> Human Blood
>  by sunnypack
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - The Registry of Mortals
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Chapter 1: The Registry of Mortals


It has to be one of those days, when ponies were out for your blood.

Now, that wouldn’t really bother David, who was a generally logical guy. It was times like this that he supposed he could have been dreaming, or that his imagination had suddenly gotten very active and… real.

Still, there were a number of plausible explanations for the fact that he was in a world of fantastical creatures that all seem to want a piece of him.

No, not in the figurative manner.

In the literal sense.

David, one of over seven billion humans on a small planet, was a mythical creature.

No, not on his world, but rather on another world completely.

In Oxley’s Equestrian Bestiary: A Comprehensive Catalogue of Creative Creatures, the term ‘human’ is nestled between ‘huntsman spider’ and the ‘huggergerlurgh’. The huntsman spider was deemed too frighteningly hairy to be a possible creature. The huggergerlurgh was suspected to exist within the Hayseed Swamps. It was aptly named, due to the fact that the victims could only say ‘huggergerlurgh’ after contact. Unfortunately, this also meant that no one could say where exactly in the Hayseed swamp it lived, or even what it looked like. Most ponies avoided the Swamps all together, just to be safe.

A ‘human’, as defined by Oxley’s, is a creature with mainly non-threatening features. It has stubby claws with no sharp nails, it has soft pink skin bare of fur or coat. It sports a fanciful tuft of hair on its head. It is said to be a gentle creature, but will run away when threatened.

They say a lock of its mythical hair will grant you everlasting luck.

They say its mere touch will cure a pony of any ailment.

Oh, and if you drink its blood you become immortal.

Now for most individuals, being a mythical creature isn’t something that happens easily. David was caught between the hydraulic press of Fate and Chance. Fate did not like Chance, and the feeling was very mutual. Even Death would rather steer clear of cataclysmic contentions that Fate and Chance liked to play around with. David was just an innocent bystander that happened to get caught at the wrong paragraph in the wrong book.

Let me explain.

Deep below the heaving bowels of the Ends of Time, there lies a crackling star suffused with energy that is not exactly charged. It has something to do with the transient nature of existence, and is a force more metaphysical than physical. Despite the fact that the outer layer was more of a concept than a physical entity, everybody liked to refer to it as charged due to the way that it crackled and snaked around the surface of the star in sinuous streams. Though the surface was inimical to all forms of life, there were inhabitants that lived within the massive construct. Inhabitants that vigilantly attended to their task, so much like a lackadaisical student in a prim and proper private establishment.

Appearing to work hard, but hardly working.

It is true that the work wasn’t strenuous, or indeed anything of supreme importance to the fabric of reality, but it did concern the lives of mortals. For this reason, the dwellers of this charged star oversaw the records with a steady eye and steadier appendages. 

At least they had for the first millennia or two. Now they just looked busy until the Auditor left.

Inhabitants of the star do not sport limbs, or even have faces. At least, not in the traditional sense. The dwellers preferred the amorphous blob of unrealised potential as their container. Telling if one of them was upset or happy, was baffling to say the least, even amongst other dwellers. So most dwellers drifted from one side of the star to the other with barely a glance at one another. It wasn’t always this way. In the beginning, they had kept appearances, sporting fashions of various mixtures of mortal beings taken from miscellaneous records. You couldn’t blame them; it was fashion.

Mundane practicality is all the rage now.

Secant was a dweller within this supermassive structure. She enjoyed the whimsy of peering into the lives of the mortals housed in these records. The role of beings such as Secant would be to observe, and not to interfere. That sat fine with Secant, for she was one to do assigned tasks without complaint… or even much wit. But depth of thought was not what was most prized in this organisation, so Secant performed admirably in the eyes of her superiors.

The charged star housed the Registry of Mortals. The Registry was an impressive library that catalogued the chronology of all mortal lives. The index itself spanned infinitely in a direction that had to be curved back in ten dimensional space just so the dwellers could find the records lost within the vast shelves of the charged star. The Registry wasn’t often accessed from the outside, but it remained a curiosity to those predisposed to the contents. Secant was not one to query perusing individuals about their intentions so as long as they had the authorisation. If they did, then they were allowed to look up what they liked and it was not her place to interfere.

Still, it had been a while since anyone—or anything—had visited.

Even the Auditor was late for his appointment, and that had been booked a few millennia ago.

So it came as much of a surprise when Secant received orders from a larger, heavy-set stellar-dweller. A towering, glowering behemoth that spoke in booming tones, with an aura of imposing authority. He gruffly told her there needed to be an amendment within paragraph 7,219,403 of volume 8,204,512,214. 

Secant gasped.

An amendment was a serious matter. Thinking about it—a state that was not oft visited by her personally—would break Secant into cold sweat if the dweller had the glands for it. Thinking was dangerous. Secant knew this because Tangent had burst into primeval energy when confronted with the Truth of All Things. An amendment could bring you dangerously close to the Truth.

And no one wanted that.

Even Fate thought twice of the endeavour to change the Registry. The order, Secant decided, must come from very high up indeed. So instead of her usual measured pace, Secant frantically drifted past the stacks of paper annals, digitised copies and chemical records, to reach a very particular shelf.

On it was a simple ornate carving in the mahogany wood bearing a word that had long since expired.

A friendly ethereal being might recognise the language and tell you that it spelled out ‘Earth’.

One that was more of a stickler for the finer points of the ancient language might point out that it was more like ‘ball of dirt’. Aptly named, for the world had mostly started out that way. To all concerned, it wasn’t an inventive name.

Nevertheless, such peculiarities didn’t bother Secant, who was busy trying to free volume 8,204,512,214. The hefty tome was very traditionally bound in both leather and a super-dense material that resembled rubber, but was made from condensed dark matter. The covers and the form the records changed with the ages, and it just so happened that the fashion was anachronistic finishes at the time.

Finally managing to work it out more than halfway from the shelf, Secant took a short break, eyeing the volume with a mixture of disguised frustration. Disguised, mainly for the fact that Secant did not have facial features to manage such a look.

The weight, which you would be forgiven for attributing to gravity, was in fact loaded with the metaphysical burden of the many lives etched on the supple parchment. The volume, Secant knew, would be no lighter if it were kept in a simple silicon crystal. As such, Secant was glad, for some inhabitants of the charged star had fallen victim to particularly dense records falling through the insubstantial floors that made up this reality.

It should be noted that such floors was made of the same whimsical material that prevented the charged surface of the star from leaking in and burning everything alive. Not that Secant was worried about it, though the floor looked insubstantial, it definitively reflected an intensity that belied its true nature. Which was to hold things up, and to hold things back. What it decided to hold up was not something Secant would question.

That was a job for Audit personnel.

Whenever such an event happened, Secant would pity the resident responsible for the record, and the mortals within it. No being knows what happens when a record touches the charged surface of the star, but Secant thought that the erasure of all mortals written within the record could not possibly be a good feeling. For the resident, or the mortals concerned for that matter.

Finally, Secant managed to work out the volume. Drifting to the usual spot beside ancient tablets bearing the descriptions of mortals from volume 2,060—Secant’s favourite volume—the Resident tapped her inscriptive device on the tabular surface of a raven. The raven squawked and shifted a little, but Secant didn’t complain, for ravens made the best writing desks.

In a decisive gesture, Secant changed a word within the Registry, then sat back, admiring the results.

She closed the volume with a resounding boom.

Or at least, there would have been a large boom if sound could be carried in this vacuum. Unfortunately, it did not, so impressive effort was expended without much to show for it. Secant looked around, then mentally shrugged and stared at the volume, realising that she had to replace the volume back on its shelf. With a mental sigh, Secant hefted the volume and made her way back to the archival shelves.

Though the effort of changing one word in the Registry of Mortals wouldn’t seem like a significant event to Secant, the effect was certainly felt by an innocent human working at the airport of Terminal 691…

—————

David was a nervous fellow. He was prone to wringing his hands and biting his lips. His manager, a tanned Brazilian with enough muscles to outdo a local gym, was a very tolerant chap, but he thought it rather disappointing that one should lose his own shoes in the process of walking from one side of the airport to the other. 

The only thing that kept him from being fired was David’s propensity to effortlessly manage the logs and records of every security personnel within Airport Terminal 691. All six hundred of them, including the taxi drivers that sometimes visit on rotation. David was useful, but only if you caught him before he went looking for his vagariously misplaced valuables.

David is a smart guy, his manager thought, but he’s definitely lacking something.

Over the radio, the manager spoke, “Would Mr. Collins please report to the East Wing security booth?”

When he made his way back, the manager would offer him a glass. It’d be nice to give the chap a stiff drink at the end of a long shift. Given how nervous the man was, it’d do him good.

David heard the radio of course, but he was caught in a very strange feeling. He wanted to step left, but his body was in the middle of turning right. Little did he know, his record had been changed. Not in the past; that was never much of a problem, he would just have a memory lapse. Things like that happened all the time. No, David was fated to always step left, but a recent change in the Registry had prompted him to turn right. The conflict had to be resolved.

Normally, such an amendment would pose no problems of compliance from the mortal in question. He would turn right and that would be the end of it. However, David was having one of those days. A day where his mind would stubbornly refuse to cooperate, and his body would pay the price of it. His mind, not willing to give concession to its prescriptive fate, forced his leg to jerk to the left.

Three things happened.

One, spacetime ripped, interrupting an argument between two individuals on the other side of the airport.

Two, David’s mind regretted its poorly-timed decision, and apologised for it.

Three, David stepped through a rift in his universe.

As he was swallowed by a literal hole in the universe, David could only think of one word to summarise his circumstances.

Bugger, he thought sullenly.

——————

David thought he saw an octopus for a moment, but it turned out to be a sentient seaweed. It was chasing something, but it stopped and seemed to catch him staring at it. The human was glad he didn’t stay there for long, since the seaweed looked hungry, and drifted towards him with seaweed arms outstretched…

In a way, David was very lucky. Reality didn’t know what to do with a human displaced from the records. Technically, he shouldn’t exist, but his existence logically negated that fact. So reality had trouble resolving the conflict. While reality decided what to do with the human, David flittered in and out of existence, stuck in a Schrödinger-like state of wave-like probability spanning the multiverse. He saw things no human should ever have to see, and was possibly a part of every major event in known chronology of mortal history.

He saw the birth of a universe.

He saw a planet seem to implode.

He saw a circle of amorphous blobs congregated around a book.

He thought he saw his own birth.

When David was starting to comprehend the nature of existence, and getting dangerously close to Truth, reality finally gave up on David’s conundrum and dropped him in the universe he currently floated around in. There were a few problems with this.

David realised he was several thousand feet in the air above the ground.

He realised that from the intricate city buildings floating on clouds, he was not back home.

And finally, though David did not know this, he was about to be in grave, grave danger.

——————

Soarin was in the middle of lunch when he thought he heard something between the sound of a hawk screeching and an elephant being strangled go past his window. Of course, when he snapped his head around to see what had flashed past he couldn’t make out what it was that made that Tartarus-bound noise. He glanced at his pie, then at the window, then sighed and made his way down to the window.

Probably one of the yahoos at Flight Camp torturing another poor soul.

He dashed back quickly to his table and downed the remaining glass of orange juice with his pie.

After all, it would be a waste.

——————

Coincidentally, Spitfire was on her way to the Flight Camp training grounds when a vaguely black and white thing, followed by a blue and black thing punched a hole in the cloud she was about to step on.

“Soarin?!” she shrieked in surprise, and with blazing fast reflexes dived straight after the pair.

——————

Soarin glanced to his side.

“Oh hey Spitfire,” he greeted as she pulled alongside him. He wasn’t surprised the Wonderbolt’s Ace could catch up to him so quickly. He nodded ahead. “We have a stone.”

Spitfire nodded and peered ahead. Luckily she was carrying her goggles with her or the wind would have made it impossible to see ahead at the speed she was going at.

“Yeah, I see… it,” she shouted back over the wind. “What the heck is that thing?!”

Soarin shrugged as much as he could in the air.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But at the rate of its fall, we’ll catch up with it just before it hits the ground.”

“What’s it doing up here?!” Spitfire demanded.

“We’ll find out when we rescue it, I guess!”

In a coordinated pincer-like manoeuvre Soarin and Spitfire rounded around the unknown creature and pulled up hard. Their wings strained hard to try and arrest their descent.

“What the heck, this thing weighs a ton!” Soarin exclaimed.

“Just pull! Put your wings into it!” Spitfire shot back.

Below, the sparkling rivers of Saddle Lake drew alarmingly bigger by the second.

“We’re not going to make it!” Soarin yelled.

Spitfire rapidly assessed the situation. Split seconds later, she came to decision.

“Try to angle us off and we’ll roll it off. 2-1 formation then emergency cradle, got it?”

Soarin nodded. “Roger that,” he acknowledged.

Pulling the now silent creature, Spitfire angled herself below it, while Soarin hugged it from the top. His wings splayed out, catching the air and dragging them, but they weren’t slowing fast enough.

“Brace!” Spitfire screamed.

Soarin squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the dull thump knock the breath out of his lungs. Instinctively, he tried to draw breath, but water, not air filled his lungs. In a panic, he coughed, letting the rest of his precious supply go with the drifting bubbles.

Oh no, he thought as he watched his lifeline float away from him. He frantically kicked aside from the creature, fighting his way to the surface, his grip loosening.

Breaking the surface with the creature in tow, he wheezed a mouthful of glorious air. Water streamed from his muzzle and nostrils. He cast around for a familiar flash of red.

“Spitfire!” he screamed. “Spitfire!”

With a muttered oath, he broke the surface, beating hard with his wings as he did. The creature was heavier than ever with the water weighing them both down. Straining his outstretched arms, Soarin tugged the unconscious creature to the bank, turning it on its side. After making sure the creature wouldn’t drift away, Soarin immediately cast around the crash site, looking for Spitfire.

“Spitfire!” he called out once more. Then he saw it. A flash of red and orange among the blue. Instantly he was diving.

“Ugh!” Spitfire was nowhere near as heavy as the creature, but she dragged just as much in the water. Grunting, Soarin pulled at the last of his energy reserves and breached the water. He dragged Spitfire next to the creature and laid her down too. With quick movements, he placed his ears close to her muzzle.

“No, no, no!” he couldn’t hear the telltale sign of life. His hooves pumped at her chest.

“One, two, three…” He pushed hard, feeling some of her ribs crack under the force of his inexperienced thrusts. “Come on… twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty!”

Two breaths, no response.

“Come on, Spitfire!” He pumped again. Mouthing the count as his own breathing became ragged with desperation. He pumped and breathed, pumped and breathed, losing count a couple of times when he checked her pulse.

“Darn it, Spitfire,” he growled. “We need you.”

Just when Soarin was beginning to despair, one of his breaths was interrupted by a heavenly noise.

Cough

Spitfire spewed water as her lungs kickstarted again.

Gasp

“Oh thank Celestia,” Soarin said in relief, turning her over to let the last of the water drain from her lungs. Spitfire heaved and expelled more fluid, giving small racking coughs. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the anxiety of the past few minutes drain away slowly. Then his relief turned to worry, when he realised he had forgotten something.

He glanced up to check on the mysterious creature.

It was gone.

—————

David had woken up to the sound of grunts and shuffling.

What’s that sound?

David turned his head to see one of the most ridiculous images he had ever witnessed. Two… horse-like things were in front of him. The blueish one was turned away from him, but it looked like it was beating up the other. The horse-thing reared up of its hooves and brought it pounding down on the other. At first, he thought he was witnessing a bizarre ritual of some sort. Then he realised with relief, upon watching it give the other a breath of life, that it was probably performing some form of CPR… and that he was sopping wet.

Okay… I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating. Maybe there was an accident in the airport and I’m close to dead. David thought. He shifted in his position. If I am dead, shouldn’t I be meeting my maker? He shifted experimentally again.

The blue one took no notice of him. Other red one was still unconscious.

Alright, I’m going to make a break for it.

With that thought in mind, David carefully levered himself up into the seated position and then carefully got up. He thought the gravel was unbearably gritty and loud underneath his feet, but the other pony didn’t seem to notice the sound. Then David simply walked away, looking back several times to make sure he wasn’t followed. There wasn’t a defined path ahead, but at least there was grass underneath and open fields. David was conscious that he was so exposed out in the open, so he spurred himself onwards at a pace that was not quite a shambling run.

Ahead, there were trees on the left and patchwork fields that plated the hills and valleys of the plains ahead. David briefly considered walking through the forest, but something told him that being lost in the forest would have been worse than making his way through the plains. Well he could walk along the edge of the forest, there was no harm in that. The trees would provide some measure of cover and David could finally flip out without being near weird creatures in freaky colours.

“What the heck is going on?” he muttered to himself, wringing his hands. “Okay, okay. First thing, check what you have. Call home.” He patted down his dripping clothes, fumbling around his jacket to reach his phone. A blank screen greeted him.

“Great,” he muttered. “Knew that would be too good to be true.”

He probably wouldn’t be able to get cellular reception here anyway.

“That would be way too easy.”

David took a couple more steps, but stopped when something like a cross between a quiet cough and a dog’s whine came from… behind his head?

“What?”

David turned around, it sounded close.

Gigantic green eyes.

“Oh holy—” David choked off the words as he stumbled back, arms flailing as he windmilled to regain his footing. He failed, falling flat on his backside. “Oww! What the heck, you have wings? You can fly?!” He tried to scramble away, but the blue one cut him off. It was clear it wasn’t going to let David get away.

It came closer.

The horse locked eyes with him and snorted. It whinnied and stamped a hoof. Was it trying to say something?

“Uhh, good horse?”

Then the horse did something strange. It reared up on its hooves and with an amazing feat of dexterity... pointed back to where they came from.

David started. From the way it stood there with pleading eyes, it was clear that the equine didn’t, and hadn’t, meant him any harm. His cheeks flushed with the shame of having run away. He made eye contact with the horse and slowly nodded. It looked relieved. With exaggerated gestures it looked like it was motioning him to follow. David nodded again. He was starting to get the hang of it.

With a couple glances to make sure he was following, the short blue horse lead him back to the river, pointing frantically at the red and orange one. It made some frantic gestures, but David shook his head and shrugged, hoping that the gesture would translate through.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, weird creature-thing,” David muttered.

The horse seemed to understand though, and paused, face scrunched up very humanely in thought.

It pointed to David, then pointed slowly to the orange one, then made an impertinent whinny.

David cocked his head.

The horse shook its head and placed a hoof to its face in a suspiciously similar movement to a facepalm. It pointed once again to David, then to its eyes and then to the orange one again.

“Oh,” David said. “You want me to watch her?” He mimed the action and gave a nod.

The blue one looked relieved and made a ‘wait here’ motion with its hooves again.

David nodded once more.

He sat himself next to the orange horse and watched her.

Satisfied that he had understood his gestures, the blue one leaped into the air, spreading its wings and leaving David open-mouthed in astonishment. He’d seen it float, but the blistering speed of its exit made it seem more like a fighter jet than a flying horse. Wait, there was a name for that, in Greek mythology, the one Hercules rode. What was its name?

The horse to his side nickered gently. David glanced over, studying the many hairs that stood up on its coat. He reached out and gently touched the horse, realising it had wings just like its partner. With gentle fingers, he patted it on the head, trying his best to comfort it. Hopefully it wasn’t dying or anything. Apart from her laboured breathing, he couldn’t see anything wrong with it. As he stroked its mane, its breathing slowed and a sort of smile seemed to grace its lips.

Alone on emerald grass that banked a beatific river, with clear blue skies—

Wait, what the heck was that?!

Just above them was the clouded architecture that David had spotted when he fell. David gaped as he slowly discounted the fact that it wasn’t his imagination. He had been falling. Which means… David’s brow furrowed as he put two and two together. These creatures had saved his life. David wasn’t the most sociable person, nor the most situationally aware, but he knew that when something saved your life, that wasn’t a debt easily repaid.

“What have I gotten myself into?” he muttered.

——————

Soarin flew as fast as he could to Ponyville. He had stopped briefly in Cloudsdale to alert the pegasi paramedics, but he had to get to Ponyville General. Though Cloudsdale had a hospital, most of the injuries treated there were more of the wing sprain, light injury department, and most expensive equipment were hardly shipped to the city, given the expense. The closest hospital was Ponyville, and Soarin recalled a certain Academy recruit that was friends with a particularly knowledgeable Princess. The thought of leaving Spitfire alone for any period of time gnawed at his stomach, but he knew he had done the right thing. Besides, it wouldn’t take long for the paramedic pegasi to arrive, and maybe he could find that recruit and figure out how that creature ended up in the air without wings.

With a swoop, he banked near the entrance and galloped into the reception.

“I need to speak to a Doctor, right away!”

Nurse Redheart froze, but recovered quickly. She dropped her forms and made her way to Soarin.

“Doctor Stable is out at the moment, what’s the matter?”

Soarin bit his lip. “Spitfire’s been hurt, and she’s taken in a lot of water. I tried CPR and she coughed up a lot of water.”

“Did you leave her alone?”

“Of course,” he snapped. “I had to get help! There are two pegasi paramedics on their way now!”

Nurse Redheart quickly held up placating hooves. “I understand, sir, I’m just trying to get ahold of the situation.”

Soarin put a stranglehold on his fears, forcing them back down his throat in an uncomfortable lump. “Yes, sorry,” Soarin finally choked out, hanging his head.

Nurse Redheart nodded genially. “How did she take in so much water? Any blunt force injuries?”

“One to the head or back, I’m not sure. I’ve told the paramedics, I think I might have cracked a rib doing CPR.”

Nurse Redheart cocked her head. “Could be serious, maybe some complications. She was breathing, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I better schedule an X-ray before the Doctor gets here, and I’ll go looking for him.”

Soarin called out to the Nurse as she spoke quickly to a couple of other ponies at the reception. One nodded and headed off to radiology.

“What can I do, Nurse?”

Nurse Redheart glanced up from a form she was trying to fill out.

“I might need to be here when Spitfire arrives. Can you find Doctor Stable, he’s supposed to be at Minuette’s giving each other an examination, can you find her?”

“Where would that be?”

A voice called out from the reception door. “I can do that.”

Soarin glanced back to see who the owner of the raspy voice belonged to. It reminded him of Spitfire.

“Recruit Dash, reporting for duty,” Rainbow said with a salute. “I saw you racing in here without stopping. Sorry, I had to see what was going on.”

“No need for that, Miss. Dash, we’re not in the Academy,” Soarin replied with no small measure of relief. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to find you. Spitfire’s been hurt. Can you help?”

Rainbow nodded immediately. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

“Thanks, Miss Dash.”

Rainbow flushed. “Just call me Rainbow, like you said, we’re not at the Academy.” 

Then she was off, with Soarin straining to keep up with her sudden launch out of the door.

——————

They found Doctor Stable halfway through a dental checkup. 

“An injured pegasus, near drowning? Alright, I have to take my leave. Sorry, Minuette, another time.”

“Don’t worry, we were almost done anyway. A patient is more important,” Minuette replied.

“Thanks,” Doctor Stable said, and then he was out the door, following Rainbow and Soarin to the hospital.

When they got back, the two paramedics had just arrived with Spitfire in a sling.

