didn't dare disobey – nor could he. Even so, his instinctive terror at the thrashing, struggling dragon couldn't be completely stamped out, and it was with trembling hooves and faltering magic that he examined the dragon's bindings. He was a sweating mess when he finally finished, and doubtless looked forward to something as safe as corpse-disposal. “I-it's secure, sir!” he squeaked, several octaves higher than normal, and practically fled the room.

Sombra paid no attention to any of that, of course – beyond making sure that the dragon couldn't break free and lunge at him, his investment in the other unicorn's problems consisted of 'jack' and 'squat'. He didn't even bat an eye when the terrified unicorn fled, having no more use for the slave at that moment. All of his attention was on the thrashing dragon before him. 

“Now, where was I... Ah, yes. You're to be sacrificed for the good of my City – and soon, for the good of my Empire.” He chuckled grimly, striding forward confidently as he anticipated his renewal. He levitated a sword out of a nearby guard's scabbard, carefully examining its length for soundness. “Such an honor, I'm sure.”

Real fear crept into the dragon's eyes, but he was helpless to resist – my past self had made sure of that. “What?! No! No, you can't do that! I have rights!” Perhaps the dragon was just starting to realize who he was dealing with... and I was beginning to see the full depth of evil I had reached. Were the dragon in the custody of Celestia or the captain of the guard, he would have been let off with a slap on the wrist and a firm warning. Indeed, if he had been held in a foreign land by a stern but just ruler, he would have stood trial and paid for his crimes in the manner prescribed by the courts. Even Discord might have treated him better, toying with his mind and memories before letting him go, changed and deranged but alive. But I had been none of them. I had been a tyrant, a slavemaster... and soon, a murderer. And, God help me, I had enjoyed it...

My past-self paused for a moment, savoring the power he wielded, and languorously polished the blade with an oiled cloth. He could afford to wait, to drag it out as long as he wished – no one would hear them, no one would know. The dragon was completely at his mercy, and some dark and twisted part of him had enjoyed the fear he sowed; he was just starting to learn the sweetness of it, and was eager to sample it again.

I watched as my past-self toyed with the poor thing, made it suffer for his own amusement while it slowly came to realize that it would never leave that dark and oppressive place, would never see its family again, would never fly through the sky under the warm sun ever again...

“Please, don't make me see this,” I groaned, not realizing I had said it aloud until the words were already out. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memory, but it did nothing to stop the terrible knowledge from being burned into my mind. Luna, however, was nowhere to be found – whether she refused to help me or was even listening, I didn't know. 

The moment was approaching – I could feel my past-self's impatience growing, and knew he would not wait much longer. He ran his hoof down the blade to check its sharpness, nodding in cruel satisfaction. “I own you, traitor. I own everyone and everything in this city, whether they realize it or not. And soon, I'll own everything and everyone else. I will rule as Celestia and Luna could not, dared not, craven cowards that they are.” He let the light play across the length of the blade in full view of the dragon, the creature's eyes locked on the sword as its breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. “I will bring justice where they allowed lawlessness to flourish,” he continued implacably. “I will bring order where they permitted chaos rein.” He casually pressed the blade against the dragon's chest, the tip right between the heart scales, and pushed it through the creature's heart. 

The dragon gasped, unbelieving eyes fixated on the hilt of the blade. It groaned pitifully, unable to speak or die quickly – again, dragons were hearty creatures, and despite the fatal wound its heart still tried to beat on. My past-self smirked, anticipating the same tenacious vitality with relish. I only felt sick.

“Empty him out entirely – I don't want a single iota of that creature's essence wasted,” my past-self said, quickly moving into position while his mind-slaves buzzed with activity. They knew what to do. The unicorns present bowed and concentrated, their horns lighting up the dim room as they wove their spell in unison. 

A web of light spread out through the floor, a complex enchantment nexus activating directly under the dragon, absorbing its vital essence as its lifeblood ebbed away. The sickly green glow spread out below the ponies present before converging on the other side of the room – directly under my past-self.

I watched as he so calmly stood there, unmoved by the fact that it had tormented and killed another living thing even as it begged clemency. Now that it was over and the creature succumbed to its fatal wounds, its eyes growing dull and lifeless, I wondered – was that part of me really gone? I felt guilt and horror over what I had done... But wasn't there a part of me that took pleasure in vengeance? My skin crawled as I pulled away from the thought, but a worse one came. If I was in the same situation – if I could do it again, bring myself power by killing another – would I do it? I considered the fear I had felt at my own mortality, and the desire to have my strength and vigor back... And I didn't know. I continued to watch, trying not to think about it.

The rest of the 'ritual' went as smoothly as a black-magic sacrament of living sacrifice could be expected – that is, it did exactly what it was supposed to do, and hurt like hell doing it. The chaos magic bound into the stone tooth had been surprisingly potent, and when it was finally set free it went work with a zeal. It fundamentally changed my past-self's body, burning and ravaging his old frame like a wildfire through an ancient forest. It was not careful, it was not logical, it was not even symmetrical; it was raw chaos magic turned to a specific purpose, and even within the most careful logical structures he could devise to contain it, it still found a way to do what it wished. My past-self's skin crawled as he felt it worm its way through him, and gasped in agony as it twisted and morphed his body and ground his bones. He even blacked out at one point, only to come back to full consciousness with a shout of pain as his horn seemed to melt and flow into a long, smooth spike, a parody of a dragon's spike-fringe and a unicorn's horn. 

When the effects of the ritual finally subsided and the chaos magic fled to greener pastures, Sombra staggered to his hooves. He was abominably weak, yes... But it wasn't the weakness of age and infirmity, just the natural effect of a powerful spell's toll. Indeed, he was already recovering from it – far faster than he usually did those days – and in moments he felt... wonderful. He felt strong again, as keen and sharp as the blade that pierced the dragon's heart. He unceremoniously yanked it out and slid it, uncleaned and dripping, back into its owner's scabbard. “Did it work?” he demanded of the gawking mind-slaves. “Where is my physician?!”

An old unicorn in a smart suit calmly stepped forward, and without a word began examining him – his physician. 

The unicorn looked him over calmly with a practiced eye, taking out various instruments of his profession and using them with familiar ease. “Hrmmm... Skeletal structure and bodily proportions are mostly unchanged... Internal temperature is... Well, higher than this instrument can read. I can only assume that's a natural side effect, you don't appear to be suffering from heat stroke. Let's see, your eyes – yes, they're definitely-”

Sombra was rapidly losing patience. “Cease your prattling – did it work? Have I cheated death?”

The physician hemmed and hawwed, his horn glowing as he examined Sombra's altered body, and shrugged. “You are no longer old,” he said simply. 

Sombra stared at him, thoroughly unsatisfied with that answer and wondering at the unicorn's blunt boldness. “Explain,” he growled through gritted teeth, unperturbed by their sudden sharpness. 

“As I said, you are no longer old,” the physician continued implacably. “However, I do not know your relative age – I have no frame of reference. Your physiology is like nothing I have encountered before. I can see that your organs are healthy and strong, that your blood is clean, and that your magic is potent. Beyond that, I cannot tell you anything that you don't know yourself. So, I can only conclude that you are no longer old.”

Sombra glared at the implacably calm doctor, instinctively preparing the spell of mental domination... And then remembered that the doctor was already under his control. Everyone present was his slave. He pressed in, feeling the unicorn's mind, and realized the problem; it wasn't a lack of control, it too much control. The doctor could feel nothing on his own, do nothing on his own. Without fear, he could not cower; without thought, he could not proactively serve. His glare turning into a frown, Sombra did the opposite of what he'd habitually done to anyone who annoyed him during his years of ruling from the shadows – he loosed his grip on the unicorn's mind and will, holding on just enough to maintain the pony's loyalty and desire to serve.

The effect was immediate – and much, much more satisfying to my past-self. The physician gave a start, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time, and his eyes shrunk to pinpricks as they darted between Sombra and the dead dragon. “I-If that will be all, s-sir,” he mumbled, quickly averting his gaze. 

Sombra stared a moment, considering... then gave a curt nod. The physician fled just as the ex-jailor had, whimpering in terror and eager to leave his presence. Sombra watched for a long while, deep in thought. “So much to do, so little time,” he crooned, quickly covering himself with a feature-obscuring cloak and trotting out of the dungeon with renewed vigor. I could only watch, wishing it was over. 
> 16 - Of Fraud and Fortune
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As delighted as my past-self was about his renewed vitality, it did cause some... issues. He sent out the word that he would be 'indisposed' for the next week, claiming that the dragon-attack had taken its toll on his aging body, it he wasn't completely lying. Even though he had cast off his infirmities like a shabby old cloak, he knew it would take some time to adjust to his new physiology. It was only by pure luck that he hadn't incinerated something important before he learned to take greater care with telekinesis. For unicorns, telekinesis and levitation are natural, instinctive uses of magic; for dragons, it is their fire-breath. Having both of those conflicting instincts had naturally caused a few accidental conflagrations. Even so, an hour or two spent practicing basic telekinesis, humiliating though it was, had neatly solved the issue. More problematic, however, was his new diet. 

The extra protein he craved was easily satisfied with eggs and the occasional fish – odd dietary choices, but not unheard of for stallions. That didn't satisfy him for long, however; as the days passed, even the largest meals left him with a lingering cravings. Soon, no matter what strange demands he made of his increasingly baffled culinary staff, they could do nothing to quench his ever-growing hunger; he felt like he was eating sawdust, and nothing would drive away the gnawing in the pit of his belly. He began to fear that something had gone wrong with the ritual, that some critical flaw had doomed him to starve as his new body craved something it could never find... That is, until he found himself nervously chewing on a drinking glass – one carved from a solid chunk of lapiz lazuli – and his fierce hunger abated. “Sweet ambrosia,” he muttered, cramming the rest of the chipped cup into his maw without another thought, and before he realized what he was doing he had finished off the rest of the set with a zeal. Once satisfied and a good deal more calm, he'd realized how foolish he'd been. He was part dragon; dragons ate gems and precious stones; therefore, he had to eat gems and precious stones. He wondered how he could miss something so obvious, but put it down to stress.

I snickered, familiar with his problem. “You should ask Mary about her quartz globe some time,” I muttered with a wry grin, amused by the memories for once – I'd done almost exactly the same thing only a short while ago, from my perspective. “You can see the bite-”

Then I remembered; I was alone. Luna wasn't there any more, for the good or for the bad. I fell silent, my spirits sinking further. I turned my attention back to the memory, trying not to dwell on the bitter lonesomeness of my own mind. 

My past-self quickly got to work sampling and documenting every sort of mineral and crystal in his quarters, noting the relative flavor and satisfaction for future orders. He was just beginning to write out a list of more exotic minerals for future investigation when there was a knock on the door.

He quickly spat out an old marble mortar and pestle and probed at whoever was on the other side, then relaxed; whoever it was, they were under his control. “Enter,” he said curtly, telekinetically opening the door only to close it the moment the pony stepped inside.

It was a courier – a pegasus, naturally – and worry was written on every line of his face. “Sir, I have urgent news – the Princesses are visiting.”

“Tell them I'm indisposed, they can do their little tour without my presence,” he growled, annoyed that he'd been interrupted for something so frivolous. 

“Th-they're coming to visit you especially, sir,” the courier gulped nervously. 

Sombra froze. “...Did they say why?” he asked, carefully keeping his voice calm even as worry gripped his heart. If they saw him now...

“No, sir,” the courier mumbled, stepping back.

“And... are they here now?” he asked with growing impatience, wondering why he always had to pull teeth for such vital information.

The pegasus gulped, nearly backing into the wall as he cowered. “Yes, sir...”

Sombra rubbed his temple with a forehoof, groaning at the additional complication. “...Right. You, out, now. And go find my physician!”

***

He quickly shut his eyes as his bedchamber doors opened. A moment later the two Sisters cautiously passed the threshold into his darkened chambers, the fire behind him casting his silhouette in sharp relief while leaving his features in deep shadow. Besides obscuring his more unnatural features, the darkness would dilate his slitted pupils to look more natural and round, like an ordinary pony's. He laid in his bed as if deathly ill, his horn wrapped in gauze and pungent ointment – a common treatment for horn-char, meant to help heal the damage from a unicorn using too much magic for too long. The rest of his body was covered in a thick comforter, masking his altered physique. He could do nothing about his teeth, however, but if he was careful they would not be noticed in the dimness. All in all, not bad for five minutes of frantic work.

The voice of his nattering physician proceeded the alicorns. “I really must protest,” the unicorn whispered urgently, his hoofsteps quick and agitated. “He is still recovering from the ordeal-”

“We will not overtax him, but we must speak with Sombra,” Celestia's voice said softly but firmly, unchanged by the years. 

My past self gave a weak cough, opening his eyes to slits. “Physician?” he mumbled, his voice quavering as if from enfeeblement. “Who...?”

The physician sighed theatrically. “He gets so little real rest, and now you've woken him up. Very well, have it your way; but I can't be held responsible if he takes a turn for the worse,” he said testily, already walking out of the room. 

“I understand,” Celestia said, unrelentingly calm. She turned to face my past-self, her voice unchanged as she said, “Sombra, we must speak with you. Recent events have left us... Confused.”

“And, quite frankly, indignant,” came Luna's voice, the lunar diarch approaching his bedside with a frown. “If our suspicions are correct, it would seem that you have violated our decree.”

He slowly opened my eyes fully, pretending to wake up. “Huh? Wha-” He feigned surprise his eyes shifting between the two Princesses. “Celestia! Why... And Luna? What's all this about?” He hadn't spoken to either of them in years; hopefully they'd attribute his gravely voice to aging and infirmity. 

Luna spoke before Celestia could get a word in. “We would like to know more about this weapon you have constructed, and why you felt the need to build such a devastating device.” Celestia frowned at her, apparently annoyed that she had taken charge, but did not rebuke her. 

While Luna displayed none of Celestia's kindness, she also did not exhibit any outright hostility. She just wanted the facts, it seemed. My past-self grudgingly respected that. Perhaps, he thought, he would spare her life – he only needed one alicorn, after all, and he could definitely see the benefits of a puppet-princess to sooth the populace. 'Or,' he thought, fighting the urge to grin, 'I could use her as a scapegoat for Celestia's murder, and then defeat the 'traitor' to win the hearts of all of Equestria...' He let none of those thoughts show on his face, however; he simply nodded and sighed, closing his eyes and collecting himself. 

“It wasn't a weapon, exactly – not when I designed and built it,” he explained laboriously, as if fatigued by the short conversation. “It was purely a defensive measure.”

“How does something that isn't a weapon manage to completely annihilate an army of dragons?” Celestia asked, giving him the benefit of the doubt and allowing him to explain. 'How can she be so trusting?' he wondered, disgusted. 'Fool. Equestria deserves better.' He managed not to sneer, but it was a near thing.

“It... exceeded the boundaries of its design,” he explained, trying his best to look reticent about it – as if a naughty pet had dug a hole in the garden after he'd promised it would behave itself. “We drained the Construct dry on the first shot, but on that many dragons... Well, surely you heard the reports. It didn't even slow them down, let alone stop them in their tracks as it was supposed to.”

He took a deep, wheezing breath, and continued. He didn't even have to lie about the next part. “When the Construct began to recharge, and at an alarming rate I might add, I...” He let his voice trail off, as if distracted or deep in thought, or perhaps experiencing the early stages of senility. He shook his head, looking confused. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked meekly, letting worry creep into his voice. 

Luna rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but stopped at a look from her sister. Celestia turned back to my past-self, wincing, but shook her head. “No, old friend,” she said kindly, “you just lost your train of thought. You were just saying that the Construct was recharging,” she said softly, absentmindedly smooth his covers with a flicker of her horn. “Please, continue as you are able.”

He fought the urge to snort at that, knowing he'd already won her over – he just had to keep it up. 'How many have you seen die?' he wondered briefly. 'How many infinitely more worthy ponies did you outlive, you sanctimonious bleeding-heart?' As much as he hated her, however, the charade had to continue. “Where was I?” he wondered aloud, allowing his voice to wander. After a carefully calculated awkward silence, he pretended to catch his train of thought. “Ah, yes... The Construct. It draws ambient energy from the environment and the excess from the citizens of this city, did you know? Mostly Order, usually... But... But there was no order on that terrible day. They were terrified. Everypony was terrified. The guards, the citizens... Even me. And, well... The Construct charged itself with that.”

“Did you know this at the time?” Memory-Luna asked, frowning.

He began to deny it, but stopped himself. Every unicorn in the castle had surely felt the build-up of that potent Fear magic. She knew he felt it; she was testing him to see if he'd be truthful. He sighed. “Yes... Yes, I did,” he mumbled.

“And you decided to fire anyway?” she continued relentlessly, as if Sombra was a defendant on trial and she was the plaintiff. 

Celestia, ever the soft-hearted fool, apparently thought her sister was being too harsh. “Luna, please, there's no need for-” she began, but whatever she was about to say was cut off as her impatient sister broke in.

“My dear Sister, your gentle spirit has served you well in times past,” she said with the same calmness, though with an undeniable edge that was absent in Celestia's voice, “but now is not the time for gentleness, and it strains our credulity to think that this stallion, already known for a ruthless and merciless nature, is an innocent in this.” 

The solar diarch paused, uncertain... then reluctantly nodded and fell silent. Luna nodded in grim satisfaction and turned back to my past-self, waiting for an answer.

My past-self sighed, his mind racing as he looked for a way out. He was uncomfortable telling too much of the truth to the Princesses, but couldn't see a way around it – any outright fabrication wouldn't stand up to scrutiny, anyway. “The Projector – the weapon, as you call it – was rapidly overloading from the excess of energy. If I didn't remove the energy from the system, a large portion of the castle and the surrounding area could have been destroyed. Besides... The dragons were nearly upon us. If I hadn't fired, the city would be lost.”

The Lunar Princess stared at him for a long moment, trying to find a hint of malicious intent. He kept his face carefully impassive while she did this, like an old stallion just wanting to get back to some much-needed rest. She finally spoke. “Very well. We shall check on these things ourselves to confirm your truthfulness. I must ask, however... If you had known what it would do, how many it would have killed... would you have done what you did?”

'In a heartbeat,' he thought, but he knew she wouldn't like that answer. He also knew she wouldn't be satisfied with a vehement denial – she would correctly think it a lie. He thought very, very carefully, before answering. He spoke each word carefully, as if pondering them himself. “If Canterlot was attacked by a deadly enemy, and your only hope of saving the ponies of your city was to utterly destroy that enemy... Would you?”

She frowned, finally uncertain. He kept his face carefully curious even as he tried not to smirk. 'Not often does one tongue-tie a Princess,' he thought, watching as she struggled to come up with an answer.

In the end, however, she could think of no answer to that. “Sister, is there anything else you would like to add?” she asked brusquely, gracelessly avoiding the question. 

Celestia shook her head, already satisfied with my past-self's innocence. “No. We apologize for this unnecessary and doubtless taxing intrusion, Sombra – we'll leave you to your rest.”

My past self forced a congenial chuckle. “Fear not, my Princess – the needs of Equestria are far more important than an old unicorn's sleep schedule.” 

Just as quickly as they came, they were gone. My past-self had his guards discretely monitor the two alicorns, but the Sisters hadn't even bothered to check if he told the truth; after a short disagreement in the main antechamber, they'd simply left without any further investigation. He snorted, once again unimpressed with either of them – his grudging respect for Luna was gone once more. “You're really far too trusting,” he muttered softly to himself, more convinced than ever that Equestria deserved better rulers than those.

I glowered as my past-self hopped out of his bed like a stallion in the prime of his life, already sending out orders. He still had so much to do...


***

With the Princesses thrown off the trail, he had been freer to move about the castle. So many things were coming together for him, he could hardly believe his good fortune. He hadn't forgotten the effectiveness of the Fear powered Construct, especially compared its relative uselessness in its natural state. He was all but certain that the purifying wave of Order – its primary defensive operation –  would do almost nothing to the Sisters, while he himself would be critically debilitated. Even though a Fear-powered Construct was dangerous to him as well as the Sisters, a double-edged sword was better than one that could only hurt him. Sadly, the only means of weaponizing the power was by use of the Projector, and that would be a complete waste; as satisfying as it would be to annihilate the Princesses, he needed them alive. No, he thought, going down a checklist with a fresh quill, marking a check next to each completed item in turn. He'd need to turn it to a more creative use... But before he could do anything with that fount of energy, he first needed to ensure that the source was stable.

Thus, he needed a steady supply of fear – that is, he needed to keep the majority of the population in fear, at all times. That had been tricky to implement; while the Sisters were at least temporarily mollified, they might come back and investigate if tales of rampant terror in the City reached their ears. No, he had to tread a careful line. He needed the ponies of the City to be in a near-constant state of carefully controlled terror, but not in an immediately obvious way. He needed to control their fear. Fortunately, he had already implemented several solutions to that little problem, and they were operating beautifully.

First and foremost, he had changed his public perception. Gone was the carefully constructed persona of a kindly old advisor to the Duchess; the entire City had seen him destroy a horde of dragons with a single blast of magic. It mattered little that he hadn't cast it himself; it was enough that they knew such a thing was within his power, and that their safety was entirely dependent on his desires. He had capitalized on that. He rummaged through his wardrobe, carelessly tossing aside the soft, comfortable, nonthreatening robes he had favored as he had grown older; he needed something with a distinctly militaristic air, with perhaps a hint of regality. He cocked his head as he pulled out an old formal dress robe, one of bright crimson trimmed with wild snow-cat fur. 'Perhaps more than a hint of regality,' he thought, nodding with satisfaction as he found that it still fit. Even so, it wasn't enough... So, he had hit the books for inspiration.

It had taken little time and a few history books to find what he was after – designs for old unicorn armor from wars that had been ancient even in his time, and even a few diagrams detailing their construction. He immediately saw the benefit of such armor; if fashioned correctly, it would camouflage his more distinctly draconian features and render them merely disquieting. The design in the books included a 'horn sheath', a specially enchanted metal covering that served to both protect the relatively fragile bone as well as help dissipate the energy buildup – mostly in the form of heat – from continuous magic usage. That feature, in his design, would be absent; his horn would masquerade as its own horn-sheath, camouflaging its altered state even as it ensured he always appeared combat-ready. His somewhat elongated and sharpened features would likewise be muted by the armor, appearing as the shape of the armor rather than an aspect of his own body. The heavy plating would likewise hide his increased musculature and bulk – his body, no longer ravaged by old age, had quickly regrown to what it had been in his prime. By the time he'd finished drafting the designs he was satisfied with the balance he'd struck between concealment and intimidation. 

There was one other thing his suit would hide, the only real fly in the ointment with the whole dragon affair. When had examined his new form in the mirror, looking himself over and trying on old outfits to see how they might work on him, he noticed that he'd lost his sigil. It came as a nasty shock, seeing his flank as bare as the day he was born, but there was no helping it; he knew of no magic that could take a pony's mark, let alone restore it. Nothing in his memory or in the journals even hinted that such magic existed. He could only assume it was a side effect of the ritual he'd performed, that there was too much dragon in him to manifest his mark. He could have accepted it, but the change was not to his benefit; it was wholly to his detriment. The rest of his altered physique he took in stride; if a pony noticed his serpentine eyes, or his sharp teeth, or even the true shape of his horn, he could ensure that the whispers and rumors only bolstered his malignant mystique. A lost mark, however... That wasn't terrifying, that was only sad. Strange, certainly, but sad. He could not benefit from it; he could only do his best to hide it and let his intimidating new public persona deflect any suspicion about any changes to his body.

He moved to the next item on the checklist, satisfied – while his new appearance and persona would doubtless inspire fear in the heart of the City, he had known wouldn't be enough; he needed to keep them constantly on the edge of terror. He would be the focus of it, certainly – but he needed to make some City- and Construct-wide reforms, physically and politically. The first political step was to immediately put a stop to any and all dissenting speech – in the name of the Duchess, of course, though he made sure to be the one who made the public pronouncements. The populace had to know that complainers and rabble-rousers would not be tolerated – they were in a state of emergency, after all. Mandatory curfews, censorship of all media, and a few ponies being 'disappeared' in the dead of night... It was all a carefully crafted recipe to play on his subjects' fears and paranoias. He shifted the City to a more militaristic state nearly overnight; his own soldiers increased in number and diminished in mercy every day, and even began to march through the streets as if they were an occupying force. He laughed mirthlessly as he considered that – perhaps that wasn't far off the mark, he thought, and put a satisfying check next to the political subsection of the 'Fear Generation' heading.

Even so, he needed a more certain way to generate fear, something not subject to public whimsies – those were too unpredictable to rely upon, especially in an emergency. He needed something under his direct control, something that could be measured and regulated. He had evaluated several different scenarios and devices, and eventually settled on a cheap and effective modification – the city-wide installation of modified “Empathic Resonators”. 

Relatively simple in form and function, Empathic Resonators normally did little more than gently alter the moods of nearby ponies – for the better, in their usual mode of operation. Hospitals often had one or two of them installed in the entire building, and they were enough to bolster the spirits of those recuperating. In that application, they essentially encouraged healing with good humor. All they did was absorb the ambient emotional energy and focus it back on the ponies nearby – and with a filter to ensure only pleasant emotions were allowed in, they would encourage the good while allowing the bad to harmlessly dissipate. They required little magical energy to operate, and their effects were often so subtle that even most unicorns couldn't tell when one was near – though clinical testing showed a very real difference in the moods and recuperation rates of those involved. But what, he mused, if they were attuned to fear instead of joy? What if, instead of urging peace and calm on nearby ponies, they urged dread and fear? If a smile was infectious, he reasoned, fear was even more so. A single happy pony might make a few others smile; a pony that jumped at shadows, however, could spread the same fear to others, undiminished. Not through magic, of course, or at least not directly – that was the beauty of it. He had turned their own social instincts as herd creatures against them. One agitated pony in a crowd would cause ripples of similar restlessness and unease, and most wouldn't even realize the source or even try to fight it. If several at once were induced to fearfulness, they would reinforce each others' paranoia and anxiety in an endless loop. Indeed, a single Resonator could coax an entire crowd to a near panic with almost no magical energy at all, just by taking advantage of their race's natural herd instincts. It was a system he could control, boosting or diminishing the signal as needed, and with a bit of testing he could even get a rough idea of what input would produce what output. He was most satisfied with that little innovation; he could effectively turn every pony in the city into a living, scalable, controllable Fear generator. He moved on to the next item on the checklist, and smiled. It was almost time.

He had already amassed the Fear power he desired, but what good was it if he could not put it to use? For that, Starswirl had once again proved useful; the clever old unicorn had detailed the process by which one could bind one's mind, body and soul to a sufficiently powerful magical artifact. That artifact, of course, would be the Crystal Heart. Doing so would grant him direct access to all of the power of the Construct, or at least what passed through the Heart – which, practically speaking, was essentially all of it. Most unicorns were limited by what magical energy they had available within their own bodies; a talented few could draw from their immediate surroundings, or from the magic of other willing unicorns. Such skilled ponies would not hold a candle to him; the only limit to his power would be however much his physical body could channel without burning out. Prior to his change, such a technique would have made him an extremely powerful unicorn – certainly equaling or surpassing Starswirl himself. But now that he had a body tolerant of high temperatures and naturally resistant to magic... It was almost scary to consider how much raw magical power he could draw upon and manipulate directly. He would at least be on equal footing with the Princesses, if it came to direct combat.

Even so, the ritual was not without its drawbacks. As it was described in the journal, Soul Binding was one of Starswirl's first forays into solving the issue of mortality. It was also one he had quickly dismissed; if the subject's body was destroyed, they would be trapped within the magical artifact and would have difficulty interacting with the world around them. Such a state would be little better than death unless one had a way to find a new body. Sombra heartily agreed with that sentiment, and had thus dismissed it at first in favor of transformation. Since he had found a good use for it, however, he lost his reservations and immediately set out to implement his designs.