“We’ve taken the precaution of immobilizing her,” a green-haired paramedic reported. “Where should we put her?”

“In the emergency room, have you—”

“—Prepped the X-ray?” Nurse Redheart interrupted. “Yes, Doctor.”

“Good, let’s see if she’s okay.” With that the Doctor followed the two landed pegasi as they headed into the hospital, guided by Nurse Redheart.

Soarin piped up. “What—”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing you can do now, just let us handle it,” Doctor Stable called back. “You can wait in the reception, we’ll let you know if there’s anything wrong.”

Soarin slunk back to a chair, feeling the day’s exertions slowly creep up on him. Rainbow looked at him with sympathetic eyes, but didn’t say anything. For the second time that day, he remembered the mysterious creature.

“Wait!” he exclaimed. “They left it at the river!”

Rainbow cocked her head. “Left what?”

Soarin rose from his seat, but Rainbow pushed him down.

“Captain Soarin,” Rainbow said, faltering slightly when Soarin looked at her sharply. Rainbow gritted her teeth with determination and ploughed on. “You’re acting Captain now that Spitfire is out of action. I can tell you’re exhausted. Just tell me about what you left behind, and I’ll go fetch it.”

Soarin sank back in his chair. “Yes, that’s right. Sorry. I’m just—”

“—Worried about Spitfire, I know,” Rainbow replied gently. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll take care of it.”

Soarin took a breath. “Yeah, yeah… There was a creature we encountered that led to this whole mess. We don’t know what it is, but it appeared in front of us. Spitfire and I got hurt trying to save it. We left it near the river at Saddle Lake. Listen, you have a couple of friends that know about strange creatures and stuff, right? I remember you talking about it, could you...?” He left the request hanging in the air.

Rainbow nodded quickly. “I’ll get it done, Soarin, don’t you worry. Just rest.”

Soarin nodded and closed his eyes briefly. “Thanks, Rainbow Dash…” It occurred to him that he should mention something to Rainbow. “Hey make sure—” he began, but glanced around. “You don’t hurt it…”

Rainbow had already left.

——————

“Twilight!”

Twilight froze halfway across the chamber.

“Rainbow?!” she exclaimed, then her eyes narrowed. “I’m glad you used the door this time.”

“What? Never mind that. We have to go somewhere. There’s this weird creature, and Spitfire’s hurt and I promised Soarin, so let’sgonownotimetowastecomeon!”

Twilight held up both of her hooves.

“Woah, woah, Bring it down to a gallop! I couldn’t understand half of that sentence, Rainbow! Slow down.”

Rainbow pranced on her hooves, antsy with the need to take off.

“Soarin came into Ponyville, telling us that Spitfire’s been hurt and—”

“Soarin and Spitfire, you mean from the Wonderbolts?” Twilight interrupted.

“Duh, who else?!” Rainbow growled. “Can I finish? This is really important!”

Twilight nodded apologetically. “Alright, sorry, continue.”

“So Soarin said there was this mysterious creature and they were hurt trying to save it or something. Could be dangerous—hey where are you going?”

“I’m getting Oxley’s,” Twilight replied.

“What?”

“Oxley’s Equestrian Bestiary: A Comprehensive Catalogue of Creative Creatures,” Twilight explained patiently. “It’s a comprehensive guide on weird creatures.”

Rainbow groaned and gripped her mane painfully. “Twi’, we don’t have time to read a book!”

Ignoring Rainbow, Twilight grabbed the book and shoved it into her saddlebags. “There’s always time to read a book,” Twilight insisted. “Besides, it’ll come in handy.” 

Rainbow gritted her teeth. “Fine! Come on, let’s go capture a critter.” Then Rainbow was out the door in a flash.

Twilight sighed, but followed her lightning-fast companion. She wondered what the rush was all about. Spitfire was getting care, and they were just finding some kind of animal or something, right?

—————

“Ah, I think that’s it.”

Twilight squinted at the black and white figure and then turned to Rainbow. “You sure?”

“Ever seen anything like it?” Rainbow shot back.

“No… That’s why this book will come in handy.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Or we could just talk to it.”

Twilight shot her hoof out a fraction of a second too late. “Rainbow, wait—”

“Hey, you!”

With a sigh, Twilight followed her friend.

The creature looked up curiously. It pointed a finger to itself.

“Yeah you!” Rainbow continued. “What did you do to Spitfire?!”

It shrugged, shaking its head.

“Hey don’t deny it!” Rainbow pressed. “Soarin said they got hurt trying to save you! Why’d you do it?”

“Rainbow…” Twilight warned.

The creature seemed to get flustered. It grunted something and muttered something unintelligible.

“What?” Rainbow said.

“I don’t think it understands you,” Twilight interjected. “See look? It’s still shaking its head.”

Rainbow glanced back and forth between Twilight and the strangely-clothed creature.

“But anything that can speak can speak in Equestria.”Rainbow replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Besides, why would you bother dressing your pet in clothes?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie does.”

“But that’s Pinkie,” she retorted. Seeing Twilight continue to raise an eyebrow, she relented.

“Fine,” she added, “maybe it got lost from its owner or something?”

“It does seem remarkably intelligent,” Twilight said, glancing sidelong at it. “It knows we’re talking.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Well how do we bring it back? It looks like it weighs a ton.”

Twilight nodded thoughtfully. “We probably can’t carry it. Maybe there’s something in Oxley’s?” Twilight lay down on the grass and opened the book.

“What? You’re reading here?!” Rainbow exclaimed in exasperation.

“Well… yes,” Twilight mumbled, flipping through the pages. “I mean, the creature looks okay and it doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s just been staring at us so far. We just need to get it to Ponyville before dark.”

“We’ll be here forever!” Rainbow said.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Could we carry it?” Rainbow offered, then immediately discarded the thought. “Nah, it looks way too heavy to lug all the way to Ponyville.”

“Well if you’re out of ideas, I think I’m going to keep reading,” Twilight stated.

Rainbow huffed, but eventually subsided. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the creature and stayed standing while Twilight settled in to skim through the book.

After a few minutes, Rainbow twitched.

“I don’t trust it,” she announced.

Twilight rolled her eyes, then glanced up. “Well it probably doesn’t trust you as much. I think your glare is scaring it. At this rate, we’ll never get it to follow us back to Ponyville. If only we had somepony good with animals…”

A sudden thought struck Twilight.

“Wait, why didn’t you ask Fluttershy to come with you?” the alicorn asked.

Rainbow shrugged. “No offence, Twi’, but I did. She wasn’t at her cottage.”

“Oh, well, I’m flattered I was your second choice.”

Rainbow coughed and looked away.

“Actually I went to Pinkie, but she was busy with cake orders.”

Twilight frowned. “Well I’m glad that I was third…” Twilight trailed off at the awkward silence. “No, really?”

“Applejack was busy with her farm work,” Rainbow added.

Twilight’s cheeks flushed. “But at least I was—hey, come on! Even Rarity?!” Flustered, Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but then noticed that Rainbow was smiling at her.

Rainbow’s cheeky grin had Twilight shaking her head.

“Oh, ha, ha,” Twilight muttered. “You got me. Nice pull on my reins.”

Rainbow burst out laughing. “Oh you should have seen the look on your face!” After her chuckles died down, Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “So?” she prompted.

“So what?”

“So did you find anything?”

Twilight gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Well if you weren’t distracting me…”  Then her eyes shot back a paragraph. “Wait! I think I found something.” Her eyes scanned forward as she gasped softly.

“What?” Rainbow pressed. “What is it?!”

“It can’t be…” Twilight murmured. “They don’t exist…”

“What doesn’t exist, Twi’? Hey! Tell me.”

“A…” Twilight trailed off, her eyes flickering back and forth between the book and the creature.

“A what?!” Rainbow shrieked, the suspense was killing her.

“A human…”

Rainbow leaped back. “WHAT?!”

Twilight glanced up at Rainbow.

“You know what a human is?” she asked, looking at the confused creature with different eyes. Was this really the legendary creature that Oxley’s described?

Rainbow’s eyes were equally affixed on the mystical being.

“Yeah,” she said. “Daring Do mentions something about them in her novels. But they’re legends, right? They’re not real.”

Twilight got up slowly and leaned in closer to Rainbow.

“Do you think it knows we’re talking about it?” she hissed in a low voice.

“Maybe?” Rainbow whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know! What did Daring Do say about humans?”

“That they’re legendary creatures with awesome powers. Something like, ‘they were once hunted for something’? I can’t remember! It was a long time ago since I read that book! What does your book say?”

Twilight bit her lip. “Oxley’s says that a human—” she stared uneasily at the creature “—can cure a pony of any ailment!”

“How does it do that?”

“I don’t know, I got the abridged version!”

Rainbow stared at the thick tome. It was easily over a thousand pages.

“That’s the abridged version? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Twilight stomped a hoof. “Well it was still useful!”

Rainbow held up her hooves in a gesture of peace.

“Alright,” she admitted. “ It was kind of useful. So if we can bring it back, maybe we can help Spitfire?”

Twilight shot a hoof out, thankfully fast enough this time. Rainbow stopped halfway, irked.

“Hold on, you don’t even know what a human can do!” Twilight warned. “For all you know it could breathe fire, or have immense magical powers that could incinerate you with a single touch!”

Rainbow blinked at Twilight’s saucer-plate eyes.

“Uhhh, yeah. I’m sure it’s ready to destroy us with its vicious claws or something,” Rainbow dismissed with a snort.

Twilight glanced back at the human. The human blinked innocently back. It looked like it was trying to follow their heated discussion and in the process sprained its neck. It was rubbing the back of its neck and staring at them innocently.

“Just a moment ago you said you didn’t trust it,” Twilight added belatedly.

Rainbow pursed her lips and shook her head. “Well,” she said. “I changed my mind.”

Twilight sat back and slowly tucked away Oxley’s in her saddlebags. 

“I wonder if…” she started, then trailed off, dismissing the idea she’d had. Trying to teleport it all the way to Ponyville would be infeasible.

“What?” Rainbow said.

“Never mind. How are we going to get it to Ponyville?”

Rainbow paused and looked around at the local flora.

“Hey, what do humans eat?” she asked suddenly.

Twilight’s ears perked up as she considered the idea. “Oh, are we going to lure it with food?”

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, you think humans like grass?”

Twilight blinked at Rainbow. “Would you eat raw grass?”

Rainbow chucked away the clump of grass she had pulled from the ground.

“Good point,” she said, crossing her arms and glancing around.

“Yeah,” Rainbow continued. “I’m out of ideas.”

Twilight ran a frustrated hoof through her mane. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

“Hey, what if we ask it to follow us?” she offered.

Rainbow shook her head. “Yeah I’m pretty sure it doesn’t understand what we’re saying.” To prove her point, Rainbow trotted up to the human and spoke to it.

“Hey,” she said. “Nod if you can understand us.”

The human looked at Rainbow blankly, then shrugged and shook its head. Rainbow glanced back at Twilight with a raised eyebrow.

Twilight blinked. “Well it understands something. Maybe we can use—“ Twilight mimed a few actions.

She pointed to it.

You.

She pointed to herself.

Me.

She mimed lifting with her hoof.

Up.

The human blinked, but slowly nodded and got up on its hind legs. Before, when it was seated, it had seemed pretty small and non-threatening, but when it stood, it towered over Rainbow and Twilight. It was almost the height of Princess Celestia.

“Woah there, you’re… larger than you look,” Rainbow stuttered lamely.

Twilight was just getting used to tilting her head upwards when she acknowledged her friend’s comment.

“Y-Yeah. Wow, that’s big,” she murmured. The alicorn shook her head. She didn’t know what she had expected. She thought it would kind of walk on all four of its limbs.

With exaggerated movements, Twilight again pointed between herself and the human. Then beckoned with a hoof to follow. She trotted a few steps to the right experimentally. To her delight, the human followed after a short moment’s hesitation.

“Excellent!” Twilight exclaimed. “It’s following us!”

Rainbow pumped a hoof in the air.

“Aww yeah! Good thinking Twi’!” she cheered. “Now let’s get back to Ponyville!”

—————

As they headed towards Ponyville, Twilight and Rainbow were unaware of the internal monologue echoing around in David’s mind. From his perspective, two winged horses had come down and took the red-orange one away. Then after waiting over an hour in the same spot, two really colourful horses show up, but one with a horn as well. Then the horned one started reading in front of him, while the other one pulled up a clump of grass and threw it away. Then they stared at him uncomfortably for a while and then finally persuaded him through sign language to follow them.

He wondered again how a journey to find a missing shoe could go so wrong. David glanced at his bare feet. Not that he had any shoes anyway, he’d failed to even find them. He glanced back up. It looked like the two horses were headed towards the fields in the distance. David let out a muffled groan.

His feet were going to hurt like hell.

—————

“Doctor Stable, I don’t understand.”

The Doctor didn’t answer, he ran his hooves over Spitfire’s ribcage.

His bewildered voice filtered through his surgical mask. “I don’t get it! Seven fractures, water in the lungs, and not so much as mild inflammation?! What is this mare made of?”

Nurse Redheart nodded slowly.

“The X-rays clearly show the fractures and her condition coming in was definitely consistent with the diagnosis,” she added. “Not to mention Soarin could swear that he cracked her ribs.”

Doctor Stable shook his head. “Either this mare’s got something special in her, or something got to her before we could.”

“It would seem so, Doctor.”

Doctor Stable tore off his mask and waved in the two nurses on standby.

“Move our patient to observation and alert me if there’s any change in her condition.”

“Yes doctor,” one of them said, and started pushing the gurney.

Nurse Redheart came around. “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It could be a medical case study… or perhaps a cause for alarm. Check the patient’s record for anything like this. If there isn’t we’ll have to perform a more thorough investigation,” he said.

Nurse Redheart bobbed her head. “Yes, doctor. I’ll prepare a report to the Princesses?”

Doctor Stable considered it for a moment, then shook his head. He gave her a slight smile.

“Oh well, Ponyville has its own Princess, think we can pass it to her?”

Nurse Redheart chuckled. “Right away, Doctor.”

As Nurse Redheart left the room, Doctor Stable picked up Spitfire’s chart.

“How did you recover so fast?” he murmured. “Tell me your secret.” 
	


> 2 - The Centre for Reality Control
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Chapter 2: The Centre for Reality Control


In Ratley’s Meandering Manual of Mythical Monsters and Mayhem, a human is described as a docile creature that mostly attacks as a form of self-defence. It is easily spooked and requires care in approaching. A current poll in the Equestrian Periodicals place humans as the second most popular mythical creature. The first belonged to the Praxlite, a class of mysterious telekinetic fuzzballs. They were kind of like parasprites, with the added appeal of not destroying all food crops they could get their telekinetic hands on.

Out of all the myths, however, humans appeared to be the most beguiling. There was something enchanting about meeting a creature that could be the cause of good fortune and power. Stories, such as A Canter into Saddle Arabia, recounted the eventual contact, abuse, and tragic conclusion of a creature hunted for their fantastical powers. One may wonder wistfully if there existed some sort of world where humans congregated, living their happy little lives in flowing cloth and gnarled forest castles that made their communal abodes.

But of course humans were merely a fantasy.

They didn’t exist.

————————

David followed behind the two horses. One preferred to hover slowly, while the other didn’t seem to mind going at it on foot… or hooves in this case. Already he could feel his feet starting to ache from the occasional encounter with a sharp stone, or jagged rock underneath his bare feet. He’d always worn shoes when he could keep them on, but for now nature rather enjoyed extracting its pleasure by torturing his soles.

David tried to politely get the attention of the two horses. Of course, now thinking about it, horses seemed to be a loose description for these creatures. They were brightly coloured, as if someone spun a colour wheel and threw darts at it while blindfolded, upside-down and drunk. The effect was disconcerting, since the only animals he knew sporting colours even remotely similar to these creatures were all poisonous.

He tried coughing to get their attention.

They ignored him.

He cleared his throat rather loudly.

They continued to ignore him.

Then he decided he would tap one of them on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he said irritably, jogging up a little faster. “Do you mind letting me have a rest for a bit? I think there’s a rock stuck in one of my toes. It doesn’t feel nice.” His fingers reached out to tap one on the shoulder, but the purple one stopped, head whipping back suddenly so that his hand missed its mark and hit its horn instead.

The instant David touched the purple one, it spun around neighing urgently, and its horn suddenly lit up like a glow stick. He took that as a bad sign and staggered back, but not before copping a faceful of hoof.

Stars exploded in his vision as David staggered to the ground.

“Oof!”

Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, David heard some urgent neighing and nickering from his assailants.

I think I should stay down, he thought woozily.

——————

Rainbow snorted angrily at the human and without turning, addressed Twilight.

“Twi’, you alright?”

When there was no reply, Rainbow glanced back.

Twilight was staring at the human with eyes as wide as the sky.

“Blebluergh,” she articulated quite coherently.

Rainbow frowned. “Uhh, what?”

Twilight shook her head and shivered uncontrollably. “I-I don’t know,” she said shakily. “That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt, and that’s coming from somepony who’s been zapped directly by a Beaglebone.”

Rainbow grimaced slightly. “I don’t even want to know what that is.”

“It kind of tastes like hay pancakes, although I never knew why the slime—”

Rainbow clamped her hooves to her head. “Ew! Eww! Too much information!”

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a second savage shake.

“That felt like tasting lightning,” she said, smacking her lips. “I don’t know why… but I feel strangely relaxed right now.” Twilight lost interest in maintaining eye contact, she looked like she was trying to see past her.

“Twi’, focus,” Rainbow urged. “Human. Dangerous. Did it do anything to you?”

“Noooooo,” Twilight slurred. “I don’t thiiiiink so. Rainy-Bow! Rainbow. Bow Dashie, why?”

At that, Rainbow decided it would be best to address the root cause of the problem. She rounded on the human. “Hey!” she demanded. “What did you do to my friend?”

The human quivered under Rainbow’s incensed glare and merely shook his head and pointed at Twilight. It muttered something and shook his head again.

“Yeah right, you don’t know,” Rainbow growled. “Fat chance!”

“Rainbow you know the sky is really blue?” Twilight murmured. “It’s like really, really blue.”

“Oh great!” Rainbow railed at the sky. “Broken Twilight and weird human. Anything else?”

The sky didn’t deign to respond.

With a frustrated growl, Rainbow trotted over to Twilight, who was busy crawling on the grass. “Twi’? I going to carry you to Ponyville. PO-NY-VILLE.” Rainbow wondered why she enunciated that.

“Ponies,” Twilight mumbled and smiled. Then she slumped down.

“Twi’? You alright?”

Twilight snored a little.

“Close enough,” Rainbow muttered. Then she turned to the human. “You’re going to have to come with me,” she told him. When the human didn’t respond, Rainbow rolled her eyes and pointed to herself and then him and then back at herself. She made the same beckoning gesture Twilight did the first time.

“Come on,” she urged him. “You’re probably going to have to be around when the Doc looks at Twilight anyway. Just— Don’t touch anything!” She knew the human wouldn’t be able to understand her anyway, but Rainbow did it more for her sake than the human’s. Besides, maybe it could use its freaky powers and learn their language or something. Rainbow once heard of a story where something like that happened. You just have to keep speaking to it and eventually it learned the language, right?

Reaching down, Rainbow pulled Twilight onto her shoulders. The alicorn lay with her head draped across Rainbow’s neck.

“Mmm, soft,” Twilight mumbled into Rainbow’s mane.

Rainbow glared back at the human. “This is all your fault,” she growled. “Lucky for you, I already knocked you, or I’d give you another buck.”

The human quickly took a few steps back. It held a hand to its face right over where she’d hit him. It watched her warily, as if she were the dangerous animal. Unexpectedly, Rainbow felt a stab of guilt, but suppressed the desire to apologise when she considered Twilight. The pegasus turned away from the human and muttered under her breath. “He deserved that, didn’t he?” But even as she said those words, she grimaced.

——————

“Spitfire? Spitfire! Oh thank Celestia you’re awake!”

“Soarin? Is that you?”

“Yeah, are you alright? How do you feel?”

Spitfire’s vision resolved the fuzzy blue into a converging double-image of her second-in-command. She groaned, arms flailing until they found purchase on the hard mattress. Spitfire levered herself into the seated position, grunting slightly with the effort. 

“Like I’ve competed in the Games… five times in a row. Ugh, what happened?” Spitfire felt like she were shovelling the words bodily out of her mouth. Her throat felt like she had been in a shouting match for last few hours.

“You took in a lot of water, your ribs had been cracked, a contusion, and some bruising when you hit the river,” Soarin reported, after a brief hesitation.

Spitfire checked her ribcage and around her body. “I… don’t see any injuries, or feel anything.” She started, a sudden realisation sending a chill down her spine. “How long was I out?!” she spluttered in panic. “Days? Weeks?” She certainly didn’t feel older.

Soarin quickly shook his head, dispelling her fears with a quick assurance. “No, no, just barely a few hours!” he exclaimed. “Nothing serious!”

Spitfire blinked at Soarin. “Then how…?” Her voice trailed off. “I’m in hospital,” she stated, looking around. She returned her attention to Soarin. “Did they invent some wonder treatment or something?”

Soarin shook his head. “The doctor is just as baffled as you are,” he replied. “He took a look at you before and after you got an X-ray.” He moved to a side table where an assortment of black X-ray sheets lay. He handed them over with thinly concealed apprehension.

It was a while before Spitfire could find her own voice. “Uhh, wow these look pretty bad,” she commented finally.

Soarin tightened his lips whilst he shook his head in wonderment. “It’s like you’re a completely different pony in both of those.” He pointed to the mass of spider-web cracks on one image. “That’s where you splintered your fore leg when you hit the water.” Reluctantly, he pointed to another image. “This one is your ribcage where I fractured it trying to get your heart pumping again.” Soarin glanced up, guilt written plainly across his face.

Spitfire smiled at Soarin, gently putting his fears to rest. “Thanks, Soarin, you saved my life,” she reassured him. “You had to do what you had to do, but that doesn’t explain how I got better so fast.”

“There’s more,” he murmured, revealing the last set of images. “There was trauma directly on the nerve of your wing junction.” He flipped through the spread out X-ray sheets on her bed and selected one. The photo was mess, cracks, lines, convoluted light and dark areas.

Soarin took a steadying breath before plunging into it. “When you arrived here, they saw your wing. It was completely flattened by the impact. “At that angle, a bone fragment caused haemorrhaging in your wing.”

“What are you saying?” Spitfire demanded. “That I would have been in the hospital for longer?”

The way Soarin’s eyes studied Spitfire belied his intent. He was deciding whether or not he’d like to tell her, or more like, whether or not she could handle it.

“Oh for Celestia’s sake, Soarin, just tell me already,” Spitfire snapped.

“More like, you would never have flown again,” he answered reluctantly.

Spitfire’s open mouth said it all.

“So how did I heal from that?” Immediately she flushed from the slight squeak that broke through her words. She reddened, but kept eye contact with her partner.

Soarin shrugged, completely nonplussed with her baffling recovery. “I can’t explain it either, and neither could the whole team at the hospital. The pegasus paramedics that carried you in couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Doctor Stable told me he’d never seen anything like it.” Soarin placed a hoof on her shoulder. “They’d like to run a few tests on you,” he said gently. “When you’re feeling better.”