The soul-binding ritual, though not dark magic, was still inherently risky. He did not know what would happen if the Heart was destroyed while he had yet to find a new physical vessel, and wasn't certain how to transfer his consciousness to that new vessel even if he could find something suitable. Even so, he felt that the benefits greatly outweighed the risks, as being on equal standing with the Princesses was a priority. He smirked with satisfaction as his eyes roamed over the freshly inked tic-marks next to each completed item, then set the checklist aside and made his way to the staging area for the Soul Binding ritual.

The preparation for the soul-binding was far less involved than the dragon's sacrifice; indeed, he had everything he needed in the research center, with most of the reagents available on the open market without any special licensing requirements. Setting it up had taken only a few hours; the ritual itself, less than a minute. It was almost disappointing that such a great change in his fortunes was done with such little ceremony or formality; it almost cheapened the experience of attaining god-like power. Indeed, besides the involvement of the Crystal Heart, there was nothing truly special or unique about the ritual – any other unicorn with the right know-how could do it, if they wished. True, they would lack access to that same sort of power that he did, but the thought of the common pony even approaching immortality...

He shook his head, smirking to himself. They wouldn't be gods; he would. He was the one with the power, not them, and he fully intended to keep it that way. Even if another pony performed the ritual, so what? They would be no threat to him or his reign; at best, they would trap their mind and soul in whatever magical MacGuffin they'd laid their hooves on and be stuck there until the end of time. Satisfied that no one would threaten his rule, he put away all thoughts of usurpers and focused inward.

It was time to check the results, to make sure the ritual worked as it was designed. He closed his eyes and tried to block out all senses from his body, and focused solely on the flow of magic. He searched his innermost magical being, probing where he 'felt' his magic come from, consciously analyzing what was normally as automatic as breathing. 'There!' he thought, sensing something that hadn't been there before. He'd found it – a new 'node', something from which he could draw energy, something that was not his own body. 'Good,' he thought smugly, 'it's not difficult to access. It will be little different from using my own magical reserves.' With that, he gently started to draw power from the new source...

And promptly landed flat on his plot, undergoing full sensory-overload. 

For all his planning and plotting, he always seemed to miss something critical, I mused – a traitor in his midst when he tried to bind Discord, an interfering Duchess when he tried to design the Construct, the horde of dragons his rumors would attract, the loss of his sigil in the sacrifice, etc. In this case, he had connected himself to a massive pipeline of power, power connected to a multitude of distinct individual wills and minds – and they were pressing in on his mind, much like the memories had pressed in on mine. Sure, he could handle a few hundred ponies with varying degrees of free will, taken in one by one with plenty of time to adjust between them, but all at once... He didn't stand a chance. Unlike my own misadventures in mind magic, he hadn't had a Princess to get things in order and make things manageable; he was alone. Worse, he was quickly losing the fight.

He strained to push away the multitude of cacophonous thoughts and feeling, his vision doubling with the effort. A mare cradling her foal, a stallion fixing a sign post, a colt bored in class, a convict in jail, a filly chasing a butterfly, an old mare baking... he was plugged in to every mundane aspect of every moment of every pony's life in his city, and was forced to see and experience it all. All of those separate thoughts, all those dissonant minds clamoring against his own... He couldn't take it. His eyes rolled back into his head as he was overcome by the swarm. Before his mind was completely and permanently erased, however, a hard-earned instinct finally kicked in – an instinct earned by years of subverting other minds and wills to his own. That instinct compelled him to one simple directive; that which he could not contend with, he dominated and subverted. 

He stopped pushing back against the minds that pressed in on his own, and instead used their own power against them to wrap them in his own will and mind. Without any conscious thought, he automatically snuffed out the spark of free will in each and every one of them, one by one. Slowly, slowly, the legion diminished to a multitude, and the multitude to an army, the army to a group, and the group dwindled and dwindled until... Until his will was the only free will in all of the City. All other minds aligned with his own, no longer straining against his but running below it, dependent upon it. Slowly, gradually, he recovered and came back to himself. 

He opened his eyes, feeling... strange. Stretched out, almost, like he wasn't entirely within his own body. He could feel them – each and every one of the ponies in the city. They were almost an extension of his own senses. Confusion reigned in his mind as he struggled to piece everything together – not helped by the kind of headache he'd come to associate with ill-conceived nights spent alone with a bottle of hard cider. It took him a full minute to realize that, no, he wasn't hung over – hangovers don't hurt that much, and he didn't reek of alcohol. Hazy memories of what he'd been doing before the complete blackout gradually filtered into his mind, and he eventually pieced things together. And that was when he started to panic.

Rushing to the window to confirm it, he was unable to decide if the side-effect was a boon or a curse. On one hoof, he had an entire city of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies under his direct control. On the other, he could have just revealed himself to... Well, to everyone. The Princesses could be bearing down on the City that very moment, and he was completely unprepared. He peered out the window and nearly panicked when he found every face staring in his direction, devoid of any emotion, awaiting his instructions. He forced himself to stay calm, however, swallowing his fear as he felt out the multitude of links. “As you were,” he managed to mumble, sending out the command to all who could sense it... and sighed with relief when they all went about their work as if nothing had happened. They would at least maintain the charade for the rest of the day, giving him time to work out a more permanent solution.

He thought long and hard about the power that had been thrust into his lap, unprepared for such an unexpected opportunity, and eventually came to the simple, inevitable conclusion; there was simply no way he could control them all at once. He could send out a general command, yes, but that was limited to how each one understood the commands. Without the free will to act intelligently, they would be little more than mindless automatons; if he told them to dig, they would dig and dig and keep trying to dig even after the tunnel collapsed and crushed them. Giving them enough free will to act intelligently was of course out of the question; the press of minds against his own notwithstanding, the clever ones might find a way to subvert the commands by technicalities, and all would be undone. He quickly realized he would have to carefully delegate power if he was to use the newfound control effectively. He spent the rest of the day and much of the night designing a hierarchical system of control, mapping out the highest tiers and designing instructions on how to distribute power for the lower. 

When he finished in the early hours of the morning, he had plotted the basic structure. The system was designed from the ground up, designating the vast majority of the ponies in the city as 'tier-zero'. Their activities on a day to day basis would remain relatively unchanged, until or unless he needed to specifically command them to do anything. The only overarching command that they received was to remain utterly and completely loyal to his cause, even unto their deaths. The level above them – roughly five percent of the population – consisted of unit controllers, who would each be tied their own group of Tier Zeros directly. They were the micro-managers, continuously monitoring and, if necessary, completely overriding Tier Zero's free will. Members of Tier One were selected for their higher than average mental capacity, allowing them to bear the brunt of the multitude and leave Sombra free for other tasks. Ironically, they had less free will than Tier Zero due to their more complex set of instructions, which they rigidly followed.

Tier Two consisted of only a fraction of a percent of the population, and were selected for their creativity as well as their keen intellects. Those ponies were given enough free will to act adaptably and intelligently, and were given goal rather than activity oriented instructions to execute; when they received a command from above, they would interpret it and send activity-specific commands to all the Tier Ones below them. Finally, the last tiny fraction of a percent of the population consisted of those who were not only intelligent and creative, but showed a propensity for leadership. He immediately commanded those unfortunate souls to the castle for briefing. They were the keystones of the entire system, and would be responsible for interpreting his commands and passing them down the line, as well as reporting back general and specific status information as needed.

When he had finished partitioning the population into discrete groups, defining rules for power allocation as the groups became smaller and more granular, he examined the system in its entirety. It was crude, yes – he had been pressed for time when he designed it, after all – but it would serve his purposes. With a cautious flick of his horn, he started from the top Tiers and worked his way to the bottom, granting them back their appointed measure of free will. He sighed with relief – the press of other wills on his mind had not returned, even as he felt the network of minds buzz with renewed activity. 

The inner-circle seemed to wake from a doze, looking about in mild consternation, but were unsurprised to see him. Indeed, some even looked displeased – an unfortunate consequence of allowing them so much free will, but the highest tiers needed that freedom to operate.

“Was this necessary, sir?” one of them asked, frowning at him. Sombra recognized that stallion – he was one of the few ponies left in high command that he had never seen fit to turn into a mind-slave. My past-self had never expected the pony to have such a bright and flexible mind, but in retrospect he shouldn't have been surprised; the earth pony had quickly risen through the ranks, displaying both a cool head and quick thinking in combat and training. Moreover, he was one of the few who willingly supported nearly everything Sombra proposed, and followed orders with a zeal. It was almost a pity to rein in such a mind, Sombra thought... But in the end, he needed that pony in his inner circle.

“Yes,” he replied calmly, simply, examining each one of the newly appointed members of his 'inner circle' as if they were particularly fine jewels. He found several familiar faces there, as well as a few that were completely unknown to him. A business pony here, a major politician there – all natural leaders, all creative and intelligent, and, most recently, all bent to serving his interests and obeying his will to their deaths. 

He regarded each of them with a predatory grin that would have made Smaug give pause. “As I'm sure you're all aware by now,” he began, totting around the group of ponies with a smirk, “your wills are mine. It is now your primary function to ensure that my network of mind-slaves is kept obedient and docile, and loyal only to me. Your regular business will continue as usual, of course – we must keep up appearances, at least until all of Equestria is mine – but you will always, always be my central control nexus, and that function will always take priority over all others. Is this understood?” he asked, the last more for his benefit than theirs; of course they understood, his thoughts and his will were theirs.

They nodded with varying degrees of shock and horror, but they couldn't help but obey; there was nothing in them to go against Sombra. He sent them back to their day-to-day tasks, nodding with satisfaction as they continued to relay commands and status reports in the backgrounds of their minds. Satisfied that he'd turned what could have been a disaster into a blessing, he turned in for the night.

The next day went surprisingly smoothly; indeed, it passed much like the days prior. He wouldn't have noticed anything amiss if he hadn't been linked to the mental network himself. There was no panic, no wailing in the streets, nothing to disrupt the careful order he had established in the city. In short, the trains were still running on time. At least, that was the appearance from afar; when he went in among them, he was greeted with fearful gazes, hushed tones, and more than a few hasty retreats. He smirked at that; he expected and desired no less. Still... He had to run some tests on the system. He turned his attention to a mare frozen before him, and sent a command to his Inner Circle. 'Make her bow', he thought. 

He tracked the surge of thought as it passed through the network, from the inner circle to each one of their subordinates, and to each one of their subordinates, and to each one of their subordinates, searching for the correct pony... and they found her. By the time she started to bow, he received confirmation in his mind that the command had been sent successfully. It all took less than a second from command to execution.

“Excellent,” he growled softly. Communication was established; time to test its limits. But how? How to test their wills to see if he truly controlled them?

Just then, a small voice came from behind him. “M-mom? Are you okay?” the voice asked, uncertain and oblivious to the danger.

My heart sank as Sombra turned to see a young colt, doubtless the mare's foal, trot nervously towards his mother. I came out of my stupor, pulling away from the experiences and memories of my past-self, feeling sick as I knew what he intended to do. “No,” I whispered, cringing as I was forced to watch. “Don't you fucking dare...” But it was too late; I could already see what was going through his mind, and he had no intention of stopping.

“A test of loyalty, then,” he growled, smirking as he commanded the colt to walk to his mother and sit down. The young pony yelped as he found his body no longer under his control. “Wh-what's happening mom?!” he whimpered, confusion and terror marring a face that was far, far too young for such things. 

“It's okay sweetie, it'll be okay,” the mare mumbled, trying to comfort her foal even as she choked back terrified tears.

Sombra waited for mare to wrap her forelegs protectively around her colt before giving the command. 

“Hold his mouth and nostrils shut. Do not allow him to breathe.” He instructed her calmly, coldly, almost clinically. It was an experiment for him. A sick, twisted experiment.

I groaned, watching him, my jaw trembling as I fought back nausea. I pounded the ground with a hoof, stamping in agitation, wanting to do something, anything, but knowing I could do nothing. 'An innocent foal... How could I have been... No... No no no please no...' But there was no stopping it. 

The colt's eyes widen in terror as his mother moved to obey, unable to stop herself. Her child, still not comprehending, sat docily while she moved her forelegs and hooves into position. “What are you doing? Mom, I-mrph?!” His confused babbling was cut short, replaced by panicked struggles as his unbelieving mother found herself suffocating her own colt. His frantic squeals were easily heard in the horrified silence. Not a single pony moved as they watched in helpless horror, my past self calmly monitor his twisted little experiment. They couldn't do anything; he did not let them. He only looked on with cold detachment as the mare suffocated her own foal.

I shuddered in anguish and found my hooves slipping out from under me, watching in agonized despair. The cries of the mare and her foal pierced me like no other memory had. 'That's not me,' I thought in a daze, my mind fighting against itself. 'I wouldn't... I would never... No. No. NO!' 

Something in me finally snapped, some part of my already fragile psyche finally gave way. I stopped caring that I was in a memory and couldn't actually stop whatever was about to happen, or that destroying a memory-avatar of myself could have disastrous consequences if I succeeded; that wasn't ME. I couldn't... I had to stop him. I couldn't be guilty of that, I couldn't...

“Get the BUCK away from them!” I roared, my horn flaring on instinct as I lashed out with magic and fire, intent only on destroying the terrible deed, stop what I had done, unmake it. I sustained it for as long as I could, as if I could burn the stain away, cleanse myself, rid myself of what I'd done...

“Sombra... James? Please, calm down,” came a soft voice somewhere behind me. 

It was getting harder to sustain. Strength ebbed from my limbs as I poured myself into the purifying fire, trying to burn away my past. If I tried hard enough, surely I could do it... Just a bit more...

“James, stop. You'll only hurt yourself.” The voice was firmer this time, and it was harder and harder to ignore... My legs shook with the effort, straining to hold me up as I poured all my strength into the spell... Until I couldn't keep it up any longer. I collapsed, unceremoniously landing on my barrel. The flames died down only moments later, and I could only pant in exhaustion and groan... He was still there. I hadn't killed him, I couldn't destroy that awful, terrible creature.

No matter what I did, the stain was there. My past still stood as a testament against me. I couldn't change it, I couldn't make it better... I couldn't do it. I could only curl up against the guilt and the pain and try to ignore what had happened, to put it out of my mind...

...But, I couldn't. I couldn't ignore it. I wasn't allowed to, my own traitorous mind wouldn't let me. I had to continue.

The memory still came, relentless, merciless, and I had to watch. My past-self just stood there, ignoring the mare's ever-more frantic pleading and crying as she was forced to keep suffocating her flesh and blood. Only when the colt's struggles started to weaken, when his eyes grew glassy and confused as the lack of oxygen took its toll, did he finally relent. “Release him,” he commanded; it didn't make sense to kill a perfectly good slave, he thought. Curiosity satisfied, he no longer cared what happened to either of them; he turned to walk away from the mare and her foal. Though I could no longer see what was happening, however, I could still hear it.

The mare sobbed, still terrified as she shook her young colt. “My baby... My baby I'm so sorry, please be okay,” she begged to no one. 

There was a gasp, then a cough, and finally the unsteady voice of the colt responded. “M-Mom...?” he asked blearily, uncertain.

“I'm here, sweetie!” the mother said, relief washing over her. “Oh, my baby, you're okay! my baby-”

“S-STAY AWAY FROM ME!” the voice suddenly shrieked, and a moment later the sound of a scuffle reaching my ears. 

The mare's stunned reply was filled with such terrible shock and sadness, I couldn't bear it. “What? N-no... No, I didn't...” she mumbled weakly, even as the colt's sobbing cries moved farther and farther away. “That wasn't me... Please come back” Her voice dwindled into a feeble whisper as the sound of small, frantic hooves grew quieter, fading into the distance. Of course, I realized a moment later, the foal was too young to understand that it was me who did it, that his mother had no choice in the matter...

I don't think I've ever wished to die as much as I did then.

When the memory faded to blessed grayness, I remained on the floor and kept my eyes squeezed shut, doing my best to not think about anything at all, let alone... that. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only witness to it... It seemed Luna had decided to come back. I opened my tear-blurred eyes and looked up at her, but I found no comfort there. Anger and disgust were etched into every line of her face, but mingled with it was also a measure of pity. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled up, not wanting to see any of it, but she was relentless. 

“And now you're finally starting to see,” she said in a low, hollow voice. She had seen it too, I realized, and it must have been almost as hard on her as it had on me...

But I didn't care about that; I could only sit there and wallow in my own guilt, unresponsive; I was beyond words. I simply laid there, the scene replaying itself endlessly in my mind's eye, and found no respite from myself. What had I been? How had I fallen that low, how had I become such a fiend? 

Luna watched me for several long moments, then sighed and settled down at a discrete distance, waiting. She didn't say anything – she was just... waiting. She was just there.

I don't know why she came back; I thought I'd burned that bridge, and was only more keenly aware of how lonesome I'd been in my own mind. I looked back on how I'd treated her, and cringed – I'd been a complete and total ass. That didn't hurt so much as it might have before, though; that bit of wrongdoing was like hardly worth mentioning compared to the multitude of other sins.

It took me a long time to compose myself, or at least calm enough to be coherent. As I looked up at her with reddened eyes, at a loss for words, it came to me that she had seen all of it too... And I snapped my mouth shut and looked away, eyes burning with shame. For her part, at least, she didn't rub salt in the wound with any 'I told you so's'. Neither did she offer any comfort, but, I wondered – would I have even accepted it? It wasn't something a hug could help, nor would any empty words; what comfort was there? Even if she wanted to make me feel better – and I couldn't blame her if she didn't – there was no simple solution, no easy answer. Even so... There was some small comfort in her being there, and...

...Well, I was grateful. 

I saw her start to strain, and realized it must have been taking a toll on her to hold back the memories. She wouldn't be able to hold them at bay forever. Soon enough, much sooner than I'd like, she would have to let loose the tide, and once more I'd have to witness the depravities of my past. And, once again, I couldn't help myself. I had to ask a question I didn't want to know the answer to.

“Luna?” I mumbled, my voice hoarse and ragged. I didn't want to know, but I couldn't help myself.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Yes?” Her tone was guarded, but I could scarcely blame her for that.

I cleared my throat, wondering how to phrase it to spare myself as much pain as I could, but... There was nothing for it. “Do I get worse?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

She stared at me for a long moment, silent... Then looked away.
> 17 - Of Preperations and Proclamations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watched with detached ambivalence as my past self crept ever closer to his goal. I knew he would eventually be thwarted, but it was a small comfort. The next week had been a flurry of activity, his renewed vigor only tempered by his need to stay hidden – his altered form was sure to attract attention, and he wasn't quite ready to face that just yet. He sent word around the castle that he was 'indisposed', claiming that the dragon attack had taken its toll and that he needed time to recover. As a result, he spent most of his time in his lab and personal quarters with only his mind-slaves for company. Limited as he was in public functions, he finally had time to really pour through Starswirl's old journals in earnest, as well as give greater attention to certain projects he had been neglecting in his advancing age.

Having witnessed the destructive power of the Construct powered by the City's fear, his first priority was to harness that power for himself. He remembered well how the first test runs had nearly ruined everything when he was caught in the field, and how it did little to stop the impending dragon horde when used at full power; further use in its original function would be suicide. The initial results of Fear power were encouraging, but unfortunately he'd have to institute some major changes to take advantage of that potent power – both in the system's hardware, and in the political climate. The entire social dynamic he'd been carefully crafting for years, his very persona as a kind and fair advisor to the Duchess, would have to be scrapped. In its place he would institute something more... efficient. Something that would reveal the Construct's full potential to the world. Something that would, in short, inspire the fear he needed to fully realize his ambitions. 

His demeanor was the first and easiest things to change – gone was his kindly and affable attitude, his genial airs, and no more did he hold comfortable dinners with the rich and powerful (they were, after all, already his pawns; he no longer needed the pretense of a private get-together to take control of them). He quickly adopted a militaristic, merciless, and even cruel manner, slipping into it as comfortably as a satin slipper; the ease with which he assumed the new role surprised even him. Still, he could not appear in public as he was – there could be spies about, and the last thing he needed was a pre-emptive strike from the Princesses. He considered his options – he certainly couldn't go about unmasked and exposed – but soon recalled paintings and diagrams of the unicorn generals of old, and smirked as he devised a new plan. He would not be an advisor, after all; he would be a king. He could at least dress the part. 

The unicorns of old wore armor into battle, oftentimes for with full horn-sheaths to protect the relatively delicate protrusion of bone; one good swipe could shatter it, rendering their magic useless until it grew back – if it grew back at all. He had no such fear, however; his new horn was more akin to a dragon's crest, and was as sturdy as the rest of him. Even so, it did afford him a unique opportunity; so long as he wore a carefully crafted helmet, his horn could masquerade as its owns protective sheath, and none would be the wiser. He looked at himself in the mirror, nodding as he inked in plates and ridges to conceal and protect; the guards on his legs would hide the scales that showed through his coat; the size and angles of the barrel would conceal his increased musculature; the heavy boots would mask his greater density. He would be terrible and fierce, but he would still be an ordinary unicorn in the eyes of Equestria. There would be no hint of dark magic, not until it was too late.

He immediately put a stop to any and all dissenting speech – in the name of the Duchess, of course, though he made sure to be the one who made the pronouncements – and let the populace know that complainers and rabble-rousers would not be tolerated. Mandatory curfews, censorship of all media, and a few ponies being 'disappeared' in the dead of night... It was all a carefully crafted recipe to play on his subjects' fears and paranoias. His own soldiers were increasing in number and diminishing in mercy every day, and even began to march through the streets as though they were an occupying force. He laughed mirthlessly at the thought – perhaps 'occupying force' wasn't far off the mark, he thought. With that, he had a feasible plan of action for the necessary to achieve the social climate he desired; he then turned his attention to the Construct itself.

The necessary hardware modifications for the Construct were many, but the largest was the installation of a city-wide network of modified Empathic Resonators. Relatively simple in form and function, they normally did little more than gently alter the moods of ponies nearby. Hospitals often used them to bolster the spirits of those recuperating, encouraging their healing naturally through good spirits. They required little magical energy to operate, and their effects were often so subtle that most unicorns couldn't tell they were nearby, unless they paid close attention. But what if they were attuned to fear instead of joy? 

He smirked, watching as a modified Resonator powered up, and a small group of test subjects looked about nervously at one another. If a smile was infectious, he reasoned, fear was even more so. A single happy pony might make a few others smile; a pony that jumped at shadows, however, could spread the same fear to others, undiminished. His grin broadened as the test subjects began to visibly shudder, looking about nervously for what was spooking the ponies around them, and in turn growing more fearful and restless as they could see no cause. The beauty of it, he thought with cold satisfaction as the first scream broke out, is that their own instincts did most of the work. The group lost all semblance of calm as they ran about in a panic, hooves pounding on cold stone tiles as their herd instincts took over. For all their advances in mathematics, for all their knowledge of the magical and the mundane, a pony was still an animal – and still prone to fall back on its basic instincts in times of fear and crisis. He calmly compared the thaumic input for the device and the output from the stampeding herd, and found that it was a net gain by several orders of magnitude – that is, he essentially had free energy, limited only by the number of ponies under his sway. True, he would need to fine-tune the settings as a constant state of panic was undesirable, but that was easily achieved. Within a month, he had hundreds of such Resonators installed throughout the city, ready to activate at his command. 

The rest of the Construct was modified to run on Fear power with relatively little modification, though with a critical drawback; Fear didn't 'play nice' with most other forms of magical energy. Several capacitors had suffered catastrophic failure, and had to be replaced. The solution was simple, if crude; Thaumic Shunts re-routed the other forms of energy out of the network before they accumulated in any significant quantities, allowing relatively pure Fear energy to enter the Heart. The only issue he foresaw with with that approach was how easily the shunts could be burnt out by sudden a sudden upsurge of contrary emotions – love, hope, charity, etc – but he quickly dismissed this notion; the ponies in the city were miserable, and nothing, he thought, was liable to change that. Changing out the occasional shunt or capacitor was easily managed. Besides, he ran the numbers and found that it would take nearly the entire city to be in good spirits for a complete Shunt overload, and at that point he would only need to replace said shunts – a simple task for a pair of mind-slaves. If he didn't have a legion of those at his disposal, however... Well, odds are they were either somehow freed or dead, and he would be facing the Sisters or Discord on his lonesome – in which case, he was royally bucked anyway.

On the matter of contingencies, Starswirl's notebook contained several interesting entries of a defensive and proactive nature. His mind and soul would be preserved in the Heart upon the destruction of his physical body, it was true, but without a means to regain a corporeal body, that was of little use. He was certain he could improve upon this arrangement. Yet again, old Starswirl came through with a solution – he had apparently devoted a great deal of research in the area of immortality and resurrection, so much so that Sombra wondered why the old unicorn wasn't alive still. With so many ways to cheat death, why had he succumbed? Did he not have the resolve to go through with them? Perhaps, like so many other great unicorns of his, he had fallen prey to Discord, and hadn't put any of his theories into practice – an ignoble death for such a great researcher, to be sure.

No matter, he thought – another immortal being might only get in the way, and he had enough on his plate with Celestia, Luna, and that infernal avatar of Chaos. The relevant entry – the aspect that would turn his preservation into resurrection – involved a theoretical treatise on the manipulation of natural Order magic to cause one's “physical essence to propagate and multiply according to its kind, flesh for flesh, sinew for sinew, blood for blood, and coalesce into the perfected form”. The data was incomplete, as Starswirl appeared to have lost interest and moved on to other avenues of study, but that did not prove a problem for Sombra; his own knowledge of Order filled in the gaps. A few hours of experimenting on his own had revealed a most promising effect; he could, through careful application of Order magic and a ready supply of raw materials, cause living flesh and bone to grow. It was truly astounding how the flesh behaved so much like a crystal, precipitating out of the slurry, growing as if it contained the very instructions to build more of itself. He nodded with satisfaction as he drew the beginnings of a skeletal system out of the slurry, with traces of muscle and sinew attached – a skeleton that appeared to be unicorn at a glance, but with several distinctly draconic features upon closer examination. He pulverized it telekinetically, as fire magic would do little to the bones of a dragon-infused unicorn – he didn't want the risk of competition, even from himself, no matter how remote. He sealed the slurry vat with a small phial contained within, the latter holding traces of his physical and magical essence, and cast a preservation enchantment on the whole ensemble. When the link between the Heart and the vat was established, his regeneration was all but assured; upon the destruction of his physical body, the phial would break, the spell would activate, and a new body would immediately start forming. It was almost worth defeat to see the looks on Celestia's and Luna's faces after their foe, thought dead and gone, apparently rose from the grave. Almost.

Still, even for all the careful planning, for all the power afforded by the Heart, for all the steps he'd taken to stave off death, he had a few lingering doubts. The Elements of Harmony were an unknown factor; all he knew was that they were powerful magical artifacts that could bind a draconequus in stone. What could they do to him? Would they destroy him utterly, or trap him in a living death like they had Discord? Would they destroy his mind? Would they do something completely unexpected? He didn't know, and he had no intention of finding out. So, the final failsafe, the most difficult and potent of them all, was devised. 