Spitfire nodded slowly. “Whatever it is that’s healed me did a good job. I feel tired, but also pretty, hmm, refreshed?” She stretched, feeling the tension that had built up in their conversation melt away with the therapeutic stretch of her wings. “If they need to run tests, it’s better safe than sorry,” she said. Spitfire lightened considerably, things could have been worse. Thinking about it, it could have been much, much worse. Her wings were her life and she was only too glad to trade a little extra time in hospital if she could be given a clean bill of health. She didn’t know what she would have done with a debilitating injury to her wings. Move out of Cloudsdale, surely, or even worse, retire from the Wonderbolts. A shudder wracked her frame.

That’s what she got for trying to… wait.

“Hey Soarin—” Spitfire started to ask about the strange creature they had saved, but a sudden rumbling growl filled the room.

“—Where can I get some grub?” she finished lamely.

Soarin glanced around, then leaned in, voice lowered. “A kind nurse has told me a little about this place,” he confided. “They say the best pies in all of Equestria are made right here, in a place called ‘Sugarcube Corner’.”

Spitfire shut her mouth before an embarrassing drool formed on the clean hospital sheets. Her eyes danced mischievously.

“Well I think there’s a cause for investigation, to assess the veracity of such claims,” Spitfire suggested impishly.

Soarin grinned at his superior. “Should I fill out a requisition form, ma’am?”

Spitfire arched an eyebrow. “Top Secret, Soarin. The location and details will be classified,” she added with a light chuckle. “Don’t be afraid to report expenditure necessary for the successful completion of this mission.”

Soarin saluted. “Aye, aye, ma’am.” He turned to leave, but stopped when Spitfire called back.

“On the way can you check up on that creature?” she asked. “I’d like to know that if it’s okay.”

Soarin paused, and gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re always putting somepony else in front of you,” he said in wonderment. “Don’t worry, I’ve sent Recruit Dash to check up on it.”

Spitfire started. “Oh yes, I remember. She does come from this town, if I recall.” She shook her head. “Recruit Dash, eh? Small world. Well it’s in good hooves, then.”

—————

“COME ON!” Rainbow yelled. “What are you—? Can you just— gah!”

Halfway towards Ponyville the human had stopped and lifted its hand. It looked like it was trying to tell Rainbow to wait, but the heck she was! They were only an hour out away on hoof! It would have been less but the human was so slow. The one blessing in this situation was that Twilight was now fast asleep, working off the weird thing that the human did in her sleep.

“What the heck are you doing anyway?” Rainbow snorted, starting towards the human. It shied away again, so Rainbow took the time to curb her expression and body language. “Listen,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just— We really need to get to Ponyville! Argh! Why can’t you speak? It would make this so much easier!”

She approached the creature slowly. Cautiously it sat down on the grass, crossing its legs in a strange posture. Rainbow edged closer, but after a few wary glances, the human didn’t seem to mind Rainbow taking a look.

With a sigh, the human reached down and started rubbing its—

“What the heck are those?!” Rainbow exclaimed. “They look like—It’s like you have hands where your hoof is meant to be!” Up close, his lower appendages were definitely weirder. She noticed the bruising and bleeding as he rubbed at his bottom-hands. Her expression cleared. “Oh, you’ve been walking all this way on your bottom-hand things.” The human ignored her, making a deep-throated cooing sound as it continued to massage upwards to its thighs and legs.

Rainbow suddenly understood its reluctance to travel so far. She distantly recalled that there was a word for his bottom-hands, but Rainbow put it aside. Soarin had made her responsible for the creature, and seeing it in obvious pain was a direct result of her neglect. She shook her head. A Wonderbolt would never let their personal feelings cloud their decision-making. She should have been less impulsive.

Rainbow sat down near her friend and sighed. Things were starting to get complicated, but Rainbow does not balk from a challenge. She’ll sit this through and prove the trust Soarin placed with her.

“Okay, we’ll take it slow,” she mumbled to herself. In a smaller voice, she added, “Sorry.”

Coincidentally, that was the time the creature decided to lift its head. It seemed to nod at her, then returned to ministrations of its bottom-hands.

——————

David continued to knead his feet, revelling in the short bursts of comfort they gave him. He could see the town up ahead, and that gave him a little hope, but he abandoned the idea of being able to meet something remotely human. This whole reality seemed like mythology in a blender. Winged horses, a quaint little village, a floating city, glowing horns, this world had it all. Next he’d be seeing dragons and wizards.

Wizards! Maybe one could zap him back to where things make sense.

David chuckled to himself. Or maybe he should be realistic about this. He quashed the rebellious ironic thoughts that accompanied his resolution. First principles, he told himself. Trust your senses, or you can’t trust anything. Maybe he was in an extensively detailed delusion and he was stumbling around a dark alley at the back of the airport. That could be possible, but he had to work with what he had.

His phone hadn’t done him any good. The suit he wore as part of his uniform was soaked, and he was rapidly beginning to feel its chill. The sun was pretty warm here so he was confident that as long as he could find some source of fire before dark, he wouldn’t die of hypothermia. To that end, his best bet were these intelligent horse-things. Most of them seemed friendly, but he knew that some of them could pack quite a punch. He had to be more careful; if he offended them again, he might end up stranded at best, or beaten up. The throbbing on his cheek was enough motivation to dissuade him from trying anything drastic. Besides, if he tried to sneak away, they would just fly after him. How could he even beat them on foot? He didn’t even have his loafers.

David moved onto his next foot, wincing at the pain. The massage helped a little, but he was concerned with some of the cuts he got. Would he get an infection in this fantastical world? Was it even possible to get an infection? How the heck would medicine work here? Did fantasy creatures even use drugs?

The swirling mishmash of thoughts distracted him from the fundamental problem of getting home. Well, he’d have to scope around first and get familiar before finding his way back. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to slay a dragon or something to get out of this world. Or maybe he’d have to have an internal epiphany and the hallucination would dispel? Either way, sitting around was probably not going to help. With a pained grunt, David got to his feet again.

“Lead the way,” he said in resignation. He waved a hand wearily. “I’ll… try and keep up.”

To his surprise, instead of returning to the punishing pace from before, the particularly colourful one decided to match his pace. The merciful gesture did not go remiss. For the first time since they met, he gave her a grateful smile. From her surprised whinny, it seemed like he’d done something she hadn’t expected.

Too bad, he thought. You’re just going to have to deal with my gratitude.

——————

For the second time that day, Secant had a visitor. From the form it chose, definitely mortal-derived, Secant quickly realised that it was an Auditor. The only time an Auditor came around was because a regular Inspection was required, or a Reality Check was needed. Secant tried to look inconspicuous among her records. The Auditor was conversing with a dweller on the floor below, and it didn’t seem to be in a hurry. With a gnarled, what was it called? A finger? The Auditor pointed to something it held. From her vantage point, the Auditor obscured what he had shown, so all Secant could gather was the slight change in body language. It seemed like the Auditor was disappointed because it shook its head and said something.

The dweller wobbled a bit, then drifted away.

Then the Auditor turned around and looked skywards, right through the floor and directly where Secant was situated.

With a surprised whiplash, Secant blasted down the aisle towards the Registry shelves. It occurred to her that from the Auditor’s perspective she would had no reason to flee, but a lingering thought had drifted around about a certain amendment that Secant realised she hadn’t checked up on the authority for. If she was caught making an unauthorised amendment, she was liable to face dispulsion charges. That is, ejection straight into the surface of the charged star. Secant almost wobbled into a shelf. What if she found out what else she did?! Dispulsion would be the least of her problems!

Secant rounded the corner, not realising where she was going… and ploughed right into the Auditor.

The wizened voice of the Auditor penetrated the tense silence as Secant tried to recover her wits.

“Going somewhere?” the Auditor stated mildly. Her voice crackled with age, reverberating around the shelves.

“N-No,” Secant replied. “I-I…” She trailed off, unable to reply to that penetrating stare. If there was one thing that mortal containers were good at, it was emoting feelings.

——————

Since they had been going at his pace, David was glad to find that his feet fared significantly better. He briefly considered taking off his jacket and ripping the arms off to serve as cloth wraps for his feet, but the thought of destroying one of what could be his only links home stopped him from doing so. He reasoned that he’d probably regret it later, but he’d scale that mountain when he got to it.

Then he saw it.

Ahead was a massive crystalline fortress, for lack of a better word. The walls were made of an amorphous geode that gave the feeling of it having been grown, rather than carved. It almost looked like a jewelled version of a tree, with spires and housing jutting out of the structure almost as if they were an afterthought. It was whimsical fantasia of an architecture, the village housing around it almost fading into the background in comparison.

The horse whinnied next to him, snorting urgently to get his attention. David realised he had stopped in his tracks, whilst admiring the structure. He continued walking at slower pace, wondering if this place had any more fantastical surprises in store.

——————

The Auditor snapped her fingers together, gesturing at Secant imperiously. “Choose a mortal container. Anything you wish. I do get tired of your vacillating forms.” The Auditor moved visually slowly, but seemed to cover distance greater than her mortal container suggested. Seeing no means of escaping the Auditor, now that it had identified her, Secant morphed into a Praxilite. She sighed as she followed the Auditor as the foreboding figure flickering more than traversing between the Registry and the Central Reading Chamber. 

The Auditor waved an arm at one of the open areas and Secant settled down into an indentation made in the floor. She hovered uneasily as the Auditor conjured up a chair to sit in. The Auditor had good taste, Secant thought, recognising dimly that the form stemmed from the record she had amended— Wait! Was the the Auditor trying to trip her up by appearing as one of those… hmm what were they called again? Hummers? Hunters? Humbugs?

“Humans,” the Auditor replied in scary synchrony to her thoughts.

Secants whirred, her mortal container instinctively fluffing out with surprise.

“Oh calm yourself,” the Auditor continued irritably. “I know all about the amendment and the record.” The Auditor raised an eyebrow and steepled her fingers at the same time. “You didn’t have the proper authorisation.”

Secant deflated a little, going from a vaguely beach-ball size, to roughly the size of a basketball. Was she going to be dispulsed? She had so many records she wanted to observe. It would be a shame.

The Auditor’s mouth quirked as she appraised Secant with flinty eyes. “Do you want to know why I’m here?” she finally asked, catching Secant off guard.

“Yes?” Secant replied. Anything to delay a dispulsion. The Auditor waited a little, her lips pursing together. “No,” Secant finally admitted.

“I’m here not because of you, but because of an intruder that made their way into the Registry,” the Auditor said. She drew out an etching on a thin metallic plate. It bore the image of a rather aggressive looking creature, with vaguely draconic features and some extremely sharp-looking teeth. To another mortal it might look menacing, but Secant found the image oddly interesting, like many of her little peeks at in her assigned records. She leaned in to take a closer look, but the Auditor drew it back as she leaned back in her chair.

“I take it from your reaction you haven’t encountered this one?” the Auditor stated. “Well, its form varies, but it is certainly responsible for a number of incursions, not just at the Registry, but also at the Root.”

Secant mentally gasped, the many fibrous hairs of her coat sticking out wildly in every direction.

“That’s right, dweller, that’s why we’re so interested in tracking this anomaly down.” The Auditor returned the etching to her coat, the plate wavering insubstantially as it disappeared from sight. “We need to know what this thing is planning. So I need you to retrieve the record that you’ve made the amendment in.”

Secant hesitated, then bobbed in agreement. In a blur of fuzz and poof, Secant raced off to the bookshelf. In the space of a few moments, Secant returned to the Auditor with the record in tow.

“Thank you, dweller,” the Auditor said coolly. “You’ve been a help to Central Services.” She paused and cocked her head. “You haven’t read this, have you?” she asked suddenly. Secant quickly gestured negation. The Auditor studied her for a moment, before nodding her head. She reached into her coat and withdrew a card. The typeset was grey like her eyes and the background black as her muted felt coat. She smiled thinly at Secant. “Let me know if anything else happens here. Keep an eye on your records, and forget we had this conversation.”

Secant bobbed apprehensively. She was about to see the Auditor out, but the second she drifted back, the Auditor had disappeared. One moment she was there, the next, she was gone. Secant bobbed back and forth uncertainly. When she was sure the Auditor had left, Secant hurried back to her desk.

In a matter of minutes she had compressed all of her work—and her desk—into a tiny satchel. Secant changed her container to something that would make it easier to blend in, and she headed back to the Registry to do one last thing. Right now would be a good time to go on vacation. Tricking an Auditor wasn’t something the Central Services would take too lightly. If she were lucky, the best thing she could look forward to would be a dispulsion. If she weren’t… well there were things worse than simple non-existence.

———————

Rainbow breathed out a sigh of relief as they crossed the bridge, officially entering into Ponyville. 

Now came the second problem. Already, she was drawing in a crowd, what with an unconscious alicorn on her back and a mysterious new creature studying everything around her curiously. Around her were hushed murmurs constantly buzzing around her.

“What happened to Twilight?”

“What’s that thing following her?”

“It does look familiar but I can’t quite put my hoof on it.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“Is Ponyville in danger?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town just blew itself off the face of Equestria.”

“Well I always needed an excuse to buy a new sign.”

“Berry!”

“Sorry, I’d be devastated if my basement wine collection was vaporised.”

Rainbow decided it’d be best to lay their fears to rest… and her twitching ears. “Nothing to see here!” she declared, pushing her way forward. “Move along, just on some business from the Wonderbolts.”

Most of the ponies nodded along, satisfied by the officious-sounding excuse. One of them trotted forward instead of moving away.

“Lyra?” Rainbow said. “Uhh, hi, do you need anything?”

Lyra ignored Rainbow, studying the human with keen eyes. “Hmm,” she said, examining the coverings. She glanced back at Rainbow. “Fascinating.”

Rainbow came around to the opposite side of the human, cutting Lyra off. “What are you doing?” she said through slightly gritted teeth.

“Just confirming whether this creature is actually a human,” Lyra replied nonchalantly.

“W-What?” Rainbow spluttered. “How did you—? How do you even know what it looks like?”

Lyra waved a hoof dismissively. “I do a lot more than just sit around and nap, Rainbow. I like to read up on mythology and ancient history.”

Rainbow was taken aback, then immediately recovered. “Wait, so you’re saying you know something about these things?”

“You probably know the basics, then?” Lyra queried, she was examining the hands and reached out with a hoof. Hurriedly, the human retracted his hand and gripped it with its other, staring at Lyra warily.

“Uhh something about it having good luck and healing…” Rainbow hesitated, trying to recall what Twilight had mentioned. “I’m not sure.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “You probably used Oxley’s or something,” she muttered. “Never mind, some of that is not entirely accurate, at least according to some other primary sources.”

Rainbow scrunched up her face. “Primary what now?”

Lyra took a deep breath. “Primary sources,” she explained patiently, “are sources that give first eye-witness accounts or relate to the time period where it has come from. The mythology of humans could have been rooted in fact, and then steadily washed away with time.”

“Yeah all this is really interesting,” Rainbow said curtly, “but what does that have to do with the human?”

Lyra dropped into a recitative tone as she continued. “Well first off, this one seems to be between young and a middle age. I can’t really tell since I’m no biologist, but it does seem healthy—” she noted its slight shivering “—if a bit cold. Humans are famous for being remarkably free of hair except on their heads, and they have no real physical capabilities other than an amazing propensity to run large long distances. According to most myths, they’re quite harmless unless threatened.” Lyra cocked her head as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Actually there’s something about how humans only follow virgins or something.”

“WHAT?!” Rainbow squeaked.

Lyra laughed at Rainbow’s reddening reaction. “Oh I wouldn’t put so much stock in that one, it’s one of the more silly stories.”

Rainbow glared at the unicorn. “Anything else?” Rainbow muttered.

“This one’s male,” Lyra said.

“Huh, what? How can you tell?” Rainbow asked, for once curious.

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “The same way you can tell with any other animal,” she commented wryly.

Rainbow’s eyes flickered down briefly, then snapped back to Lyra’s amused face. Rainbow flushed as Lyra smirked at her flustered reaction. “No, Rainbow,” Lyra added with a stifled chuckle. “I’m just reasonably sure because human females were said to have quite prominent mammaries.”

Rainbow scrunched up her face. “Mammaries?”

“Breasts. You know, like minotaurs.”

“A-Ah.”

Lyra clicked her tongue, breaking the temporary lull. “Well, I have other things to do today, but this was a distinct matter of interest.” She grinned. “It’s uncanny,” she added. “Like seeing a legend coming to life. Although I bet my horn that half of what the legends say aren’t true. Just a word of advice, though. As soon as other ponies catch wind that you’ve gotten a mythical being like a human….” Lyra glanced around. “Well, truth or not, they’ll want him for themselves.”

Before Rainbow could say anything, Lyra departed, leaving Rainbow alone on the bridge with uncomfortable thoughts.

——————

 Secant flew down the aisles one more time. Before she went, she had to retrieve the record that started it all. Secant had a bad feeling about that Auditor, she was up to no good. Secant arrived at the shelf and was relieved to see it was still there. Part of her had been afraid that it would have disappeared in the small time she had left it alone. She retrieved the smaller, paper-bound copy of the registry from Earth. With book in tow, Secant quickly headed to the Press. The Press was the only machine in the star powerful enough to change something beyond an amendment.

Secant drifted down to the centre of the star, scrupulously trying to avoid contact with other dwellers. The ones that ran into her didn’t pay her any mind. They were used to minding their own business. Close to the centre of the star was the Core. The Core was a giant glowing mass of unrealised potential that bore the primeval energy of Existence. As always, Secant slowed down as she approached the Core. All dwellers had a connection to the Core, it was what sustained their life. Secant had a healthy respect for the Core that bordered on reverence.

She skirted around the serenely humming sphere, making her way to the Press just off to the side. The Press looked like a simple block of cubic gold, but was so much more. According to some of the older dwellers, it was thought that the Press ran on the direct energy of the Core. Secant didn’t really believe that, but she never questioned it. It worked, and that was usually enough for her.

Placing her registry carefully on the Press, Secant gently fed power into it, carefully adjusting the flow so that only three pages from the book were separated. She looked around nervously. Although she knew there weren’t any dwellers around—as no one had used the Press for centuries—her apprehension remained. She quickly gathered the pages up and exited with them in tow.

Secant raced down the aisle towards the Shifter. She had to escape quickly. Her best bet would be to get out before the Auditor realised she had been tricked. She was risking an awful lot on a few words she had read in the Registry, but for once in her life she had been inspired. Those words had been few, but they meant a lot.

Ahead Secant saw the dimensional fold of the Shifter, spacetime in that region was in a constant state of flux so Secant concentrated on holding onto her memories. There had been cases where memories had been lost to the aether during transfer. Secant set the coordinates, but paused briefly at the edge of the Shifter horizon. She took one last look at the star, committing some of the more familiar places to her memory.

Secant withdrew the pages and read the words one more time to give her comfort. Then she did something no dweller had ever done since the star’s creation.

She left it.

———————

The journey to the hospital was more subdued; even though Rainbow noted that ponies were sending glances their way, none of them approached. The human followed along, limping even more on the hard cobblestone paving that made up the majority of Ponyville’s central walkways. Rainbow felt sorry for it—him, she corrected herself—but there wasn’t much choice. Only a little farther until the hospital.

“Don’t worry,” she said to the human in a hopefully reassuring tone. “We’re almost where we need to be.”

The human looked up, but he otherwise didn’t reply, seemingly concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Right,” Rainbow said. “We’ll just head in, I guess.”

Thankfully, Nurse Redheart was already at the reception. As she approached, she instantly noted Twilight draped across her back. “Get the Princess into Examination Room B,” she told a couple of nurses standing by. They nodded and immediately grabbed the nearest gurney, gently laying Twilight onto one. “What happened to her?” Nurse Redheart queried, retrieving a clipboard and some documents from behind the counter.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow replied honestly. “The human touched her horn and Twilight just said some weird stuff then sort of fell down. I had to carry her all the way back.”

“Human?” Nurse Redheart asked, then her gaze shot to him. “Oh I see, this creature?”

Rainbow nodded. “Can the hospital treat him? He seems to have hurt his…” Rainbow gestured vaguely to the human’s feet. “Whatever those are.”

“Feet,” Nurse Redheart replied. “At least that’s all I remember from Xeno. Doctor Stable is our resident Xenobiotician. I’ll fetch him as well.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow said. “How’s Spitfire doing? Any chance you’ve seen Soarin?”

Nurse Redheart shook her head in wonderment. “Spitfire is almost fully recovered. I can’t explain how, she’s just completely healed. A fractured ribcage, several broken bones in her wings, possible spinal damage, not to mention bruising and concussion… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Rainbow gaped at Nurse Redheart, her mouth shut with an audible click. “So Spitfire is already better?” she blurted. “How does that work?”

Nurse Redheart shook her head. “We’re running some tests to determine exactly how that came about. Soarin left the hospital, but you must have missed him, he hasn’t been gone for long.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow said. “I’ll go look for him and tell the others about Twilight. Thanks, Nurse.”

“Not a problem,” Nurse Redheart said, then turned to the human. “If you would follow me please?”

The human didn’t move from his spot, he just stood there.

“Uhh, please?” Nurse Redheart added.

Rainbow sighed. “Sorry, Nurse, I forgot to mention that it doesn’t speak our language.” She motioned him to come over. “Try it like this,” she advised.

Nurse Redheart beckoned with a hoof, making eye contact with him. The human still didn’t move. Nurse Redheart turned to Rainbow. “Any reason why it doesn’t want to follow me?”

Rainbow’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know…” Then her thoughts flickered back to the conversation with Lyra. “No, no way,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Nurse Redheart asked.

Rainbow mumbled something under her breath. Nurse Redheart leaned in closer, frowning. “Speak up, Rainbow, I couldn’t hear what you said.”

“I said,” Rainbow ground out through gritted teeth with reddening cheeks. “That I was told humans only follow virgins.”

Nurse Redheart burst out laughing. “That’s preposterous, how does it know?”

“He,” Rainbow corrected. “And I have no idea.”

“Well we can easily find out,” Nurse Redheart said with a playful expression. Louder, she called out to the rest of the reception. “Anypony here a virgin?!”

Silence greeted the pair.

“Perhaps, Miss Dash, are you—”

“N-NO!” Rainbow denied loudly. She groaned and covered her face as the room’s occupants stared at her outburst.

Nurse Redheart patted Rainbow on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Miss Dash, I didn’t have to ask. It’s in your medical records, which of course are confidential. I am a professional after all.”

Rainbow flushed a deeper red. “If you knew then that I was—”

“Lighten up, Miss Dash, it’s all about knowing when to take your job seriously.” She regarded the human. “Though how we’ll get it to follow us is still a problem.”

Rainbow gestured at the human. “I guess the others will have to wait a bit,” she mumbled in resignation, beckoning the human to come along. “Follow me.” 

Unsurprisingly, the human followed Rainbow, causing her to sag further. Nurse Redheart’s amused titter made her want to merge with the floor.

“Why does this stuff always happen to me?” Rainbow mumbled.

———————

David glanced between the nickering horses engaged in avid conversation. When he realised he was in a hospital, he became apprehensive of the whole situation. He didn’t like needles. In fact, he had a debilitating fear of them. If he had the choice, he’d want to be as far away as he could get from hospitals, doctors and their sharp instruments. David had tried several times to get over his phobia, but he’d only just learned to stay in the hospital. He barely kept the impulse to run under control when he recognised one of the horses sporting a nurse’s cap.