Throughout the journals, and especially the latter, Starswirl made regular references to “Travelers from afar” and “Visitors from another world”. He thought back to what the Draconequus said about some creature named “Tirek”, a name he dismissed as the mad creature's senseless babblings at the time, but perhaps Starswirl and the draconequus were referring to the same beings. One “Scorpan”, apparently “Tirek's” brother, had shared with Starswirl many magical secrets of his own world. Starswirl wrote of the creature's unwillingness to share too much, lest 'our world became like his', but even so the clever old unicorn had clearly gleaned a great deal from what Scorpan let slip. The one thing the otherworldly visitor had been open with, however, was the mechanics of 'stepping outside the world', apparently the very technique they had used to cross from their world and into Equestria. With a start, Sombra realized what the creature had been referring to – it wasn't just mundane teleportation, but travel outside of time and space itself and into other dimensions. And what was the reason for such openness?  'Spreading the harmony of Equestria to other worlds', Scorpan was recorded as saying. 'Well,' my past self mused, 'Order is harmonious, is it not?' He chuckled to himself and read on, amused at the thought of showing this Scorpan exactly how he put that knowledge to use.

It took him some time, but eventually Sombra worked it out. 'Stepping Out', as it was called in the journal, involved the direct physical transfer into the timeless, spaceless void that exists (if such a non-entity can be said to exist) between the different dimensions; from there, one must either re-enter their own dimension, or enter another. Well, he had no plans on entering others – not yet, anyway, he could scarcely travel through dimensions as a mere mortal – but, there were several other applications. He started small, of course – he didn't 'Step Out' himself, but rather sent a book on a brief sojourn into the timeless void and pull it back out only a few feet away from its starting point. Still, it was proof of concept. Useful too, he thought – wards and spells could block an area from basic teleportation, but he could bypass them entirely with the new technique. 

He soon became quite good at it – better than he'd expected. Indeed, any spell that involved translocation of any sort seemed to come easier to him than it did before – another happy benefit of the transformation, he soon realized, as the warp-dragon had given him a more innate understanding of space and the magics affecting it. Even so, the more he practiced the more he felt he was missing something. He was sure he wasn't utilizing the spell to its full potential. The thought nagged at him for several days, until finally, while engrossed in one of Starswirl's treatise on the mechanics of time travel, he had an epiphany. The very same principles that would allow him to travel from one dimension to another could likewise allow him to pass from the present and into the future. The 'Outside', the void, was without time and space; it did not, in the strictest sense, exist. The same principles that allowed him to travel from one place to another – even across dimensions – would allow him to transfer from one time to another. Rather than bridge a gap of space, he would bridge a gap of time. It wasn't true time-travel, of course – he could only go forward – but it would serve his purposes. A plan began to form in his mind.

If things went hooves-up, and he needed to make an escape, he didn't intend to do it without his city. With the power of the Construct, he could set off a city-wide 'Step Out' as a final defensive measure, until the storm had passed. All he needed was a set of triggers to determine when to re-enter the universe. He considered... His only real enemies were Celestia and Luna, and Discord, and with the City under control he believed he could take the Sisters – provided they did not have their Elements. As for Discord, he was less certain; even so, he suspected that there must come a time when either Equestria overthrows the tyrant, or something else renders him a shadow of his former self. In any case, the best triggers he could come up with were for the Sisters to both lose their connections to the Elemenents, and for Discord to be rendered powerless. There was, of course, the risk that the triggers would never be fulfilled... He shook his head. If he was going to use it, then, he would use it only if he was likely to die anyway.

Of course, he had to test his theory first. So, he had prepared.

I watched my past-self go about his business, Luna beside me, and found him setting up in the early morning sunlight, putting everything to order in his quarters. She was the first to break the silence.

“We had wondered how you made your entire city disappear,” she said curiously, frowning over his shoulder. “Even with the power of the Heart, we knew you couldn't cast a time-travel spell that large, with such a great displacement.”

“Well, now you know,” I said glumly. Despite the wonders of magic I'd seen, all the fantastic things I'd learned again... it was hard to get excited about the new knowledge when it would inevitably turned to such a foul purpose.

“Are you just going to mope?” she asked, frowning. “You could help many people – our kind and humankind – with some of these forgotten spells. Don't you think you should focus on what you can do to help, rather than dwelling on the evil of your past?”

“Don't you think you should mind your own business, you interfering nag?” I retorted almost automatically, then bit my tongue. My temper got the better of me yet again.

She fell silent at that. As the silence extended uncomfortably long, I mulled over what I'd said. 'She didn't deserve that,' I thought, lowering my ears. She was just trying to be nice, to put my mind on happier things, and I snapped at her. Offended her pretty badly, too. 'Great job', I thought bitterly to myself. It was a wonder she remained after that, but remain she did.

My past-self seemed determined to make me feel worse; every step he took towards his goal was performed with a barely suppressed, savage glee. It didn't matter who got hurt or what it cost other ponies; if it furthered his goals, he would make it happen. I looked on, disgusted with myself as I watched the old me prepare for his sojourn into the Outside.

For all his evil, he was thorough. First he made sure that his mind-slaves were under his control, and would remain so even if the link was broken. It was a sort of residual effect, I surmised, and so long as he returned in due time they would remain enslaved – his will would remain for a long while, even after the connection was severed. Once he was sure he wouldn't come back to a full-blown riot, he focused on the spell itself and its requirements. He cast every ward, wove every protective enchantment, donned every magical bulwark he could for the 'extended stay' in that unknown and unknowable place; he would effectively have to exist without time and space, and that was a difficult thing to manage even on the conceptual level. He took a deep breath – he wasn't sure what would happen if something went wrong, but he knew it wouldn't be good – and with the greatest trepidation...

He Stepped.

He was in a place that was no place, for an eternity that lasted no time at all, his mind silent as it screamed, thrashing in complete stillness, and...

And there was something there. 

Before he knew what was happening, though, he was back. He gasped and shuddered, nearly landing in a heap, but already the memory was fading from his mind. Even my memory of the memory was warping like a fevered dream, dissolving to meaningless nonsense. My past-self soon dismissed the notion that he'd experienced anything at all in the Outside, ruling that out as impossible – time didn't exist in that place, he reasoned, and one could only experience anything within time. I began to wonder if I'd misremembered as well, or if the spell had just messed with my mind. Indeed, my past-self had already recovered, and was looking about his quarters with a devilish grin. For him, it had been early morning but a moment before; yet ruddy glow of sunset told him that several hours had passed. He had 'stepped out', and had 'stepped in' at a completely different time. All of his planning, all of his plotting, it was coming to fruition. All he needed... 

His stomach rumbled with hunger. 'All I need is some breakfast,' he thought, amused. 'Or is it dinner? Ah, the trials and tribulations of time travelers. The sacrifices I make for my kingdom,' he thought with a smirk, deciding to take a brief respite and bask in his own success. He strutted out of his quarters as if he had already defeated the Princesses, so supremely confident he was in his immanent success. I'm not sorry to say that I took some satisfaction in knowing how very wrong he was. 

His guards did a double-take when they saw him.  “Sir?” one asked nervously as he casually walked past.

My past-self frowned and turned to the guard. “What is it?” he growled. 

The guard lowered his ears, but plowed on – his will to serve was stronger than his self-preservation instincts, thanks to Sombra. “I... We couldn't find you anywhere. We haven't seen you all day, and when your servants cleaned your room they-” he quailed under Sombra's impatient glower, and hastily cut to the chase. “W-with all due respect, sir, we were just wondering where you'd been...”

Sombra continued to glower at them for a moment. Then, to the guards' consternation, the frown slowly turned to a grin and their master chuckled. “Don't worry, gentlecolts,” he said arily. “I only, ah, 'Stepped Out' for a moment.” He only laughed at their growing unease and confusion, and trotted on. 

“...That was a terrible pun,” Luna groaned. I couldn't disagree.

The guards continued to eye him warily, confused, and Sombra decided it was time to take back the reins. He checked on his network of slaves, and nodded in satisfaction – all under control, everything proceeding as normal. Perfect.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

***

Within the month, his preparations were finished. The armor he had commissioned was finished and polished to a shine, suitable for a general or a king. It fitted him perfectly – indeed, he barely noticed it was on. He took to wearing it openly – let the world see who he was. The 'resurrection vat', as he called it, was operational and stabilized, and tucked away in a safe place, and his link to the Heart was strong and stable. His magic, bolstered by the heart, was many times stronger than any unicorn's magic had a right to be, and he was confident he could hold his own against the Sisters. His troops were sharpened to a razor's edge, ready to attack at a moment's notice, and even extend his influence beyond the borders of the City. The Resonators were installed throughout, ready to ramp up the Fear in the City in preparation for any major power demand, and had been fine tuned expertly by his engineers. Every failsafe was ready, every weapon was honed, and everything was in place... He went over the checklist one last time, each tic a gem in his eyes, before setting the scroll aside. It was time.

He strode onto the balcony over his City, and grinned down at his hoard, his slaves. A spark of magic floated from his horn to his throat, amplifying his voice so every Crystal Pony could hear. 

“My crystal slaves,” he spoke, his voice booming out over the ramparts and across the land, rumbling like an earthquake, “the time has come to expand my dominion. My soldiers – we start our march to Canterlot this very day, and you will spread my blessing upon all who oppose us. My subjects – you shall remain here, and defend my city with your very lives if called to do so. The era of the Sun and the Moon has come to an end; the rein of the Crystal Empire begins!”
> 18 - Of Crusades and Calamities
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sombra was nothing if not ruthless. His soldiers marched into the neighboring villages and hamlets, dragging ponies out of their homes as they slept. The unicorns in his ranks ranks became unwilling slavers for their master, casting a similar spell to the one Sombra had used on the ponies in the City, swelling his ranks as those in the conquered towns fell under his dominion. The dark king just laughed from his throne, watching from afar through so many eyes, staying safe behind a wall of slaves and stone. 

“We did not know it was happening, at first,” Luna said softly beside me, watching the grim procession almost apologetically. “No word reached us until your forces had spread like a cancer, and you were nearly at our doorstep. Had we known...”

“Not your fault,” I mumbled bitterly, unable to look away. “You stopped me. That's what matters.” 

“...”

She looked as if she wanted to say something more, but remained silent. I couldn't muster the desire or effort to ask.

Sombra, the pony I had once been, delighted in his ever-growing dominion. Pony by pony, town after town, the world fell under his sway. It was, as far as he was concerned, only the right thing to do. To bring order to the world.

At last, however, the Sisters heard the reports from a lone pony that escaped the dark king's grasp – one just outside of the massive anti-teleportation spell he'd put upon the entire town before the assault. The Sisters sent scouts to investigate the mare's wild claims. Naturally, his forces found them, captured them and subdued them before they could escape, and in seconds his forces had peeled the information from their minds and knew what he needed to know. He could not send them back to the Sisters while under his dominion, they would suspect such treachery and could perhaps even break his command over them – and then the Sisters would know whatever the guards had scouted out. No... He kept them close at hoof. Even so, when they did not return by the deadline, he was sure that the Sisters would know something had gone terribly wrong and come to investigate themselves. He smirked, savoring the moment. Finally, a real battle worthy of his power... He wondered if they would come swathed in the protection of their armies as any sensible ruler would, or whether their misplaced value on the lives of their subjects would force them to face him alone.


He had his answer within hours. In the early morning, he felt a massive surge of power rebound from the anti-teleportation field he'd set up over the city, courtesy of the Heart, and reasoned that only the Sisters could be the source. He chuckled, limbs quivering with energy, climbing to his hooves to stretch languidly. Finally he trotted to the balcony to see them for himself. No, there was no room for doubt, he recognized the touch of those magics – one warm and bright like an ember, the other cool and smooth as polished stone. Sure enough, on the outskirts of his City stood two tall, proud figures, visible even from the distance, their wings flared and their horns vigilant upon their brows. No others stood with them – none he could see, at any rate.

Clearly, they had chosen the latter option. 'Fools,' he thought, even as his grin broadened at his luck. 'Coming alone? You're not even making it a challenge...' He let his mirth be known in his magically amplified voice, his silken words booming across the landscape. “Celestia! Luna! I'd welcome you to my city, but under the circumstances-”

“Why?!” Her voice, likewise amplified, cut through the cold morning air, rebuffing his own. “Why did you do this, Sombra?” He could hear the barely contained grief in her cry, the pain of betrayal. 

'Such weakness,' he thought. They never ceased to disappoint him. 'How could she not expect this? I've put this off far too long.' My past self only shook his head – if he needed any more proof that they were unfit to rule, that sealed it. “Because you are WEAK.” His voice rang out as cold and harsh as a winter storm, his honeyed words abandoned. “Because you are unfit as leaders and as rulers – you are unworthy of the power that was thrust into your hooves!” 

The younger spoke, stamping the turf in frustration. “We did not come to bandy words, traitor!” she shouted. “Surrender now, and we may be merciful!”

Sombra just chuckled – he had an army, and they were alone. He had magic they didn't dare contemplate, and they had only what they had brought. Did they think to subdue him on their own? He could not hope for better odds. As answer, he drew power from the Heart and concentrated on the ground beneath their hooves, and wondered if he had over-prepared. It was almost disappointing that it might be so easy...

A single large crystal grew out of the ground just beneath them, ready to engulf them within its glistening facets... But before it could, they leapt into the air as one, a single beat of their wings bringing them level with the rampart upon which he stood. A clear miss. Still – he had contingencies. He always had contingencies.

“So be it!” Celestia shouted from the distance.

The Sisters lanced forward as one, but soon found themselves among a swarm of Sombra's pegasi slaves, all armored and armed. He did not expect them to actually subdue them, but they didn't have to; his pegasi just had to tire them out and slow them down. That's what he had planned, at least. He watched, amused, as the Sisters slowed to a stop, confused by the flock converging upon them. No doubt the two alicorns could see the horror and grief in the eyes of the crowd, forced to attack their one hope of freedom, their soft leaders who allowed them entirely too much freedom in their lives. The glow of the Sisters' horns dimmed for a moment, once again showing that deplorable weakness, mercy... Then they shot up into the sky, into a dense patch of cloud, and for a few moments were hidden.

He waited. When the pegasi paused, confused, he growled in impatience. “Well?” Sombra shouted. “Go get them!” He sent the command out, and with a shudder the flight of pegasi were sent on the hunt. That, however, was a mistake... As soon as the last of the pegasi had entered the clouds in search of the two Sisters, a bright flash of blue and gold pierced the dense vapor canopy. Moments passed... But there were no falling pegasi, and the Sisters were nowhere in sight. A moment later hew as bombarded by hundreds of confused thoughts and sensations – it seemed they were all trapped. The cloud had become solid around them; they could not kick or beat their wings to get free. He cursed, realizing he should have studied more about pegasi combat and weather magic before sending them out to fight, but there was nothing for it. Besides, casting and maintaining such a spell would surely cost the Princesses, so it wasn't a total loss; they fulfilled their purpose.

He retreated into the chamber, and not a moment too soon – stone cracked as Celestia and Luna landed upon the balcony, glaring down at him.

“YIELD!” shouted the elder with a voice that could shatter the eardrums of lesser ponies – but not him. He paused for a moment, surprised that he had to engage in combat so soon... But even a direct confrontation was not out of his reckoning. Indeed, he anticipated it with relish.

He smirked. “No, I don't think I will,” he said conversationally, his horn glowing a sickly green as he drew directly upon the Heart, goading them into the offensive. At the same time he sent a command to the unicorns of his personal guard to be ready to defend him with shielding spells.

His gambit paid off, at least in part – Luna unleashed a barrage of tiny kinetic bursts from her horn, a score of comets aimed right at his heart. So – she sought to kill him. He leered, and the blasts were all stopped dead or deflected as dozens of shields crackling to life around him. Some faltered and died as their magic was overwhelmed, of course, but he expected it – and he forced the casters to get back up and protect him to their dying breath.

Celestia paused, apparently sensing what was happening, and took action. “I'll keep him busy, Sister – go find his lackeys and deal with them,” she shouted over the din, her own horn burning brilliantly as she stepped forward. Luna paused, reluctant to leave the battle... But with a flap of her wings was out the same way she came in.

Sombra paused, considering. He was about to lose his shielding, there was no way his unicorn slaves had a chance against her... But he now had the two divided. He smirked. He only needed to neutralize the Solar princess before the Lunar returned. “You know you can't finish the job,” he crooned, taunting and goading her to distraction. “You're not strong enough. You were never strong enough to do what needed to be DONE!” With the last word he unleashed a spell throughout the chamber. It crawled across the walls, erupting into crystalline growths wherever it touched stone, the points closing in on her like an iron maiden.

The shards pierced her wings and grew into her sides, shearing fur and rending skin as they immobilized her. She gave a shriek of surprise and pain, and even as she struggled to get free, more crystals grew into the gaps to hold her fast. She was fighting against the power of the entire city... and she was losing. 

“You cannot win, Celestia,” Sombra chuckled darkly, smirking. “Submit, and I will be merciful.” It was a lie, but he gambled that she was gullible enough to believe it.

Yet still she struggled. She clenched her teeth with such ferocity that blood ran down her lips, and still she thought she could win. Her body was pierced in a thousand places, pinned and held helpless, and still she was defiant. She glared at him through the pain, her horn beginning to glow more brightly than he'd ever seen. “SILENCE YOU CUR!”

He had only a moment to react before he would be blown away by the full might of the sun – he did not even think the dragon's essence would be enough to protect his body from annihilation. He could not block it, the shields cast by his slaves would not withstand the blast, and he could not raise one in time to stop it. There was only one defense against such an attack, one she would not expect; he stepped Outside, bypassing the anti-teleportation field she believed held him in place. A moment later he re-entered reality at the bottom of the tower, and watched as a wall of sun-fire blew out every window on that level and even the far wall, the deafening retort roaring across the city as masonry and glass rained down in the streets around him. He raised a small shield while it died down, he stopped to think. He could not kill her without enraging her sister, and then he'd have to kill her too – a losing proposition. He could not physically imprison her, either – she'd proven that, and clearly preferred death to surrender. And even as he pondered he could already sense Luna dealing with each of his spell-casters, one by one, knocking them unconscious. When the last of them fell it would be him alone against the two Sisters, and he did not like those odds. 

“Very well,” he growled to no one, and Stepped back into the blasted room directly behind Celestia, silent as a shadow. 

She was panting from the pain and exertion, her pristine white coat striped with blood like a macabre zebra. Even so, he could see her shoulders slumping as she gave in, the fight leaving her – she clearly thought he was dead. Her guard was down. Perfect...

He smirked, his horn charging. She must have felt it, but she was too slow – she was just turning around, her eyes wide with shock as she regarded the impossibly living unicorn king, when another volley of crystalline spines pierced her from above,  pinning her to the unyielding floor and momentarily stunning her. 

He could not imprison her physically, no... But he could trap her within her own mind.

Sombra once more drew from the Heart, amassing the Fear of the entire city in his horn. “Goodbye, Celestia,” he said grimly, and overwhelmed her mind with terror.

She gasped and spasmed, her eyes taking on a sickly hue as the magic took over her mind, warping her perceptions and trapping her within her own nightmares. He did not know what she saw; he only saw the effects. The alicorn stared, eyes wide in horror at things only she could see, until she was catatonic. He nodded, satisfied – one down, one to go...

He climbed back onto his throne, charred black from backwash of Celestia's fury, and waited for the other Princess to return. One by one, each of the spellcasters protecting him was subdued. He saw through his slaves on the ground as the whole group was levitated in her blue aura and dumped unceremoniously outside the city. A few of her own guards were showing up to take prisoners, but handled them with unexpected care. Apparently the Sisters had brought help after all, but not for fighting – not to risk the attack. He clucked his tongue, but was unsurprised.

Moments later the second Sister swooped through the gap Celestia had left in the side of the building. He smirked with satisfaction as she froze in horror, having caught sight of her fallen sister. When her eyes traveled to him, she snarled and moved forward with murderous intent writ upon her face.

“I wouldn't do that,” he said almost lazily, pointing at the bloody mass by her feet. Several knife-edged crystals were poised to plunge into her eyes, her throat, her ears – anywhere it would be messy and deadly, and preferably painful. He smirked, giving her a grin the devil would have envied. “Unless, of course, you think you can stop me before I snuff out her flame forever...”

She froze, seething. “What do you expect to do?” she spat. “Kill us? There would be no pit deep or dark enough for you to hide!”

He chuckled, smirking. “Kill you? No, I have no intention of killing you,” he lied smoothly. “All I want is for you two to... Step down. Equestria deserves a ruler who will do what needs to be done... Not you ineffectual milksops.” He sneered at the last. If he could trick her like he'd tricked her sister, trick her into pouring all of her energy into an attack and catching her unawares, it would all be his... 

She snarled, fuming and tossing her head in agitation. “You think YOU are fit to rule?!” she shouted, her mane shuddering and blackening for a moment before returning to its usual ephemeral twinkling. “You're a fiend! I don't know what you've done to the innocent ponies of this city, but I swear by the Maker you will pay!” She puffed, her fury barely contained. Just a bit farther...

“Oh? You mean, pay like your dear sister?” he asked. He drove a spike into Celestia's side – a non-fatal wound, but a painful one. 

Luna staggered as if struck, and gave incoherent moan of denial and grief. The mangled mess of a pony that laid before her could barely respond at first, save for a weak whimper and twitch. It seemed she was beyond pain. Even so, Celestia's eyes seemed to become clear for a moment, and fixed upon her sister. Her mouth opened with a weak croak, as if she'd forgotten how to talk.  “L-Luna... Stop... It hurts...”

The world froze. Silence fell. I realized it was not a part of the memory when I heard a shuddering gasp from beside me, and turned in a dull, numb confusion to Luna. I dimly registered she was struggling to contain herself – fury or tears, I wasn't sure. I resolutely turned away, wondering if it was possible for guilt to hurt any worse than it did then. There I was, the very person who had... who had mutilated and tortured her sister, and she was helping me – not out of any goodness on my part, not because I deserved it, but purely for the sake of goodness. I lowered my head and closed my eyes, letting what tears come that may. There was nothing I could do or say; silence was my only recourse. I couldn't have blamed her if she blasted my mind then and there, ending the nightmare and my life.

The silence stretched long, too long, and still I laid there like a dead man. Finally she spoke. “And now you see why I do not wish for you to travel with Princess Cadance and the Wonderbolt, Soarin,” she said, her voice dull and devoid of emotion.

I saw what she meant. I could think of nothing to the contrary; what she said was absolutely true. But as terrible as I felt then, I realized it would be even more terrible to be left alone with myself. What good did I have in me, truly? None of it was mine; while my memories may have been stripped away, I was born from the blackest of hearts and souls. I was better, I told myself, I was not the same person; but let's assume that was true. Was that my goodness? No, I realized... Any goodness in me was from others; I had no claim to it. Disappointing them would inconvenience me, so I fit within the social norms to avoid their scorn, but deep down... I was still the same. So, what then would happen to me if I was left alone with myself?

That goodness would decay. Any goodness or appearance of goodness would fall to ruin, or dry up like water in a desert. At best, I would be left with nothing but the guilt and torment of the knowledge of what I'd done, and... I would die, alone and unloved. At worst, the guilt and pain would fade to an indifferent numbness, and I would settle back into my old ways. I would not know any true happiness, only viciousness and destruction and conquering, until I was permanently stopped by someone infinitely more worthy than myself. I would die a condemned man or die as something less than human.

A shudder rocked my body as I considered the fullness of those fates and the fullness of my sins. There was no alternative if I was left alone on my own, no other fate that awaited me. “Please... Please no,” I begged, all dignity forgotten. “I can't be alone... I'd die. I'd worse than die.”

“Be quiet, and watch,” she said firmly, but the cold edge to her voice was gone. There was no comforting wing, or a pat to the back, or anything of the sort – I did not deserve it, and I did not blame her for witholding it – but even so, the sentencing seemed at least temporarily postponed. But I did not dare to hope.

I opened my eyes and turned to her, but she nodded gravely back towards the scene unfolding before us. Reluctantly, I continued to watch – my only comfort was the knowledge that it was nearly over. I did not know how it would come, but I knew I was witnessing my imminent defeat. 

The tableau held for several moments, the Luna in the memory seeming to twitch as a riot of emotions vied for control over her face. A shudder ran down her back, and starlight in her mane seemed to be going out. Finally, she seemed to snap. Her features turned from a cool blue to the blackest of midnights, and this time they did not turn back. She bared her teeth – now sharp like a howling wolf's, and just as deadly – and glowered darkly at Sombra with eyes like a predator. Eyes like my own. Without words, she attacked – and for the first time in the battle, the dark king knew fear of his own.

She shrieked like a banshee as she unleashed torrent after torrent of deadly magic at him, and it was all he could do to avoid or block each of the attacks. Shadows seemed to obey her command, reaching towards him with all-too-solid claws to rake at his armor and sides, terrors come to life. He began to realize he was no longer facing the Princess of the Night; she was the Princess of Nightmares. My past-self, however, did not realize what he was dealing with yet, and believed he could play upon her compassion for her subjects. 

“STOP!” he shouted, parrying and deflecting several blows in quick succession. “Stop, or I'll kill them all! Every last stallion, mare, and foal in this city will die!”

She did stop, but only out of vicious amusement. “Go on, then,” she hissed, her face breaking into a demonic grin. “Do it.” And still she advanced on him, a sword held in her aura, gleaming with a fell light. 

He blinked stupidly, finally understanding his mistake. That was not Luna, he realized. He was dealing with something entirely unknown, and far more deadly. She would not care in the least if he massacred each and every one of his slaves; it would only put him at a disadvantage. Still, he had to end this, and end it quickly. “Fine then,” he growled as if calling her bluff, and gathered a mass of Fear magic within his horn. Hopefully she would think he really was killing all his slaves, and wouldn't be prepared for what he really intended...

It was a desperate, underhanded attack, but it worked; she seemed to think he was, indeed, releasing a spell to kill his slaves, and only realized his real intentions when it was too late to stop him. The dark king blasted her with Fear magic, filling her mind with the corroding force, and watched in relief as her eyes clouded over. A moment later she slumped to the ground, senseless. He stood there, panting as the tension eased from his body, as he slowly realized what he'd done. An unpleasant grin spread across his face.

'Two alicorns', he thought. 'I've subdued two alicorns.' He would finally have true immortality. He would have the power and prestige he truly deserved. He would rule Equestria for all time as its rightful King... It was the beginning of a glorious new era! He chuckled heartily, self-satisfaction and pride washing over him as he contemplated which he would kill first. 

Just as he was summoning his guards to drag the catatonic princess to a more fitting place to perform the ritual, however, an empty laugh joined his. “Hah.”

That was not his laugh, if it could be called a laugh, and it was coming from... her. “Heheheee...” She laughed again, twitching and spasming on the hard flagstones. When her eyes flickered to awareness and settled on him, his blood ran cold. When she lifted her head, her face breaking into a grin with far too many teeth, he began running far, far away, as fast as his legs would carry him. He dove out the window, plummeting down to the ground above, catching himself in a pillar of dark crystal and crashing through it, wincing in pain. It was less risky than staying with the deranged creature for a moment longer.

Whatever that... thing was, he could not subdue it with the power of Fear. It was entirely out of his reckoning; he had no contingencies for such a scenario. His only hope was to lure it out of the City, activate the spell sequence to send the City and its inhabitants Outside until the threat had passed, and then return when it was dead. He would need to perform the Ritual upon Celestia the moment he returned, however, as he had no doubt that whatever was waiting for him when he returned would be terrible indeed.

There was a terrible shriek and snarl behind him, and he redoubled his pace. He drew on the Heart to fortify the strength and speed of his limbs, but even that was barely enough to keep ahead of the menace. He raised barriers of solid crystal behind him in a desperate attempt to slow her down, and it seemed to work. All the same, she was far too close for comfort. He passed through the gates, not even stopping when he faced a small contingent of royal guards waiting outside – none under his control, apparently Celestia and Luna's – and barreled past them. They had been standing at attention, the unicorns of the group maintaining a shield around an ornate chest while the pegasi and earth ponies maintained the perimeter. He ignored their cries of shock and surprise, giving them no thought as he kept running. Once he was sure the mad Princess was in hot pursuit, he activated the process – he had only waited until then to be sure she would follow. If he transported his city Outside while she was in it, well... it would not end well for him.

Abruptly, however, the hoofsteps slowed. A moment later there was a crash of shattering shield spells and more shocked cries. He risked looking over his shoulder, his bewilderment getting the better of him, and what he saw was not encouraging; guards were scattered or unconscious, the chest was open, and six multicolored balls of light were orbiting the nightmare following him...

'Oh no', he thought with rising panic. 'No, no NO'. 

He recognized the Elements; the guards must have been holding them in reserve, just in case they were needed. He understood too little about them to know exactly how they would work when wielded by a single Bearer, or when the Bearer was mad with grief and rage, but he suspected it would not bode well for him. If they turned him to stone, well... he only hoped he would not be put on display next to that infuriating Draconequus. No, scratch that – he only hoped he would not end up as a gravel bed spread around the infuriating Draconequus. The latter seemed far more likely at that point.

It seemed she intended neither. “STAND YOUR GROUND, FILTH, AND I SHALL MAKE A QUICK END OF YOU!” the alicorn shrieked, the Elements beginning to glow brightly with a disquieting light. 

He didn't have a chance against her, not when she had the Elements as well, not when she was effectively immune to the Fear magic that he relied upon. 'Change of plan,' he thought. 'Get her back into the City, write it off as a total loss, and worry about Discord later.' 

“She's dying, but not dead!” he shouted in desperation. “Your Sister lives, even now! And she will live.” He forced a malevolent chuckle past the terror that threatened to choke him. “If not... Well, you can feel it yourself; I've activated a device in the center of the City, and when it activates it will destroy everything within the walls. And your Sister is at the very center...” It was a lie, but she would feel the buildup of power; it was all the evidence he needed.

She seemed to falter, for a moment... But she was too far gone. “No. You will die this day, Sombra!” she shouted.

He threw up a shield in desperation, but she broke through it seemingly without effort and flung him to the ground with enough force to pulverize both stone and bone. He wheezed and spat out blood, dazed and bruised, and struggled to stand, but the force slammed him back down, over and over again, until he nearly blacked out. All the while, the Elements grew brighter and brighter, and aligned upon him.

“Your rein is over!” she bellowed in rage. “Enjoy your last breath, Sombra, King of None!” the alicorn cackled, and a moment later he was bathed in a wash of rainbow colors. It blasted his magic from his body, searing his mind in its radiance and severing him from the host of minds under his control. He howled in more pain than he could fully express, attempting to claw and hold onto the source of the lion's share of his power even as it was ripped away in that purifying light, but it was no use. He thought he was dying, he thought he was dead, he thought he was gone, but when the light faded... He still lived. He was broken, but still he lived.

He was dimly aware of a frustrated growl, the alicorn tossing her mane in frustration as she eyed the Elements. “Kill him, I say! End his life!” She snarled, surrounding them in a dark magic of her own. “Kill him, or I will MAKE you kill him!” He sensed her trying to empower the Elements with her own magic and direct them to her own purpose, but it seemed they were resisting. Eventually, they did activate again – but only reluctantly, and with a sickly amalgamation of their own power and whatever twisted magic and intent she was pouring into them. If he thought the searing, purging light from earlier was bad, what came next was far, far worse. The elements bathed him once more in their glow, but this time the shadows of the Princess's magic flowed with them. He was torn apart. 

Every piece of him was scattered into disarray by the dark magic, grinding him to dust and seeking his utter and complete demise. But it was not to be so; the light attempted to hold the disparate parts in a loose unity, to preserve his body even as it was being destroyed. It was... torture. He was being broken down to dust, but he was not permitted to die. He wanted to howl in agony, but he could not scream. 

A thought occurred to him in the haze of pain; if he died, he needed only to enter a new body and he would be safe. Even better, Celestia would still be trapped in the tower, and he could still use her to perform the ritual. His plan could still work, just at a greater cost than he'd first anticipated. He just needed to get back into the City before it was too late... He pushed past the pain, reaching for the Heart and its connection to the vats, ready to grow a new body for him should he perish... And found he had no control over them any longer. He was bound to the Heart in mind and soul, he could still sense that; but he could no longer control it. Through it, he sensed the minds of several guards approaching Celestia, and moments later she was freed and being carried off – but he could do nothing to stop them.

'No. NO!' He shouted in his mind, railing at the unfairness of it all, writhing and struggling, but his body was dispersed cloud of black smoke held together by blacker magic; struggle as he might, he could barely control it. Sluggishly, like a fog oozing in during the night, he began to make his way back to the City. It was all coming to pieces around him. All of his contingencies were coming to naught. He had to regain control of the Heart, he needed to recapture the minds of his slaves, he needed at least one of the Princesses alive... He couldn't do it. He'd failed.

He was vaguely aware of the alicorn shouting at him, but the bolts of energy she blasted through him did no more harm than had already been done; they passed right through his ethereal body, and he continued his slow procession towards the gate. He was desperate; he had no clear idea of what to do, but he thought if he could make it back to the heart he could do something to fix himself and regain his power...

But it wasn't to be. When Luna had ran out to beat him to a pulp and Celestia had not followed, a small group of pegasi guards had apparently taken it upon themselves to look for the solar diarch. It wasn't surprising how quickly they found her, what with the freshly made hole in the wall and the solar flare that was her calling card. He did not know whether they broke her out of the crystals buried in her flesh or if the spines had disappeared on their own, but they were gone. She was alive and awake, and her guards helped her stumble through the front gates.

Though blood still matted her fur and innumerable holes marred her hide, her eyes were clear and keen. “...Luna?” 

The mad alicorn froze at the sound of her sister's voice, and slowly the darkness faded from her visage. She turned, unable to believe her eyes. “Sister? How-”

“There's no time,” she said with a grimace. “Something is happening inside the tower. I could not trace it to the source, but there is a tremendous amount of energy accumulating-”

It was too late. Before she had finished speaking, there was a bright flash of light... and everything was gone. His past self was alone, his senses gone, his sense of body gone, his thoughts scattered... All that remained was a faint feeling of the Heart. 

It took a long time for his thoughts to coalesce into a coherent sense of self, and even longer for him to work out where he was. He was, strictly speaking, nowhere. He had no body; he was merely attached to the Heart. When he realized this, he desperately reached out to its power, attempting to gain control of it again... but he could not. He had lost control of it, and without a body he could not regain that control. He was not being pushed into a new body because his old had not died, and he could not manually start the process; he was helpless. A barrier stopped him, a barrier that let him sense the energy within and feel all the things it connected, but prevented him from even the smallest manipulation. He dashed himself against that barrier ceaselessly, desperately, his only hope so tantelizingly close but so infuriatingly inaccessible, but it was no good. He was less than the meanest ghost.

“That explains why you behaved as you did when the Empire returned,” Luna mumbled quietly. “More animal than pony... You were not truly there. The thing we imprisoned in the ice was only what remained of your body, was it not?”

I nodded mutely, agreeing, but did not speak; I did not feel I had the right to say anything to her, not after seeing what I'd done to her and her sister. 

My past-self fell into a despair, trapped in a darkness from which he could not escape, without even a body to tell him what was real and what was not. He may have gone insane... But he gradually began to notice the faintest of images trickling through the Heart. The disembodied mind clung to the source, pressing against the barrier as hard as it could, desperate for a sensation, any sensation. The images eventually grew clearer, or perhaps he only grew better at interpreting them; in any case, it was still a one-way transaction, and he had no way to influence what he saw. But he could see; even so, what he saw did not set him at ease.

He was vaguely aware of others around the City. The ponies of the city, of course, were dazed and confused; that was to be expected. But he could also sense two new minds... He caught brief glimpses of them, a white-coated, blue-maned unicorn stallion with a shield upon his flank, and... another Alicorn?!

How much time had passed, he wondered, that a brand new alicorn had arisen? He studied the pink-coated mare, adorned with both wings and horn, as she went about her duties. He learned about her as she learned about the City itself and the ponies within. It seemed she and the unicorn were mates – or simply lovers, perhaps, but he could not distinguish between the two from his vantage point. They seemed to be inquiring of the ponies of the City, reading every book they could get their hooves on, pouring through all of the information they could. Were they looking for him? He could not be sure...

There was a disturbance. The alicorn and her partner caught word of something outside the walls, and promptly rushed out to meet it. If he had a heart, it would have skipped several beats when he saw what they did; his own face stared back at him. His body had grown much stronger since he'd last seen it, even so far as partially taking on the shape it remembered. He saw his own eyes leering back at him, but none of the intelligence he expected whenever he looked in a mirror – he only saw a feral hunger there. He didn't know it was possible that it had survived without him; even so, he could detect a deep, yearning craving within it. He, likewise, felt a pull towards it. Of course... He was still bound to his body and to the Heart; likewise, his body was still bound to his heart and soul. So, the body was drawn to him, and sought to reunite the three.

Still... It was only a body, little more than an animal – all instincts, no tactics. He watched, and would have cringed if he could. It simply charged at the unicorn and alicorn duo in a frenzy of violent intent, but they easily repelled it with a shield. It lost interest in them when it found it could not attack them directly, attempting to force its way into the City proper. The shield expanded, however, and kept it out – together, the alicorn and unicorn seemed to have no trouble maintaining the shield and repel his insubstantial vessel. It roared in fury, dashing itself against the shield fruitlessly until it lost its form, and finally retreated. He could not detect where it went, but he presumed it had slunk off to lick its wounds.

For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of hope. If he could reunite his body with the Heart, all might not be lost. He would at least be corporeal again – a definite improvement over his current situation. From there... Well, he had no idea, really. Recuperate as well, perhaps start rebuilding his army of mind-slaves... He wasn't sure yet. He didn't know enough about how the world had changed since he'd been gone; he'd have to learn more before making any solid plans. Unfortunately for him, he realized, there was nothing he could do but watch and hope; he was completely powerless. The matter was entirely out of his hooves.

I felt a brief sense of irony as my past-self continued to monitor the situation; I'd been watching my past the whole time, and now he was watching his body, and both of us were powerless to affect what we were seeing. I was helplessly watching someone helplessly watching his own body. I might have found it more humorous under different circumstances. He could only wait for his body to do something on its own, and I could only wait for the stream of memories to draw to a close.

Finally, something broke the tableau; the unicorn left the sanctuary of the City and passed beyond the dark king's senses. When he returned, however, he brought six mares and a dragon youngling with him into the city. What excited the imprisoned creature, however, was the appearance of the stallion's horn and the effect it had on him; his magic was suppressed by a sort of black crystal. He assumed it was the doing of his body, and knew it was the lynchpin to his victory; the unicorn synergized his magic with his mate, and together their power was far greater than the sum of their individual strength. His rogue body had eliminated that advantage, however, and now only the alicorn was left to maintain the spell on her own. Already he could see the bags under her eyes as the spell taxed her reserves, her exhaustion grrowing from maintaining the City-wide shield. It was only a matter of time before she faltered and the spell failed completely. When that happened... well, he had high hopes.

Even so, the mares that came with him were a wrench in the works. 'Why are they here?' he wondered. He could not fathom their purpose; what they did made no sense. Through the eyes and ears of the city, he saw them perform an eclectic assortment of activities, each more ridiculous than the last. Two of them set up stalls, only to give out food, drink, abstract musical instruments, and some sort of headgear. Another two paired off to... Wait, were they jousting? That went out of vogue years ago. He dismissed them as frivolous and insane, the lot of them.

No matter, he thought; whatever they were trying to do, it seemed to be failing. He could sense their growing unease, and soon their panic, but still they persisted with their ridiculous fanfair...

All but two – one of the unicorns and the dragon. What were they up to? He watched with growing suspicion as they made their way through his castle, almost unerringly passing through the traps and hidden pathways to the location of the Heart... He had apparently written them off as complete fools too hastily; they had at least some idea of what was going on. Did they intend to use it against him? No... They couldn't know how. Luna and Celestia had to be dead, they were no longer connected to the Elements; that was one of the requirements for the City to return to reality. He was the only being in existence that still knew how to use the Heart to its full potential, of that he was certain...

Yet found it they did. He peered at her from within the Heart, curiosity getting the better of him. Who was she that she managed to get so far? What did she intend? A moment later, however, he saw only a confusion of color and then the ceiling. The unicorn was caught within the final trap, and the Heart was sent flying across the room – inaccessible to her. He felt a moment of relief; whoever she was, she was cunning enough to pass by his traps. Only the dragon had access to the heart, and without unicorn magic he had little hope of doing the trapped king any harm. No, Sombra told himself, his power was safe for the time being, and the shield protecting the City had nearly faded to nothing. It was only a matter of time before he would be reunited with his body, and he longed to reclaim his physical form.

He would have cackled with glee at what happened next, though – a tremor passed through the castle, and the dragon fell off the parapet... and straight towards Sombra's approaching body. The hatchling wasn't just not hindering him, he were actually helping his future king's reuinification! A dark unicorn seemed to coagulate from the mass of shadows and smoke, the body grew more and more solid the closer it came to the Heart, feeding upon the Order magic to bring its disparate components back together. Moments later his body was whole and tangible once more, and he could feel the tingling of his limbs and the blood pumping through his veins as the Heart came closer and closer, the dragon falling, falling, falling...

Then it was all snatched away.

That interfering alicorn from before, she came out of nowhere and pilfered his Heart. The imprisoned king and his feral body gave twin screams of anguish and fury as they were once more ripped apart, watching one another as they were separated again. She couldn't do that, he thought bitterly. It wasn't fair! He had been so close... He watched helplessly as she returned it to its original place, and it slid into its socket like a key in a lock. It made no sense; they could not use it, they didn't have the strength or the knowledge. They were only prolonging the inevitable. He sighed, but calmed down; after all, his body only needed to reach the Heart, and all would be well. They could not play keep-away forever, after all, and it was only a matter of time.

The heart began to spin-up in preparation, and he waited to feel the surge of Fear – with any luck, it would empower his body and allow it to destroy the interlopers once and for all. Hopefully it would spare the alicorn in the process, however; he would have need of her. As the energy accumulated in the system as a whole, however, something felt... wrong. The Heart's power was bleeding away and fading, not increasing; he could sense the Fear within the system draining to a trickle, and something else was pressing in from all sides, overwhelming the shunts designed to keep the steam of power running pure...

'Oh no,' he thought dourly, once again reflecting on how easily everything could go wrong in an instant. 'Ooooh no no no. Oh buck it all.'

The shunts, designed to filter out any non-Fear magic, were simply overwhelmed; what came flooding in was a mixture of such power and light that he could not comprehend it. It pushed in on him from all sides, burning and searing and severing, rejecting him. As his final connection to the Heart was severed and every connection to the world was sheared away, he fell into the darkness once more. 

The memory became disjointed at that point; only brief sensations of indeterminate duration, marked by a dull sense of floating and indistinct blobs of light, indicated he was alive at all. Those periods started growing in frequency and clarity, however, and the blobs of light became funny shapes, and his sense of floating was accompanied by the floating of his mane and weightlessness. At some point he finally became lucid enough to contemplate his surroundings. 

His sluggish mind churned, and he looked about slowly, confused. It took him what felt like hours to realize that his eyes were fine, but the medium in which he existed was foggy and indistinct. He was suspended in a fluid, cloudy like an egg-white but far less viscous. Also, it was somehow breathable – a spell? Yes, spell, he could feel that. He had no sense of smell, however, probably due to the fluid. He felt neither warm nor cold, but it pressed in all around him and suspended him weightlessly. He tried to peer beyond the fluid... Was that glass? No – not glass, crystal. 

With a start, he finally realized he was in one of the vats he designed, the final contingency – the Heart had restored him to a new body, it seemed. He felt a chill, realizing he must have indeed been killed. That chill gave way to panic as he realized his enemies could be bearing down on him any moment, and he whirled about the fluid in a frenzy, eyes darting to and fro, imagining enemies all around him and ready to finish the job...

...But, of course, he was alone. He was alone in the dark, empty chamber, and he was safe. He gradually calmed down, taking stock of his situation. He was alive, and had a body – certainly an improvement over his previous predicament, but far from ideal. A quick check over his body confirmed that everything was as expected, hale and hearty like before. As for the Heart... That was a complete loss. He could sense nothing from it, not even the brief glimpses he gathered while disembodied within it. With its loss, of course, went his host of mind-slaves – another terrible blow.

His horn glowed dimly, releasing the draining mechanism, and he spent the next several minutes coughing up the remainder of the fluid as he fully contemplated his loss. His kingdom was gone; he was no longer king of anything. His main source of power was gone, and while he was stronger than the average unicorn he was no match for an alicorn, let alone a draconequus. His one chance at immortality ended in failure; one day, he would well and truly die. He...

He'd lost, utterly.

Some of the fight went out of him, then. To have climbed so far, only to have it all stripped away, hurt him more than he cared to admit. Why did the Sisters have to fight so hard, he wondered? If they cared so much about Equestria, they should have let him win – surely they knew he was a greater ruler than they would ever be. He just didn't understand it. Why couldn't he win, just once?

He shook his head to clear it – melancholy would do him no good. He could not reclaim the Heart, not while he had the entire City against him. He'd hidden away Starswirl's research notes, and he had them practically memorized; seeking them out would serve no benefit, and might give his enemies the edge if the notes fell into their greedy hooves. No... there was nothing left for him in the City. The only prudent course of action was to flee.

The only advantage defeat seemed to afford him was that everyone seemed to think he was dead. Wrapped in a heavy cloak – a soft blue, his usual ensemble of red and black would be counterproductive to a surreptitious departure – he made his way out of the hidden entrance and stepped into the sunlight. What he saw did not please him.

Chaos. His glorious City had fallen to chaos. His jaw slacked as he looked about him. There was a vendor stall on the sidewalk, and he was almost certain they hadn't a permit. Even worse, young ponies ran through the streets, unheeded, and the guards simply let them without batting an eye. Speaking of the guards, where was their sense of pride, their dignity? A common mare smiled and waved at one of them, clearly having forgotten her station – that was bad enough, but could be corrected with the proper application of force. But did the guard teach her her place? No. He didn't even verbally chastise her, or scowl. What did he do? He smiled and waved back. Clearly, the dark king – now ex-king, he thought bitterly – had his work cut out for him if he ever regained his former glory... but he could not do that as he was.

He fled the City, but remained in the winter wastes; the region had much greater levels of ambient Order magic than the more temperate climates, and he reasoned it would be the best place to begin anew. There was wild game, so his craving for meat would be satisfied. Likewise, the mountains were mostly untouched; gemstones would likely be reasonably plentiful. He carved out a spacious cave, intent on setting up base there and rebuild his base of power. Of course, if he was to truly rebuild, he'd need slaves...

He donned a the heavy cloak and added a face-wrap to the ensemble, and ambled down the road towards the City. He did not intend to enter it – not yet – but any traders leaving the City would make an excellent first acquisition, he thought. Not so much for the pony itself, but for the wares it carried. A few minutes later, he came upon an earth pony pulling his cart, one full of winter squashes and other root vegetables. He smirked to himself, casting the spell upon the pony and bringing him under his dominion...

...Or, rather, he tried to. The moment he cast the spell to enslave the unsuspecting victim, however, pain blossomed in his head and horn. He tried to push past the pain, but the only grew worse and worse until he relented. Staggering and panting, he stood there in total confusion. What had happened to him? Was his body defective?!

He blinked the pain from his eyes only to find the trader had stopped, and stared at him with obvious concern. “Hey, uh, sir?” he looked Sombra up and down as if uncertain. “Err, Ma'am? Whatever you are, are you okay there?”

Something was wrong. Something was very WRONG. He strode past the startled pony without another word and made his way back to his ramshackle lair. He couldn't cast that spell, the spell that had made him great in the first place. Other spells he could, and had no problems with; but that one was denied to him. Digging deeper, he performed every diagnostic spell upon himself that he could remember. What he found broke his spirits; it was a lingering curse. It had a trace of strange spectra upon it, a spectra he recognized but never fully understood – it was the telltale signature of the Elements, the same signature he discovered in the spell containing Discord. Further analysis revealed its purpose and intent; it was preventing him from commanding any other beings, from bending them to his will. He thought back, remembering the words Luna had spoke as she wielded the Elements against him, and grimaced. He did not think it was intentional, that apparently did not matter. He could not break the curse the Elements had placed on them, they were simply too powerful. It took an entire team of trained unicorn mages to even loosen the spell binding Discord, as well as the resources of the Crown, and that was for the purpose of tightening and reinforcing it; there was no way he could break it. His rein was over, he realized. He would forevermore be the King of None...

He fell into a depression at that point. His dreams of power and rule were dashed, permanently; the chaotic, lawless ponies would never accept him as a leader willingly, and he could no longer force them for the good of all Equestria. Without the support of an army of slaves, he could have no reliable source of power. Without that, he could not become an immortal King... 

Some days he fought against that bleakness of spirit, pursuing Starswirl's research for some scrap of greater power, something he missed, something that would allow him to regain his former glory. Other days he was little more than a beast, and would hunt and eat what he killed where it fell. Always, he stayed hidden, and avoided the deplorable ponies who would rather let lawlessness and disorder reign than give up their freedom for a greater cause. He could not allow anyone know of his existence; he had no doubt the Sisters would return and finish the job if they ever caught wind he was still alive. So, he hid his doings from the world and lived in solitude. Weeks became months, months became years, and still he hid. He was mostly successful at that – no one used the paths very much, and he never saw any patrols.

And then he showed up. He looked so much better in stone.

I sighed, watching the scene play out once more – one final time, I hoped. The taunting, patchwork nightmare hell-bent on mischief; the terrified, defiant unicorn seeking to reclaim lost glory; the curse to strip him of all his memories, his very identity; the hastily constructed spell to preserve what he could, but too little and too late... And it was finally over.

I felt the spell finally peter out, and the press of thoughts and images lifted from my mind like a great weight. The flood had ceased; no longer was I forced to relive every moment of my terrible life in Equestria. All was calm, all was quiet, all was empty. It was done. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, that is why you never rose again,” Luna said, as if a mystery had been cleared up. She nodded to herself. “I am glad some good came from my... Episode, though I did not realize what I did at the time.” She coughed awkwardly. “What you saw before was the beginning of my fall; you were partially to blame, of course, but I still behaved poorly. Even so, if it stopped you from casting that evil spell again, it was worth it.”

I nodded numbly, unable to disagree – it was done. I would never be able to do that again to another being; it was a relief. But when I thought back to what had caused her to use the Elements in such a way, I cringed. The guilt was still raw for me, but I forced myself to face it. “Was your sister alright? After...” I trailed off, my voice breaking, unable to finish.

She met my eyes, her mouth set in a firm line. “She recovered, eventually. She had nightmares long after her body had healed, though I was there to assist with those.” Her expression softened, and she sighed. “Even so, your treachery hurt her far worse. You were her student, but she almost saw you as a son. Did you know that? She took joy in your accomplishments and growth – she hoped you would be the next Starswirl. She even hoped that your unique affinity for Order magic would finally grant you the power to Ascend. Even when you showed the darkness and hardness in your heart, she still held out hope and tried to correct you. She wished the best for you, and prior to my own...” she paused, taking a breath before continuing, “Prior to my own downfall, she still held out hope that she could redeem you rather than end your life. It took a thousand years for her to finally give up that hope and put Equestria's well-being first.” The edge had crept back into her voice, and she regarded me with the eyes of a judge. I quailed under her stare, but said nothing... What could I possibly say in my defense?

She continued to stare at me for a long while, deep in thought. Her expression was inscrutable, and betrayed no more of her thoughts than would a marble bust of her likeness. Finally, she spoke. “Before, I told you I did not want you to travel with your friends and family, for fear that you would return to your own ways and do them harm,” she said coldly. “Were my Sister here, I am certain she would agree with that assessment. Indeed, I I am certain that any pony with the full knowledge of your deeds would agree with that assessment – even dear Fluttershy, after Discord's final treachery.”

Tears rolled down my snout, soaking into my fur. I could not speak; I could only beg inside my mind, please, no, I don't want to be alone...

She paused, considering her next words with particular care. “Yet,” she continued slowly, “I believe they would be wrong.”

I wasn't sure what I was hearing. She couldn't really mean...

“It is not our way,” she continued with more certainty and even a hint of warmth, “to turn down a pony when they truly wish to do better, no matter how black their deeds or how far they have fallen. It may, indeed, be necessary to kill in extreme cases, where the being is a clear and present danger to innocents; but not when there is only the potential for danger. We value justice and grace, but grace must prevail when possible. Indeed, I know this lesson well.” She chuckled wryly. “You saw it yourself, and you know the story of what happened after.; I was not myself, not as I was meant to be. I could not become what I should have been on my own accord. It took the help of others to bring me back from the edge of the precipice – first Celestia as you just saw, then the Bearers to restore me completely. We could not help ourselves – in that regard, we are alike.” She gave a tired chuckle, and smiled for the first time in what seemed like years. “I never believed I would be saying this to you, Sombra – but you will be granted a measure of clemency. I would see Celestia's old hopes come to fruition, and for you to become the pony she always thought you could be.”

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say anything. Relief welled up in me, filling me such that I could barely breathe. There was a chance. I didn't have to be that... that thing I was. I could change. 

She continued, the edge back in her voice. “But mark me, Sombra – if you ever are a threat, I will put you down myself. I will not allow you to hurt them, and I will bring the full fury of the night upon you.”

I nodded dumbly, and silently agreed – dying would be preferable to going back to the way I was. 

She nodded in return, taking my assent for what it was. “Good. Now, be at peace,” she said kindly once more. “This has been an ordeal – for both of us – and true sleep is well-deserved. I am hopeful for you, Sombra... But I will be watching.”

With that, the world around me became peaceful and dark, like a cloudy night sky. I slowly fell into a deep, dreamless, and true sleep, and knew no more.
> 19 - Of Retreats and Revelry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We realized we couldn't leave James alone, not in that state, so eventually we settled on a schedule that ensured one of us could be present if he woke up. I drew the short straw, and groaned at my bad luck. As itchy as I was to spread my wings during the quiet, dark hours of the night, when no one was watching, I had to watch my brother through the first shift. It was a rare opportunity with Supreme Buzz-Kill out cold and unable to tell me off for the risk, but that's life. At least I got a pity-meal out of that; Mary's first aborted attempt led into a much nicer second, and I had no idea kale, spinach and mushrooms could taste so good. We ate a small meal together, trying to chat about inconsequential things, but she soon had to get to bed – she'd need to wake up in a few hours to watch James in the early morning shift. I sighed, and settled in for a long night.

Watching television was, naturally, a real chore; controllers designed for hands simply did not work well with hooves. I eventually managed to open the Youtube app and settled in for a long documentary on aeronautics. It wasn't my usual choice, but for obvious reasons I was drawn to it. Besides, perhaps I'd be able to apply some of it to my own flying techniques.

My mind wandered as I relaxed and watched, thinking about the future. I was mostly over the shock of realizing I actually was some sort of alien pony-creature, rather than just turning into one. I had almost been expecting some sort of weirdness after the physical changes started, and it was almost a relief that it was something that was supposed to be happening to me rather than a virus or mutation or something worse. But, where did that leave me? Apparently, Soarin was some sort of aerial acrobat in Equestria, the local equivalent of the Blue Angels. That was cool, I guessed, but I couldn't really pursue that sort of job until the world had adjusted to our existence – shoot, even I hadn't completely adjusted yet. It would take time, if it happened ever. At least I was reasonably knowledgeable about survivalist techniques, if it came down to that. Come to think about it, it made sense that I was attracted to it; the freedom afforded by living off the land and being free from society was similar to the freedom of flying through the air, unshackled from the ground and able to go where I wished...