The nurse waved at him to follow. He shook his head instinctively, his feet rooted to the spot.

Move, dang it! He told himself, trying to overcome his irrational fear, but his legs could have been made of stone.

Instead of taking offence, the nurse said something to the rainbow one and then smiled at it. The rainbow one seemed to deflate then gestured for him to follow her. Relieved he’d have something at least familiar around him in a hospital, he followed the horse at its request, but he wondered why it seemed so upset when he did.

> 3 - The Root of all Causes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Chapter 3: The Root of all Causes


As time went on, the myth of humans grew. Most facts, born mostly from coincidence, faded. Active and loyal followers withdrew, and writers moved on. Besides, there was turmoil in the world. Who had time to write myths and fantasies when the world didn’t make sense anymore? Discord reigned. Things were breaking left and right. Even when that was fixed, the one source of consistency, the Two Sisters, shattered the illusion of stability. 

But life, as we all know, is resilient. In the aftermath, there was little to do except to rebuild and reflect. From art and culture sprung the inspired legacies of a New Age, a period of prosperity that would eventually outshine the shadow of events that had cast a pall over the ponies of Equestria.

So the legend of the humans faded, and from the ashes grew the sprouts of folklore, ghosties and ghoulies, and history rewritten in the form of pleasant little nursery rhymes. Prophesies of the return of the wicked, tales woven of good triumphant, and ponies common and royal working together against the rising odds that were more captivating than the old ditties and hearsay of the humans.

The humans didn’t mind, they lived quite happily during the rise and fall of their popularity.  

History, however, has a habit of clinging on. Though mostly forgotten, myths about humans weren’t lost, and those with open ears and sharp minds geared to the more… esoteric of callings were certainly determined to save a slice of history. Evidence of human mythology could be found dating beyond the pre-classical era. Strange drawings of monkey-like beings filled ancient temples and tombs. Depictions were varied, humans were shown falling through the air, or buried in earth, or drowning in water, both hunted and worshipped, owned or befriended, loved and hated. The legends of the humans became something of a collectible for the connoisseurs of the rare occult. 

With humans so deeply ingrained in pony culture, it wasn’t surprising that there still existed ponies that searched for them to this day.

———————

“Princess? Oh good, Doctor, I think she’s coming to.”

“Thank you nurse, would you tell Radiology to delay the X-ray?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Thank you. Now then, Princess, do you recognise where you are?”

Twilight suddenly yawned, breaking off her reply. She smiled apologetically. “Doctor Stable? I’m in the hospital?”

“That’s right,” he replied gently. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

“I was walking back with Rainbow and the…” Twilight trailed off, then sat bolt upright on the bed. “The human! Where is it?!”

“Don’t worry, it’s around here with Rainbow, last I’ve heard,” the doctor reassured. “Stay with me. I need you to tell me if you feel out of sorts, if you have any aches or pains, or anything to report. Don’t be afraid, even if you think it’s minor, let me know.”

Twilight concentrated, trying to feel if there was anything strange or different. As far as she could tell, nothing was out of the ordinary. She felt good, great even—

“Princess? Excuse me, Princess? Princess Twilight!”

Twilight blinked at the doctor. “Oh sorry, did you say something?”

Doctor Stable pursed his lips. “I think we should run some tests, just to be safe.”

In a rare bout of impulsive judgement, Twilight shook her head. She realised she was grinning. “No Doctor, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Doctor Stable was taken aback. Though Twilight had only been a relatively recent patient, she’d always been compliant in her previous appointments. Almost scarily so. In fact, the first time Twilight had come in, she’d nearly tripped over herself to get to the examination room. Something about a conditioned response to the word ‘test’. Though he was hasty to reassure Twilight that medical tests weren’t the same and there wasn’t any pressure to ‘pass’.

“All the same,” he insisted. “I think it would be wise to run a few more.”

Twilight hesitated, and the doctor snagged the opening with considerable alacrity.

“It’s just a day of observation, maybe less. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with your friends,” he said, bringing up a form. “Just a few and we’ll let you go, I promise.”

Twilight smiled ruefully while she signed the consent forms for extra tests. “Sorry doctor, you know what’s best.”

Doctor Stable smiled back at her gratefully. He took the forms and gestured to her pillows. “You should probably get some rest, Princess. You might feel fine, but recovery isn’t always in the body.”

Twilight nodded silently. She didn’t feel tired, but she didn’t really feel the need to do something. It was strange, any time she had a moment to herself she’d be reading, or working on a project, or looking over documentation and paperwork. Here she had an excuse to just let all of that fade away.

Before the doctor could make it out the door, Twilight called out to him.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Twilight said sincerely.

Doctor Stable smiled and nodded. “If you need anything, call for one of the staff. I’m going to check up on my other patients.”

As the doctor left, Twilight settled back in her bed, closing her eyes. She had ended up in the hospital, sure. So perhaps what the human had done hadn’t been all that bad.

—————————

The nurse-horse gestured to the empty seat by the door. Though the seat was a little small, David crouched in it feeling a little like a spider hugging his knees. David decided that it’d probably be a good idea to name these little creatures, particularly as they were getting to know him. The rainbow-coloured one would be called ‘Rainbow’, and the other would be called ‘Purple’ after their predominant colours. Well he’d call the nurse-horse ‘Nurse’, which seemed appropriate enough. He thought it was a little unoriginal, but he wracked his brains and came up short. David never had a pet, and never really took the time to name anything, and for some reason human names didn’t really fit these creatures.

A head poked through the door and a horse wearing what looked like a lab coat and a stethoscope around its neck poked through. It spoke in a quiet tone with Nurse, glancing occasionally in his direction. David took the opportunity to study the horses closer. From what he gathered, the jaw line of the ‘doctor’ was broader, and his overall shape bespoke masculine, especially comparing him side by side to Nurse. Rainbow looked more powerfully built than either of them, but David was convinced that Rainbow leaned more on the feminine side. He shrugged, maybe he’d never know, he’d have to ask. He never thought he’d ever have to identify genders of unknown creatures in an unknown world.

A sudden thought struck him.

What if there wasn’t a gender?

 Though he wasn’t entirely sure, he thought that from the way Rainbow looked with a slimmer body that it was probably okay to make the gender assumption. After all, it was hard to think about something without a gender, everything had a binary difference in gender, all the way down to objects on Earth.

His musings broke off when Doctor—now his name—nodded at something Nurse said, and left, closing the door behind him with a click. Nurse studied him as one would a puzzle, which made David a little nervous.

Nurse gestured to a clipboard she held and cocked her head in query.

As David eyed the clipboard with a raised eyebrow. He couldn’t fill out a form. Besides, would they even understand if he wrote in English? Nurse gestured to the board and then to David, then pointed to an anatomy picture that featured on the opposite wall.

Oh. A medical examination.

Well that explained why they were in an isolated room. With a nod, David acquiesced to what he hoped was a simple examination. Nurse looked relieved that she was able to communicate, and she got him to stand up. To the side, Rainbow looked tired, and she sank into the seat opposite of him, putting her head in her hooves for some reason. David clamped down on his rising anxiety as Nurse approached him.

No needles, no needles, no needles, he thought to himself. There aren’t any needles, you’ll be fine ohwhattheheckareyoudoingwithyour—

Nurse didn’t seem shy about poking around. Somewhere around the back of his mind, David knew he was simply getting a physical, but the probing hooves and curt gestures made him feel like he was just a dumb beast. Especially since he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Is this what it feels like to be an animal in a veterinary practice?

Several times he squirmed, but the nurse said something to him, frowning expressively. Eventually, when Nurse got tired of him moving, she said something to Rainbow. Rainbow looked up, made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, but trotted over to David, standing somewhat awkwardly close by. Whatever magic she did worked because David felt his heart rate slow. He grinned gratefully at Rainbow as Nurse continued, when a sudden impulse took him. He cautiously held a hand out, reaching for Rainbow’s head. He wondered what it’d feel like to pet that head…

Rainbow jerked away as his hand came into contact. She neighed urgently at him, giving a snort and looking generally upset that he’d even tried that. David raised his hands, hoping that would calm her down.

“Sorry!” he said instinctively. “I thought you would be okay with it!” The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Would he liked it if some random animal came up to him and started trying to touch him all over?, Which reminded him, what was Nurse up to—?

“OWW!”

Nurse quickly backed away, but was strangely grinning. She held a needle in her hoof that was tinged with red. Oh dear, red. David looked down at his arm, realising that Nurse had somehow injected him with something without him noticing the entry. What kind of… he felt the numb area around the puncture wound. Ah, somehow she got in a local anaesthetic swab. Wow, effective…

———————

“What happened to him?” Rainbow asked as David slumped forward in his seat. Nurse Redheart quickly took position in front of the human, to prevent him cracking his head on the floor.

“I just gave him a mild sedative in addition to the local anaesthetic. He would have moved around too much for me to do anything,” Nurse Redheart explained. “I also think I should run you through some tests, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Y-Yes!” Rainbow said quickly. “He just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I must admit your reaction was amusing,” Nurse Redheart chuckled. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean it like that, you’re just surprisingly shy in some ways.”

“Those things are different,” Rainbow muttered. “I don’t like anypony sneaking up on me.”

“Fair enough,” Nurse Redheart said gently. “Well, I have some tests to run, but I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on our jittery friend here. I can get one of the nurses to do it, but I think a familiar face would do him some good.”

Rainbow bit her lip, now was the time to escape. Nurse Redheart studied her with a searching look. Rainbow sagged a little, realising she’d built a trap around herself already.

“Okay,” she groaned, “but just for the next few hours!”

Nurse Redheart dipped her head. “Don’t worry, the effects of the sedative won’t last too long. At most, possibly a day.” She took a sample of the creature’s blood stored it in a small sample vial. “Okay Rainbow, I’ll be right back quickly, let anypony know if something happens, okay?”

“You mean something could happen?” Rainbow asked nervously.

Nurse Redheart shook her head, but hesitated. “Well, maybe. Like I’ve said, I haven’t taken Xeno classes since… oh a long time. Interaction effects are hard to predict, but I’ve tried to use low doses and common substances.” Nurse Redheart smiled reassuringly. “Doctor Stable seems a little busy, but he assured me it will be fine, we just have to keep an eye on him. I’ll send a nurse to check up on him, but in the meantime just make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said slowly. “But don’t blame me if something goes wrong, I work weather, not ponies… or humans.”

———————

Secant tumbled through the Null between universes. The darkness had an active feel to it, giving the impression of a pit filled with shifting snakes, or the roiling chaos of a frothing waterfall rapids. It was disorienting at first, but Secant was keenly concentrating on maintaining what made her essence unique. The Null was a dangerous place, and few entities traversed it. Secant clutched the book closer to her chest. It was hard to fixate the exact place in her mind, when the seductive call of dematerialisation beckoned from all around her.

I must get to that place, she resolved. 

Being in a mortal container contaminated her essence with emotions. Primeval fear sent chills down her spine and she gripped the book with her hands oh so painfully. She didn’t know why she chose a similar form that the Auditor took, it wasn’t very inspired, but it felt right. Her form might even help her recover what was lost. It was important.

A wailing shriek pierced through the emptiness. Secant squeezed her eyes shut and reached forward. As suddenly as it had begun, the emptiness was filled with the spatial and temporal nature of existence. Secant grinned headily until she realised a few things.

She was in an enclosed space.

She couldn’t move very much.

There was something with her.

“LET ME OUT!” she screamed, pounding at the wood around her. She heard a muffled shriek from the outside. Desperately, she called out again. “HELP ME!”

———————

Mortimus was a pony that worked in the cemetery. Though the hours seemed long, the company wasn’t great, and the looks the other ponies gave him were tolerant at best—hostile at worst—he couldn’t complain about his job. It was morbid, sure, but the pay was fantastic, and he could put his creative side to use in ways he never thought would be possible for little old him. There was also impeccable job security.

Mortimus was born with a face that could scare the crows away, his severe demeanour and sallow palette instantly pinned him to work that was less than artistic and more of the macabre. Mortimus wasn’t the disagreeable type, so when the city council offered him to work at the public cemetery, Mortimus was glad that he had one at all. Oh he’d tried to work at a candy store, or the toy store, or even as a street artist, but cousin Lilly-pilly had laid a gentle hoof on his broad shoulders and told him that perhaps scaring away the foals wasn’t the best sign that his career was off to a good start.

After a particularly unfortunate incident involving a cart full of cabbages, a clothesline and a distraught banker’s daughter, Mortimus was forced to give up on his dreams to become a soul that would liven a foal’s day. Mortimus had to contend with being the pony that laid souls to rest.

Still, Mortimus tried to express himself in ways that didn’t garner the attention of less-than-magnanimous higher society ponies. He liked to decorate the caskets in austere workings of gold and metalwork, and his deftness with the chiselled font on each headstone conveyed the dead’s final message to the world.

Though he had pride in his work, the irony of working for the cemetery, with the sickly pall of death and depression did nothing to assuage Mortimus’ hunger for something more. He wished he could one day reach out and show the world that he could make a child laugh. So for the inside of a foal’s casket he drew the filly wearing a regal dress and a small tiara but laid the filly on top of it, so that only he would ever know it was there. Though he wished it were different, fate had conspired to push his life into the same exhaustive routine.

He would start the day cleaning the yard, tending the garden, and washing some of the headstones of animal droppings. Then he would inspect the caskets and review the mortuary to make sure he got the numbers right, then finally he would spend the night painting little pictures of whatever fanciful image stuck in his head. Then the next day would come, and the same would happen again.

Today, Mortimus checked the casket of Alto, a brilliant singer in her day, who had passed away in her sleep. The cemetery had a grand hall for use of the dearly departed’s relatives if such a peaceful death warranted an open casket funeral. The cemetery catered for such events, for it was a matter of convenience that didn’t require the shifting of one’s body of great distances. Mortimus had even taught himself to play the organ, but he hadn’t had the heart to perform, even when occasion demanded it.

Ah, there was the casket, safe and sound. It laid on top of the stand with the dignified grace the long-distinguished singer deserved. Smiling sadly, Mortimus reached up to give the casket a quick wipe down with a cloth.

“Let me out!”

Mortimus dropped the cloth and let out a girlish shriek. He flushed with embarrassment and covered his mouth, but there wasn’t anypony in the hall with him, so he didn’t know why he did that.

The voice was unmistakably female. The sound, without a doubt, originated from the coffin itself. Even if Mortimus could deny the sound of somepony calling out from the casket, he could not deny the rasping and beating of hooves on the wood.

“Help me!”

Mortimus briefly considered fleeing the building and leaving whatever dark, mysterious forces were at play stay where they lay. What better place for the undead to be buried than among the dead? They couldn’t possibly blame him for that, right? Alto was supposed to be dead.

Mortimus chewed his lip, trying desperately to dampen the thought of the dead rising again. He forced himself to think about it logically. For whatever reason, a pony had gotten themselves trapped in the casket. They’d leaned in too far, and had tumbled inside. Yes, that was a plausible explanation. Mortimus could feel the rising need to bark a hysterical laugh. With an effort he swallowed it back down with the ill-tasting gorge that had backed in his throat.

No, he knew that falling in was impossible because the casket was set too high. He also knew there couldn’t be a pony inside, he had placed the singer in the casket alone, and locked the lid. The corpse had certainly felt dead then. He shook his head, it was a corpse, of course they would feel dead. But the only other explanation was that Alto hadn’t died, and there had been a grave mistake.

He made a decision.

“Okay,” he called out. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out!”

“Oh, thank you!” the voice replied.

Mortimus made his way to the casket, his hooves pausing over the lock. “Now or never,” he muttered to himself. He gritted his teeth and threw open the lock, pushing the coffin open. He staggered back as something that was definitely not a pony clambered out.

“Oh I thought I was going to suffocate in there!” The strange being lifted itself out of the coffin and swung her legs over the side. She landed somewhat awkwardly and stumbled, but regained her footing with a wry grin. “Sorry,” she continued, puffing a little. She took a few moment to collect herself then gave Mortimus a hapless shrug. “I’m not used to walking on these things.”

Mortimus didn’t say anything in reply. He slowly sat down on his haunches, letting the significance of what he saw sink slowly in. It had been a matter of curiosity, you see, for Mortimus had been interested in ancient myths and wise spun tales. He knew exactly what this strange creature was, but he couldn’t reconcile her existence in his mind. Especially one climbing out of a coffin.

“You’re…” he trailed off.

The creature tilted her head, the cascade of blonde hair shading her brilliant blue eyes.

“I’m what?” she asked, tilting her head in genuine confusion.

“You’re a human!” he spluttered.

———————

Twilight was in the middle of sleeping when an odd noise woke her up.

Tap, tap, tap.

The room swum a little as she blinked away the drowsiness weighing her eyelids down.

“Whah?” she mumbled.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was Owlowiscious, curiously at the window. He had been tapping the window with his beak. The bird eyed her impatiently, and gave another firm tap.

Twilight blinked at him, before realising that he wanted to be let in.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Sorry!”

The alicorn tumbled out of the bed in her haste to get to the window, and hoofed open the latch. It was only after a couple of moments to herself that she realised she could have just used magic to accomplish the exact same thing, and she could have stayed in bed.

“That was dumb,” she muttered to herself, sinking into a visitor’s chair instead. “Thanks Owlowiscious, what’s the problem?”

“Who!” the owl cried, and waved his leg about. Tied to one of his claws was a parchment, and Twilight mentally kicked herself. Why else would Owlowiscious be around? He wanted to deliver a message.

“Thanks,” she repeated, and made to free the scroll from his grasp.

Her horn started to glow.

“Oww!” A sharp pain radiated from her forehead, reverberated around her skull and ricocheted down her spine. Twilight gasped with the pain, her back arching in sympathy. But just as quickly as it had come, it left her with a relieved exhale, fading into a dull throbbing in her head.

“What the hay was that?!” Twilight ground out. She quickly blinked away the pained tears and noted Owlowiscious hovering steadily, watching on with a concerned expression. Her half-formed telekinesis spell failed and the scroll, loosened from its bindings, had plopped onto the ground. Owlowiscious paused, but noted that Twilight wasn’t having another seizure. He studied her suspiciously for a moment longer, then swooped down and picked up the scroll again, laying it on the table beside her.

“Owwowow,” Twilight hissed between breaths. “Thanks, ooooh, why does this hurt so much?” She moved her hoof to gingerly cradle her horn. There wasn’t any physical damage she could feel, and touching it with her hooves wasn’t alleviating or exacerbating the pain. Was it a one-off thing?

Owlowiscious settled on a bedpost and watched his owner warily. He looked ready to bolt out the window and fetch help, or maybe he was just worried. Twilight couldn’t tell.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said firmly, but Owlowiscious continued to stare at her with those penetrating eyes.

“Who!”

“I’m fine,” Twilight insisted, though her words lacked conviction, even to herself.

“Who.” Owlowiscious ruffled his feathers in a way that somehow suggested he didn’t believe her. Twilight pursed her lips, but decided that arguing with an owl wasn’t going to be the most productive use of her time.

Twilight glanced at the scroll on her table. It was within hoof-reach now, but did she want to risk another episode by trying telekinesis again. She thought about the pain involved. Perhaps it would be a good idea to call in the doctors. Something could be wrong. They said she was fine though…

If I keep the output of the spell very low, maybe it will be okay?

Twilight hesitated a moment longer, but then bit her lip and shook her head. This was a problem involving magic, she should be able to sort it out herself. With a determined nod, Twilight tried again. Cautiously.

“Oww?” Twilight winced in expectancy of a world of pain, but all she got was the pleasant flow of magic that arose from a solid connection. The scroll floated in the air serenely.

“Hah!” Twilight exclaimed triumphantly. “See?”

Owlowiscious winced and cringed, he peeked out from underneath his wings.

“Who?” he queried.

Twilight muttered something under her breath. Louder, she addressed Owlowiscious. “Hey, sometimes when I say that, I do get into trouble, but this is different.”

Owlowiscious studied Twilight skeptically, but didn’t say anything. He half-shrugged.

“You know for an owl, you’re awfully emotive,” Twilight grumbled, but she was smiling sheepishly as she said it.

Owlowiscious fluttered his wings, and shifted on the bedpost, he hooted impatiently and pointed a primary feather to the scroll.

“Right,” Twilight said. “The message!”

With a flourish, Twilight undid the scroll and read the contents. Her quick scan through the words ranged from surprised, to concerned and finally to pensive. She rolled the scroll back up and set it on the table, rubbing her newly pounding forehead with her hooves. 

“What are the odds?” she muttered to herself.

“Think you can deliver one more message?” Twilight asked the owl apologetically. Owlowiscious hooted confidently and flew over to land near the desk. The owl glanced about as Twilight conjured her quill and ink set.

“Hmm,” Twilight murmured. “Dear Princess Celestia…”

————————

Rainbow stared at the uninteresting human, bored out of her mind. Well if she was stuck here guarding the human, the least she could do was take a brief, short nap. She yawned softly. Yep, a short nap would do. Just until Nurse Redheart came back…

————————

Some say that there is no centre to the universe. Some say that the universe has many centres, or that it was ridiculous to define a centre to the universe. Well, there may be a centre of the universe, but that was in the purview of those that dealt with space. What the Auditors were concerned with was practicality, and so the Root was the centre of all universes. That is, the distance travelled between the universes would be the same no matter which universe the traveller had come from. Distance was a bit of a misnomer, for space was weird and warped and did not like to accommodate mere labels to that prerogative.

What mattered was that the Root lay at the centre of Everything. Existence itself warped around the massive structure in a spiral-like fashion, with spindly webs of connecting fibres emitted from the metaphysical domain that lay at the Root of all Causes. The Auditors inhabited this domain.

At least, most of them had until recently.

Out of all the original Auditors that made up the Root, only one Auditor remained. Most beings around the universe called her ‘Auditor’ for that was what she was, but none knew that her real name was Written, and that she had many names before, but all discarded as Ages passed by.

Written had arrived back, only moments before having visited the Registry. She was old, or so her mortal form suggested, but what she couldn’t disguise was how tired she was. Reality was a hard thing to maintain. Logic was not as immutable as it was before, and things around her were slowly spiralling out of control, like the many tethered threads that connected the Root to the universes beyond.

Written took the luxury of closing her eyes for just a moment. To cast away the world and just relax for the few seconds it took to collect herself. Finally, Written opened her eyes, and wearily made her way to her office. She passed the rusting and grating metal staircases, she ignored the flickering fluorescent lights above, she tried not to take notice of the empty rooms that lead to her own.

Inevitably, though she knew it would happen, she caught a glance of an empty desk and blinked away a few tears.

It wasn’t always like this, she thought bitterly. There was nothing worse than a breach of status quo for an Auditor.

Written paused at her door and took a deep breath. Another moment to calm herself, and she would attend to her duties admirably, as she had for the last few millennia. Then she pried open the door and quietly shut it behind her.

On the right was a flip-book counter, and Written flipped the last digit, watching wryly  as it caused a flip cascade down to the most significant digit.