I was broke from my thoughts as something moved. My brother shifted on the couch, upsetting a few cushions, and moaned in his sleep – or was it more like a coma? 'And what about him?' I wondered. I'd been trying not to think about what all this meant for James. I somehow doubted that the rest of the world would accept him as easily as they would accept ponies like himself and Cadance, especially not if they knew who he was. Technicolor ponies with soft fur and big eyes could feasibly play on the public's 'daaaw' factor; James, however...

Another thought occurred to me, one that was altogether more chilling. I took for granted the fact that Luna would do as she said, and 'preserve his mind', or however she put it – that is, make sure he stayed his old, grumpy self. But what if she couldn't? Or what if something went wrong? My wings spread on their own in an instinctive flight response, the unicorn on the couch seeming a great deal more sinister than he had a moment prior. What if...

What if it woke up, and it wasn't my brother anymore? 

I shivered, adrenaline pumping through my system as I quietly made my way to the hall, intending to wake Mary up and flee the moment they saw anything but James staring back at them. 'Well,' I thought dourly, at least I won't have any problems staying awake tonight!'


***


Mary stood beside me, silent, as we watched the unicorn slumber upon the couch. She hadn't said a word after she left the room, but shared the same fear, and for a long time we stood there, tense and terrified, in the darkness. Despite my earlier confidence that I would watch the unicorn like a hawk the whole night through, I soon found it hard to keep my eyes open; one can only be terrified of a peacefully sleeping lump for so long before the fear fades away to sleepy boredom. At some point I did, indeed, fall asleep standing – I did not know when or how long – only to wake with a sudden start when something disturbed me.

I peered through the gloom, half expecting to see a pair of eyes staring back, full of inhuman and inhumane malevolence, but the unicorn still seemed to be asleep.

And then it moved.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when it reached out a hoof, clumsily grabbing a pillow and pulling it into its barrel, and shifted with a snort and grunt. 

I was no longer sleepy. I watched him carefully, my whole body taut once more as I prepared to bolt, but the creature sleeping on the couch didn't make another move. Something seemed... Odd. Its movements were too fluid, too natural; it didn't seem like the twitching earlier, but more like a creature truly asleep. Whatever had been happening to my brother – to it, I reminded myself, we didn't know if it was still my brother – appeared to be over. Whoever or whatever it was, it was still asleep. 

I still wasn't safe, then; for all I knew, it could still wake up as James or as something else entirely. If I could get the drop on it, though... Yes. I had a plan.

I gently nudged Mary, who had fallen asleep beside me. “Wassat? Whosamatter?” she asked incoherently, blinking the sleep from her eyes and yawning prodigiously. Any other time he would have found her confused grunts and other noises adorable, but he was too on-edge to notice. Instead, clapped a hoof over her mouth, trying to keep her quiet, and made a shushing noise. I pointed a hoof ominously at the sleeping form, and she nodded grimly. I bent in, whispering softly, what I intended to do.

She didn't like the plan, but she couldn't see an alternative; they couldn't abandon the real James, but if James was gone they'd need to leave as quickly as possible. “Okay... You're more familiar with him than I am, so you'll need to give the signal.”

I gulped and nodded nervously, and silentky made my way back to the sleeping form on the couch. Fortunately, I knew a surefire method to tell if it was my brother or not. I fumbled with the remote, scrolling through the recorded shows until I found it. It was an old re-run, but it would do the job. I turned up the volume and hit 'play'...

Theme music played for several long seconds, and the sleeping unicorn shifted. The audience cheered as the camera panned to a familiar, grinning face. “-Welcome to the Daily Show, I'm Jon Stewart!” More applause, and the unicorn groaned and squeezed a pillow around his ears. “Today's guest is...”

“Turn that garbage off!” James growled grumpily, his voice low and slurred with sleep. “Dun wanna listen to tha' idiot...”

I sighed with relief, hitting the power button. “Yeah, that's him alright,” I said, chuckling softly as I relaxed. I set the remote down and yawned, finally at ease. “I don't think we need to watch over him any more – whatever happened seems to be over, and he's just sleeping now.” My voice was still hushed, but it was apparently still loud enough to make James groan and squeeze the pillow even tighter. I down comfortably on the recliner and relaxed, intent on getting what shuteye I could

Mary stood where she was for a moment longer, confused. “What's wrong with John Stewart?” she wondered, then shook her head and went back to her room.


***


I woke up gradually, the prior night's experiences gradually filling my thoughts. For a long time I just laid there, pretending to be asleep – how could I face my family and friends, knowing what I'd done before? It seemed impossible. Images of my worst moments kept flashing through my mind's eye, even as I resolutely pushed them away. Once again, I found that trying not to think about something was proving all but impossible. 'Pink elephant' indeed – I couldn't try to not think about it, I had to actively do something else. With a sigh, I stood up and made my way to the kitchen. I would simply pretend nothing was wrong, that last night hadn't happened, and go about my usual routine. That would help clear my head, I was sure. Besides, breakfast was on the stove, and I was ravenous. 

The other two were already at the table, chatting, but that stopped the moment they heard my approach. I pretended not to notice as I levitated the ladle out of the simmering pot and a fresh bowl out of the cupboard, and poured myself some hot oatmeal. I focused on the task, embracing the perfectionist in me as I carefully added just the right amount of brown sugar and milk. There was no protein in the meal, so I even started grilling up some bacon. Taboo in Equestria, naturally – illegal to kill a sapient being, after all. Like dragons. Dragons begged for mercy, after all, and – no, don't think about that. It was just bacon. Delicious, crispy bacon. I wondered if I could cook them to just the right blend of crispy and tender-

“Hey, you seem to be a lot better at that levitation stuff. Is that what you learned last n-mrph!”

I turned my head to see my brother, apparently confused by the spoonful of oatmeal stuffed into his mouth, and Mary's horn dimming. “You must have been practicing,” she hastily amended.

My eye twitched involuntarily. I hastily turned away, ignoring her entirely unconvincing smile and Luke's sour muttering, and focused attention back on cooking. The rashers sizzled and smelled exceptional, and soon I had them draining their excess grease into a paper towel. A bowl of oatmeal, its flavors balanced to his liking, sat next to it. I liked things neat and orderly, just like my City had been, without any possible voice of dissent, an entire city of slaves bound to my will, serving me – no. Just food, it was just food, there was nothing wrong with a tidy plate. Everything was fine. 

I settled at the table, taking up one of the four free chairs, and conversationally asked, “So, any plans for the day?” 

They glanced at one another, seemingly put off by my casual attitude. “Err... We were going to pack,” they said awkwardly.

Oh. Right. We had to leave, didn't we; we couldn't stay in that house forever. Banished from our homes in disgrace to live in the desolate north – no. We just had to leave. Another eye-twitch. I plastered a smile on my face. Everything was okay. “Right – forgot.” I could work with that. “Well, we'll need medicines and other supplies, won't we? At least we won't have to pack clothes.” I forced a chuckle I didn't feel, only petering to a halt when the other two failed to join and exchanged nervous glances. “What?” I asked slowly, my forced cheer gone.

“...Really, are you alright? I can understand if you need-” Mary began, but I cut her off.

“I'm fine,” I said shortly, and continued – everything was, after all, okay. I just had to keep talking, planning, and working. That's all. “We'll definitely need some sort of antibiotics in case one of us is injured – Luke, you probably know more about that, I'd appreciate it if you drew up a list. In fact, you probably know more about the camping equipment we need, you should handle that too. Cadance-” Twitch twitch. Everything was normal, everything was fine. “...Sorry, Mary, I'd like to run some drills with you, you're woefully out of practice with even basic magical technique. I can teach you the fundamental theories and we can go from there. I know you specialize in some sort of love-based magic, but it couldn't hurt to learn Order as well. If we hurry-” I continued to talk, faster and faster, but that was okay, everything was okay.

“Dude, chill. You're freaking out.” Luke rustled his wings and maintained a stoic expression, but shook his head and plowed on. “Look, we don't know what all that was about last night, but we'll understand if you need a few days.” 

Everything was okay.

I took a deep breath, but it hitched in my throat. They were too kind to me, just like Celestia was. Celestia, pinned to the ground and pierced by a thousand shards of crystal, trapped in her own mind by horrors only she could see-

No. Everything was okay. I just had to focus – after all, we were just planning, right? Just planning. I could plan. They didn't know what happened, and they didn't need to. They were completely innocent, and didn't need to be subjected to what I'd done. The little colt didn't know what was happening either, not when I'd forced his own mother to strangle him-

Everything was okay. Everything was okay.

...Everything was not fucking okay.

I froze, panic setting in as I looked between the two. In a flash of ghostly white light, I was gone.


***


“...That could have gone better.”

I looked down at the spot where my friend had disappeared, sighing and massaging my head. If I was honest with myself, I shouldn't expected it to end much differently; I could practically feel the unease and guilt warring in him, but he kept pushing himself to act like everything was normal. Whatever had happened to him, it'd taken a heavy toll.

I ate the rest of my meal, frowning to myself the whole while, deep in thought. If he'd been another woman – mare, I corrected myself – it would have been a no-brainer. Perhaps a day at the spa to unwind, or some time with Ben and Jerry and a romantic comedy on the TV, would have done the trick. But men were an enigma in that regard. Not for the first time, I wondering why men so emotionally closed-off. I was out of my element. 'Think!' I told myself. 'How would he handle a major shock? Something that turned his life entirely upside-down...

I looked up only to see Luke already eating with gusto, clearly having dismissed the incident. He wasn't worried in the least, completely at ease, not even bothered by having to use his hooves, or by the wings sprouting from his back. Come to think of it, not even James was very bothered by his form – they were both adjusting well, possibly better than I was.

I narrowed my eyes, hoping I was onto something. “Hey, Luke? You guys freaked out a bit when you were first changing, yes?” I asked innocently. 

He snorted, smirking as he swallowed his bite of oatmeal. “Oh, yeah – that was pretty hilarious, in hindsight. I didn't think it was possible to reach that pitch.”

I nodded. “And what did you two do that night? Was it an otherwise normal night, ooor...”

He snickered and laughed, only to cock his head in confusion at the look she gave him. “Oh, you're serious? Er... No. No, we had a few drinks – alright, more than a few, we were pretty sloshed – played some games. I definitely won, by the way, but he'll never admit it.”

I nodded, considering. I had my own little rituals, did I not? No matter the ritual, they were all for the same purpose; they created a safe and comfortable environment, one where me and my friends could talk freely. It stood to reason that guys would have rituals of their own, entirely different in form and structure, but ultimately for the same purpose. Unfortunately, I realized, that would likely not involve me, just as trips to the spa did not generally involve guy-friends. Even though I couldn't participate, however, I could help set it up. “Right,” I said, nodding and pulling a pad of paper towards me and awkwardly starting a list – I still wasn't used to hooves and telekinesis. “What's your parent's number? I need to call them.”

Luke blanched at the thought. “What? No! No, he wouldn't like that at all, I think the fewer people who knew, the better-”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not about that, silly! I need them to bring over your games and stuff, and some drinks.”

Luke cocked his head, confused for a moment, but then it finally dawned on him. “Ooooooh. Right. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Let's see...”

He scooted to my side of the table as we brainstormed. I kept pushing for more bells and whistles while he insisted on simplicity, but ultimately left it to him; it was, after all, his party.


***


I was alone. That was okay; I needed a bit of time alone. I doubted the others would approve or even understand, but it was the best and only idea I had.

I hated myself. I had to vent that hate.

After making sure there was no one nearby for miles, I got to work. It would get noisy. That was also okay; I didn't mind the noise. The abandoned quarry was perfect for what I intended. I placed my hooves firmly on the hard-packed dirt, my horn glowing with power as I levitated several large rocks into a loose shape. That done, I focused on the Order within the stones and told them to reassemble into a more regular shape, to crystallize and grow into the form I desired. They obeyed me with surprising alacrity and ease; though I was badly out of practice, the rock amalgamated and crystallize into the rough shape of a unicorn. The only thing that distinguished it from other unicorns was the wickedly curved horn standing proudly upon its head.

I nodded grimly as I looked over my work – it would do.

'This is stupid,' a part of me thought tiredly. I could not disagree. Stupid as it was, though, I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. I thought back, closing my eyes. It hurt. I pressed on, and gradually relaxed.

“Why didn't you come clean?” I finally muttered. “Why did you listen to him? You could have gone to the Princesses and told them what happened, they were always looking for your best interests. They would have understood. But, no; you listened to a monster, one that wanted to destroy you and everything you worked for... Idiot!” 

It was awkward at first, talking to a pile of unicorn-shaped rubble, but it grew easier as I continued. I trotted forward and kicked it with a hoof, glaring at it with disgust. It wobbled, but did not fall. “You were too proud, that's what you were. You didn't want to admit they were right when they banished you, and you weren't willing to go to them when you needed help. You were just too damn full of yourself. What? Nothing to say?” I growled, my horn flashing as I gave the statue a mental push. It skidded across the stone several feet before toppling over, one of its legs breaking off with a dry crack. It wasn't enough.

“What the FUCK were you thinking?!” I snarled. “Oh, wait, I know what you were thinking – I was there! Alright; maybe the Duchess deserved what happened to her. Let's put that on the backburner for now.” I stomped towards the fallen statue with growing determination; the voice that insisted I was being silly had fallen blessedly silent. “What about the guards?” I snorted with growing anger. “What about the business owners, or the journalists, or the ponies that dared to stand up to you? What about the stallions, mares, and foals who’s LIVES you took away, forcing them to serve you? Did THEY deserve it, huh? HUH!?” I gritted my teeth, focusing my will as I put enough kinetic energy into the stone effigy to blast it clear across the quarry. It cracked to pieces upon the far wall, but I was right next to it after the rubble settled – blink, and I was there. I paused only to force the pieces back into shape before continuing.

“What about the dragon?!” I shouted, my horn glowing brightly. “He was a whelp – barely more than a hatchling! You killed him! He was already crippled, he'd never fly again! You killed a crippled child, you heartless bastard!” Fire lanced from my horn, blackening the hard surface. It started to crackle and pop from heat shock and trapped moisture, but I didn't relent.

“And what about Celestia?” I hissed. “The mare who practically raised you? Did you feel even a moment of guilt, a moment's hesitation? No! You only cared about yourself! You were too afraid to die, and you didn't care who you hurt to get what you wanted!” I was forced to step back as molten rock started to pool below the melting statue, but I wasn't done. 

“Everyone else was just a tool to you, weren't they?” I shouted, pouring my anger into the spell. What I'd done in the backyard of Mary's house was crude and inefficient; I had centuries of terrible experience and hated knowledge to draw on. “Answer me you fucker! Name one time you cared about anyone but yourself! ONE TIME you valued THEIR well-being over your own! Oh, not once? BIG FUCKING SURPRISE!”

I panted, running out of words, but continued to blast it with searing fire even after it was an unrecognizable puddle of slag. Even then I did not stop; I continued to burn it away powdery tracks of salt began to appear beneath my eyes, the remnants of tears blasted away by the heat. I only ceased when I couldn't maintain the power any longer, and collapsed. Nothing was alright, I thought, squeezing my eyes shut and sobbing in earnest, my eyes still stinging from the roiling heat. It didn't feel like anything would be alright for a long, long time. 

Hours passed. At some point I climbed to my hooves – I don't remember when. Night was beginning to fall. With a guilty jolt, I realized that Mary and Luke were probably worrying about me. I'd gone off without a word or warning; once again, I'd only thought about myself. I hoped they weren't too worried. Even if they weren't, though, I needed to get back and... And apologize. Yes. I needed to apologize to them. 

I looked about, and frowned at the molten crater. It wouldn't do to leave things like that; the quarry was abandoned, but that puddle of molten rock wouldn't cool for days, perhaps weeks. Someone could come by in the meantime and get hurt – the last thing I wanted was one more poor choice weighing me down with guilt. I stood back, concentrating on the wall of earth above it, and buried it in what I hoped would be mistaken for a rock-slide. That done, I closed his eyes and concentrated on Mary's backyard...


***


“What'd you tell your parents?” Mary asked, cocking her head curiously.

I just waved a hoof. “I just told them James had a bit of a breakdown from everything that's been happening. Which, well – technically true,” I said easily, carefully pouring a bag of ice into the waiting ice bucket. I had to be careful not to knock down the wide array of drinks arranged around said bucket; we had everything from brandy to vodka, and even a few things for mixers. “I didn't say anything about, well, what we are, you know? That would probably just complicate things.” I shook my head and smiled wryly – and immediately regretted it as I spilled a small shower of ice onto the table. I yelped in surprise, carefully trying to shore up the rest of it, before continuing. “I might have come from magical pony land, but as far as I'm concerned I'm still me, and they're still my parents.” I set the bag aside and settled on the couch, awkwardly fiddling with a game controller until I managed to power on the system. “I'm just worried about how we'll handle the controllers – I don't exactly have fingers and thumbs anymore.”

“Don't worry,” she chuckled, “I'm sure you'll both suck equally bad.” There were two pizzas waiting nearby – one sausage and black olive, the other mushroom and pineapple – but that was the extent of the vittles. Beyond that, the purpose of the night was to get so drunk that tongues wagged and hearts eased. Luke was already nursing a drink, wanting to get a mild buzz in preparation, and was trying (and failing) to make it through the single-player campaign to get used to his new 'no finger' setup. Mary went to her room soon after, apparently deciding not to join us. It might have been nice to have her, but I supposed she wasn't much for videogames and hard liquor. 

I was making slow progress in the single-player campaign. I even had to bump it down to normal difficulty until I could 'get gud' again, and suspected there would be few headshots in my future. I was only halfway through the first level when there was a flash like a breaking light-bulb from the kitchen. I didn't look up from the game, though; I kept my eyes fixed on the screen, and only gave my brother a lazy wave as he trudged past. A minute later I heard the shower running, and briefly wondered what James had been up to that he needed one. A macabre thought occurred to me, and before I realized it I was hastily scanning the floor, expecting a trail of blood and gore. There was nothing to see, however; I was jumping at ghosts. I only caught a whiff of singed fur and dust, and perhaps something like hot metal – odd, but far from ominous.

I shook my head, clearing it of the paranoid thoughts. James was still James, even if he was occasionally an asshole. Indeed, James was James precisely because he was an asshole. I snickered at the thought, filing it away for later ribbing, and continued to pass the time with the game. There was nothing to do but wait; the bait was laid and the trap was set. Some time later James trudged out of the shower, but I kept my eyes fixed on the screen and kept playing. Almost there...

James took the bait. Soft hoofsteps approached, and then came a cautious sniff. “Pizza?” the unicorn asked. “And... Is that rum?”

I only nodded and took a sip of my own drink, still playing. There was another controller waiting on the far side of the couch. 

My brother stood there for several long moments, looking around cautiously like a wary animal, but still I kept playing. 'Don't freak him out like you did this morning,' I admonished myself. Any moment... 

There. James finally sat down, already adding a few ice cubes to a fresh glass and pouring rum over them. “Thanks,” he muttered, awkwardly picking up his own controller.

The game pinged. “Player 2 has entered the game,” it said in a synthesized voice. I smiled. Hook, line, and sinker. 


***


Two pizzas and most of the remaining rum later, the game had devolved into an attempt to see who could fling their body the farthest post-mortem. So far, the winning combination involved several explosives and a vehicle. I may or not have been 'assisting' my brother in that particular aspect. 

“Asshole!” he snickered, rustling his wings in excitement as his in-game body performing an oddly graceful cartwheel as it careened across the sky. Apparently, landmines were more effective than the more usual explosives. I giggled evilly and spawned several more in.

“Hang on, hang on,” I said, jostling him with a hoof, “lemme get this set up – I wanna see how high the skybox is...” It was time to science.

As it turned out, the skybox wasn't very high at all. The detonation sent the vehicle (or, at least, what remained of it) almost straight into the air, and it bounced an impressive number of times between the invisible ceiling and ground before coming to a rest on the other side of the map. We watched in silent amusement the entire time it bounced, before finally breaking out into another fit of laughter as it settled in a ditch.

Luke struggled to speak through the laughter, and somehow managed it. “...Well, you know what that means,” he snickered, trying and failing to not to fall over. “More dakka!”

I was never one to disagree with 'more dakka', but... “When do we stop, though?” We had to stick to the scientific rigors; after all, how could we reproduce the results unless we knew it was a 'fuckton' or 'metric fuckton' of high explosives?

He grinned in a way that would get a soldier in any real war put on permanent medical leave. “Well, how many can the system handle? Once it starts to lag, we'll know.”

I could not argue with that logic – possibly because the empty bottle of rum was my doing.

We got to work. I wasn't sure it was even possible to lay enough mines to lag the system, not in any reasonable amount of time. After fifteen minutes, however, things seemed to be slowing down. Five minutes past that and the framerate was starting to stutter. Not long after that it started getting too hard to lay down mines. “Think that's enough?” I asked, slowly turning my character around, the frame-rate somewhere below ten fps.

He grinned and nodded, placing a single remote explosive and climbing in. I followed suit, sans the mine. “For 'Merica!” he snickered. I rolled my eyes and shoved him as he pressed the trigger.

Unfortunately, while a few hundred mines could be rendered fairly easily, the system had significantly more trouble rendering the resulting explosions. Our characters, of course, died; little did I know that the grievous sins they committed in life would condemn them to geometry hell. We waited almost a full minute while the machine chugged along, giving us an occasional snapshot of something more befitting an Escher painting, when things finally returned to normal. We both burst out laughing when we saw the results of our experiment; our characters' bodies were stretched to ridiculous portions, the various pieces scattered across the map without rhyme or reason, but still connected by some sort of hyper-stretched textures. The resulting circus-tent effect only became funnier as we looked it over from different angles.

Once we'd had our fill of that particular Cronenberg mess, we finally shut off the console. It was late, and we were both tired – besides, we'd ran out of ideas for competitions or experiments. Luke made his way unsteadily to the recliner, while I spread out across the couch. There was no way either of us would make it to our designated beds, not in our states. I focused, careful to restrict the power, and gently turned off the lights as we settled in for the night.

“That was fun,” I managed to mumble, clumsily flipping a throw-pillow over so I could rest on its cool side. It really had been a fun night, more fun than I'd had since the mess had begun – much better than the preceding day. Then a question popped into my head, unannounced and uninvited. It was a question I'd resolutely ignored when it first occurred to me. The drinks, the pizza, the game-night... He'd apparently set it up just for me. “Why'd ya do all that?” I mumbled, some of my melancholy from earlier returning.

“Do all what?” His voice was muffled – he was probably speaking through a pillow.

I grunted, rolling my eyes, but found myself unable to get too annoyed. “All that rum and pizza and stuff – that was for me, wasn't it?” 

He sighed, rolling over. “Hey, I wanted to have a good time. Are you complaining?”

“No,” I muttered. “...But, would you have done all that if I was doing alright?” It was easier to say it than before, at least.

“...No,” he admitted after an uncomfortable pause. “So what? You're my brother.”

I thought about that for several long moments. “But... But what if I'm not?” I'd said it without thinking, but it was too late. It was out in the open.

To his credit, he didn't miss a beat. “Uh huh. We share the same mom and dad, don't we?”

“Yes, but-”

He plowed on, as only a drunk person can. “Then we're at least siblings – so unless these transformations also caused some sort of horrible downstairs mixup,” he snickered at his own wit, “you also belong to subset 'brother'. I'd have thought a computer nerd could figure that out.”

I ignored his jibe, the thought still gnawing at me. “You barely know me, though!” I grumbled, starting to get annoyed. Why was he so glib about it? “You don't know anything about what I've done!”

He just snickered – the transformations hadn't changed his joy for needling me one bit. “Oh yeah? What'd you do in Pretty Pony Princess land?” he asked. “Did you steal forty cakes? I hear stealing forty cakes is terrible in certain jurisdictions,” he finished.

It's hard to control your impulses when you're drunk, and out of deeply ingrained habit I had to argue with him and prove him wrong. “I tried to kill Celestia,” I blurted out. Momentarily emboldened, I decided to go for broke. “Luna, too.”

He whistled, then was silent for a moment. “Wow. Alright, so that's a thing.” Then he broke into another fit of giggles. “Holy shit, no wonder she was so pissed to see you!” 

I threw a pillow at him, but it only made him laugh harder. Still... It didn't feel so bad, if he was laughing at it too. 

When he finally stopped, he just shook his head. “Look, you're my brother even if you are total asshole,” he said, his speech only slightly slurred. “And Mary? She's your friend, even if you're an asshole to her too. Bottom line, you're an asshole.” He paused. “No. Wait. Yes, you're an asshole, but that's not the bottom line.” He seemed to think for a moment before continuing, this time sighing. “If you tell anyone I said this, I swear I'll dump your computer in the pool. But... We'll be there for you, even when you're an asshole – so you can't run off like that anymore. I was – err, Mary was a little worried.” He coughed, growling as I snickered, but pressed on. “I don't care what you did before; as far as I'm concerned, you're my brother. No matter what. You're an asshole, but you're OUR asshole.”

“...Shit, I wish I'd recorded that,” I snickered. It was my turn to get a pillow to the face.

“Asshole,” he grumbled.

Giggling drunkenly to myself, I relaxed on the couch and stared at the darkened ceiling. It still wasn't pleasant to think about everything I'd done – indeed, some things were outright painful to remember, and probably would be for the rest of my life – but it wasn't debilitating. Besides, I had something at that moment that I didn't have in Equestria, and it would make all the difference if there was any truth to the MLP:FIM franchise. I knew my family and friends would always be there for me. Even if I was an asshole. With a contented sigh, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.


***


I won't say it wasn't awkward at the breakfast table; it was, however, a distinct improvement over the previous day. Without me having a breakdown and the other two having to pick up the pieces, we actually started to get things done. It probably didn't hurt that I'd stopped fighting to be the 'leader' by bullying the other two into following me. In fact, it was almost relaxing to take the 'back seat' for once.

“I'm just glad we can get most of the missing stuff from the veterinary supply store,” Luke said, perusing his own list. He was in charge of the medical side of things, and that combined with his survivalist bent gave him a thorough knowledge of... well, 'alternative' resources. It wasn't legal to buy black-market antibiotics, no; it was perfectly legal, however, to buy antibiotics for your horses. We just happened to be those horses. Other items we already had on-hoof, or at our own house – our parents had been nice enough to drive his car over, and the emergency kit in the back had a good deal of what we needed. He went through each of the items, crossing them off the list as he catalogued them.

Mary was busy cross-checking what he had online, making sure it was at least safe for horses. A few things already had to be discarded; while it was perfectly safe for human bodies, they were toxic to most other animals. Fortunately, the same websites that listed certain ingredients as unsafe for equines usually listed replacements, so most of the items crossed off were filled in with something else. 

And I... Well, I didn't quite know what to do. Ostensibly, I was supposed to be working on the food situation, but that was essentially taken care of; I already had a list of edible flowers and plants common to the region, and we had enough oatmeal to flesh out our meals. There were even a few bags of dried fruits in case of emergency, though I didn't expect it would get that desperate. I'd need to supplement my own meals with protein and occasionally minerals, but that would be easy; I'd already done it before, though I had been half-mad at the time and holed up in a cave...

No. I'd be fine. Worst case, I'd need to purify any of the rough and raw crystals myself, if I came across them; the years spent holed up in a cave taught me how to detect nearby veins. It wouldn't hurt to stock up, though, especially on other gemstones. Quartz and other silica-based minerals formed the basis of my diet, but I'd still need others to replenish vital nutrients – aluminum and iron being the biggest ones, but titanium, zinc, and even a bit of chromium were necessary for good health. And, just like humans, I couldn't digest a lump of potassium metal to get my daily intake. No, I needed them in a regular crystal formation – and the purer the better, just as linked sugars as a starch were healthier than simple sugars in aggregate. 

Fortunately, I had magic on my side. While dragons had historically raided others (particularly Diamond Dogs) for what they needed, I could fabricate it instead. It'd worked in Equestria, after all; weeks of trial and error in that cave had allowed me to purify what I needed from the available materials. Even so, it would be foolish to be caught in the wilderness, starving, only to find that what worked in Equestria didn't work on Earth. Only one thing for it, I thought, and started concentrating.

The sight of my horn glowing clearly startled the other two, and I stopped out of sheer confusion. Why were they... Oh. I blushed sheepishly, realizing that I was once again going to leave without a word. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just need to check something – I'll be back in an hour or so. I'll be fine, and I'll stay out of sight.”

They exchanged a confused look, shrugged, and nodded before going back to work. I disappeared a moment later.


***


The quarry was in the same state as I'd left it. There were no warning markers around the landslide I'd created, so I probably had nothing to fear from prying eyes. The place had run dry for commercial prospects, but any amateur gemologists looking for quartz and its derivatives could have a literal field-day. I thought back to my days spent in that cave in Equestria, trying to remember exactly how I did it, and found it to be relatively simple. The spell was essentially magical sonar attuned to Order; less regular and uniform mineral composites would mostly absorb the excess Order and reflect very little back. The larger and more developed, however, would absorb and resonate with the Order before emitting it in all directions for several moments after. If I 'listened' closely, I could even get an idea of what kind of crystal it was based on the returning pattern. It was simple enough, so I set out and started a methodical search, spiraling out from a starting point so I wouldn't miss anything. 

The first several attempts didn't seem to yield much; I heard a dim ringing from the second one, but pulling it up out of the dirt revealed only a low quality chunk of milky quartz. 'I can find better specimens in Mary's garden,' I thought, casting it aside. On the fourth, however, I detected a much stronger, clearer signal returning. It's 'tone' was similar to the milky quartz I'd heard moments before, but higher pitched. Intrigued, I drew it up out of the ground...

It was dirty, that was to be expected. It didn't even look like much; if I was to guess, the crystals inside had already formed before being pushed into the new amalgamation and cemented together by the material around it. It would suffice for a test run, at least. I got to work.

Breaking it open was simple enough. While rock had amazing compression strength, its tensile strength was markedly low. Since a telekinetic grip could work in any direction, I focused on a fissure and simply pulled outwards. Inside was...

“...Well, that's nice, but not exactly what I came here for...”

I was wrong; it wasn't made of bastard material, it was a fully fledged quartz geode. I grimaced; breaking it open as I had was probably the worst thing you could do to a geode. It should have been cut by a professional. Worse, the material inside was already too pure for me to work work; I couldn't refine it further, it was entirely edible already.

I shook my head in disappointment and set the geode aside for later before continuing my search. I should have checked it before breaking it open, I realized, the same way I had when I lived in that cave. Doing so would have given me a much clearer indication of what was inside without the dirt obscuring the signal. 

I was too hesitant to look through those memories, I realized, picking the next spot. If I was going to avoid mistakes like that – and when it came to magic, that was one of the less costly mistakes to make – I would need to face them in their entirety, and not shy away when they hurt. If I didn't, well... Someone else might get hurt instead. I didn't want to be responsible for that, especially if it hurt someone I cared about. I gulped, sitting down and going back over what I remembered, forcing myself to confront the memory.

'How had he done it?' I wondered. He needed a specific material, he had been starving for it... Aluminum oxide in its sapphire form. It simply wasn't common in the area around his cave, unfortunately for him. He'd known enough of the material to realize it was something like other forms of metals bound up in crystal – aluminum oxide, he abruptly remembered in the memory. He had some scrap aluminum laying about, fortunately; turning it into sapphire, however, was a different story. 

I blinked. It was a detour, but it seemed useful; I wasn't certain how I'd get my hooves on sapphire either, so it could be invaluable knowledge. He had known that sapphire was a simple molecule, a combination of aluminum and oxygen; from there, it was a matter of attempting to force them to react and organize into a crystal. He still needed pure oxygen, however, and Order magic was useful for that. He was able to force the air into its constituent parts, several shielded bubbles dividing in midair. He discarded the greater part of it as unreactive nitrogen. He likewise discarded the other, miniscule bubbles as worthless dross. The remaining bubble of oxygen, however, was insufficient; when he placed the aluminum scrap inside the bubble of air, it failed to react. He had not expected it to; aluminum was, as he recalled, relatively unreactive with the air due to a tiny protective oxide layer. So, he started to heat it. The surface began to collect a small amount of whitish residue, but it was insignificant. Even when fully melted, the specks material just floated to the surface; not only was it too slow, it wasn't combining into an actual crystal. That had frustrated him; it was too little, and he was growing desperate. He thought back to his first attempts at making crystals as a young colt – simple, foalish things, but crystals nevertheless. He had boiled sugar in a small pot, under the watchful eye of the kitchen's chefs, and added more and more sugar until it stopped dissolving. Then, carefully, he'd poured off all of the fluid while leaving the undissolved sugar crystals behind. Then – and this was the epiphany – he'd suspended a tiny seed crystal within the solution, and the sugar in solution had been drawn out and onto that seed. That could work, with some modification, but of course he needed a seed crystal. He ran back to his ill-gotten hoard, desperately searching, until he finally found a tiny sliver of one. It was far too small to eat, but so was the seed crystal. It could still work.

He carefully rested the tiny sapphire upon the molten surface of the aluminum, its opposite surface touching the oxygen. Then, carefully working out the intent of the spell, he infused the tiny shard of sapphire with massive amounts of Order magic to force the materials around it to crystallize into more sapphire, following the seed crystal's structure. It was magic-intensive, but it worked. The dragon in him would be satisfied by the now-digestible form of aluminum. He wouldn't starve in that cave, alone and forgotten...

“And nor will I,” I said aloud, nodding as I filed that memory away for later. The memories were unpleasant, full of evil and selfishness and pride. That, however, was irrelevant; if I wanted to help myself or others, I would have to accept what they had to teach – both what to do, and what not to do. I couldn't flinch away from them any longer.


***

I remained in the quarry for a short while thereafter, turning my attention back to quartz. As I expected, refining quartz into a purer form was a trivial task compared to the wholesale construction of sapphire from its basic elements. I was just there to make sure I could do it on a large enough scale to feed myself. I fished up another chunk, this one actually containing a conglomeration of disparate materials. By the time I'd finished with it, the base material had crumbled away to reveal a few large chunks of well-formed, exceptionally clear quartz crystal. I experimentally nibbled on one and nodded in satisfaction – it tasted fine to me, identical to a small fragment of the geode I'd sampled soon after. I still needed to replicate what I remembered with the sapphire crystal, but that would come later. In any case, I needed a seed crystal and some aluminum for that, and I didn't expect to find either in the quarry. Satisfied I'd done all I could there, I decided to leave early – quartz was abundantly common in nature anyway, so I would only need a small cache in case of emergency. I collected the refined crystals and the fractured geode, and concentrated on Mary's living room –

– And was promptly greeted by screams.

Perhaps I should have chosen a different place to teleport – my appearance could be disquieting at the best of times, especially if I catch the unlucky individual off-guard. In my defense, no one had told my my parents would be there; I belatedly realized they hadn't seen me since before the transformations even started.

> 20 - Of Reunions and Revelations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stood there, petrified as I stared up at my parents, my mind going blank; I'm sure if someone were too look very closely at my eyes, they'd see tiny crash reports staring back at them. Emergency protocols engaged; subroutine 'flee down the hall' executing. I bear no responsibility for what happened next.

I'm blaming Murphy and his law. Without it, Luke would not have walked down the hall at that exact moment. Without it, I wouldn't have ran face-first into him too quickly for either of us to react. Without that damnable law, I might have retained some shred of dignity.

Before I knew what happened I'd flung my brother several feet down the hall, only to land in a crumpled heap. Meanwhile, I wound up on the floor with my legs uncomfortably splayed, the wind knocked out of my barrel. Mary stepped out of her room a few moments later, apparently drawn by the crashes and clamor, and was unprepared for the sight that greeted her; she stared at the two of us for several long moments, bemused, as my brother and I groaned and took stock of the damage. She said not a word as we gradually regained the use of our limbs, and only turned her head slowly, only to find matching looks of shock and bewilderment staring back at her from the living room. Naturally, when she came to terms with the ridiculous, embarrassing, and nonsensical situation, she did the only rational thing left to her.

She ignored it.

“I'll put on some tea,” she said cheerfully, carefully stepping over me and my brother, past our bewildered parents, and into the safe-haven of the kitchen. She was the smart one. 

I turned to my brother, struggling to my hooves and glowering. “This is somehow your fault, I know it,” I grumbled, massaging my aching snout.

“Bite my feathery ass,” he hissed in retaliation, stretching a sore wing.

It was in this manner that my parents saw the 'new me'. Mr. Murphy, I would like to talk to your manager.


***


After the initial... catastrophe, yes, that's a good word – things went relatively smoothly. At least, it was impossible to go downhill from there, so everything else seemed much better by comparison. Mary was kind enough to bring out two ice-packs, and my brother and I looked over our respective bruises while reclining in a pair of beanbags chairs. Our parents had already settled on the couch, looking distinctly uncomfortable and out of sorts. Mom was the first to speak.

“Sorry about that sweetie,” she said, and I grimaced at the nickname. Even so, it was oddly comforting; she still called me 'sweetie' even after seeing me. She still thought of me as her son – at least I had that. “We weren't expecting you to... well, just appear like that. We certainly didn't mean to surprise you like we did.”

“How'd you do that, anyway?” my dad asked with a frown. I turned to my brother, narrowing my eyes – how much had he told them? Luke just shrugged, however, and I sighed. I'd have to give away as little as possible. As far as I knew, my parents still thought this was all an accident – that we'd freakishly turned into ponies one day for no clear reason. I didn't want to break them of that misconception... Not yet.

“How much has Cad- Mary, told you?” I mumbled around the ice pack, my snout still smarting. “Just for a frame of reference.”

Apparently, the answer was 'very little' – she hadn't even performed basic levitation in front of them, and had only mentioned in passing that unicorns could do 'magic' – which they clearly dismissed as a euphemism or a metaphor. “Is that what you are, then?” dad asked hesitantly after I briefly explained what a unicorn was, and roughly what they could do. “A unicorn?” He seemed to be struggling with the concept, and I couldn't blame him; I'd lived through it, and even I found it hard to swallow.

It wasn't going to get easier though, I thought as I weighed my options. “Sort of,” I muttered. “I'm pretty sure I'm part dragon, too...”

Both of them blinked at that, and grew noticably more pale. “Dragon?” Mom asked faintly. At least she hadn't fainted yet.

I nodded, trying to remain patient as I let them take it in. It had to come, sooner or later, and it wasn't their fault I was like this. I took a deep breath and continued, biting the bullet. “Yes, I appear to be some sort of hybrid between unicorn and dragon.” That was, as far as I knew, the truth. Their blank, disbelieving looks, however, spoke volumes – I wasn't going to make any progress like that. I sighed, rubbing the spot between my eyes, and settled on a visual demonstration. “Hang on,” I muttered, spotting the geode beside me, and built up a charge in my horn, and gently started levitating it. They gasped when it started to glow, of course, so I let it fade and fixed them with what I hoped was a patient stare.

They watched in shocked silence as a chunk of quartz floated into the air as if on its own, faintly glowing. As it floated there without any visible means of support, I explained to them the basic concepts of unicorn telekinesis – carefully staying away from the advanced thaumic theories surrounding it and sticking exclusively to what could be known or reasonably inferred from the show. 

They hadn't fainted yet – another good sign. Encouraged, I further explained how dragons required crystals and gemstones for sustenance, and carefully placed the crystal into my mouth, between my back molars, and crunched down on it like rock candy. “See? Perfectly safe – no bleeding or anything,” I said, still chewing the grit to a fine powder. 'Perhaps I'll make a slideshow presentation,' I thought dourly as I swallowed. 'Save myself some time.'

I then explained how I apparently had a greater affinity for certain kinds of magic than Mary did, and I that I could teleport. The last, while not an outright lie, was very much a deception; the two statements, though phrased as if one logically followed the other, were not actually related. It was true that Mary and I would certainly specialize in different forms of magic; it did not follow that my specialization granted me any special affinity for teleportation. Even though the deception was necessary, I didn't feel any better about it – especially when they trusted my word without comment.

Mary finally gave me a reprieve, carefully balancing a tray of tea on her back, and stood beside my parents so they could take it. They did so gratefully, and I think we were all glad for the reprieve – it was a lot for them to take in, and it was difficult to decide exactly how much I could tell them.

Mom wiped her mouth with a napkin as she collected herself. “That's... quite a lot to take in,” she said, slowly rotating her cup as if deep in thought. “I hadn't realized... This doesn't sound like any sort of mutation, if you can do all...” She faltered.  

I froze, thinking quickly. Of course, she'd realize it wasn't a mutation. After that little display of, well, magic, she had to realize that something else was going on. Mutations didn't give you magic; they gave you cancer. I looked to the others, hoping for support, but neither one seemed willing. Apparently it was up to me to reveal or conceal.

“Someone... changed us,” I finally said. “We're sure of that. We're not sure why he did it, but we believe he is immensely powerful and utterly demented. We've all seen him in our dreams, and I don't know what else he intends to do.” More half truths. I flicked my eyes to the others, desperately wanting support, and they hesitantly nodded. 

Once again, my parents had bought it. Mom exchanged a glance with dad as it sank in. She cleared her throat, seeming to work up the nerve to say what was bothering her. “So, you three still plan to leave?” Her voice cracked on the last word. Dad looked grim as well, and gently squeezed her free hand in his. 

I fell silent, realizing the problem as I tried to see it from their point of view. I hadn't even considered how much it would hurt our parents if we left like that – suddenly, due to danger, into an unknown situation and dubious circumstances. Mom would have the hardest time, I realized; she was usually depressed a day or two after coming home from visiting her family, as she already missed her. For both sons to leave and completely drop out of communication for time unknown, perhaps never to return...

I gulped. So that was why they came over – or why she did, anyway. This was going to be harder than I thought. “I'm so sorry,” I muttered, blinking away the heat behind my eyes. “We just can't stay... It won't be safe for us here. We have to stay on the move; if he's hunting us down, he'll eventually find us if we stay in one place. I'm not even sure I'll be able to visit; once the government cracks down on people like us, any missing persons will be suspects. The sooner we leave, the better our chances are.”

“So... That's it, then.” She sniffed, looking more forlorn than I'd ever seen her before. “You're all going away into hiding, and we might never see any of you ever again... Is – is that the gist of it?” Her voice had a flat, broken quality to it, and tears coursed silently down her face. I didn't know how to handle that; I couldn't do anything about it, and I couldn't bear it. I couldn't tell her everything would be okay; if we ran into Discord, at least one of us was likely to die – probably me, as I was the biggest threat. I couldn't tell her when we'd be back; it might be years before ponies were recognized as people and granted full Constitutional protection, and that was just in America. Staying put them in danger; leaving would break their hearts. So, I sat there, struggling to find words of encouragement but finding none, an ache steadily growing in my chest. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know-

Luke, ever impulsive, climbed to his hooves. “Alright, since you won't do it,” he muttered, crouching for a moment, then sprang onto the couch with a single beat of his wings. Mom gasped as he landing lightly beside her, only to be cut short as he tried his best to give her a hug. He wrapped a wing around her protectively, and even gave her a brief nuzzle. “It's okay mom,” he said, his cheeks turning crimson as he tried to comfort her. “We're not helpless – we can handle ourselves. We'll fix this, somehow.” Dad joined in a moment later, gently hugging his wife and son.

At least they had Luke, I thought, unable to quell that tinge of bitterness. He didn't have to lie to them; he was, as far as I knew, innocent. He could comfort them without feeling like it was a lie, without having to hide anything. They didn't deserve the pain of the truth... And, well, I didn't deserve them. I flattened my ears, starting to slink away, but... Wouldn't that be just as bad? They had raised me and given me a second chance, even if they didn't realize it. I struggled, pushing the guilt away, and made my way towards them; they were there for me, and I was going to be there for them. I bit the bullet and tried to offer what comfort I could.

Even as I tried, however, physics was not cooperating; I paced awkwardly around the edges, trying to find an opening, but there didn't appear to be one. I couldn't easily hop up like Luke had, and hugging a leg seemed strange and awkward, a halfheated gesture-

My thoughts were cut short as a hand carefully grabbed the nape of my neck and lifted me in among them. “Erp?” was all I could manage in in my confusion; apparently, dad had seen me struggling, and helped. I blushed, but he just smiled and thumped my back, pulling me in so I could properly hug the others. I winced instinctively at the closeness; the better part of me was uncomfortable with any sort of affection like that. It didn't like the vulnerability, and wanted nothing more than to pull away and find someplace cool and dark to forget about the whole mess – perhaps joke about it later, but even that was another layer of armor. A week ago I might have done exactly that. Another part of me, however, told the first part to shut up and deal with it. They needed this, I realized, and like it or not I needed it too. We were a family – it was normal to be close, I told myself. Gradually I relaxed and joined them – being careful of my horn, of course – and eventually managed to get my forelegs partway around them. Something eased inside me – not completely, but it was a comfort. Liquid pride may or may not have been present. I blushed, closing my eyes, resenting the necessity of the deceptions. I'd have to tell them at some point, I realized. It might not be for a long time, it might not be until all the mess was over and the truth came out already, but I'd-

FLASH *whirrr-click*

I froze, shocked and betrayed as I recognized the synthesized sound of a phone's camera flashing, and looked for its source. I couldn't quite believe what I saw; there stood Mary, an impish grin on her face as she held a camera aloft in her forelegs, somehow having managed to snap a picture of us without the use of fingers. “Sorry,” she giggled, “that was too adorable to pass up.” She turned and fled to her room, cackling in a surprisingly villainous manner the whole way there, and locked the door behind her.

I slowly turned to my brother, and a silent pact was formed in that moment. We fell away as one, landing gracelessly on the floor and making our way towards the common enemy. He was the first to the door, and pummeled it furiously with his hooves. I joined him shortly thereafter. 

“Mary!” I shouted through the door, “I am SERIOUSLY reconsidering my position on regicide!”

“Hey, I got here first, I get dibs!” Luke growled, now suspended a few feet above the ground as he pressed his forelegs against the door and his hind legs against the far wall.

Mom and dad were no help at all; they simply chuckled from the couch, having no dog in the fight, and watched.

When we finally managed to force our way in, I nabbed the phone and searched for where she could have stored the damning photo. I found it eventually, and immediately deleted it. Just to be sure, I checked for copies. There were indeed a few – apparently Mary had gotten crafty as well, and had been in the process of composing a picture message to send to one of her email accounts. I glowered, but she only pouted and frowned as if I had spoiled her fun. Neither me nor my brother were moved by her crocodile tears, and Luke joined in the glower before promptly hitting the delete button.

“Awww,” she huffed, sitting back and crossing her forelegs over her barrel, “it's not like it was going on facebook or anything – I just, you know, wanted a memento...” I rolled my eyes and grumbled, shaking my head and hoping that her behavior was due to Cadance and her unique association with love, rather than something that applied to mares in general.


***


With that bit of nonsense finally under control, we made our way back out to the kitchen and found our parents already making lunch. They seemed to be in much better spirits, at least. This, however, came with an unfortunate side-effect, one I should have been prepared for. I hadn't accounted for how many terrible puns dad could make about minerals and/or horses when the mood struck him. My only solace was that I was not alone in my suffering. 

When we finished lunch – a simple salad, though the omnivores in the group added some bacon bits to their bowls – we went back to planning and packing. I'd had enough of touchy-feelies for one day, and was eager to get back to doing something material and productive. I thought back to my foray into the quarry, and pondered. I still needed access to a reliable source of sapphire. While relatively common in Equestria, I would have to rely on synthesizing the material myself, somehow. I considered that... If I could create raw sapphire out of essentially aluminum and magic (oxygen being freely available, of course), I'd be set. Not only that, it was a potentially lucrative venture. Of course, selling it could be an issue; we'd almost certainly need to work with 'underground' elements, at least until the governmental situation was resolved favorably. Even if I sold it at half the retail value, however, the profit margin would be excellent. Perhaps we could stay for a bit longer, at least until we had turned this half-cocked expedition into a well-funded one...

But first, I needed proof of concept. Alright; to start, I'd need aluminum and a small sample of relatively pure sapphire, right? I nodded – simple enough. A rock hound like myself had access to all sorts of raw minerals, and I already knew of the piece I needed. Unfortunately, the sapphire I had in mind was still at my house.

“Hey guys?” I told the room in general. “I need to pick up some things from my room – I think I'll need them for the trip.” They accepted it willingly enough. 

Dad took out his car-keys, already planning out the logistics of a car trip. “I guess we can go now,” he said, considering, “but you'd have to ride in the trunk – I'll drive slow, don't worry. I can back into the garage and you can pop in when the coast is clear.” I blinked, bemused, and pointed at my horn. Still he continued. “In fact, I think it might be better to go at night-”

“Dad?” I interrupted, pointing more emphatically. “I don't think that will be necessary.”

He blinked for a few moments, confused, then it dawned on him. He nodded, chuckling sheepishly. “Right, I forgot... Yeah, that works too.”

I forced a smile and disappeared. It wasn't his fault that his son was a centuries old unicorn mage from another universe.


***


I reappeared a moment later in my room, and took a moment to collect my thoughts. As I looked everything over, I realized it might be the last time I ever saw it. I briefly wondered how the next few years would go. 'Assuming we survive long enough to enjoy it,' came the unbidden afterthought. Perhaps, I thought rancorously as I looked for a particular velvet pouch, the government would find some use for ponies and put them into labor camps. I snarled at the idea. 'Good luck with that,' I thought, imagining all of the various ways I could maim or kill anyone trying to cage myself or my friends. I chuckled darkly at a particularly vicious mental image, savoring it... Then stopped. I'd been away from my family for less than a minute, and I was already contemplating brutal killing? I pushed the thoughts away – after seeing myself at my darkest, I didn't want to go back to how I was before. Even if I had to kill in defense of myself or family, I didn't want to relish the bloodshed; I wanted to put an end to that chapter of my life.

I forced my mind back to the task at hand; I still needed that sapphire. I continued digging for the elusive velvet bag. Some mineral samples and gemstones were too small to easily display; the sapphire, I remembered, was nestled in among several of them, and soon I found the bag and fished it out. It was small – a flake the size of a pea and only a few millimeters thick, and wasn't very pure in the first place, but it would be sufficient for my purposes. After a quick purification – that spell was becoming second nature – I carefully wrapped the tiny sapphire fragment in a paper towel and stowed it. 

“And now, aluminum... Where can I get a large amount of aluminum...” That was altogether more tricky. The frame of my bed was painted iron, I was reasonably sure; a quick test with a magnet confirmed that theory. There might have been some aluminum in the recycle bin, but my family wasn't that big on soda – I'd be lucky to find a single can. I considered my options, and shrugged. Later, I might need to find a better source; for the moment I only needed proof-of-concept, and some aluminum foil would be sufficient. I dug a few rolled up balls out of the recycle bin and carried them with me into the backyard, and filled up several buckets with water from the spigot. 

I reviewed the steps in my mind, making sure I had everything and knew every part of the process – I would only have one shot, as the sapphire likely wouldn't survive the process if something went wrong.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, “first thing's first... separate the air into its constituent components, and identify the oxygen.” The spell, I remembered, was simple enough to conceptualize, but somewhat tricky to perform due to air's naturally chaotic nature; even still air naturally trended towards a mixed distribution, destroying any order applied to the system almost as soon as it was created. Fortunately, the water acted as a barrier to prevent exactly that. 

Just as I remembered, the larger air bubble separated into two larger ones and a plethora of tiny ones, and I held them below the surface with little effort. I let the latter bubble up to the surface, a waste product, and scrutinized the other two. The larger of the two, I suspected, was nitrogen; I lit a match and let a portion bubble to the surface, causing the match to flicker and die; doing the same with the smaller bubble caused the match to flare up. I nodded, satisfied; the smaller of the two was, as expected, reasonably pure oxygen. 

“Alright,” I muttered to myself, “now... Wait. Dammit.” I groaned, shaking my head as I realized my error. The aluminum foil was already used, and besides whatever laminate or other additives, it doubtless had some other impurities from the food it contained. Heating the aluminum to melting point in a limited-oxygen environment would most likely just burn the residues and turn the oxygen into carbon dioxide. With a sigh, I released the bubble of oxygen and turned my attention to the aluminum foil balls, crushing them together in the air and slowly heating them until they were a uniform liquid mass. The remainder of the carbonized food and other impurities burned away in the process, and I manually removed the dross.

“That could have ended badly,” I grumbled, quenching the ball of aluminum in the water and letting it fall to the bottom and repeating the air-separation process. Ready to try again I levitated the solid mass of aluminum into the bubble's center and started heating it back to a molten state, watching it carefully. Soon it accumulated a dull, dust-like layer on its surface, one that cracked and floated like ice floes, in turn exposing more of the molten metal beneath, which likewise grew cloudy and dull... “Good,” I muttered. The molten metal was rapidly forming a layer of aluminum oxide, so I had the right environment to form raw sapphire. Now I just needed to be very, very careful with the next step.

I unwrapped the tiny sapphire from its wrapping and gently levitated it, passing it through the protective layer of water and towards the surface of the molten metal. And now the tricky part... On top of maintaining both the oxygen-bubble and the floating glob of aluminum (the latter also requiring constant heat to maintain the metal's fluid state) I had to weave a two-part spell around the sapphire as it made contact with the molten aluminum. The first was to catalyze the reaction of the aluminum with the oxygen to create the necessary aluminum oxide; the second, to encourage its crystallization around the seed, using the latter as its template for continued growth. In theory, I had done it many times before...

In practice, I nearly ruined it all by dropping the sapphire into the molten aluminum. With a yelp I released the more complex spell and pulled the tiny crystal out of the fluid mass, making sure it hadn't been damaged. I sighed with relief – it was fine. Once I'd calmed down, I tried again – this time making sure to keep the components in place while I wove the more complex spells together.

Finally, it worked; I watched in fascination as the tiny crystal started to grow while the aluminum blob and bubble of oxygen shrank down. Eventually the bubble was too small to continue reacting and the process fizzled out, the remaining aluminum fizzling and cooling against the underside of the much larger, clear sapphire crystal. I lifted the treasure out of the water bath, and examined it. I could see the tiny speck of blue within, the original seed crystal, but it was dwarfed by the clear sapphire surrounding it. Without the iron and titanium impurities, the archetypical blue of the sapphire was not present in the new growth. I wondered briefly if that could be corrected even as I magically scored the crystal and broke it off along the line. A taste confirmed it; it was, indeed, pure and solid sapphire. Exactly what I needed. Satisfied with the results, I carefully wrapped up the remainder and concentrated on Mary's backyard. 
> 21 - Of Reclusion and Rescue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, selling pure sapphire crystal for a profit was unfeasible; no of us knew anyone associated with the black market, and having mom and dad sell it, even under-the-table, was too risky. Still, Luke knew of a place to get raw aluminum; there was a recycling place near our shop where the homeless people frequented, collecting recycleables and exchanging them for money to buy... well, usually drink. Dad said he'd buy a few pounds when he next went out, and I could convert it to 'food' over the next few days. Before we left. Into the unknown. Possibly for good, never to see our homes or family again

As the date drew nearer and nearer, the full weight of the situation started to settle on me. We were going to leave society entirely, and all of the creature comforts therein. Food was probably going to be sporadic, sleeping would be done without mattresses or any real shelter, and most electronics would be a faint memory. Worst of all, however... no internet. Even if we could keep our phones reliably charged, any governmental agency could easily track us; reluctantly, we left them behind.