Dissolution Incidents Averted: 10,000,000,000,000,000,000

Written felt a small sense of satisfaction that left as quickly as it had come. If there were more Auditors, her counter wouldn’t have to be so necessarily high. There was work to do, so much work to do. Her desk, piled with the backlog of Ages worth of reports, groaned under the weight. Written didn’t know what to do with them, she had written them as a force of habit, but there wasn’t an Auditor to handle her paperwork anymore. Yet more things that had been blown into disarray since the Incursion.

Ignoring her report for once, Written made her way to the back of her office, where a cork board dominated the back wall. Among faded clippings, gently drifting schematics and the faint odour of the threads of time, there was a picture. A picture that mirrored one that the Auditor carried in her cloak. She stroked it, in a way that only one possessed with lethal intent could. The picture was the only clue she had for the disappearance of a whole cohort of Auditors.

Yellow eyes tinged with red irises, incisive fangs protruding from a draconic snout.

“I will find you,” Written whispered. “Before existence ends, I will find out what happened to everyone I know.”

———————

Secant shook her head, giving a slight chuckle.

“No, no, no!” she said. “Not human! Well, I guess I am right now, but I’m not really human!”

Mortimus wrinkled his brow.

“But you look—”

Secant shook her head doggedly. “I am, but I’m not.” She clicked her tongue, going through the instinctual intricacies of her mortal containers, and finding the actions comforting. “Look,” she said. “Let’s put aside the fact I’m a human. I’m looking for someone that looks like me. Another human in fact, do you know where I can find one?”

Mortimus blinked. “I-I don’t know where you would find another human, I doubt you could find one at all. You’re a myth.”

Secant sucked in a breath. “Like I said I’m not exactly…” She trailed off as the pony stared back at her blankly. She knew the Amended mortal had to be around this universe, around this location. Her hands reached into her pockets and fingered the pages pulled from the Registry. Yes… the human had to be around somewhere.

Mortimus started edging away, but froze as Secant fixed him with a stare.

“Do you know anyone that could help?” she asked hopefully.

Mortimus looked back at her with wide eyes. “No, I mean you’d think it’d be all over the news if a human was seen, right?” He paused. “Probably?”

Secant rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. It seemed like the right action to emote at the time. “Yes,” she said decisively. “I will have to find this—” she pulled out the entry “—Day-Vid, Coal-Lin.” She frowned as she spoke them out loud. “That’s a strange name for a mortal.”

Mortimus cleared his throat. “What are you going to do now?” he offered. “You can’t go outside… you might attract unwanted attention.”

It was Secant’s turn to blink at Mortimus. “Why?” she asked, curious.

“Well… you know about the legends?” Mortimus queried incredulously.

Secant raised an eyebrow. “No? Should I?”

Mollified by her response, Mortimus drew back a bit. “W-Well I just assumed that since you were a part of the legends, that you would know about them.”

Secant ran her fingers through her hair. “I—” she took a deep breath “—It’s hard to explain. I’m part of a group of beings that aren’t quite mortal.”

“Mortal?” Mortimus sat back. “Are you talking about me?”

“Yes,” Secant replied. “Mortal. You’re a mortal, anything here is mortal, and anything that can die is…” Secant’s voice lodged in her throat as the implications sunk in. “Oh,” she whispered, sinking to her knees. “I’m mortal.”

Mortimus blinked at her. “So you’re saying you weren’t mortal before? Wow. Is that a human thing?”

Secant found herself annoyed by his line of inquiry, but quashed it sullenly. Her emotions must be swinging around because she was… Secant tried again. Because she was… Secant frowned. Because…

“Because I’m mortal!” Secant cried out as the horrifying realisation sunk in. “I can die, can’t I?”

She turned to Mortimus, who backed away a couple more steps from the intensity of her stare. “I can really, really die, right?” she pressed.

“Uhh…” Mortimus face crumpled as he tried to think of a suitable response. “Yes?”

———————

Mortimus didn’t know what to say. On one hoof, he was probably the most qualified pony to handle the question of death. As far as he knew, mortals by very definition could die. So if the human in front of him was mortal, then conceivably that meant she could die. It made sense, right?

So why did his answer make her more upset?

The human gathered up her legs together and small, quiet sobs could be heard from her as she reconciled mortality for the first time. At least Mortimus guessed it was the first time, he could only go from what she had been talking about, which was a series of crazy and improbable events occurring one after the other. To think, just this morning all he was concerned about was making sure the casket was spick and span before burial. It all seemed to fade away as he studied what was a legend quite literally risen from the dead.

Kind of.

He decided he didn’t like her crying, so he bit his lip and approached the human slowly. “There, there,” he murmured awkwardly. “It’ll be alright.” He continued to mutter consoling statements as he patted her on the back.

Sniff.

“Thang’you,” the human replied through her dribbling tears.

“Oh gees,” Mortimus said, looking around frantically. He spotted the pure white cloth lying askew on the casket. “Oh she won’t be needing this until later,” he grumbled, pulling the sheet off. He headed back to the distraught human and gave her the sheet. She gratefully wiped her face on it, leaving a snot-filled stain on the satiny-white silk. 

The relatives wouldn’t be very happy, but Mortimus sighed, putting aside the problem until later. For now, there was the problem of a mythical creature residing in the cemetery hall. Maybe it was a good idea to get the human’s mind off her sudden mortality, and onto her original purpose.

“You said something about finding a fellow human,” Mortimus prompted. He hoped the change in topic would distract her.

The human sniffled a few times and nodded. “I have to find the other one. There is trouble.”

Mortimus didn’t like the sound of that. “Well maybe I can help,” he said gently. “You said the human had to be around this place?”

She nodded glumly. “On this world,” she added.

Mortimus sighed. “Well that narrows it down.” He bit the inside of his cheek. There was no need to be sarcastic about it. He noticed the apprehensive look the human gave him and he cleared his throat quickly.

“I mean, I’m sure we can do something about it. I mean how many humans can there be?”

She brightened at that. “Just the one,” she said. “That I know of anyway.”

“Okay, uhhh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Secant.”

“Secant?”

“Yes?”

“That’s your name?”

“What else would it be?”

Well that was true. Mortimus put aside the strange names the humans adopted. “Alright then, I’m Mortimus.”

“Mortimus?” Secant suddenly interrupted.

Mortimus frowned. “What?”

“I know someone with a similar name.”

“Really?” Intrigued, Mortimus leaned in.

Secant nodded emphatically. “Oh yes, he dealt with the dead as well. Not a fan of the Registry, though I always wondered why he liked the records when he was a part of every one of them… I never wanted to know until I read the Amendment…”

Mortimus sat back, a little confused, but tried not to let it show.

“Alright,” he continued, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have you  go outside, some might freak out when they see you. I mean humans are obscure… but you can’t be too sure.”

“Why?” Secant asked. “Is there something about humans?”

Mortimus debated whether he should mention the more common mythology about a human’s touch, hair… and their blood.

“Uhh yes, you could say that.”

Secant tapped her lip. “Okay,” she said. “I thought it might be easier to look for a human as a human, but I guess I could be something else.”

Mortimus gaped at her. “What? So you’re just going to stop being human?”

Secant nodded. “It’ll be difficult being one, so I guess I should construct another container.” She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths.

Mortimus waited patiently, his eyes fixated in fascination. He waited for a transformation. What would it be like? A white glow? A binary fission like bacteria?

Instead for the next few minutes, nothing happened.

Secant let go of a frustrated groan. “What?! Why can’t I change my container?”

Mortimus licked his lips before responding. Was it rhetorical? “Maybe something’s changed recently?”

Secant thought about it for a moment before groaning again and cradling her head. “Oh, I hate being mortal! It’s so inconvenient!”

Mortimus glanced back at the stricken singer in her coffin. “If it’s any consolation,” he said. “Most mortals also think so too.”

——————

There was a beach, David saw, and a cliff with a lighthouse perched on the bluff.

“So what did you want to do with yourself, David?”

He glanced over. It was Melody, the idyllic dreamer he met in his college days. He knew what he was going to say back. It was the same, every time.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and he took in the disappointed look again.

“I wanted you to come with me,” she said. “Things might have turned out differently.”

David smiled wistfully, the crash of the ocean against the cliff was the ever present roar of water against rock. It always sounded angry to him, like a struggle the ocean refused to accept. He knew he was imagining it, but that’s what flights of fancy were for, right?

“I wanted something more,” he finally replied, though he was alone on the bluff. 

“From myself.”

——————

When David awoke, he fumbled around in the bed sheets until he realised he was alone.

There was a slight movement.

No, not alone, Rainbow had decided to nap close by. With a small smile he got up from the bed and wrapped Rainbow with his own covers. He thought he should say thanks, but he didn’t want to wake her, and nothing he said would be understood anyway.

There was a small sliver of light that made its way into the room. He traced it to a gap in the curtains and gently pried the material apart. Outside was the cool bath of moonlight on a grassy field, the night sky shaded with stars that glimmered with their alien sheen. David took in the sight, marvelling at the foreign constellations and the serene beauty of the night. A cauldron of emotions curdled with bittersweet excess.

The beauty struck him, but a deep heartfelt longing too.

It was the feeling of being so profoundly lost, the knowledge that not even the farthest hand of humanity could even come close to reaching where he was now. Amidst his scrambled thoughts, an idea sparked and floated to the fore.

Was this what astronauts felt?

He smiled grimly. No. They weren’t stuck, they had a way back, and a certainty that they could at least try. David didn’t know if it was possible to get back to Earth. It was a thought that had him crush his arm in a vice-like grip, and come to realisation that he was far, far away from home.

—————

Rainbow awoke with a start, she realised she was pleasantly warm. A blanket wrapped around her. Had it been Nurse Redheart? Her ears pricked up as she realised there was another sound, suspiciously like a tap dripping. She scanned the room and realised the bed was empty. Eyes widening, Rainbow nearly panicked until she spotted him by the window. She glanced back at the bed, then at the sheet covering her. Had the human done that for her? Why?

She approached him slowly, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

Then it struck her. The human was crying.

“Why are you crying?” she whispered.

The human turned, startled and for a moment Rainbow locked eyes and saw a well of sadness shaded thinly by surprise. He continued to stare at her with the tears still flowing freely. In an instinctual move Rainbow wrapped her hooves around the human, as far as she could reach, and shielded him instinctively with her wings. She didn’t know why, it would have been a useless gesture, but the human looked so forlorn that Rainbow simply couldn’t leave him alone.

The human mumbled something as he cradled her back.

Rainbow didn’t understand the words, but she thought she understood the meaning.

Thank you, he had said.


> 4 - The Atrium of Articulate Creation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Chapter 4: The Atrium of Articulate Creation


It wasn’t long before David realised there was something wrong. He didn’t have any solid memories, simply impressions briefly sparking whilst he’d been disorientated. There’d been a series of bewildering flashes, a struggle, a wordless cry, then an awful droning sound that resembled the humming of a thousand throats in a disconcerting concerto.

If he didn’t know what being frightened to the core felt like, he did now.

Consciousness announced itself painfully to David. Despite several bleary blinks and a dogged shake of his head, the fuzzy, swirling fog in his mind refused to go away. He tried to reach up to touch his head… but immediately found himself bound and gagged. Panic came swiftly after that, before the realisation that he wouldn’t be able to escape his bonds settled in. He continued to struggle for a few more minutes, slowly coming to realise the futility of doing so. Finally, he sagged against the wall with a muffled gasp. He thought he should probably do more to get out of the dire situation he was in, but he didn’t know what to do past panicked struggling and desperate gasping.

Besides, the rope did more cutting than binding, and his sore wrists and ankles attested to the inefficacious nature of his stalwart efforts. He was trapped. There wasn’t anything he could do. He had tried almost everything.

“Mmmph!”

Well, now he had tried everything.

The idea that he was helpless filtered gradually through his head. At least he wasn’t blindfolded, and in the dark and damp chambers, his sluggish night vision was starting to make out small outlines. The light was dim, almost pitch black, but certain impressions filtered through the darkness, defining vague shadows and recesses. One was a small outline he thought he recognised.

“Mmmrann!”

The shadow didn’t shift, but the steady breathing indicated that it was alive, a small blessing in an increasingly dire situation. Despite the pain, David shifted himself closer to Rainbow, trying to slide along the floor as best as he could. Each movement sent shocks of pain from his wrists and ankles, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on best he could.

He almost managed to get to her when a slight scraping echoed in the small chamber. David glanced up to meet predatory slits, tinged malachite with barely concealed menace.

It hissed something to him and gestured angrily at Rainbow. Not understanding, David didn’t move. The creature growled and with lightning speed, darted forward, smacking David against the wall with a heavy blow, all the while chittering loudly.

“Mmmph!” David felt a sharp pain in his side as he crumpled. It clacked something at him, then a green tinge filled the cavern as it lit the surroundings with its… horn.

David almost wished he hadn’t opened his eyes. Sharp fangs glistened with green luminescence, a glossy black carapace surrounded its frame, and the legs… the legs were riddled with holes as if to complement its tattered wings. The creature opened its maw, revealing just how many of its sharp teeth it had at its disposal.

As David swallowed his fear, along with a little of his dignity, he began to wonder if Fate was maliciously responsible for his predicament, or if there was some higher power that really liked messing with him.

————————

“Gone?! What do you mean gone?!”

The stallion looked decidedly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the glowering princess.

“W-We don’t know,” he stammered, “the human and your friend just disappeared into thin air.”

Twilight pulled back her impatient frustration a couple of notches. There was no use blaming the hospital staff. Somehow the human had escaped, and no doubt Rainbow had gone out looking for him. She gritted her teeth, mightily resisting the urge to pull out some of her mane. She gruffly thanked the nurse for his time and stomped down the hallway.

“Princess?”

Twilight recognised the voice immediately. She glanced up and saw the Wonderbolt beckoning her. “Soarin! Thank Celestia. Do you know where Rainbow went?”

At the rapid-fire questioning Soarin hesitated, but answered after a blink. “Rainbow Dash?” Soarin rubbed a hoof along his jaw. “Last I checked she was minding the human.”

“Oh no,” Twilight growled, “that’s bad, really bad!”

“Bad, how?” Soarin went from curious to concerned. “What’s going on, Princess?”

Twilight danced on her hooves. “You don’t understand, Princess Celestia was very interested in coming over and meeting this human! She’ll be here today and now he’s…” Twilight bit her lip, unwilling to voice it out loud.

Soarin raised an eyebrow. “He’s what?” Though his tone suggested he already knew.

“Gone!”

Soarin frowned, but remained surprisingly unconcerned. “Well we’ll just have to find him before then, Princess. So I take it he’s not in the hospital? We can search the area around and try and find out what’s happened to him.”

“I suppose so.” Twilight sighed. “I mean I thought of that, but in my panic I started forgetting the simple things.”

“He couldn’t have gone far, wasn’t Rainbow with him? I’m sure they’ll be fine, Recruit Dash hasn’t let us down yet,” Soarin said with a smile.

Twilight chuckled. “You’re right.” She took a couple more breaths and found that it helped. “I guess it’s still too new for me not to panic while trying to make a good first, second, third or nth good impressions.”

Soarin blinked but smiled bemusedly. “Good intentions,” he commented wryly, “often lead to poor consequences if you aren’t careful when you think it through.”

Twilight smiled at that, thinking back to Fluttershy and Philomena, ironically during the time when Princess Celestia also came to meet.

“You’re right,” she repeated, “but I’d still feel much more relaxed if I had the human here and not mysteriously missing.”

——————

Pinned to the wall, David couldn’t do much more than squirm against the firm weight of the horrifying abomination pressing down on him. Any moment now, David thought, he’d be eaten by that creature. He rather thought it would be a rotten way to go, being trapped on an alien world then just eaten.

Didn’t people like himself tend to go on grand adventures, or were those reserved for characters in fairy tale worlds without bloodthirsty critters that would eat you alive?

The creature licked its prodigious fangs and clamped down… on his gag. With a rough tug it removed his gag, then chittered. David didn’t react. The creature repeated the same sound. David blinked. A shrug, and then the creature undid the ropes at his wrists and ankles.

Was it possible that the creature was communicating with him?

The creature stared into his eyes with a penetrating look that made him feel naked while fully clothed. The creature then paused and cocked its head, as if considering something. In the dim light of its own horn, David could make out a tattered mane that framed its grotesque features.

Its horn glowed brighter once more and the thing chittered once more.

David yelped as a sudden pounding reverberated in his skull, as if a wild hog was playing football with his brain. Flashes of images flickered in and out of his vision and a soft sound murmured in the background.

“Wha—What the heck was that?!”

“Ah so you do speak.”

To say David was surprised was like saying Australians only mildly enjoy barbecues. All in all, for a human suddenly exposed to another sapient, communicable creature he did pretty well.

“Oh,” he said faintly. “English? I never would have expected that.”

The creature looked smug. “Oh please, I don’t know what this ‘English’ is that you speak of, but I am talking to you via a far more superior mode of communication.” Every time the creature spoke, its words were underscored by that faint droning sound. It was like a fly buzzing around near his ear. He glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source.

It guessed what he was thinking.

“No that’s not sound,” it hissed proudly. “You are hearing what we are all hearing, what we all share. That low buzzing is hunger, fear, confusion…” it licked its lips “All the delicious emotions that make up your delectable thought processes.”

David glanced at Rainbow and back to the creature, after a brief hesitation, he decided he would speak with it. Anything to delay being eaten. The references to his emotions as edible delicacies weren’t really helping either. “What are you?” He tried to keep his voice even but it came out weird and a little more high-pitched than he would have liked.

The creature studied him with a disconcerting stare. “Hmm, I would have thought a mythical being such as yourself would be more… impressive.”

David gulped, but tried not to let his confusion show. “Mythical?” he enunciated slowly. “I don’t understand, aren’t you the mythical being?”

A sudden rich laughter filled the room. “Oh how delightful! You believe that this world is fantasy? That we’re the ones not real?”

David reddened. “I didn’t go so far as to say that. You’re just putting words in my mouth.” He felt the blood drain from his face as it considered him as a carp would a worm. He swallowed thickly but managed not to break eye-contact.

The creature finally withdrew its glare, and David let go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He slumped back against the wall feeling like a spectre had rattled through his bones.

“Hmm, being the creature you are, you probably know the value of your own life, which is why you tempt me so,” the creature muttered more to itself than David. He kept silent, feeling that it was wise to observe than risk another touchy rejoinder.

“So,” the creature continued in a salacious drawl. “A human falls into my hooves and with one of the Elements. What should I do, what should I do?” It trotted over to the other end of the cave, illuminating his new accommodations.

That complicates things. 

On the other end were iron bars set into the cave stone. The creature ran a holed hoof along the bars striking each with a solid clink as it went along.

“You can’t escape, you know,” it told him as it came back. “And I happen to be well-versed in the mythology of humans. Fascinating stuff, but ‘ultimately useless’, or so I thought. Perhaps there is something to be said for esoteric knowledge lost in the throes of ancient pony culture?” It regarded him critically, then snorted. “There’s always a catch though, always a catch. Did you know that your blood holds the key to immortality?”

David’s shocked look said more than he ever could.

“I know!” the creature cackled. “You should see your expression, such delicious emotions!” For a moment, something primeval flashed in its eyes, but then it continued. “But there’s a trick.” She waggled a hoof in his direction. “An important annoying little trick.”

David swallowed thickly and replied, despite temporary misgivings. “And what is this trick?” he put forward tentatively.

The creature grinned viciously, sending chills racing down his spine. “For a moment I was worried that I would be speaking to the proverbial wall,” it murmured, then drifted closer. “I know it’s a bad habit, but I like to play with my food.”

David tracked it warily as it came closer. He swallowed once more, throwing the conversational dice. “You still haven’t told me what you are.”

Again, fangs and teeth flashed out. “If I told you, would you believe me?”

———————

She was supposed to stay in the hospital, but she had to go, despite him insisting she should remain inside.

“You should stay,” he said with a disapproving frown. “We haven’t found out what triggered your condition.”

“No time,” Twilight answered back. “I have to find the human before the Princess gets here.”

“Really,” he said. “I must insist. Actually some test results have come back that show—”

“Sorry, Doctor Stable, but I kind of wrote myself into a corner. I feel fine,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

The doctor looked torn but shook his head. “Alright, Princess,” he replied with a steady gaze. “Promise you’ll talk to me about this when you’re free from your duties?”

Twilight hesitated briefly but gave a nod of assent.

“Of course.”

————————

Twilight circled around the sky, her eyes scraping the floor in a way that suggested she would be perfectly fine if it were overturned while she did so. She swooped down and landed with enough force to cause the pavement below to crack. The small detail of debris flying around sending both Roseluck and Carrot Top stumbling back barely registered while she gritted her teeth and paced in an aggressive circle.

“Where is that human?” she growled, mostly to herself. “Of all the times to go missing, why now? Ugh, why do these things seem to always happen to me?”

“What’s a human?”

Twilight huffed in annoyance, still pacing in a tight circle. “It’s an infuriating creature with the propensity to cause me trouble and disappear from time to time.” She stopped and glared at the sky. “Princess Celestia will be here any minute now, and I still haven’t found him. I knew I should have just kept an eye on him after I wrote that letter!”

“Sounds dreadful! Anything I can do to help?”

Twilight sighed. “That’s very kind of you…” she turned around to thank the stranger, but trailed off when she recognised the streaming mane made of scintillating starlight, the friendly gaze rimmed with bright pink irises and her recognisable cutie mark that mirrored  the light above them.

“Oh, hello Princess,” Twilight whispered faintly.

“Hello, Princess,” Celestia said in a tone that was somehow gentle and firm at the same time. “Twilight.”

Twilight amended herself uncomfortably. “Celestia.”

The princess smiled genially. “So, a human disappears, just as I arrive.” Her mouth twitched with thinly concealed amusement. “Reminds me of that griffin diplomat. Isn’t that right, Luna?”

Behind Celestia, Luna peeked around curiously. “Indeed,” she replied warmly. “After a private word with him, I convinced the wayward soul to stop snooping around the Equestrian archives. I suggested that such forays would result in more than just clipped wings.” She giggled. “Maybe a little lower?”

Celestia chuckled at Twilight’s aghast expression. “Oh Twilight, you must learn to relax a little. You’re not my student anymore.”

Twilight sighed. “I know, Princess. To be truthful, I still wanted to impress you.”

Luna laughed heartily, her smile a mile wide. “If you wanted to impress my sister, all you have to do is—”

“Luna,” Celestia growled.

Heedless, Luna continued. “—bake her a mud pie! Did you know that she thought chocolate used to come—”

“Luna.” Celestia’s countenance darkened considerably.

“—from soil? She tried eating…” Luna blinked as she finally realised that Celestia’s full ire was now directed at her. She also noticed the faint growling sound coming from the incensed alicorn that might be likened to a disgruntled canine. A dangerously disgruntled canine. She turned around to face Twilight. 

Twilight supposed that such a gesture was in the vain hope that if she couldn’t see the predator, it wouldn’t eat her, or in this case, set fire to her coat with its molten gaze.

Luna cleared her throat noisily. “About that human, Twilight?”

Twilight slowly shut her mouth and tried to ignore the smouldering expression that looked so out of place on Celestia’s face. Celestia snorted, then gave Twilight an encouraging nod, signalling the dismissal of the matter. 