The three of us conferred together over the next few days, and decided that setting up a permanent shelter anywhere was a bad idea; we had to keep moving around to minimize the evidence of our presence. We would also move to new locations by means of teleportation, as that was the quickest and easiest way to do so; not all of us could fly, and I could move the others one-by-one along with me as needed. A quick side-along teleport was proof of concept, though Luke was left nauseous from the trip. Repeated attempts began to get him used to the experience, and soon we were able to do so without any problems. At the same time I started trying to teach Mary more about teleportation, explaining the underpinning magical theory and concepts, but it didn't seem to help. If anything it only seemed to confuse her more; belatedly I realized that she didn't have the concepts in her mind yet, the same concepts that a schoolfilly would have been drilled in long before she levitated her first bauble. I schooled myself to patience with her; considering she'd only had magic for such a short time, it was impressive she could even use that. 

The night before we had to leave was a somber affair; no one talked much, and I don't think anyone paid much attention to what they ate or what they did. Even so, it went by much too fast for my liking; I soon found myself settling in for the night, browsing the internet for a few more precious minutes before I'd have to leave it for the foreseeable future. I posted a 'goodbye' post to a few forums, claiming I'd be touring the world for a few months with some friends, establishing my alibi. The others did the same for their various forms of social media. All too soon I had to put my laptop away, and closed my eyes. The next moment, it seemed, it was early morning – the sun was just a faint gray glow on the horizon. We had to leave. Luke and I said goodbye to our parents, hugging them as best we could, and then we were gone. I stood beside my brother and my friend, looking about the empty wilderness, and set up camp without a word.


***


I had expected to be busy most of the day, foraging for food, but with our new pony biologies we found that much of the vegetation was edible. We still had to watch for a few plants, of course, but a nibble on the known poisonous ones left an acrid, bitter, unpalatable taste in our mouths that we spit out immediately. It seemed our bodies already knew what wasn't good for eating. I didn't have a much harder time finding the protein portion of my diet, as wild game in the form of rabbits was plentiful. Gripping them telekinetically from afar and lifting them into the air rendered them helpless; a quick twist of the neck put them out of their misery. Indeed, it was more difficult to render the carcass in the meat than it was to actually get the carcass to begin with. I grimaced, carefully working my knife under its skin to remove its pelt, then removed its gut-sack and let it fall to the ground. It was something I'd done plenty of times before, if not on Earth; my past-self had to hunt for his own food after his defeat, and that gave him plenty of practical knowledge on the subject. When it was naught but muscle and bone, I started roasted it with magical heat. We were too close to town to risk a fire, and I didn't feel much like building one up anyway. I ate it then-and-there, not wanting to attract the attention of bears or other wild creatures, and tossed the bones aside... and wondered what to do with the rest of my day.

I wandered back to our tiny camp, and found no one there; apparently Luke and Mary had gone off to fly. At least we were far enough from town that they would probably be mistaken for a bird... probably. Even for the risks, it was a good idea. Soarin had been a Wonderbolt of significant skill; it would be good for Luke to re-learn some of that if we ever encountered Discord in the mismatched flesh. As for Mary, I had no idea what kind of a flier she would be, but it couldn't hurt to learn. As for myself... well, I had centuries of knowledge, but I was out of practice – badly out of practice, if I once had the skill to take on both Princesses at once and nearly win... I shuddered, pushing the memory away. That knowledge had cost me dearly; it would be a waste to not put it to use.

Where to start, I wondered silently, hemming and hawwing over the various fields of magic. Eventually, I settled on a simple scriven enchantment; it was the “baking soda volcano” of magical research, something young colts and fillies would do when first introduced to enchanting, but it was both crude and effective. Moreover, it could be done with readily available resources. I set to work, looking for thaumically conductive and thaumically resistive materials, and settled on a bit of powdered quartz and some river clay, respectively.

I started by shaping the clay into the best sphere I could manage, smoothing it until it was a smooth clay ball. That done, I began lining the quartz into specific, stable formations; they did not need to be touching, but they needed to be as close as possible. I continued the pattern across the surface and made sure it was as even as possible; a tiny spark of magic identified gaps or incongruities, which I corrected. I was making a 'popper' – a simple foal's trick, but a good place to start. The idea was to store as much thaumic potential energy into the system as possible, like spinning up a CD to high speeds; I would then crack in the CD, or in this case the configuration of the storage medium, which would hopefully result in a destructive burst of energy comparable to a cherry bomb. Once the crystals were aligned as best as I could manage, I heat-hardened the clay and verified it was still in alignment. That done, set it on the dirt, retreated several feet, and started charging it from a distance. 

It never looked any different to the naked eye, but I could feel it 'humming' with magical power by the time I'd finished pouring energy into the matrix. At that point, if any of the crystals shifted too far out of alignment the whole thing would be ruined; the clay ball would become extremely hot for a few moments, possibly even turning to molten slag as the energy slowly released, but that would be the extent of it. No, I wanted a boom – the energy release had to be sudden. Chuckling, I carefully levitated the ball... and chucked it against a large rock about fifty feet away.

The retort was as loud as a gunshot, and the blast itself was accompanied by polychromatic flash of thaumic-turned-kinetic energy. I grinned, wondering if this is how the Mythbusters crew felt when they got to work with explosives, and trotted closer to inspect the blast site. The damage was mostly superficial, no more than a few scratches and some scorch marks; as I expected, it was approximately equivalent to a cherry bomb. 

I grinned like a colt in a candy shop, my boredom forgotten, and scooped up another lump of clay to make another popper... and I would have made an even larger one, had I not heard panicked talking coming from our campsite. Frowning, I quietly approached and listened carefully, hiding behind some bushes. When I was sure it was just Luke and Mary I came out from behind my cover and made my way towards them, shaping the fresh lump of clay into a sphere as I did so. 

“Had a nice flight?” I asked, grinning broadly as I stepped into view, eager to show off my new 'toy'. 

The flinched, surprised at my sudden appearance but evidently relieved. “We thought you'd been shot!” Mary said, sighing with relief. Luke, however, was distinctly annoyed.

“What the hell was that? We thought some shot you!” he said, looking around nervously as if expecting Elmer Fudd to come out of the undergrowth. 

I frowned, levitating the simple lump of clay. “I was just doing... experiments,” I said. “See?” I started to push the quartz powder into the surface, shaping it as I had before. At their nonplussed expressions, I sighed and continued working as I explained what it was and, roughly, how it worked.

Luke mulled over it for a few moments, and grudgingly mumbled, “...Alright, yeah, that's pretty tits. Can I try the next one, or is it a 'unicorns only' thing?” 

Even as I considered ways to stabilize it further for safe handling, Mary broke in – and it was her turn to be annoyed. “What?! No! No more explosions! What if someone heard? They could be on their way right now!”

I blushed. In my boredom, I hadn't considered that. “I... Yeah, that could be a problem. It was just one, though, so we should be okay – it was too sudden, no one will know where it came from. They'll probably just think some kids are fooling around with firecrackers.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Fine. But, please, just no more explosions until we're far away from civilization.” I sheepishly agreed, and they went back to fly while I looked for something quieter to work on. 


***


The next month passed in much the same manner; I would hone my magical capabilities, and Luke would practice flying and the various skills involved. Surprisingly, I didn't miss the creature comforts as much as I had expected; my tough hide was as at-home on a pile of rocks as it was on a soft bed, and the other two were able to fashion simple hammocks out of cloud. However, while they were able to roughly manipulate clouds, it wasn't with the finesse and skill I remembered as commonplace among pegasi; something was missing. I tried to convey to them what I knew of pegasus magic, insisting it was possible them to move and reshape clouds on a large-scale, but I didn't expect much success on that front. Unicorn magic was an act of mind and will, and was largely taught. Earth pony magic was mostly inherent to their body and could not be 'switched off', as evidenced by the verdant grass around where Mary slept (for, indeed, she was all three races in one). However, pegasus magic was predominantly an act of the instinct. It had to be felt, and was as much an aspect of the body as of the mind – or so I understood it. Either they would get it, or they wouldn't – and I couldn't help him or Mary on that front. They'd just have to feel it out.

Mary split her 'training time' roughly equally between flying and practicing magic, and I once again had to school myself to patience explaining basic thaumaturgical principles to her. It was difficult, at first; I had to beak down concepts I took as basic knowledge and explain it as best as I could, as she was basically a blank slate. In time, however, some of it seemed to 'click' – what she could feel and sense became clearer as she associated it with the concepts and terms, just as people can discern colors more easily when they can name them distinctly. We were... Well, happy, and we were starting to remember our skills.

Unfortunately, things didn't stay tranquil for long; when we retired to our tents one evening and drifted off to sleep, we found an unwelcome guest waiting in our dreams. 

“Ooooh hello my little ponies!” the mishmash monster chuckled, leering down at us. All three of us found ourselves in a garishly colored mockery of our campsite, every shape twisted as though by funhouse mirrors. “Enjoying your little camp? I'm sure yours is a good deal better than the camp holding the others...”

I groaned – apparently Luna was too busy to shield us from him, or was otherwise incapacitated... “Whatever you came here for, we're not playing along,” I grumbled, glowering up at Discord. 

He theatrically slapped a hand over his chest, adopting an offended expression so fake a foal could see through it. “Really now,  you wound me! And to think I was trying to help... Well, I suppose you don't want to hear what kind of camps the other ponies are locked up in,” he said, turning to leave. 

He was right, I didn't. Not from him, anyway; I didn't trust a word that came out of his lopsided mouth. I was fully ready to pinch myself awake, or do whatever I could to leave that nightmare, but Mary... 

“Wait!” she called to his retreating form, “What other ponies?”

“Don't encourage him!” I hissed, but it was too late; with a maneuver that can only be compared to a condom reversing itself through its own ring, Discord stood snout-to-snout with a suddenly unnerved Mary. She took a step back, but it was too late. 

“Why, the other ponies, of course,” he crooned, keeping pace with her and cocking his head. “The crystal ones. You know – your subjects,” he then nodded towards me and smirked, “and his slaves.”

I bristled, glowering, and gently tried to pull Mary away. “It's a trap. It's such an obvious trap, we need to get out of here, don't listen to him-” I hissed, but she cut me off. 

“Of course it is,” she replied darkly, glaring at the mad creature. “Isn't it, Discord?”

He rolled his eyes and snorted, still smirking. “Well, duuuuh! Obviously it's a trap,” he chuckled, amused at his own antics. “But it's also true – and it's not a trap in the way you think.” He tittered darkly before continuing. “Besides, Princess, I know you can't turn this down, it's not in your nature... And nor will you.” He turned to me again, pushing his snout forward and forcing me back, away from the group. He was no longer smirking. “After what you did to them, how can you not? Oh yes, I know you're back,” he reached out and poked at my head before I could avoid it, and I bristled. 

He just chuckled, amused as he continued, slowly pushing me further and further back. “100% certified Sombra. And, dear me, it seems we've switched places, haven't we?” He looked over his shoulder at the other two, leering at them briefly before turning back to me. “Really, it's amusing how these things work out; Are they your Fluttershy? Is that why you're still hanging around them?” He tittered again. “That's adorable. What, do you really think you can do better? Do you think you're one of the good guys now?” He threw back his head in a mirthless laugh, then fixed me with a predatory gaze. 

“Shut up!” I hissed, but I was powerless – I couldn't do a thing to him in that dreamscape, he was too powerful. “I don't have to justify myself to you, demon!”

He just chuckled, amused. “Stop pretending, Sombra. You and I both know you'll go back to your old ways. I know you will, because you're a coward. You're afraid of death... and you'll finish what you started.” His eyes flicked towards Mary, and he smirked. I stared at him, my stomach turning cold as I realized what he was suggesting. 

“What was it again? Essence of vitriol, lunar caustic, quicksilver – why, those are just names for sulfuric acid, silver nitrate, and mercury, aren't they?” 

“You can't be serious,” I growled, putting on a brave front.

He ignored me, tapping his chin as if considering, then grinned broadly. “Oh, but you needed something else, didn't you?” 

Without warning, he lunged forward and sank his teeth into my leg. I screamed in shock and pain – even though it was a dream, it felt like it was really happening – and writhed as he bit deeper and deeper, down to the bone. I would have passed out if I could, but I remained horribly conscious as he lifted me up bodily and began worrying me like a dog with a toy, pounding my body on the hard ground. I could feel bones break and organs rupture, but I couldn't pass out; my world began to dissolve in a haze of pain. I dimly registered Mary and Luke shouting and trying to pull me from his grip, but it was like a couple of mice standing against a python. I didn't stand a chance.

I was broken and mangled when he flung me away, the dream already starting to fade. All sensation except the pain gradually dimmed to nothing, his laughter echoing in my mind. I woke up with a strangled scream, drenched in a cold sweat.

My breath was labored as I sat bolt-upright, my eyes darting at shadows and my ears twitching at the tiniest noise before I realized I was safe. It was just a twisted vision brought on by Discord – that was all. I wasn't mortally wounded; I was fine. None of it was real I told myself. I was fine.

...But, if I was fine, why did I smell blood? I cautiously tried to climb to my hooves, but yelped and fell back down to my plot when one of my hind legs blossomed with pain – the same leg Discord had mauled in the dream. It was nothing like the pain from before, though, just a faint echo. Even so, I was terrified of what I'd find. What had he done to me? I lit my horn and sat down carefully, looking down...

My leg was bleeding from several puncture wounds, matching the shape of the creature's jaw. My stomach turned as I looked it over; I hoped there was no venom or disease in his bite. On instinct, I selected an Order-based healing spell, one that would encourage the expelling of things unlike my body while encouraging the flesh around the wound to return to its natural, whole state. I sighed with relief, the pain going away as the holes sealed up one by one... but one wound resisted. Something was stuck in it. 

I already knew what it was, but I wanted to deny it as long as possible. It resisted the Order magic, holding the wound open until I telekinetically pulled it out with a grimace. It was a tooth – a draconequus tooth. With the source of primal chaos removed the wound began to seal itself just like the others, but I felt no better about it. I stared at the tooth for several long moments. Essence of vitriol, lunar caustic, quicksilver, and primordial chaos – those were key ingredients for the ritual I'd intended to use on Celestia and Luna. The ritual to kill an alicorn and steal their immortal life. All of the other ingredients were easily available on earth, but primal chaos...

I wrapped the tooth in a bit of paper and put it in my pack, and pushed all thought of it from my mind mind. It was a powerful thaumic ingredient, I rationalized, climbing to my hooves as I heard the others rousing in their tents. Just a valuable reagent, I told myself, even as I felt a familiar coldness settle in my heart.

Just in case. 


***


It was still the middle of the night, and my leg was mostly healed by the time I stepped gingerly out of the tent. I had taken a few moments to clean the blood off my leg, but I'd have to clean my sheets later. In any case, we wouldn't be sleeping any longer that night – that much I knew. Instead, I started heating water in a pot and added a packet from our precious coffee to the mix, and set out mugs for everyone.

“So, that was fucked, right?” Luke chuckled nervously, breaking the silence.  Mary chuckled as well, and I smiled wanly – it was all I could manage. “What was that he said? Something about Luna being caustic?”

I snapped out of my reverie, and shook my head. “No – lunar caustic. It's an archaic name for silver nitrate.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” he asked, puzzled. 

Another deception. I wondered if I'd ever be able to stop. “I have no idea why he says half of the things he does,” I grumbled, putting on my best 'grumpy, sleep deprived, and annoyed' look. “He's insane.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and he gave it no more thought. “So... trapped ponies.”

“Yes,” Mary said, her mouth set in a hard line as she glanced at me. She seemed more determined than I'd ever seen her. “And yes, we know it's a trap, and yes, we're going anyway. I feel... responsible for them.”

I didn't doubt it; she had been the beloved leader of the Crystal Empire, and it wouldn't surprise me if those bonds survived the curse. I nodded sheepishly. “I... Yes. Yes, I agree. We need to help them, or at least try.” I'd fucked up so often, and those ponies... most of them had lived through my reign of terror. I'd wronged them and their families deeply and personally; even if we did manage to break them free, it wouldn't even come close to balancing the scales. I had to do it. Still... a rescue was a nice sentiment, but no good if it didn't work. 

“But...” I flinched as she narrowed her eyes, but continued. “But, we're going to do it smart, and in an unexpected manner. Whatever trap Discord has set up there, we need to find out what it is and avoid it if we can, or spring it in a favorable manner if we can't. At the very least, we can't do what he's expecting.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I'm glad to hear that – honestly, I'm surprised you're going along with this so easily.” She paused. “Was it... was it really that bad, what you did to them?”

Dead, hopeless eyes. Broken wills and broken families. An empire of puppets, driven by fear. I shivered, pushing the thoughts aside. “Let's just say I'm glad they can't remember.”

She nodded grimly. “Right. Well, he gave us an idea of where we'd find the camp...”


***


The ponies were being held surprisingly close by – the next town over, in fact. Having been secluded from the world at large for a month, however, we were taken aback by the state of it.

We approached at night, sticking to the shadows, and took turns looking through binoculars. No one was outside except the occasional military patrol; presumably a curfew was in place. Several businesses seemed closed, with biohazard signs hung on the front. We even spotted a billboard with silhouettes of the three races, along with the phrase “If you see something, say something”, all in black and white. What really made my blood run cold, however, was when a lone pegasus took to the air. Luke had the binoculars and tracked him, and we prepared to intervene, but it was too late; there was a muffled burst of an air cannon, and the pegasus was suddenly wrapped in a net. He fell to the ground out of sight, and we didn't know his fate. It seemed, for whatever reason, that town had a large number of ponies in it... And they were prepared for pegasi. 

“Well,” Luke gulped, “looks like flying's out of the question...” 

I nodded grimly – reconnaissance would be difficult without alerting the patrols. Even at night, there was no way to sneak in on hoof or by wing. But... 

“Do you think they know about teleportation?” I asked aloud, already knowing the answer. Only a small percentage of unicorns had even had the skill. As far as I knew, I was the only one who had regained their memories. Unless another unicorn had somehow managed to retain both their memories and had the skill to begin with, it was almost certain I was the only one. At the very most, they had sporadic fits of telekinesis. But teleportation? That would be new. Even so, I didn't look forward to having to sneak around like that. 

Mary was silent for a few moments, then nodded slowly. “That's the only option, isn't it?” She wasn't wasting any breath telling me it was dangerous, or insisting we find another way.

“Pretty much,” I grumbled darkly, and began concentrating before my courage fled me. I focused on a spot in the shadows of a backyard, and teleported into darkness.

I'd learned several useful survival skills during my habitation of that icy cave, including how to sense things I could not see, hear, or smell. When winter came, I still had to eat – and meat was the only thing on the menu, as few things grew in the snowy tundra. I did not have a sense of smell keen enough to detect their hidden dens, and I certainly couldn't see them. But, even with a layer of snow and earth between us, I could sense the faint magic given off by their slumbering bodies. Once I'd found them, it was a simple matter to drag their sleeping bodies out of their burrows and turn them into dinner. 

I used much the same technique in that town, but to hide rather than to seek. I could tell roughly where they were, even around corners or behind walls, and hide or teleport as appropriate. There were a few close-calls, but I was mostly successful. I had no luck finding the ponies, however; I had expected to see something out of Red Dawn, with spotlights and guard towers, but there was nothing of the sort. I frowned, at a loss, and looked around for a moment to fix my location in my mind before teleporting back to Luke and Mary. 

Belatedly I realized it probably wasn't a good idea to suddenly appear out of nowhere; their nerves were already on edge, and the sudden noise and sound had made Luke jump into the air and Mary give a shriek of fright. “Err sorry about that,” I mumbled sheepishly. “I just needed to know where did Discord say they were keeping the ponies, again?”

Luke dropped back down to earth, grumbling. “He didn't say exactly – he just gave us the town.”

I looked back at the town... It was quite large. There were so many places, I couldn't cover them all in one night – maybe a week, but not a single night. “This may be a problem,” I muttered, thinking. My ears and tail flicked – something was agitating me. Oh, right – I hadn't turned my 'radar' off, and it was putting my nerves on edge to be so close to 'danger'. Before I switched it off, however, I noticed something – Luke and Mary's magical signature was much different from the humans I had been avoiding. Whereas a human's was thin and dull, like the sun seen through deep, murky water, a pony's was much brighter and of many different hues. “Hang on,” I said, grinning to myself, “I have an idea.”

I teleported back to the spot I'd just left, and cast my net as wide as I could to sense the faintest tingle of Equestrian magic nearby. Hmmm... no. None there. Disappointed, I began to methodically move throughout he city, moving from hidey-hole to hidey-hole and staying out of sight, until... 

“Ah!” I felt something nearby – something behind me, actually. I carefully turned around peered around the wall, moving slowly so as not to attract attention, and found myself looking at a school. I should have realized sooner; they usually put people in schools during emergencies. And if the hospitals were over-crowded, why not quarantine the 'infected' there?

There were indeed ponies there, but unfortunately the whole place was crawling with military patrols. I couldn't find a safe place to teleport. True, I could try teleporting directly inside, but that was almost guaranteed to get me seen – and then the element of surprise was lost, even if I managed to escape before being shot. I sat there for several minutes, looking over the place, considering... And then I saw a supply truck pull in. Of course, they'd need regular supplies; it took a lot of supplies to keep any military force up-and-running, if they had captives. 

I 'ported back to Luke and Mary, explaining the situation – where the captured ponies were being kept, about the guard patrols, etc.

“Did you see Discord, or any signs of a trap?” Mary asked.

I shook my head, lowering my ears nervously. “No... Whatever he has planned, I couldn't find it. But, well, I'm sure he expects me to use certain... abilities, to make this easier. Evil abilities.” I looked away. While I'd sat there watching the school, a thought had occurred to me; it would be so easy, simply taking control of the facility myself. First the patrols, one by one, then use them to get inside... Then take over the commanding officers, then those below them... Before the night was over, I could have had my own military force under my command. If I had any trouble, well, I would have plenty of meat-shields to soak up bullets and return fire. But... No. I wouldn't use that, not if I could help it.

She didn't inquire further, for which I was grateful. Instead, she nodded grimly and asked, “I assume you had a different idea?”

I nodded, grinning mirthlessly. “So... you guys ever read The Hobbit? Sorry – Mary, have you ever read The Hobbit?” I ignored Luke's disgruntled snort, but cut him off. “Oh come off it, you never read the classics. What about you? No?” Mary just shook her head and shrugged. I sighed, grumbling. “Damn philistines. Fine, how about The Hobbit movie? Remember how they escaped the prison in barrels...?”


***


“This is stupid. You're stupid.” A crate was talking to me. It was not a happy crate. I glowered through the handle holes, miffed. Luke never liked cramped spaces, and his new pegasus instincts probably compounded his dislike of cramped, restricted places. 

“Fuck off, I didn't hear you come up with any better ideas,” I hissed from my own crate.

“Stop bickering!” a third crate snapped. Mary was probably the worst off among us by the simple fact of being the largest. Indeed, she barely fit in hers, and we had to pack some material down around the handles so her wing feathers didn't poke through. I winced, predicting many cramps and bruises for her by the end of this ill-conceived trip.

We had hidden in wait by the roadside for an hour or two, watching a steet-light near the school for a military supply truck to stop. After making sure the cargo bay was empty of any humans and had enough room for all of us, I side-along teleported the other two in. Mary and I then opened the crates with careful application of telekinesis, and dumped the contents out the back when no one was looking. Then it was just a matter of sealing each other into the crates, and hoping they wouldn't notice the presence of live ponies inside...

The rumble of the deisel engine finally stopped, and we knew we were at our destination. We stayed as quiet as possible, steadying ourselves in our crates, and continued to wait. Soon enough, we were lifted onto a dolly and carted out, only to be set down again a few minutes later – fortunately near one another, though I couldn't communicate that. We waited several minutes in silence, just listening while I 'pinged' for life nearby. When I was reasonably sure it was just the three of us, all human signatures faint and far away, I popped the lid off my crate and rapped on the other's lids. “We're good,” I whispered, helping Luke out of his while Mary popped her own with more telekinesis. She was becoming proficient at that – I was impressed. 

It would have been good to have two sets of 'eyes'... “Can you feel them nearby?” I asked her. “Try to feel their magic.”

She paused a moment, closing her eyes and concentrating... and shook her head. Ah well – maybe some other time. I shrugged and pointed them in the general direction – judging by the size of the group and the fact that they weren't segmented into groups, I suspected they were all together in one large room. “I think they're in a gymnasium, or something like it,” I whispered. “Look out for any signs so we can get our bearings.”

Luke and Mary nodded in silent agreement, the latter carefully igniting her horn. I followed suit, and looked about – it seemed we were in a classroom that had been modified to be a storage room. I turned my attention to the hall outside the door, extending my awareness in both presumed directions to make sure it was empty... and extinguished my horn, motioning Mary to do the same. Her light went out immediately. A few moments later footsteps approached... and passed by. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“All clear,” I whispered a few moments later, opening the door. “When we get to the gym, see if there are any places to perch up high – they probably have the pegasi restrained, and won't be looking up.” 

We made our way quietly down the hall, having wrapped our hooves in cloth to muffle their clacking on the hard tile, and made our way to the mass of assembled ponies. We came to the doors... and stopped. It was difficult with the interference from the highly magical ponies, but I could make out two human signatures flanking the door. “Two guards on either side,” I whispered softly, pointing to their rough positions. “I can knock 'em out, unless either of you have a better idea...”

Mary bit her lip, reluctant... but nodded. I turned my attention back to the soldiers on either side, and concentrated. It was much harder to 'grip' something you couldn't see, so I took several moments to 'feel them out' properly. Then, I pushed them forward, and quickly pulled them back– and was rewarded with two sickening cracks on the wall, several startled yelps from the ponies in the room.

Now or never, I though grimly, my horn blazing to life as I flung the door open and ran through the threshold, ready for a fight. But... there was none. No one lifted a finger to stop us; there were no other guards on duty. Luke and Mary followed soon after, and were equally confused by the sight.

We'd found the ponies, and they did indeed look terrified – but not of the soldiers, of us. A quick glance around showed that none of them were restrained in any way; the few pegasi present were hovering a few feet off the ground to get a better look at the intruders, and the unicorns were awake and alert. If anything, it looked more like a refugee camp than a prison. No, not even that – there were several creature-comforts about, like televisions and books and various forms of entertainment. I looked about, confused... but my thoughts were cut short by a terribly familiar chuckle, and my blood turned to ice. I stopped in my tracks, scanning the room, and saw a lanky man in a full hazmat suit languidly climb to his feet. All I could see of his face was his shaggy white eyebrows and beard, and his bottlecap glasses – glasses that gave the impression that one eye was larger than the other. “Really,” the man chuckled, a powerful magical signature flaring up around him, “I didn't expect new patients for at least a few days.”

I think we found the trap. 
> 22 - Of Curses and Covenants
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something was very, very wrong. I looked around, confused and trying to get my bearings, panic rising in my chest. “What's the hell is going on here?!” I finally shouted, my frustration getting the better of me. Somehow, the mad draconequus – or, well, mad draconequus somehow disguised as an ordinary man – had once more taken all my expectations, wrapped them in a pretty bow, added a bit of garnish, polished them up nicely, then dashed them across the floor. 