“I couldn’t find him,” Twilight reported succinctly, still uncomfortable with the overly familiar exchange. “When I woke up, Rainbow Dash and the human had disappeared.”

Luna looked thoughtful at that. “Curious, could not the human have stolen away with Rainbow?”

Celestia cocked her head. “Or perhaps he was stolen away?”

“Why?!” Twilight blurted out. “Barely anypony knows what a human is and I had trouble identifying one until I went through Oxley’s.”

“Oxley’s?” Luna queried quizzically.

“A childhood friend of Twilight,” Celestia confided mischievously.

“P-Princess?!” Twilight squeaked, her cheeks reddening. “It’s a book!”

The playful grin didn’t lift from her muzzle. “My point still stands.”

“It’s a reference guide,” Twilight explained hastily. “A bestiary of mythical monsters.”

“Very obscure,” Celestia added, her obvious pride fuelling her former protégé’s discomfort. 

Luna glanced between the two until her confusion resolved itself when she figured out what her sister was hinting at. “Ah. Then it seems plausible that none of the ponies here would want to harm the human,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Seeming as they do not know of it. Perhaps my sister’s idea has some merit and the human was indeed stolen away?”

Celestia rolled her eyes, failing to rise to the obvious jab. “Ah, it would have been easier if Twilight had casted a forget-me-not.”

Twilight flushed, remembering the spell. Once cast, anypony could be tracked with reasonable accuracy. Tagging a mythical creature that had an unknown origin and appeared out of nowhere was a no-brainer. Maybe it went back to its own mythical realm. Her eyes widened with panic. Maybe it took Rainbow with it?!

“I’m sure there were other pressing issues on your mind at the time,” Celestia added gently. “I would probably have forgotten to cast it too.”

Grinning, Luna opened her mouth in preparation to add something, but evidently thought the better of it when Celestia swung around to stare at her. Luna’s mirth turned rueful and she decided to move on instead. 

“There’s no use for regrets and ‘what ifs’ for now,” she said. “It’s surprising that there hasn’t been a single word about the human leaving. I am led to believe that he has somehow hidden himself around here. The human could not have gotten far.”

Twilight nodded, quelling some of her more hysterical runabout ideas, but remained a tad antsy. Though the human and Rainbow hadn’t been gone for all that long, it was beginning to really concern her that they hadn’t been able to find a trace. Soarin hadn’t gotten back either. Come to think about it, where did that stallion—

“Princess! Woah—and Princesses?!” Soarin screeched to a stop in mid-air. Twilight blinked. How did he do that? It was hard for her to even hover. She shook her head. Not important.

“Soarin!” Twilight gasped in relief. “Thank Celest—” She glanced back.

Celestia chuckled but gestured from her to go on.

“Thank goodness,” Twilight continued somewhat belatedly. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

Soarin grinned as he landed, looking decidedly chuffed. “Thanks, Princess.” Then he grimaced. “Oh that’s right! Princess we’ve found—”

“The human?” Twilight interjected with a hopeful grin.

Soarin’s wary gaze dampened her enthusiasm. “No Princess, we’ve found changelings.”

The mood went from curious to cautious in one breath.

“Where?” Twilight asked sharply.

“When?” Luna demanded.

“How many?” Celestia added.

If Soarin was fazed by the bombardment of questions, he didn’t show it. “Only a few that we could see, just over half an hour ago. We’ve tracked them to the cave system between the Gorge and the Bogg.”

“Bog?” Luna frowned.

“The Bogg, with emphasis on the ‘g’, Princess.” Twilight answered for Soarin. “It’s an artefact of the cartographers back in the founding—” she noted the blank looks “—never mind. Can you lead us to the changelings?”

Soarin nodded. “Follow me, Spitfire has been keeping an eye on them.”

“Spitfire?!” Twilight exclaimed, forcing everypony to stop and look at her.

Soarin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear? Spitfire was cleared just before you were.”

Twilight frowned. “I heard from Rainbow she took a serious dive trying to save the human, are you sure she should be out and about?”

Soarin paused, then cautiously shook his head. “Well, you know how she can get sometimes. She insists she’s fine. The doctors are looking through the records to determine if there’s been a mix up. It looked like she had a compound fracture, but…”

“But?” Luna prompted.

“But they couldn’t explain how she would have healed so fast in the meantime,” Soarin continued. “I’m not saying there was magic involved…”

“But you’re saying magic is involved?” Celestia said with a knowing smile.

Soarin inclined his head. “Yes, Princess.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Luna remarked. “Are you all thinking what I am too?”

“That it might be linked to the human?” Twilight posited.

“Yes,” Luna said. “It could be one of the mysteries of our mysterious guest.”

Celestia cleared her throat. “While this is all very interesting, there is the small matter of the changelings.”

Everypony straightened.

“Yes, of course,” Twilight said. “Please take us there, Soarin.”

——————

Spitfire was circling in a wide loop. Twilight banked to hover just at the boundary of the Everfree forest. The Gorge intersected with the Bogg like a knife sticking out of the recesses of greenery, standing out in stark contrast to the surrounding lands. On first glance, the surrounding rocky terrain didn’t seem to house anything that could be considered cave like systems, but shadowed recesses and indentations hinted at possible networks squirrelled away in the natural landscape.

Spitfire spotted them and beelined towards the group.

“Soarin!” She almost did the same comedic double-take in mid-air that Soarin did. “Princesses?!”

The Wonderbolt Captain blinked but straightened her posture in the way only those born with wings could achieve. “Captain Spitfire reporting for duty, ma’am.”

“Do you have a report?” Celestia asked. Twilight flinched, having opened her mouth to ask the very same thing a second too late. Luna shot her a sympathetic glance.

Spitfire didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Princess. We spotted the changelings just over an hour ago heading towards this point of interest—” she indicated a particularly dark overhang in the cliffside “—the changelings have been heading back to this point. They don’t have a unified direction which leads me to believe that the changelings are seeded all over Equestria.”

Twilight gasped.

“That’s not all,” Spitfire said. “I’ve been counting the amount of changelings coming back…” Even with her outward confidence her pause betrayed her underlying trepidation.

“What?” Twilight waved an impatient hoof. “How many?”

“Over a hundred, Princess.”

Twilight blinked. “How could that many changelings be around Equestria and escape detection for so long? Do you think Chrysalis is back?”

Celestia eyed Twilight giving her an approving nod. “I don’t know, but the method seems much more covert compared to Chrysalis’ stunt at Princess Cadance’s wedding.” She pointed to the overhang. “But the question right now is less of ‘how’ and more of ‘why’. What do changelings have to gain by doing this?”

“And why have they stopped and begun to gather?” Luna posed.

Silence reigned as they pondered the implications. Finally, Soarin spoke up.

“I don’t like it,” he said, “but I think we all agree that we have to do something about it right now.”

“We need to investigate it,” Spitfire agreed. “We should infiltrate the caves.”

“We don’t know anything about them. It could be miles before we encounter anything substantial,” Twilight said doubtfully.

“That’s easy,” Luna said with a crafty grin. She pointed downwards. “That’s how we find out.”

Twilight glanced down and saw an approaching changeling. As she recognised what Luna had in mind, her smile started matching Luna’s own.

“We follow their hoof steps.”

Luna’s horn glowed, her form shimmering out of visibility.

“Like a ghost, we will haunt them.”

———————

Written sat down at her desk rubbing her eyes. The gesture was mostly cosmetic, but for some reason the mortal action tended to relieve some wearing tension. Her container liked the gesture and appreciated some basic maintenance. Besides, forgetting to blink made the eyes leak uncontrollably, so it was better to avoid such distractions.

The Record sat on her desk like a fat toad. The cover had been embossed with the signature identification of the world it was linked to. Usually the detail would barely get a sparing glance, but this time it caught her eye. The numbers were different.

Written felt a mortal chill creep down her spine. Had the Dweller actually lied to her? An Auditor?

Shaking fingers flipped through the Record, frantically trying to find the key information she sought. Nothing. It was a blank Record. It wasn’t even linked to that planet. A vicious snarl distorted her features. That Dweller did lie to her.

The chair crashed into the ground, followed closely by the pattering of paper and various writing implements. Written gripped the record so tightly the binding buckled under the pressure. With careful effort, she suppressed her rage. This was good. This was a clue. This would lead to the reason why Reality had been so warped. She just needed to find that insipid Dweller.

With a breath that contained equal parts exasperation and ire, Written calmed herself down. She stalked to the end of her office and retrieved a heavy brass key that sat on a serious-looking iron ring. The key jangled as she clipped it onto her belt and stalked out of the room.

With a grumble she flipped over the railing and landed on the walkway below. The acrobatic movement was unsteady and Written cursed herself for not practicing more. There were times when being trapped in a mortal container was an inconvenience, but sometimes there was no choice.

The gridded walkway groaned and creaked underfoot as Written marched to the Auditor’s Equipment Room. The Equipment Room was one of the few places that had additional security in the Root. It contained potent Reality-warping items that ranged from the mundane glitch-correcting lenses to full-blown Reality-ending artefacts placed there by the Author herself.

Written was suitably nervous stepping into the Equipment Room. In fact, she was reasonably sure that if any Auditor were alive today, they probably would have stopped her. Express permission was granted by command of the Head Auditor, but he had disappeared with the rest of them. Written wrung her hands, stopping outside the entrance.

It was a small affair, looking like nothing more than a wooden door, albeit with a large cast iron padlock that glowed with charged energy. Any unauthorised personnel would be immediately erased from existence if they touched the lock. Written guessed that being the only Auditor present in the facility for so many years, that would officially make her the acting Head Auditor in the interim. A signed parchment was the only declaration she could come up with that could possibly suffice, but she hoped it would be enough for the door to accept. If it didn’t… well… Written would have other things to worry about.

She gingerly lifted the parchment and placed it flat on the door. With a shriek, an electric shock pulsed through the parchment and into her palms. Written sucked in a painful breath and removed her hands. The parchment remained stuck to the door as if glued into position. The Auditor glared at the door, wondering if there were any new tricks it would pull. Written hesitated, then lifted the keyring off her belt and slid the key into the lock. She gulped down her rising panic. This would be the last moment she could turn back.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned the key…

And heard a click as the lock snapped open and disappeared. The door silently swung open. Written let go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and relaxed incrementally. All that tension was giving her mortal container knots. She peeked inside, then stumbled in. Her jaw dropping in disbelief.

What?! The rooms were supposed to be full of dangerous Reality-warping artefacts! Where were the severing lenses, the reticulating crystals, the ameliorative prisms?!

Written desperately scanned the empty room. Wait. No, not entirely empty. There was just one object that lay in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall as if discarded. A gnarled staff that appeared to have a gently pulsating blue stone inset in the end.

Written reached down to pick it up. As soon as she touched the wood, a loud snapping sound occurred, along with an intense burning sensation in her fingers. She yelped and whipped her hand back clutching her fingers in pain. As she blinked away her tears she gasped. The staff was gone.

Written sagged.

All this time she had been led to believe that the Equipment Room held strange and wonderful things. Maybe it was just a storage room for some weird baubles the Head Auditor had collected. On top of all that she had burned her hands twice trying to get here and for nothing! Written felt a twinge of frustration before she quashed it sullenly. There was no use getting angry over something she never expected would reliably help her anyway. She trudged to the exit.

Written froze.

The infernal staff was leaning casually on the door.

She narrowed her eyes and reached for the staff. The staff danced away.

Her mouth fell open.

“Hey,” she growled. “Stay still.” Again her questing fingers were eluded as the staff swung away from her and rolled to the centre of the room. Written’s lips tightened. She would not be bested by a mere staff. She was an Auditor of Reality.

“Come here,” she ordered. “I have need of you.”

The staff didn’t budge.

Written muttered something under her breath. She lunged at the staff. “Get over here!”

The staff stuck itself to the ceiling. Written gaped at it. It was definitely a Reality-warping object. It could defy gravity, teleport out of reach, it was self-animated… definitely qualities of a Reality-warping object. Written jumped up and down in an undignified manner trying to reach the staff. After a solid five minutes of trying, Written collapsed to the floor. It felt like centuries of repressed stress was crushing down on her shoulders. This was not her day.

“Oh won’t you please just help me?” Written pleaded, tears blurring her vision. “Reality is at stake!” The Auditor gripped the simple robes around her in her fists. She had worn this uniform for thousands of years. She had performed her duty for an incalculable amount of time. Never had she had a break. Never was anything even remotely easy, but this… this was just too much.

“I don’t ask for much, just get down from there, please?” she moaned.

After a long stretch of silence the staff fell to the ground with a wooden clatter.

Written blinked, looking up. She sniffled, feeling ashamed that she had let such mortal emotions overrule her thought process. It must be the container, it was slowly infecting her with mortal attributes. She glared at the staff. Was it playing with her again? Why did it do that?

She reached for it, but this time it didn’t move away. She pulled back her hand cautiously.

Was it that simple? Surely not.

“Can I hold you, please?” She reached out once more and touched the staff. It didn’t move.

The Roots be rotted. A polite staff.

———————

Twilight was leading the group, beckoning Luna and Celestia when the coast was clear. Twilight reasoned that if she was compromised, then at least Luna and Celestia wouldn’t be caught up in it. There could be traps. Celestia and Luna weren’t terribly pleased at the prospect, but reluctantly agreed that the strategy made sense. 

The illusion spell had the added advantage that if anypony else was also invisible they would see each other. The illusion spell was very draining for even talented unicorns, so they could only cast it on themselves and even then it was limited to a few hours. If they couldn’t find the rest of the changelings and get important information in time, they could lose their chance for settling this stealthily.

Luckily the changeling didn’t seem to notice the shimmering haze that followed it as it trotted into the cave. Twilight followed it a few yards behind, hoping her hoof steps would be masked by the changeling’s own. The cave was mostly natural, but in some places it looked like it had been widened as necessary, with marks that looked suspiciously like pick marks scored along the sides of the cave walls.

The passage wound to and fro following intersections and pathways that were dizzying to look at, much less remember. She was concentrating so hard on trying to commit it to memory that she almost missed Celestia’s gesture to the walls. Twilight glanced at the walls and with great difficulty stopped herself from smacking her head on the wall. Of course the walls with the scored pick marks would be the way out. Now they didn’t have to worry about getting lost.

That also explained why the changeling occasionally glanced at the walls.

Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any traps. The changeling walked confidently through the winding turns of the cave, blissfully unaware that it was leading three alicorn princesses to the heart of their swarm. Twilight bit her lip in anticipation for what lay ahead. What would they find? A changeling army? A changeling cult? A secret changeling pirate cove?

Twilight suppressed a gasp.

It was a changeling nursery. Twilight was not expecting this. The changeling they were following seemed to be occupied with helping a younger changeling reach some weird goop in the centre of the chamber. Though the changeling they were following was still unaware of its shadows, one of the younger ones were staring… right where she was standing.

She backtracked hastily to the other princesses.

“What is it, Twilight?” Luna whispered.

“The changelings have some sort of nursery down here,” Twilight answered reluctantly.

Celestia’s eyebrows furrowed as she considered her findings. “We need to find out more.”

Twilight nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. This can’t be it. One more thing…”

Celestia tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

Twilight nodded slowly. “I’m not sure if it’s coincidence or otherwise, but one of the younger changelings looked like it could see me.”

Celestia bit her lip. “It’s subtle, but the distortion’s there.”

Luna nodded. “It’s impossible to make us completely invisible.”

“What we could do is temporarily change our forms,” Twilight suggested. She ploughed on, despite the confused looks. “To look like changelings, I mean.”

“Oh!” Luna chuckled. “That would certainly give the changelings a taste of their own medicine.”

“Do you have a spell in mind, Twilight?” Celestia asked.

A small smile played on her lips as she answered. “You’ve known me for a long time, Princess. When do I not have a spell on my mind?”

———————

“So,” the creature drawled, “it might have crossed your mind once or twice that perhaps I’d want to eat you. That I’m a vicious predator that stalks the caves around here?”

David didn’t know if the correct answer was shaking or nodding his head so he kept it still. His eyes tracked the creature as it paced back and forth.

“I’m a changeling,” it said. “Specifically a changeling Queen, I am royalty—” its lips twisted in disdain “—though I’m never recognised as such. What we are recognised as is dangerous...” she locked eyes with David “...pests,” she stalked closer, “feared monsters.”

She suddenly turned away. Was that regret David saw? Couldn’t be.

“Hesitation is weakness, to remain static is to snap under pressure, to be weak is to be ruled,” the Queen continued. “We will not be ruled!” With a stomp, the Queen struck the ground with enough force to make a cracking sound. David winced.

“It’s sad,” the Queen said after a moment’s silence, “that we are reduced to scavenging among the caves, sequestered away from the light like some discarded refuse.” She tapped a bar of the prison cell. “You think this cage is restrictive? You think this is the worst you have experienced? Are you hunted? Have you known fear—true fear—when the inevitable revulsion washes upon their features and they find out your true nature?”

Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the ragged Queen. He almost wanted to reach out and comfort it. In fact, his hand lifted a few inches, then dropped down to the wall.

Then the moment was lost. Her posture straightened, her lips tightened, her eyes glowed menacingly as she considered him. Then she did something that seemed to put a lie to everything she did before. She approached him once more and inclined her head.

“Human,” she said through gritted teeth, “I want your help.”

—————

“These forms will take some getting used to,” Twilight said, running a hoof through her patchy mane. “Don’t let a changeling touch you, it’ll break the spell.” Her voice sounded as strange as she felt. The spell even mimicked the changeling drone that underscored their speech.

Celestia was impressed. “I’ve never heard of this spell before, it’s very complicated and well-constructed. Where did you find it?”

Twilight rubbed an embarrassed hoof to the back of her head as she blushed. “It’s actually experimental,” she admitted, “I made it myself.”

Luna blinked. “I suppose we must cease to be amazed by your talents, or we would have no room for any other emotion.”

Twilight went a deeper shade of red. “Thank you, Princesses.”

“The ultimate test of this spell will be to get past without suspicion.” Luna focused ahead. “Will this work, or would this be a further risk?”

“I don’t think we can last much longer with the invisibility spell. We can’t risk the spell failing further along. This doesn’t take nearly as much energy,” Twilight said.

Luna nodded, conceding the point. “Well, let us not delay. We’ll test these for ourselves.”

Twilight forged ahead, moving into the nursery room. Where before the young changelings were content and happy, they all stopped suddenly and stared. The changeling they followed seemed to notice the silence and turned around.

“Can I help you?” it said with the characteristic changeling drone.

“No, no,” Twilight said. “Carry on, we have a report to make.”

“Ah,” the changeling replied, turning back to attend the younger one as they relaxed imperceptibly. “Were you tracking down the human as well?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “I’m sure the Queen would want to know soon.”

“No rush.” It chuckled. “The Queen managed to lay hooves on the one that was in Ponyville. The other one in Manehatten is not critical if we can get this one to cooperate.”

Another human in Manehatten?! Twilight had a myriad of questions but she suppressed them, instead glancing back at the equally shocked princesses. Asking too many questions would probably raise suspicions. “Okay, we’d better get the report to the Queen.”

The changeling smiled, then suddenly glared at the three of them. “Before you go,” it drawled. “What’s the password?”

Twilight froze. Then she galvanised herself into action. “Password,” she snorted, “that old joke? We’ve never had a password.” Sweat beaded on her brow as she gambled on that statement.

The changeling chuckled. “Hah, phew. Not a pony. You never know when a pony would infiltrate, you know? The others think I’m paranoid, but you never know. Anyway, I’m glad you’re not one of them. You’d better make your report later, the Queen is with the human.”

A frisson of fear crept down her spine. Was that the human? Was he alright? Was Rainbow with him? Was she alright? Twilight reluctantly quelled the train of thought ricocheting in the back of her mind. “I’ll do that,” Twilight replied as she proceeded through the nursery, all the while with young changeling eyes tracking their every hoofstep.

Out of earshot, Celestia leaned towards Twilight. “Well done.”

“Certainly an impressive bluff,” Luna commented. 

Twilight tried to swallow back the heart that felt like it was still in her mouth, and succeeded only partially.

“Let’s hope I don’t have to do that too much,” she croaked back.

——————

After a few minutes of wandering, a sudden thought occurred to Twilight. “What do we know about changelings?” she asked quietly.

“Not  much,” Celestia admitted. “There’s a lot of mystery shrouding these creatures. It was said that they were around even before organised pony society, before the pre-classical era. Luna?”

Luna stared into distant memories. “There have been times when they were mentioned, but changelings have only come to light fairly recently. I had almost forgotten they had existed.” She shook her head. “That they have been so active recently is worrying.”

Celestia paused. “Do you hear that?”

Twilight stopped and cocked her head. “Strange, it sounds like—”

“—Humming,” Luna finished for her.

—————

David blinked at the Queen. It felt like his mind was all over the shop. He glanced back at Rainbow.

“I don’t know your name,” he said.

“You may call me Exuviae.”

David swallowed, gesturing gingerly at Rainbow. “If I help you, will you help her?”

Exuviae didn’t hesitate. “You have my word that no harm will come to this one. I had contingency plans for the Element, but if you cooperate there is no need for her.”

David sighed. “What do you need from me?” They mentioned blood. He felt his stomach drop sickeningly.

Exuviae caught his expression and softened slightly. “It’s probably not as bad as you are thinking, no. While you are our prisoner, we need you. Don’t you think we would have already harmed you if we wanted to?”

David nodded cautiously. She had a point.

“Well, human, would you like to take a walk with me?”

When he hesitated, Exuviae vented a frustrated sigh that made him feel embarrassed. She bared her teeth wickedly. “It’s not like I expect you to lose all your inhibitions just because you agree to help, but I want you to see that we’re not just monsters.”

“Why is it so important that you convince me of that?” David asked.

Exuviae moved to the end of the chamber near the bars. He couldn’t see a door so he was puzzled as to how exactly she was planning to get past them. He didn’t see any visual clue until the Queen motioned to the changelings from beyond the bars. They signalled further down the corridor and a slow grating sound came from the bars as they rose from the ground into the cave ceiling.

Gaping, David was impressed. There was some serious engineering behind the bars.

“Like it?” Exuviae said. “We are quite inventive when given the chance, but this is also partly why we need you.” Outside the cell, Exuviae beckoned him through and gestured once more, with the bars crashing down into its worn grooves in the floor. She caught his worried look.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your friend will be safe enough here.” She leaned in and whispered something to one of her changelings. “I have instructed one of the guards to explain the situation to your friend when she wakes up. Then she’ll be given the option to leave of her own accord. She cannot follow us.”

David opened his mouth, but the Queen cut him off.

“This is non-negotiable. We live in trying times and I want you to hear us without the interference of the ponies.” Exuviae sighed. “I could see you weren’t with them for very long because you reacted as if you’ve never heard of us before. This is good, you need to understand—” A changeling darted down the cave tunnel skittering to a stop in front of Exuviae and bowing hastily.

“What is it?” Exuviae snapped, visibly irritated at the interruption.

“My Queen,” the changeling bowed. “An important report.” It glanced sidelong at David.

Exuviae took the cue. “Excuse me,” she said, moving to the side and conversing in a whisper with her subordinate.

David glanced back down the hallway casually, spotting a handful of changelings that had silently flanked them as they had progressed. They were so quiet he hadn’t even noticed, but their presence quelled the small thought inside him to run. He rubbed his eyes. In his whole life, he’d never been so stressed out. His one job was very low stakes. Just keep the records in the airport and track the logistics. Everything was rapidly getting out of hand, he felt like he was spiralling down a rabbit hole with the ground crumbling every time he thought he had gotten his footing.

Exuviae was discussing something intently with the new changeling. From her tense stance and heated replies, it must have been something bad. Finally she nodded sharply and pointed down the hallway. The changeling gave a salute and galloped down the hallway, disappearing down one of the many side passages of this complex network of tunnels.

“My apologies,” Exuviae said while coming alongside David again. “There have been… problems.”

“What sort of problems?” David asked, unable to resist.

Exuviae’s sharp glance sent a chill through his veins. “Nothing to concern yourself with at the moment.” She turned away as if regretting the show of intimidation. “I… apologise, anything that concerns my changelings tend to make me… impolite.”

David thought it might go a bit beyond that, but didn’t say so. Why was this creature so desperate to make him sympathetic?

“In any case, we’re nearly there,” Exuviae said, rounding a corner.

Until now, the caves were lit ahead by the small glow of the changeling horns. There wasn’t anything significantly bright in these dark depths. It didn’t bother David that much. It made it creepy, but his eyes had slowly adjusted to the dim settings and he found the cave floor had been levelled so there was no trouble walking. In fact, the whole cave tunnels looked like there had been a lot of work put into them.

Around the corner the mouth widened considerably and the light from their horn dimmed considerably, temporarily blinding his unadjusted eyes.

He gaped.

Here was an opening to the outside, a large cavity in the mountainside that was riddled with holes, tracks and passages that gave it a honeycomb look. When David emerged from the cave and walked towards the railing he saw the pillars holding each level up and the concentric levels extending all the way down. On the left, a tall mountain blocked the setting sun, but for now the sun cast brilliant shafts on a tumbling two-staged waterfall that cascaded into the seemingly endless pit below. 

“Did you… build all this?”

Exuviae snorted. “No, that’s a little beyond our talents. This has been abandoned for as long as I can remember. We’ve been here for a few decades, but something that had been here was gone or buried for thousands of years.”

David surveyed the ordered columns that lined each ring supporting the ceiling above. Each concentric ring was as extensive as a football stadium. An endeavour like this would be monstrous. How could anyone achieve something like this thousands of years ago? It was a wonder. He smiled slightly, admiring the architectural feat. That it had lasted that long was amazing in itself. Thousands of years against a waterfall? Or was it a later addition after nature’s implacable erosion? It seemed impossible.

Immensely difficult, but not impossible, David thought as he remembered the Egyptian pyramids.

Exuviae eyed David from her periphery. “So,” she began, “a story, then a decision.”

For once, her confidence trembled visibly with her anticipation. Much as David thought he was making a deal with the devil as it were, he couldn’t help but feel that whatever he had to offer was more valuable to them. He bit his lip, waiting for Exuviae to regale him with her tale.

“We are dying,” she announced abruptly. She shook her head at his stricken look. “No, not from disease, not from starvation, not from any natural affliction that you could imagine a nation suffers from in the slow progression of Time. We’re dying from stagnation.”

“I don’t understand,” David said in the ensuing silence.

Exuviae regarded him with a look that made him feel like he was a misbehaving child. “But you do,” Exuviae continued impatiently, “humans have been a part of this world a long time ago. They have been the harbingers of change.”

Exuviae trotted closer to the edge, leaning on the one of the pillars as she flung a hoof out to encompass the majesty of the multi-storey mega-construction. “Do you know what this structure is?”

David shook his head.

“It’s a temple,” Exuviae explained. “An ancient temple that described a mythical creature capable of amazing feats and abilities.” She locked gazes with him. “A human.”

Before David could say anything, Exuviae continued. “A human was an exceedingly rare creature and accounts were widely variable and vague. One thing was for certain, a common thread among the complex tapestry of stories if you will, was that humans were regarded as auspicious creatures. Killing a human was considered catastrophic. Plagues, misfortune, damnation—” she licked her lips “—but if treated right also promises of wealth, power and immortality.” She flicked her tail dismissively. “Each story was fantastical as the next, but here, sequestered in the centre of Equestria was the truth about humans.”

David couldn’t resist asking the obvious as Exuviae paused theatrically. “What is it? What’s the truth?”

Exuviae grinned wickedly. “It is said that humans could warp the very fabric of reality itself. With that kind of power humans become the final arbiters. They can legitimise almost any course of action. Say it is so, and most will believe.” Exuviae studied him critically. “You must choose a ruler for the changelings.”

David didn’t laugh despite the incredulity of the statement. Exuviae’s serious demeanour plunged his flippant retort on that delusional belief into icy waters. He licked his lips.

“There must be a mistake,” he said. “I don’t think I can just make a decision and pick someone to ‘rule’ as you say. I’m nothing special, and I don’t have any of these powers!”

“Don’t play games with me, human!” Exuviae snarled. “Our race is at the point of extinction! We’re fractured, we’re malcontent, and worse, we’re isolated with nowhere to go. Do you think I enjoy living in a cave, afraid to venture out into the light? Do you think we take pleasure in competing against each other for food like primitive savages? Do you think we enjoy wearing the faces of ponies and living in  fear that we’d be hunted down and cast out? Do you think I have the—”

Exuviae choked on the last word, going into a coughing fit. Instinctively, David reached out and grabbed the Queen by her shoulders as she slumped against the column, her eyes temporarily glazing over. Exuviae looked exhausted. Not just physically, but a deep inner struggle that shadowed her eyes as she refocused on David. Frantic changelings shouldered past his grip to support their Queen as she coughed, albeit more softly. Eventually, her hacking wheeze subsided and she stiffly returned her posture to ramrod straight, though David could now see a slight trembling in her left fore hoof.

“—Time,” Exuviae finished weakly. What were once fiery flashes smouldering in her eyes, was now an ember guttering with every wheeze.

“You’re…”

“Not long to live,” she muttered, waving away the gathered changelings surrounding her anxiously. “But that’s not what is important. What is important is the future.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that weakness is death among changelings. Rival swarms won’t hesitate to engage once they know that we are without a Queen.” She sighed. “Or with a weak one. I’m tired of hiding, I’m tired of our species being so ruled by primeval rules that dictated a species’ survival millennia ago!” She paused to take a shallow breath. “Your existence is a special one, a pivotal piece among the crushing cogs of a political machine. Only as a human can you stand aside and give your unique perspective. Your mythos gives you weight. You can convince the others to give unity a chance.”

David groaned. “I don’t know if you realised, but the only way I can speak to you is through whatever it is you did earlier. I can’t speak to anyone else here.”

Exuviae didn’t budge. “You must find a way.”

David raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You want me to name you the leader?”

Exuviae shook her head sharply. “Me? A dying Queen? Certainly not. I want you to name my successor. My daughter.”

David sighed. “You’re putting a lot of stock in me helping you simply because I want to help someone that’s helped me.” He paused, backtracking his words quickly to make sure they made sense before nodding to himself. He crossed his arms. “Don’t you think your bargain is a little one-sided?”

Exuviae looked like she wanted to incinerate David on the spot for his presumption. He quailed slightly under her glare, but stood firm with an effort. After all, she herself had told him they couldn’t kill him, right?

“Very well,” she murmured, “what is it that you wish for?”

“I want to go back home,” David replied fervently. “I want to get back to Earth.”

“And pray-tell where is this ‘Earth’?”

David sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “but it’s about as uncertain as this plan of yours that involves me arbitrating the geopolitics of a land I know  nothing about. I think you should give it a shot if I’m going to give yours a shot.”

For the first time since they met, Exuviae laughed.

“True,” she said. “An apt description for my foolhardy plan. You strike a fair deal, human.”

“David,” he replied. “My name is David.”

—————

“The humming, where is it coming from?”

Twilight glanced at Celestia, her ear twitching in what could only be described as ‘pensively’.

“I think it’s coming from the walls,” she said quietly.

Luna and Celestia both twitched, then listened more intently.

“You know, I think you are right,” Luna said.

They strained in the dimly lit darkness.

“It stopped,” Twilight mumbled.

“What does that mean?” Celestia asked.

“It means you’re all trespassing.”

Whipping around, the three alicorns flared their wings instinctively and took a step back. The changeling didn’t make a move and simply stared at them with an unimpressed blank stare.

“What do you mean?” Twilight replied slowly. “How can we be trespassing?”

The changeling snorted. “You ponies are as bad at lying as I’ve heard.” It gestured to the distinctive green saddle-like back plate on its carapace. “You don’t have our Swarm’s markings. You don’t have any Swarm’s markings. Ergo, you must be another creature, the only other one that would take an interest would be ponies, but that was an educated guess. Your surprise really took it away.”

For the first time, Twilight seemed to notice the subtle patterns on the changeling’s backplate. She didn’t realise the markings were unique, it seemed uniform among the changelings so she simply thought it was part of their morphology. They could tell each changeling and where they come from apart?

“Wait, Swarms?” Twilight spluttered.

“As in plural?” Luna added incredulously.

The changeling sighed. “You may as well follow me. Queen Exuviae has asked me not to harm you, but to keep you out of sight. We don’t want you to upset our guest.”

“Guest?” Twilight asked.

Its critical gaze met Twilight’s as it considered whether or not to elaborate on the point.

“The human, as you probably know.”

“Did you happen to take a pony as well?” Twilight pressed.

“Yes—” it held up a hoof, stopping a caustic retort “—she’s fine. The Queen has also promised that she would help her when she can. For now she’s in a cell block.”

“She’s a prisoner?” Celestia said sharply.

The changeling was unfazed by the molten glare. “She’s in one of the safest parts of the cave system. Though she isn’t free to move around just yet, it’s the best place to keep an eye on her. Your friend is fine, we haven’t harmed her.” The changeling flicked a hoof dismissively. “That’s all, now you must come with me.”

“Why should we?” Luna interjected as the changeling paused while turning. “There are three of us and one of you.”

The changeling cocked its head. “Even if that were true,” it said, gesturing into the darkness. Numerous glowing eyes revealed themselves in the depths. “You wouldn’t want to get lost in the caves would you? They’re more intricate than you can imagine, and I give you my word that I will see you safely there.” Its voice hardened. “I will not allow you to interfere with what my Queen’s desires.”

Twilight swallowed. Considering their strength, it may be possible to fight their way out, but Twilight didn’t like putting all their chips down on a purely physical confrontation. She glanced at Luna and Celestia. They nodded reluctantly, they were thinking the same thing.

“Lead on,” Twilight mumbled.

——————

Written gripped the staff tightly, tracing her steps back to the Root. The very centre of the Root housed a small structure that linked Reality with every sum of its Causal parts. It was a surprisingly unremarkable thing, the Author had an affinity for understated objects of power.

In the very centre of the Root was a simple stone slab connecting all the lives to the records through the Roots of Creation. Spindly webs above flittered metaphysically tethering the universes to the complex structure. Some of the more key universes had brighter cords, while the more mundane ones devoid of any life was barely held by a thread thinner than a spider’s.

Written entered the chamber cautiously, taking care not to touch any of the wandering strands. She didn’t know if they were dangerous, but it was probably a bad idea to come into contact with them. Closer to the stone slab, Written could make out the markings done in the Author’s own handwriting. It was illegible to her. Only higher beings could read the words of her writing.

She shook her head, pulling her gaze away from the writing. That wasn’t important. What was important was correcting Reality. She could only do that if she found out where the Dweller went with the pages of the Record she had removed. Placing the book on the slab, she cleared her mind, and sent her request through a carefully timed wish.

Time stopped for a heartbeat.

With something that felt like a concussive shockwave, innumerable tendrils of questing probes reached out into the myriad of universes to find the lost pages. The Root wanted the Record to be whole. Reality would be corrected. With a snapping sensation, the search stopped, and Written blinked. Burned in her mind were the coordinates for the universe the Dweller had sequestered herself in. For the first time in a long while, Written grinned.

It was not a friendly expression.

——————

“Is it supposed to do that?” Mortimus asked tentatively.

Secant glanced at the glowing pages loosely clasped in her hand. She blinked as the glow faded slowly, the pages of the Record becoming inert.

“No…” she said instinctively, then hastily amended her statement. “I-I mean I don’t know…”

Mortimus eyed it warily. It could be magic. Who knew with mythical humans? “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.”

——————

Small bonus scene that is non-canon: This was a little something I thought was funny, but you can skip it if you don’t like reading about Lyra and humans.

Lyra was not impressed.

“It’s a passing curiosity,” she said with a sigh. “I’m pretty knowledgeable about it but…” Lyra shifted slightly. “I’m not interested. I mean I am interested, but…”

Twilight edged a little to see if Lyra would invite them in. Despite three princesses waiting with varying degrees of patience, she didn’t seem inclined to move at all.

“Why are you so embarrassed about it?” Twilight pressed. “We just need a little information.”

“I guess…” Lyra trailed off. “But can we go somewhere else before—”

“Lyra? Who’s at the door?”

“—Before Bon Bon finds out,” Lyra groaned belatedly. Louder, she called back reluctantly, “It’s Princess Twilight, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.”

There was a sharp gasp and the sound of thumps and stumbling. At each particularly hard knock Lyra winced. Within moments Bon Bon squeezed her head in the gap between Lyra and the door. “The Princesses? Oh what a surprise! What do you need?”

Lyra remained silent so Twilight took that as the cue to fill her in. “We’re asking Lyra about humans.”

Bon Bon blinked at her blankly for a few seconds before bursting out into hearty laughter. “Oh, ho, hoahhahahaha! HAHAHA!” Bon Bon practically doubled over with the overwhelming mirth. Lyra had a frustrated expression while Celestia and Luna viewed it with a mixture of bemusement.

“Uhh,” Twilight began.

“Okay, you done now?” Lyra snapped.

Bon Bon wheezed between chuckles. “Oh Lyra I haven’t started yet.” She surveyed the confused looks from the collective princesses. “Pfft, hahaha you better let ol’ Lyrie tell you.”

“Lyrie?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask,” she muttered, then she turned to the Celestia and Luna. “Please,” she said cordially. “Come in.”

Lyra gestured to a set of couches surrounding a small coffee table. A snorting and giggling Bon Bon staggered to the kitchen, presumably to brew some tea and grab some refreshments, while Lyra sagged into the couch looking decidedly uncomfortable. At least as uncomfortable a pony could get under the scrutiny of three princesses.

Lyra rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright, I think you should know, I was very young and this was all a long time ago.”

“What is?” Twilight asked with no small amount of confusion.

“I used to have… a liking for ancient mythology.”

“A liking? More like obsession!” Bon Bon called back from the kitchen.

Lyra winced but didn’t argue the point. “Well, yes, I’ve done a little research on them, even written a few stories…” She waved her hooves wildly. “Not anymore! It was a one-time thing!”

Bon Bon stifled another bout of laughter as she carried in the tea. She set a place for each of the princesses and sat down next to her friend, jostling her jovially. “You even dressed up like a human and you went to those shady meetings with all the other ponies that believed.”

Lyra sighed. “That’s all in the past now, humans aren’t real,” she ground out firmly. “Anypony to say otherwise are just crackpots that think it’s an Equestrian government conspiracy.” She chuckled slightly, then sipped her tea.

Twilight shifted uncomfortably. “Well what if we told you they’re actually… real?”

Lyra spat out the contents of her mouth, spraying Twilight with expertly brewed Ceylon tea. Twilight grumbled, wiping her face on an apologetic cloth held out by Bon Bon.

“Sorry!” Lyra choked out. “You’re pulling my leg, right? You’re pulling my leg? Ha, ha, ha! Very funny.” She didn’t sound so certain under the dead serious looks from Princess Celestia and Luna seated further down the couch.

“No,” Celestia answered for Twilight. “Humans are quite real.”

“Well,” Lyra said faintly, “that’s embarrassing.”


> 5 - The Licence to Will
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	
Chapter 5: The Licence to Will


David followed Exuviae as they wound their way through the tunnels. Exuviae explained that the passages were built following the most stable configuration, not necessarily the most direct. Though the changelings had occupied the temple for quite some time, they weren’t confident in aggressively expanding it. It used the existing temple design where it could, but some modifications were made. It was much like the off-shooting branch of a tree, if the tree grew downwards. Actually, now that he thought about it, the corridors were more like roots. David shrugged; it was yet another thing that was way beyond him.

Some of the walls showed what looked like crude changeling graffiti. When David asked about them, and what they meant, Exuviae merely smiled and told him that it was probably best if he didn’t know. Instead, she told him of the temple walls and the carvings made by the ‘ponies’ that the changelings were contending with.

Passing some of the connecting tunnels, he saw walls that were carved with the distinct features of ponies Exuviae had mentioned. The ponies and other figures were surrounded by strange symbols of varying sizes. Though the simplified depiction of ponies interested David, among the ponies were scenes of humans. The humans were mostly androgynous figures, often shown in the standing position without clear features like clothing or anything that he would recognisably match with Earth. 

The vague nature of the humans carved into the wall set David wondering about how Exuviae so easily identified him. He scanned the carvings more closely, seeing ponies performing various acts, from offering food, to what looked like acts of supplication, and even rituals where humans were apparently the centre of the proceedings.

“They are beautiful carvings.”

David started. Exuviae hadn’t spoken a word for a while, so her speech threw him off guard.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered. “They’re quite inventive.” He didn’t know what else to say.

Exuviae stopped at one of the carvings and pointed at one of the scenes showing a human bowing down to touch a pony. “Since you’ve offered to help us, David, you might be pondering how we’ve been able to find you.”

David shrugged, suppressing his feelings. “The thought crossed my mind.”

Exuviae turned around. “When a human enters into the world, they often find themselves at the pivotal centre of the Age’s conflict. I wasn’t expecting an arrival of a human, in fact, I was still convinced you were a myth. Funnily enough, your arrival at a location so close to our home presented a wonderful opportunity. The details aren’t important but I told one of my best infiltrators to sneak into the neighbouring town and retrieve you. It seems they were disrupted, so they couldn’t recover you the first time, but the second time netted us both of you.” 

The first time? When was the first time? He put the question to the side. Instead, he asked about something that had been bothering him from the beginning.

“You know, you always talk about me being some mythical being, but most ponies didn’t recognise me, and those that did weren’t that surprised.”

Exuviae tilted her head thoughtfully. “Where you come from, I assume humans are commonplace. I’ve heard tell you come from another world entirely.”

David nodded, unable to voice his answer as an unexpected wave of homesickness swept through him. He concentrated on a wall carving as he wrestled for control over his emotions.

“Interesting.” Exuviae chuckled as she continued down the passage. “If a pony from this world appeared in yours, would you be so startled?”

The question was surprising enough to knock him out of his melancholic mood. “Well yes,” he replied incredulously. “For one, they can talk.”

Now it was Exuviae’s turn to express surprise. She turned around to look at him. “Are there not other species on your planet that are sapient?”

David shook his head. “No, that would be strange.”

Exuviae stared at him for a long time before answering. “To us, you’re the strange one. How can only one species capable of language, culture, thought, and civilisation arise? Surely there would be numerous possibilities for such life to flourish?”

David grew pensive. “I never really thought about it, but I guess I can see what you mean. Barring the fact that unicorns can talk, if one appeared in my world, people would more likely believe it’s a hoax than anything. Seeing one would look like something out of a myth, but they’d invent a number of excuses to explain it. In fact, some ponies didn’t seem to mind me being here, like I wasn’t anything special. I mean there was a little interest, but they didn’t really cause a massive fuss around it.”

Exuviae nodded, her smile showing that she was glad he understood her point. “Exactly,” she said, “the mind is resistant to the fantastical on many levels. It would simply not occur to most of them that you might be real. You are a myth, or something else that can be explained away.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her mouth twisted in grim amusement. “You look fairly similar to some native creatures of Equestria, though some would lean towards explaining you away from existence by the mere fact of others with a similar form.”

“What made you believe that I was really a human?”

Exuviae snorted. “I didn’t. I thought you weren’t real. That’s why I had you brought here. You were a side plan that I thought would never bear fruit.”

David gaped at her. “But you seemed so…”

“Desperate? Reliant? Hopeful?” Exuviae smiled. “I’m too old to believe in myths and fables. I deal with facts. If you exist, you’re real, and I must change my plans accordingly.”

David shook his head. “What if I wasn’t real?”

“Then I would have continued my former plans.”

“Which were…?”

Exuviae declined to answer, instead changing the topic. She flicked a hoof, as if to swat away his question. “I thought I would have a hard time convincing you, but I’m glad you weren’t with them long enough to poison your view of us.”

David thought about pressing her for details, but he instinctively knew that Exuviae wouldn’t give up any information she didn’t want to, and besides, it would only annoy her, which he definitely didn’t want to do. Still, the enmity between them seemed so deep and furrowed. The very language seemed steeped with clear animosity. 

“What makes you such an enemy? Or them?” he asked tentatively.

Exuviae frowned, her hoof dragging along the carvings. “We’re not enemies, per se, we are just destined to clash. They are our source of nourishment, we are their predators.”

“Predators?” He shivered. These creatures ate other sapient beings? He found himself having taken an involuntary step back.

Exuviae grinned at his expression. “Scared?” she whispered. “Surprised? Maybe you should be, it makes it all the better. Changelings feed on emotions. We don’t feed on flesh.” She stared off into the distance in a way that made David uncomfortable even looking at it.

“H-How?”

Exuviae blinked at him. “Do you know how you feed? Do you know how your body turns nourishment to energy? There are some in our Swarm that may know, but we don’t dedicate much beyond surviving, so maybe that is a question for future generations of changelings. In our current time, there are none to explore it.” Her face twisted in bitter recollection. “There’s so much fear, mistrust, and hate that it’s difficult, even for me, to see past that.”

“Even for you?”

Exuviae didn’t reply to that. Her gaze had been pensive, but now it hardened into a frightening look that made David forget to take a breath. A slow smile spread grimly at his response. “A matter for another date, if I still have the time. Now, we must meet with a few intruders that have made their way into our home.”

David rushed to catch up with the suddenly accelerated pace the Queen set as she led him down the remainder of the tunnel. Her abrupt dismissal left him spinning. She was hiding something for sure. He didn’t know what it was that Exuviae was hiding, but for now it seemed like a secret that Exuviae wanted to keep buried. Truthfully, David was a little scared to find out, and maybe a little grateful that Exuviae had decided to postpone it for another time. In his mind, Exuviae was a desperate Queen trying to save her people. That she would turn to a myth of all things showed what sort of a bind they were in. At the same time, her intense pride was nothing short of what he had expected to come from royalty. Were her choices at odds with her conscience? 

David returned from his wandering thoughts. He cleared his throat conspicuously as he thought about his role in the bizarre act of this world. “Intruders? You mean ponies? How did they get here?”

Exuviae snorted derisively. “I suspect because I had made it obvious to them. It took them long enough.”

David let the silence speak for itself. When Exuviae didn’t take the opportunity, he spoke his mind. “And this was a good idea because…?”

Exuviae cocked her head. “I’m still not used to explaining myself to another. Be glad, human, not many have held privy to a changeling’s mind. Especially a Queen. Change is in order, perhaps?” She chuckled softly. “Even as I say that, my, my is it hard.” Seeing David’s expectant look, she continued, flicking her tail in shrewish disregard. 