The man.. the thing, just smiled for a moment. I flinched when he reached up a pressed a small button on his arm, expecting an alarm to blare, but none came. “12:13 AM – no, make that 12:14,” he said in a clinical tone that was utterly unlike him. I wouldn't have realized it was him talking if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He continued, unperturbed. “Three unknown subjects have broken into main living area – standard male 'pegasus' variant, what appears to be a mutated male 'unicorn' variant, and a female with both unicorn and pegasus traits – possible mutation, or a chimera of some sort? More study is needed.” The three of us stared at him, at a loss for words, but he just smirked and continued. “Unicorn subject appears confused and violent, and has incapacitated the guards. Telekinetic capability confirmed. Guards...” he bent down, examining their faceplates, and nodded, “...are breathing, but unconscious. I'll now attempt to defuse the situation and calm the subjects.”

I stared at the man, bewildered, and blinked several times. I had expected our first encounter – our first real, live encounter – to be violent, bloody, and possibly lethal. This... I had no idea what to do what the thing that stood before me. Before I could formulate a coherent sentence, however, he knelt down at eye level and put on a smile usually reserved for mental hospital patients. “Easy there fella – you're safe. See?” He held out his open hands, showing they were empty. I bristled, flattening my ears, but he continued undaunted. “No one's going to hurt you here. How about some introductions? I'm Dr. Isaac Jord, see?” He pointed to the nametag on his chest. “Yes, it's Scandinavian,” he chuckled. Dr. Isaac Jord(1). Discord. I grimaced – that was lame, even for him. 

I took several steps back, still unnerved and repulsed by his apparent friendliness, and checked his magic again. Yes – it was still a chaotic maelstrom, right where that man was standing, identical to Discord's. And yet...

“Just let these ponies go,” Mary said, with more firmness and conviction than I could have mustered at that moment. “We don't want any trouble – just let them leave.”

He cocked his head, smirking insufferably. “Let them leave? Well, I can't exactly allow that – that's dangerous for society, letting a bunch of infected people wander about, unable to help themselves, potentially infecting others. No, we have rules after all!” I was sure I wasn't the only one to hear the mocking tone, but the captive ponies either hadn't noticed or didn't care. “But, well... Have you considered asking them if they even wanted to leave?” He leered unpleasantly, and I could practically feel the snare closing in on us.

Mary looked around, confused. “They're here... willingly?”

The man-creature beamed like the Cheshire Cat. “Of course! Why wouldn't they be here? They're sick, and we're taking care of them as best we can – they can hardly take care of themselves, after all... Poor dears.” He simpered, folding his arms over his chest smugly. “Really, being in here is the best thing for them.”

Naturally, none of us believed a word he said – yet none of the ponies spoke a word to the contrary. How couldn't they see through his facade? Everything about the situation seemed... wrong. Broken. Sick. I singled out one of the ponies, telekinetically dragging him forward. Several others muttered there displeasure, muttering about rudeness and thuggish behavior, but I ignored it. “You – do you want to be here?” I asked firmly.

He looked down, shuffling his hooves. “No,” he mumbled forlornly. 

“Then you want to be outside, right? To come and go as you please?”

“NO!” he yelped, as if the very concept caused him terror and pain.

I reared back, confused, and let him go. “Sorry... what? You don't want to be here, but you don't want to be outside?”

The pony nodded glumly. “Yes... Sorry. It's just...” He looked out one of the high windows, and shivered. “It's like Dr. Isaac said; we can't live out there. I mean... look at these things!” He whined, holding up a hoof and wriggling it around like a dead fish. “They're useless! I...” He groaned, holding his head for a moment, and calmed down. “Look – what did you do before you... changed?” he asked, as if pleading with me to understand.

I cocked my head and cautiously answered. “Well... I worked at a shop, and I was trying to get into computer programming-”

He cut me off, growing more distraught. “Done any shopkeeping lately? Written any good programs? Can you even work a fucking keyboard?!” His eyes were misty, and I started to understand. That explained some of it, but not all of it. 

Discord placed a hand on the pony's hand, stroking his mane. “Shh shh shhhhh – positive attitudes, right?” he said with a half-smirk. “Look at all you have here – safety, food, shelter, entertainment, everything you need...”

The pony looked at the ground, shuddering, and mumbled, “Y-yes Doctor Isaac... Thank you.” 

I frowned. I was missing something, something critical... and then I saw it. Well, felt it, anyway – the pony's magical signature began to bleed up and into Discord's, leaving it duller, weaker... and vulnerable. A moment later, a tiny spark of magic crossed in the opposite direction – this one bearing Discord's chaotic signature – and wormed its way into the holes left by the leaching. I recognized the end result, and snarled. “Stop that!” I hissed, baring my teeth, but it was too late; the pony's eyes were gray and haggard, and he looked lost.

“Stop helping them?” the creature asked with feigned horror. “Perish the thought!”

I was familiar with the condition, but it was less severe than the last time I'd seen it – deliberately so, I suspected. When I was still a young colt in Celestia's court, there were areas that remained under Discord's influence, places where nature was turned upside down. This extended to ponies as well, their personalities inverted until they were little more than antisocial, violent beasts – mockeries of their former selves. I had helped to restore many of them, removing Discord's influence and helping them to remember who they really were, and that was very much what I saw in the ponies Discord held captive. In the case that stood before me, however, the effect was much more... subtle. Indeed, looking around, they were all under his subtle influence. Instead of a full personality inversion, he was stifling the things that made ponies... well, ponies. Their curiosity, their hope, their self-reliance, their confidence, it all seemed to be muted. In their place, he had put... I searched carefully, but I could feel nothing. He'd left them with nothing in their place. They were shells of their former selves, meek animals to be penned and tended to rather than people with dreams and aspirations. Worse, it was all done under the pretense of care and compassion. I felt sick to my stomach; it was cruelty for the sake of cruelty. There was no purpose to it, only malice.

“Mary,” I hissed, “we need to get out of here. They are beyond our help. Not with him here, anyway.” I glowered up at Discord even as I tried to pull my friend away from the foul creature.

“I'm not giving up on them!” she said desperately, shrugging me off. I could feel her reaching out with a magic I could barely detect, but what she found evidently didn't please her. She knew, on an instinctive level, that something was very wrong with them. “I... This isn't right! What did you do to them, Discord?!”

He pressed the button again, once more adopting the clinical tone. “Chimeric subject appears disoriented-”

“I am NOT a chimera, I am a Princess of Equestria, and you know it!” she shouted, furious. “We all know who you are, and I demand-”

He merely continued to talk into the microphone. “Correction; subject appears to be suffering from delusions of grandeur – possibly hallucinations as well. I'm retreating to the observation booth for my own safety, and because my presence seems to agitate them. I will observe from there.” He depressed the button and slowly backed away, still smirking, and climbed into a heavy-duty booth. I watched him carefully, still trying to work out what he had planned. Where was the trap? Why bring us here? Mary and Luke, however, continued trying to talk sense into the others.

“Please, just listen to me,” Mary pleaded with a pony nearby, who merely looked at her gruffly. 

“Look, Lady – I used to be a butcher, okay?” he replied gruffly, moving away. “Now? I can't even stand the sight of raw meat. I loved my job... I just wanna go back to the way things were.” He whimpered and sat down, looking down at his hooves in misery.

Luke was faring no better. “Hey, come on now – haven't you tried running in a field, or, I dunno, something? You're an earth pony, you should love stuff like that!” The mare he was trying to reason with wore an odd sort of poncho, and she just glared at him. 

“And wear what, exactly?” she said in disgust, gesturing down at her body. “I look ridiculous – I can't go out like this! I'd be seen!”

“Listen to me – this is really what you are, who you are. You've just forgotten-”

“I had a family! A wife! Kids! I can't-”

“I know it sounds strange, but really, it's not so bad. You're meant to be this way-”

“Don't touch me, cretin! I used to be an artist – now look at me! I can't even-”

We were getting nowhere. I started to think the 'trap' was really just a dispiriting waste of time – or another trick for his amusement. Looking around at the growing chaos, the inmates growing more and more agitated at our presence, this seemed the most likely. One was even cowering on the ground, his eyes squeezed shut, curled into a protective ball and twitching. I slowly made my way towards him and patted his shoulder – I might as well try to help, if I could. “Look, uh...” I started awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Truth be told, I would have been devastated to wake up as an earth pony. “I dunno what to say. I get it, you got a pretty raw deal, but... Hello?” He hadn't responded in the least. I poked a bit more firmly, but he was still unresponsive. I turned to Luke, starting to worry. “Hey, uh – is this guy alright? I think he might really be sick...”

Before my brother could respond, however, the pony gasped and crumpled into a heap, and looked about in confusion. I bent down, meeting him eye to eye, and cocked my head. “You alright there?”

I did not expect what came next, and I'm not sure my ears have fully recovered to this day.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

The pony let out an ear-piercing shriek of terror, scrabbling away away from me as fast as he could, and started to sob. “K-k-k-k-”

“Easy, easy!” I winced, holding my ears. “Crap, I just wanted to know if you were okay, I didn't-”

He was hyperventilating, but even so he stuck out an accusatory hoof. “KING SOMBRA!”

I stopped dead, and once more felt the familiar sense of doom. How did he...

“HE'S BACK! OH CELESTIA HELP US!”

I looked to Discord, knowing he had something to do with it. He simply smirked back at me from his protective booth, his fingers held up as if he had just snapped them. He then pressed the button on his arm again and spoke into the microphone. 

“12:20PM – I suspect one of the mutant variants is at least partially infectious, and has started to cause delusions and hallucinations in all patients. Requesting backup.” He released the button grinned like a devil, then started to snap his fingers, again and again and again... and each time, one of the ponies around us dropped to the ground, curled up in a ball. My stomach grew cold as I realized what was happening.

“They're remembering!” I shouted to Luke and Mary. “He's making them remember!”

I backed away slowly from the huddled balls on the floor, beginning to feel real fear. In a few moments, every crystal pony in the room would remember who they were... and who I was. 

I only had one real hope – that their love for Mary, or rather Princess Cadance, was greater than their hatred for me. I sprinted to Mary before the crowd got their bearings, and hid behind her. “Put out your wings, hide me!” I whispered desperately, and was grateful when she did so without hesitation. Luke joined her, and soon I was hidden from view while Mary was the focus of their attention.

The crowd of ponies gradually calmed, and each of them looked deferentially towards Cadance. What followed was... confusion. They looked up at her, and down at me, and had to be wondering just why their kind and benevolent ruler was shielding a despot that had made their lives hell for so long.

“Please, calm down,” Mary said in a carrying voice, and soon the room grew quiet. She blushed, realizing all eyes were on her, but plowed on. “Look... This must all be overwhelming. I'm still adjusting myself-”

“What's he doing here?” one voice asked, and I saw an angry face and accusatory hoof pointing at me.

“James- Sombra, is no longer a threat,” she said firmly. “You're all aware of what happened to you, correct? Of Discord's curse, and of our present state in this world?”

There was a general murmuring of assent, and she continued.

“Well, he was cursed, too. We are... allies in this,” she said. I breathed a sigh of relief – if she had said 'friend', the crowd would have probably lost it entirely. As it stood, there were a great deal of muttering and scowling and disbelief. 

“How can you trust him?”

“He's no better than Discord!”

“Will he stand trial after this is over?”

“Kick him out, we don't need him!”

“To the mooooooon!”

Mary looked flustered for a moment, looking out at the crowd, and grimaced. “I don't know what he did to you – I don't even remember who I was, I can't imagine what he put you through-”

The murmur of discontent rose to a roar. They didn't like that. I couldn't even make out the words, but they started to push forward. 

“No!” she yelled, desperately trying to regain control of the situation. “This won't help anything! We're all in danger-”

They paid her no heed, simply pushing her out of the way; she wasn't the Princess any more, not at that moment, just another pony who'd forgotten who they were. They did likewise with Luke, and soon I had nothing between me and what I was sure was a lynch mob. I caught a fleeting glimpse of Discord, cackling away in the observation booth, before he was blocked out by the press of the crowd. I backed into the corner, fear rising in my chest. Was this how I was going to die? Torn apart and trampled? I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut, and almost on instinct reached out with magic...

...and took command.

I had done it without even realizing it; old habits die hard. I had grown so used to dominating threats, turning enemies into slaves, dominating the wills of others... It just came naturally. It was a small comfort that they were no longer going to kill me; I was already proving them right.

“I'm so sorry,” I whispered, looking around at the faces as they turned from angry to confusion, and from confusion to terror. They were under my control once again; most of them would have probably preferred death. Several of them were silently crying, and I could feel that many were suffering terrible anxiety attacks – most of them, I realized, had bad cases of PTSD, and I'd just 'triggered' them in a very real sense.

I'd failed. Again. I'd proven them right. But I still had to do right by them. I opened my mouth, struggling to say the words. “Go – go outside of town,” I said, my voice trembling. “There's a clearing, you should be safe there.” I had a sudden, desperate idea, and gave them another command. “Mary... Princess Cadance, she will be there,” I looked to Mary, who was hovering above the crowd, staring at me in confusion and horror. “She's a much better leader than I ever was, even if she can't remember. Please, trust her.” I sent them a mental image of the location, and they turned as one to walk to the clearing against their will.

Mary and Luke landed beside me once the crowd had dispersed enough to give them the room, and looked at me in shock. “What did you do?” Luke whispered.

“The same thing I did to them before,” I mumbled, and looked up at Mary.

“I'm sorry I hooked you into this... but they need help. They need someone they can look up to,” I said dully. “I... I can't be there. I can't be there when you do it. They'll have a hard enough time trusting you without me screwing it up.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but only nodded grimly. 

A sudden movement caught my eye, and I looked up. Inside the booth, Discord glared at me with a sour expression. Well – at least he wasn't pleased by the situation either. I don't know what he expected, but apparently things hadn't gone as he'd hoped. 

Without another word, I teleported Mary and Luke one-by-one to the clearing – there was no way I'd leave them with Discord, no matter what sort of game he was playing. Then I teleported myself back to the campsite and released my hold over the crystal ponies' wills. I was sure most, if not all, would simply disperse. I was too emotionally drained to care. 


***


A few hours had passed, and most of the stars had disappeared from the sky. There was a faint pink on the horizon, where the sun hadn't quite begun to rise. I continued to lay there, staring up at the brightening sky, too tired to move but too restless to sleep. At least a few ponies must have shown up, I thought to myself – otherwise Mary and Luke would have returned long ago. 

Speaking of... I saw a familiar blue speck approaching, and sat up. What was Luke doing back – was he bored with the proceedings? 

He landed, panting, and prodded my side. “Come on dude – they wanna talk.”

I frowned. “Who? The crystal ponies? I think you've confused 'talk' with 'lynch'...”

“Don't be a pussy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, they just wanna talk. Something about an agreement.”

What? No, that didn't make sense. “...You're joking.”

“Yeah, I didn't pay much attention, it was boring as fuck.” I fully believed and accepted both statements. “Anyway, Mary needs you there, so quit being a douchenozzle and get your flank over there.”

I stared at him for a long moment, and blinked. “You're actually serious, aren't you.”

He rustled his wings in agitation and impatience. “Yeah, and it's kind of, you know, time critical? Unless you wanna leave Mary to handle that friendly bunch on her own.” 

He had me there. Grumbling, I stood up and stretched. If Mary needed me there, I owed her that much. “Fine,” I muttered, concentrating and tuning out the world as I focused on the clearing. Mostly, I was surprised that they even wanted to see me. 

“Wait!”

I flinched, startled. “What?!”

He moved in place beside me, laying a foreleg over my barrel, and nodded. “I am NOT flying all the way back there.”

I rolled my eyes... then snickered. “Sorry, what was that you called me earlier? A douche-something?”

He glowered. “Don't even think about it.”

“And I distinctly heard the word 'pussy'... That's very rude, you know...”

“Don't you fucking-”

But my horn was already glowing, and a moment later he was clutching air. 

He stared at the spot where I had been standing only moments before. “ASSHOLE!” he shouted, causing several nearby birds to take flight. I stood behind him silently for a few moments – I had only teleported a few feet back – and watched him seethe. Finally I snickered, unable to hold it in any longer, and grinned when he whirled around at the sound.

“Very funny, jackass,” he grumbled, while I tried to compose myself for whatever awaited me at the meeting.


***

It was good that I did not arrive snickering and grinning over my own prank, as the mood there was... well, 'austere' put it lightly. The assembled crowd had all the levity of a murder trial and all the joy of a child's funeral, and I considered going right back to camp.

“James! Oh thank goodness,” I heard Mary say, genuine relief in her voice. I winced, not envying her – she'd had to deal with this for several hours already. There were bags under her eyes, and she had the same haggard look she wore when dealing with unruly and demanding customers. Or perhaps a hundred unruly customers, I thought dourly, looking around at the stony faces of those around me. Right. My ears drooped as I realized there would be no teleporting away from this particular problem. 

She started leafing through notebook, and held it up. “They... Well, they don't like you very much,” she started delicately. 

“Understatement of the century, Your Highness,” one of the ponies called out bitterly. I closed my eyes briefly and breathed, trying to stay calm. I deserved that.

“Right. But I vouched for you,” she said firmly with a raised voice, giving the interrupting pony a reproving look. She continued. “And they are willing to put aside their grievances, for now, and work together... on a few conditions.”

The look on her face told me I wouldn't like them, but I grudgingly nodded. “Alright – what are they?”

“The first item – you will do all in your power to protect all Equestrian citizens from Discord, from the governments of this world, and from any natural dangers.”

“Fair enough,” I said, nodding. I would have probably ended up doing that anyway.

Encouraged, she continued. “You also agree that you will do all in your power to assist all citizens of the Crystal Empire in whatever they need, in penance for your actions.”

I winced, looking out at the assembled crowd... a crowd I had enslaved, and who now only demanded I help them as best as I could with their daily lives. Yeah, I deserved that. “Alright.” 

“Third...” She hesitated, looking down at the paper. “...Third. You agree to never to, ah, 'raise hoof or wing or horn' – sorry, is that right?” she paused, turning to one of the older ponies in the crowd. The stallion in question rolled his eyes and glowered at me before speaking.

“'raise hoof, wing, or horn' – that is, you'll never hurt us or use any sort of magic against the Citizens of the Crystal Empire ever again – under ANY circumstances,” he said, his brow furrowed. 

I was about to agree, and then remembered the last clause... 'any circumstances'... “Wait. What about self defense?” I asked, frowning.

He jutted his chin out defiantly, repeating with emphasis, “Any. Circumstances.” 

I looked out at the unfriendly crowd, wondering how they possibly expected me to agree to that – especially when they seemed all too ready to lynch me hours before. Before I could reply, Mary quickly broke in. “Hold on, hold on – number four! The citizens of the Crystal Empire agree not to bring any harm to you without just cause, irrespective of your past deeds. That is, if someone were to attack you or harm you in any way, they would be tried and punished just as if they had attacked an innocent pony.” She said this with particular emphasis to the crowd, and it took a long while for their muttering to subside.

I bit my lip, looking about, and leaned in to whisper to Mary. “I don't trust them,” I mumbled, hoping I was too quiet for anyone else to hear. 

“How do you think they feel about you?!” she hissed back, exasperated and exhausted. “They don't trust you, and you don't trust them – that won't work. All they have is your word, and nothing else; you need to demonstrate that you trust them to at least uphold the law before they can trust you to uphold your oaths.”

I grimaced, hoping I wouldn't regret it as I mulled it over. Finally, I grudgingly said, “Fine. If they agree that any unprovoked attacks against myself will be treated as attacks against an innocent pony, and that they will be fully prosecuted by the law, I agree to not bring hoof, wing, or horn against any member of the Crystal Empire,” I said, even using the archaic legal phrase. It had been old in my time, I was amazed it was still in use. I briefly wondered if Luna had something to do with that, but Mary spoke again. 

“And number five...” She cleared her throat. “You agree that your adherence to the above will be taken into consideration for your... trial.” I flinched, and stared at her in shock. Trial? What trial? “If and when this current crisis is concluded, and at least one of the Alicorn Princesses has regained control of Equestria, and law and order have been restored to the land, and Discord has been appropriately defeated and punished, you will...” She cleared her throat. “...You will submit to justice and be tried in court, with the Princesses acting as your impartial judges. Furthermore, any resistance to this provision will void the entire agreement, and you will once more be considered an enemy of the state to be...To be dealt with as swiftly and permanently as possible by all remaining military forces, up to including the action of the Princesses.”

I blanched. Trial? I thought back to what I could remember of Equestrian law... Executions were rare, but not unheard of – and they were exclusively reserved for unrepentant murderers. Well, at least it wouldn't be that... But then I thought back to another unicorn, one who's trial I'd witnessed firsthand. The unicorn in question was powerful, and willingly served Discord for the sake of greater power and a chance to rule under him. When Discord fell, he fled to live in isolation. Years passed, and he was eventually caught – indeed, a lost pony had stumbled upon him on accident. The one who discovered him was even cared for in what meager ways the unicorn could offer – food, lodging, directions – and the unicorn did not deny who he was when confronted, he only looked regretful. In fact, the court truly believed he meant it when he apologized, and swore to live a life of peace. 

Even so, the court ordered that he have his horn removed to ensure he could not use magic against anyone again. 

I grimaced, instinctively reaching up and touching my own horn. A few unfriendly smirks in the crowd told me that they knew exactly what I was thinking, and heartily approved.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “And... and if I do not agree to the terms?” I asked. 

The crowd murmured angrily at this, but Mary quieted them with a raised hoof. “Please, James,” she said softly. “I don't like it either, but... you know better than anyone else that it's the right thing to do.”

I did. Damn it, I did. I breathed out, and finally nodded. “Fine. Fine, I agree to all provisions.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to the crowd. “Do each of you agree to abide by the conditions – err, condition – of this pact?” A smattering of 'ayes' came from the crowd, with several taking coming reluctantly or awkwardly late.

She waited for all of the 'ayes' to finish before she continued. “And do any of you object? Speak now, or your silence will be considered assent and you will be bound anyway.” I turned to the old pony, who nodded grimly as she said it – apparently, he had been schooling her in matters of government.

Silence greeted her question, though several ponies glowered mutinously. I tried to remember their faces so I could avoid them later.

Most of them, however, seemed to be put at ease. The matter was settled, as far as they were concerned, and they began to disperse. 

I looked around, feeling as if a weight hovered above my head, waiting to fall. “Well. So this is what death row is like,” I muttered dourly to Mary, who only smiled halfheartedly. 

“I'm sure it won't come to that,” she said. “I think this will actually be good for you.” I snorted and glowered, but she just chuckled. “In the Biblical sense, James. I mean, didn't Jesus command His disciples to be servants to others? It might not be pleasant, but it's something you had to do anyway.” I grimaced, but, she was right. It was just so demeaning. Letting others tell me what to do, not being able to pursue my interests on my terms, it was like well... being a slave. I lowered my ears. Yes. I deserved that, and much worse.

“By the time this mess is sorted out, I'm sure they'll view you in a new light,” she continued. “And even if they don't, well... I certainly won't vote for anything more than community service, and I'm sure Luna will agree.”

I didn't have the heart to tell her she was wrong. Luna had presided over that unicorn's trial, and she had passed the judgement. I'd be lucky to get off with banishment. I didn't say that, however. “Yeah... Yeah, I'm sure it'll be fine,” I mumbled. She smiled comfortingly, briefly hugging my side, before trotting after a few of the crystal ponies – apparently she still had lots to organize.

A poke to my side brought me out of my depressing thoughts, and I found myself staring at the same wizened old pony from earlier – the one who'd clarified the 'hooves, wings, or horn' aspect of the pact. 

“Yes?” I asked cautiously, looking him over. He was a crystal pony, I could detect that whiff of Order magic on him, but despite that he bore a golden turnip on his flank. 

“Lotsa ponies around here. Lotsa ponies means lotsa grub.” I nodded, half-expecting him to pluck a wheat stalk from the ground and start chewing on the tip. 

I didn't like where this was going. “Riiiight,” I said slowly. 

He squinted at me, giving me a gimlet eye. “Well? Whatcha waitin' for? Get to it!”

“Get to what?” I asked, confused. What could I do about that?

“Farmin'!” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We need food, don't we?” He was clearly not the most patient of ponies. 

I blushed, looking around for anything else to do, or anyone else that needed help. Farming? Really? All of my magical power at his disposal, and he wanted me to farm. It was undignified. “I think there are others who may need my help more,” I said evasively, but... no one was lining up. Indeed, he was the only crystal pony left in the clearing. 

“Not gettin' out of it that easily,” he chuckled, smirking. “So, g'wan, get to it!”

I blushed. “I don't know how,” I mumbled, looking down and scuffing the turf with a hoof.

“Eh? Whassat?” he asked, cocking his ear. Apparently he was hard of hearing, too. 

“I said – wait. Hang on.” I had another idea, and brightened. “You can't hear very well, can you?” I said, perhaps a bit too delighted. 

He glowered. “Yeah, whut of it?” he asked warily, as if I was about to mock him for his age – strange, considering I was probably older than he was.

“No, no, I can help with that!” I said brightly. Indeed, I could – prior to my draconic infusion, I relied mostly on Order magic to keep my body running properly. The biggest problem with growing old was not disease, but the fact that the 'machinery' began to fail; if it did not, most diseases were no issue at all. Regular, targetted infusions of Order to the portions of my body that began to fail, well... That's what kept me alive for so long. 

He raised his eyebrows, dubious, but reluctantly nodded. “Alright, fine... but if you muck it up, I'll knock you down flat – pact or no pact!” 

I nodded grimly, fully believing him, and began to run a diagnostic. I started with the obvious, gently probing with magic. The eardrum looked good... The tiny bones connected to it were likewise good... What was that spiraled thing called? Didn't matter, I knew what it did. Then I frowned. Rather, I knew what it was supposed to do, and it wasn't doing it; sounds were going going in, but it wasn't generating a strong nerve signal going out. I was familiar with that problem; I'd suffered it myself, and I knew why mine had begun to fail when they did. Careful examination revealed tiny, tiny hairs attached to nerve cells inside, and those cells and hairs had begun to die. I cautiously focused on the miniscule organ, gently coaxing it to regenerate and heal the damage age had done to it... There.

“Is that any better?” I asked, releasing the magic.

His eyes widened and he visibly started, sitting up straight, and his face broke into a grin. He looked about, noticing a pair of birds twittering, nearby, probably for the first time in years. He hollared like a stallion half his age, and laughed – and I couldn't help but smile with him. “Well hot damn, ah kin hear again! Shoot, ah-” he stopped abruptly as he saw my own smile, suddenly remembering who he was talking to, and his face darkened. 

He coughed. “Right. Still don't make up for all what ya did, but... Thank ya, all the same.”

I nodded glumly, my spirits once again sinking. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. “Should I do the other ear?” I asked listlessly. He nodded, and I got back to work. That ear had an identical problem, and I soon fixed that as well. With both ears working, I got up without a word and started to trot off. Perhaps I could see what other old ponies needed that sort of help-

“Where you goin'?” he asked, frowning. 

I stopped, confused. “I healed your ears; I thought I was done.”

He rolled his eyes. “You ain't even started workin' the fields yet!”

Dammit. I sighed accepting my fate. “Right, fine. Just, umm... one problem.” 

“Eh?”

I blushed, lowering my ears and looking away. “I... I don't know how to farm.” I never had to learn it; either I had servants to do it for me, or I foraged for food, or I simply bought it from the supermarket.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Come on then, I ain't got all day,” he said, trotting away.

I reluctantly followed, keeping pace several feet behind. “Ungrateful old bastard,” I muttered under my breath.

He whipped his head around and glared at me, never breaking stride, and snapped, “I heard that!”

“Yes, thanks to me.”

He blinked, but I'm sure I saw a brief flicker of a smile. “Snarky bastard,” he muttered.

Perhaps working alongside him wouldn't be so bad.