“Even with your help, we’re on the verge of extinction. Changelings haven’t progressed since the beginning. All our advancements, all our achievements, all our legacies have boiled down to the simple size of our Swarm. The minotaurs, the griffons, the yaks, even the dragons have made efforts to keep up with Equestria. Meanwhile, the changelings fight amongst ourselves and we’re rooted out as other races see fit. So after… inviting you here, I ordered some of my changelings to return, undisguised.” She shrugged, as if she could dismiss the morality of her actions with the mere gesture. “The only way forward is with the ponies..” She grimaced. “No matter how some of us try to deny it, it is becoming fact.”

“Do the other changelings agree, then?”

Exuviae laughed, but it was a harsh laughter laced with bitterness that seemed all the lonelier in the tunnels. “No,” she replied in a flat tone. “To the others, I’ve lost my mind.” She sighed. “I’m tired of that.” She looked David in the eyes. “I’m tired of a lot of things…”

Ahead of him, David could make out the deep void that was a part of the wide circular vista they’d seen from before. They stopped at the mouth of the tunnel and took in the view once more. During their conversation, David had lost track of time and they had descended quite far into the pit. 

Exuviae shook her head, the motion seemingly discarding her unpleasant thoughts. She smiled at him, this time a lot more warmly than he thought possible. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful. I’m not used to expressing that emotion, but it seems fitting that a miracle in the flesh would be the only one that made it possible. You might ask why you’re so special? You may not have the powers you profess, you might have the abilities you claim, but for the first time you’ve given us a rare thing that we’ve long thought was lost. Hope.” 

She took a deep breath and brought back the armour of her former personality, her open features quickly transforming into one of petrifying intimidation. She grinned easily at his expression. “Changelings may be called two-faced, but I think you’ll find there’s only one soul underneath these masks of ours.”

Swallowing, David could only nod. He’d never get used to how Exuviae could flip her outward emotions on a dime.

“Do not fall back on your promise, David,” Exuviae warned solemnly. “You have no conception of the retribution a Queen is capable of when their swarm is at stake.” She relaxed her heated gaze as he nodded. “Now, let’s meet our guests.”

———————

Exuviae led him down yet another connecting passage. He noted that there were changelings lined up among them, all eyeing him impassively as he walked past. Unlike before, there were some that dipped their head as he met their gaze. With a comprehending shiver, he realised that these changelings had much the same expectations as their Queen did. They probably believed he had the power to change the course of history. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it weren’t so tragic.

It was only a couple of days ago that he was fetching his misplaced shoes at Terminal 691. That he was a mostly unknown worker within airport logistics that laboured with simple names and simple numbers. All he had to do was record the ins and out. Load and unload. Lives were entered into his registry and checked out. His job had been so simple he had no trouble imagining that another replacement had probably been found. He wouldn’t be missed. He was one of the most forgettable people around. Even so, that had been his life, and he’d been happy. Being comfortable was comforting. Sticking to routine was routine. Living simple was as simple as it got.

Being this… human arbiter wasn’t like him at all. He wanted to go back, sure, but there were probably other ways—ways that didn’t involve changelings, ponies, and international conflict. Other, less risky, options. But Exuviae’s look had reminded him of the little things he’d seen. A girl leaving her doll behind on a bench and him racing through a crowd to give it back. A wallet, missing, returned. Offering to close up for Mike when his wife had suddenly gone into labour. They all had the same, desperate look. No. Hers was more intense. He couldn’t leave her alone when her expression had seemed so… human.

“David?”

He snapped himself out of funk he’d sunk into. They had stopped, arriving at a fairly nondescript t-junction. To the left lay an s-bend, occluding the view further ahead, but on the right was a clear corridor that turned off at a more natural angle.

“Beyond this point are two rooms. We’ve kept our ‘visitors’ in the left room. Would you like to come along? It should prove helpful to your new task.”

Why was she phrasing it like she was inviting him?

“I want you to do this your way,” she said in response to his overt surprise. She chuckled. “No, I can’t read minds, but I can read your emotions like a proverbial book. You wear it all over your face, just like the ponies, very straightforward and simple.” She gestured once more. “You are free to decline if you do not wish to see the ponies.”

David shifted his feet. “Alright, but I can’t speak their language, do you think you could do the same thing you did to me?”

Exuviae shook her head before he could finish his sentence. “What I’ve done for you is simply how all changelings communicate. We have that advantage, but there’s no need to learn it the hard way that other creatures might have to. No matter, I simply need to relay your message.” Exuviae licked her lips. “Are you ready?”

“No,” David replied honestly, “but I’m here, all I have to do is try.”

Exuviae smiled. “Then let’s begin.”

——————

“Why are they all staring at me like that?”

“Probably for the same reason, because you’re acting so strange.”

“Am I acting strange?”
 
Mortimus sighed. Despite his initial shock, Mortimus had recovered quickly, his excitement died down lightning fast as Secant became curious of the world around her and mostly ignored his questions. Not maliciously, mind you, more because Secant didn’t know the answers to them. Questions like ‘Where did you come from?’, ‘What are you if you’re not a human?’ and ‘Can you stop touching me?’ were mostly met with a clueless smile and a cocked head that made it hard for Mortimus to stay angry at her. At least she thought he was trying not to be angry. It was hard to tell. 

“Can you stop gawking at everything around you and stay close?” Mortimus threw up his hooves, as he darkly reflected on why he felt compelled to help this crazy creature out. He supposed that it had something to do with the fact that Secant was the only other creature that would bother speaking with him for more than ten minutes at a time. He made an effort to soften his tone. “It’s easy to get lost in a big city.”

——————

Mortimus’ own deliberation unbeknownst to Secant, the former-Dweller delighted in taking in the weird sights and smells that filled the mortal world. It was difficult trying to stop because everything new she experienced demanded her attention. It was hard trying to ignore it, partly because she’d only read descriptions and seen some of these things in the Records, but mainly because her brain kept receiving constant blaring signals.

Food! Ponies. Ah, stranger! It’s okay, nothing happened. What’s that? Shiny! What’s that? Looks fuzzy. What’s that? A disappointed pony.

There was Mortimus again with his look of disapproval. She’d learned to read that emotion as something that Mortimus found unsatisfactory about her performance. Away from the confines of reality emotions were free-floating concepts that were easily grasped and universal. 

Secant couldn’t help grinning again. It felt so good to be alive!

Experiencing mortality? It was novel. Exciting! Except death. Death wasn’t so fun. Oh well, she’d come to that when it came. Apparently that was how mortals did it here. Mortimus told her. He was ‘somewhat of an expert’ on it, he said. Oh, speaking of which, he was looking at her again. She stared back at him for a while, then realised he was waiting on her.

“Sorry,” she said, slightly abashed. “Something caught my eye.”

“Something’s always catching your eye,” he grumbled, but dismissed it with the flick of his tail. He beckoned her. “Come on, we’re not far.”

“From the train station?” Secant grinned excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to see one of those.”

“Yes, yes, and you can touch it as well, just don’t bother the other ponies.”

Secant nodded, feeling the faint tinge of embarrassment again. The first moment they had stepped outside, she had raced around trying to touch all the ponies. She didn’t know that they could come in all different shapes, sizes and colours! It was like that thing she read in the Records… candy? Colourful, bright, soft candy! Then Mortimus told her that it was a bad thing and she felt the delicious sensation of mortal embarrassment. Mortal embarrassment was so different to normal embarrassment. It came with red cheeks and an uncomfortable sensation in the chest. So unique!

“Secant? Secant!”

Secant stopped herself from crashing into a pole. How did mortals deal with just one conscious thought process? It seemed to take up everything.

Mortimus sighed once more. He’d been doing a lot of that since he met her. She didn’t know if he started after meeting her, but the frustrated expression was something Secant was starting to learn was mainly her fault. It made her feel the same way when an Auditor dropped by.

“Sorry,” she said again, skirting the pole. She was saying that word a lot.

Mortimus nodded, then catching sight of a sign up ahead, he seemed to relax. “Well, we’re here.”

“Where are we going?” Secant asked. “I heard trains take you to other places.”

For once, Mortimus smiled. “You heard right. We’re going to Canterlot, the capital city of Equestria.”

Secant cocked her head. “Why?”

Mortimus gestured to the pages clutched in her hand. “You wanted to find out where this other human is, right?”

Secant nodded.

“Then the only ponies I know who could help you would be the Princesses.”

“Princesses…” Secant licked her lips as her memory drawing images of royalty, fine dresses and being trapped in towers. Curious. “It’ll go well, won’t it?”

Mortimus didn’t reply. Some things were best left unsaid.

——————

Twilight bounded from the centre of the room as the human entered.

“You’re alright!”

The human’s eyes widened as he took a step back.

“I can understand her!” he exclaimed.

Twilight skidded to a stop. “I can understand you too!”

“Really?” Celestia said curiously. “I cannot.”

“Nor can I,” Luna added with a frown. “Peculiar. Mayhap there is a cause for this?”

The human reared his head in shock as he took in Celestia and Luna. 

“I can understand them too!” he blurted, then more quietly. “Why is that?”

“What is he saying?” Celestia whispered to Twilight.

Twilight repeated his words, while the human caught on to the fact that they couldn’t understand him. He glanced back, said something indistinguishable, then gestured at them.

“Well,” a sinister voice echoed, “ this is not my doing.”

Twilight, Celestia and Luna immediately stiffened, their postures going from surprise to guarded in a heartbeat.

Celestia was the first to speak as the changeling queen stepped into the room. It felt smaller, as if her very presence had filled up the rest of the space, making it uncomfortable to even breathe.

“Exuviae,” Celestia said neutrally.

“Celestia.”

Luna’s tone was less forgiving. “Exuviae.”

Exuviae’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Luna.”

Twilight studied the changeling with a furrowed brow. “Exuviae?”

“Ah, the new Princess. Twilight Sparkle, was it?” Exuviae smiled wickedly. “A talented one she is, or as I hear told that is. Perhaps a candidate for further ascension?”

“Ascension?” Twilight queried. “But I already—”

“Queen Exuviae,” Celestia said sharply.

Exuviae smiled, but the emotion didn’t touch her eyes as she regarded each of them frostily. Each were staring at each other with a mixture of caution, curiosity and rancour. Doubtless it would have continued for longer had not the human broken the silence by coughing apologetically. Everyone flinched, but Exuviae recovered first, dipping her head in grim amusement.

“Yes, my… apologies, Princesses, old traditions, you understand.”

“Of course,” Celestia said smoothly. Her tone was carefully neutral as she continued. “We also apologise for intruding. We’re only here for Rainbow Dash and the human. We’ll pick them up and be on our way.”

Exuviae smirked. “You may, of course, recover your friend; Rainbow Dash was it? You’ll find she is unharmed.” Exuviae’s eyes hardened. “You will not take the human.”

Twilight interjected this time, her jaw locked at a determined angle.

“Putting aside that we’ve had custody of the human from the start,” Twilight began with a derisive snort, “you’ve crossed Equestrian territory without consulting the Equestrian Immigration Consulate.” Twilight lifted an eyebrow. “I’m afraid you have relinquished the right to hold the human as a result of travelling without a customs permit. Which means you must remand the human to us in the interim.” Twilight leaned back with a satisfied look as Celestia gave her a small, proud smile and a light chuckle.

“So you see,” Luna said, picking up where Twilight left off, “we will be taking Ms. Dash and the human back.”

Exuviae didn’t look as concerned as Twilight thought she should be. The changeling Queen merely cocked her head. “Remind me, Princesses, what the definition of sovereign territory is?”

Feeling the outlay of a trap, but unable to see it, Twilight answered the question slowly. “A territory governed by an independent governing body.”

Exuviae nodded with a sly grin. “Ah I see. And what determines if a territory lies within Equestria? How did Equestria first decide if a block of land belonged to them?”

Twilight frowned, glancing at Celestia and Luna. They both glared at Exuviae, apparently knowing what was going on. Twilight continued reluctantly. “If an unclaimed area has been marked by another governance there would have to be negotiations. If not, then it is claimed for Equestria.”

Exuviae nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well you’ll be glad to note that we have been living in these caverns for a long time. Nearly two thousand years to be exact. Before that, we were living in the lands around.” She paused for effect. “Before Equestria had been established. I dispute your sovereignty of the human. We have breached no laws.”

“But that’s a technicality!” Twilight spluttered, knowing full well she had invoked the same strategy on the Queen. She didn’t mean to sound like a hypocrite, but they were the ones that were right, weren’t they?

Twilight stomped a hoof. “You’ve had to have crossed our lands to take the human and Rainbow.”

Exuviae shook her head in mock disappointment, looking at Twilight, but somehow not addressing her. “My, my, a new Princess you are certainly proving yourself to be. Do you have evidence? Do you have proof? What have you brought in corroboration of your baseless accusations?”

Twilight groaned. She doubted the information, but even if it weren’t true, they’d have to carry out an investigation. If an investigation were to result from this diplomatic parry, Exuviae had the right to stay in her own neutral territory while they disputed the claim. Meanwhile, the human would be stuck in limbo.

“We know—” Twilight stopped as Celestia raised a hoof, gently taking over. The alicorn regarded Exuviae coolly as she spoke. “Enough games, Exuviae. What need have you for a pony and a human?”

“Well, Princess…” Exuviae stressed the title in a way that sounded like it were inferior to her own. “As it happens I have no use for a pony. The human, however, will be immensely useful.”

“What nefarious scheme are you up to?” Luna demanded, nostrils flaring.

“Nefarious? Hardly.” Exuviae rolled her eyes. “While I don’t relish the idea of going up against two and a half—” she glanced sidelong at Twilight as she flushed with ire “—alicorns, I must insist that it is none of your business. I see you can communicate with the human. Some of you at least.”

Twilight made to say something, but stopped when she heard the human speak.

“Can I say something?” He frowned at all of them while adding testily, “I’m not some kind of baggage to be fought over.”

Twilight turned with the others, almost forgetting that the human had been right there with them during the exchange. Exuviae tilted her head, signalling him to continue. Why was the changeling Queen so confident? Why wasn’t the human running away from Exuviae? Didn’t the human realise that he was in trouble? Had the Queen already drained him of emotions to the point that he was a willing drone? Twilight gritted her teeth as she studied him. No, that’s not it. He looked perfectly lucid.

The human stepped forward. He looked nervous, as if he suddenly found himself on a stage with a spotlight in his eyes. He paused, took a moment to gather his courage, then spoke. “Hello all, my name is David. First of all, I want to thank you for coming. I appreciate how you’ve helped me out when I was falling and when I was lost.” He turned to Exuviae. “Also thank you for not considering me food.”

Exuviae chuckled, while the rest stayed silent. Twilight’s ears twitched. She felt there was something else more important that the human wanted to talk about, so she remained silent along with the other princesses. Also, for the first time, Twilight heard his name. It was composed of syllables she was familiar with, but the combination sounded alien, like the letters shouldn’t have been arranged in that way. 

She wondered what his name meant. If his name was anything like a pony’s name it would have some meaning, right? Kind of like that game in kindergarten when you try to guess what you grew up to be just by your name? That kind of thing. The human continued, snapping her out of her temporary musings.

“Secondly, why are you fighting over me? What is the value of a human?” David ploughed on before any of them could reply. “I’m not special, but even if I was, is it worth getting into a fight with each other over it?” David swept the room as if to dare anypony to dispute it. When nopony did, he continued. “I think I can decide for myself where I want to go and what I want to do.” He hesitated and cast his gaze around, clearly ill at ease in delivering a strongly worded speech. When every pony continued to stay silent, he carried on. “Thirdly, Exuviae has not been very kind to me.”

Exuviae’s smile, so confident, had frozen on her muzzle. Twilight admitted that she took a small amount of pleasure in seeing the smug Queen lose a little of her confidence.

“If I take your actions at face value, you have kidnapped me, forced me to follow you, and shoehorned me into the dilemma of a lifetime. What is anyone supposed to think about that?”

As one, Twilight, Celestia and Luna looked at Exuviae. She glared back. Twilight had seen the confused surprise… and the look of betrayal on her face. Twilight suddenly felt like a stranger in a quarrel between friends. What was the deal with the human and Exuviae? Was she covetous and expected David to play along? Surely not, there seemed to be more than that. 

David’s apparent stage discomfort faded away as he returned Exuviae’s look. It was strangely sympathetic. “Despite all of that, it was done out of desperation. I used to work in a place where domestic laws were mostly suspended where international cooperation was a necessity.” He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “There’s a reason they want me and I couldn’t say no. That doesn’t justify her actions, but I’m sure she will make it up to you and me at a later point in time.”

“I’ll do no such—” Exuviae strangled the end of her sentence under David’s suddenly intense look. The way he went from meek and uncertain to commanding and intimidating was somewhat disconcerting. Maybe there was more to the mystery human than Twilight thought. Some investigation was probably required. If only they could get their hooves on the human…

Exuviae pursed her lips, but nevertheless nodded, much to the surprise of all the ponies present. “If that is what you think is best, then so shall it be. I… apologise for your treatment and some of the… harsh words from before.” Exuviae straightened stiffly and gave each princess a nod. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some things to discuss with the human. I think it’s clear that he has made his choice, though probably not in the way I envisioned.” 

Twilight thought the Queen might pause there and give David a meaningful glance, but she didn’t hesitate for a moment, turning around abruptly. “You may leave anytime you wish with your friend. Any one of my changelings will guide you out.” Exuviae gestured for the human to follow. David sent them an apologetic glance, hesitating briefly, before leaving hastily.

As they departed, Twilight let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“That went well,” Twilight muttered bitterly.

“It certainly did,” Celestia replied.

Twilight looked up in surprise. She expected the other princesses to share the same sentiment, but Celestia was smiling and Luna was outright grinning.

“What?” Twilight huffed. “Am I missing something?”

Celestia positively beamed. “Queen Exuviae has just showed us her cards. She’s up to something and the human is at the centre of it.”

Twilight frowned. “What? But how does—”

“It means,” Luna cut in, “that we need to try harder to get ahold of this ‘David’. If Exuviae wants this human, then he is the key to her plans.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “I see… wait, what?”

Celestia regarded Twilight with a patient smile. “You know a little about humans, correct?”

Twilight nodded her mouth drawing into a pout. “Yes, but only hearsay.”

Celestia fixed Twilight with a look that bore down thousands of years of distilled wisdom that filtered through her voice as she spoke. “Well, I happen to know a little more about humans. I might have been downplaying the significance of what I knew about humans from before.”

“O-oh.” Twilight shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “W-What do you know?”

Celestia sighed, shaking her head. “Not much, but not nothing either. ‘David’ may not think he’s special, but humans that have been sighted or mentioned have invariably been endowed with strange powers. Powers that vary from the incredible to the world-shattering.”

Morbidly curious, Twilight leaned in. “What sort of powers?”

Luna replied for her sister. “We do not know the details, but from what we have gathered, humans were a recurring myth in our time. It might have been popular thousands of years ago, but we thought nothing of it. There was no concrete evidence to suggest they existed at all, apart from a strange coincidence of accounts.”

“Which doesn’t say anything,” Twilight muttered, “only that ponies agreed on the same myth.”

“There are a lot of gnarling details,” Celestia continued. She tapped the wall of the cavern with her hind hoof and glanced at the entrance. “Though the walls here doubtless have ears, what I can tell you is that humans have a lot of power.” She raised an eyebrow. “Think Discord, but less in control.”

The thought of something as powerful as Discord wandering the land sent shudders through Twilight’s frame. “What would Exuviae want with a human as powerful as that?” She bit her lip. “Are humans even that powerful? I didn’t sense anything from David when I met him…”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should find out if the legends speak the truth?” She waited with a slight smile that reminded Twilight of all the times she had lessons with the Princess.

“How?” Twilight asked in barely concealed frustration. She tried to keep a lid on her exasperation, but the problem dominated her headspace. “He’s here with Exuviae, there’s no way we could run tests on him, even if he would allow us!”

“Ah,” Celestia said patiently. “But there are other ways to bundle hay, Twilight. We already have some interesting pieces of information that fit into the puzzle.” She tilted her head meaningfully. “Right under our noses.”

Luna trotted forward, giving Twilight a placid smile while rolling her eyes at Celestia in the process. “Enough teasing, sister! Twilight does not need to be led around like a student.” She turned to Twilight. “What my sister means to say is that we can find out back at Ponyville.”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she realised what Celestia and Luna had been getting at.

“Of course! He’s given us plenty of examples. Come to think of it, a lot of strange things have happened on his arrival.”

Celestia nodded. “There’s also another fact that Exuviae’s missing.”

Twilight cocked her head. “What fact?”

“The other human,” Luna clarified as she realised it too. “There could be another one in Manehattan.”

Twilight felt her brows draw down. “Of course…”

“That’s another reason that we need to head back to Ponyville, Twilight,” Celestia said.

“My friends…” Twilight realised.

Celestia nodded firmly. “We need to find all the humans, because if we don’t there’s no telling what could happen if humans fell into the wrong hooves.”

——————————

“A human you say?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“I never thought I’d see the day it would happen.”

“Quite right, sir.”

“Well, Mister Hard Line, I believe you know what it is you must do.”

The pony bowed his head. “Of course, sir.”

“Consider most of my resources that you think are necessary at your disposal, I want this human immediately.”

“At once, sir.” The pony smiled grimly as he bowed once more. “Thank you sir, it is much appreciated.”

He waved his servant away dismissively. “Get it done, Hard Line.”

“As you wish.”

As Hard Line’s words drifted to the griffin, he examined his claws and flexed them powerfully. He could already see the money the human would bring in. He tapped his beak and indulged in a vicious smile.

“Yes…” he said. “As I wish.”

—————————

“What’s going on?” Secant asked.

Mortimus scanned the train and shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know, we’ve stopped but I don’t know the reason why.”

“What’s that in the distance?” Secant asked, pointing out the window.

Mortimus clambered over the human and gazed out the window, peering into the distance.

“I can’t see anything,” he muttered. “What do you mean?”

“There.” Secant pointed at the same point with her finger as if it actually helped.

Mortimus sighed and looked out the window again. A smudge appeared to move on the horizon, then separated into distinct entities.

“Griffons?” Mortimus said incredulously. “What’re they doing here?”

“What’s a griffon?” Secant asked.

“It’s like a half lion, half bird…” Mortimus trailed off as the carriage jerked forward a few moments, interrupting his half-formed explanation. Suddenly, there was another jerk and he fell forwards towards Secant as he heard the high-pitched screeching of a train trying desperately to stop. He heard an ominous thump… then all was quiet.

“What happened?” Secant whispered to her lap, which was where Mortimus found himself.

“I don’t know,” he hissed back. “Something’s wrong.”

He was about to say more when the door to the carriage burst open and a rather flustered conductor stumbled in, shutting the door behind him with a firm bang. The sound reverberated around the room, bringing everypony’s attention to him. Well, there weren’t many in the carriage. Apart from Mortimus and Secant, there was only a tan-brown stallion and cream-coloured mare. The conductor lurched into the carriage, swaying unsteadily. The unicorn mare, swathed in a garish dress and equally flamboyant hat, spoke up in a querulous tone. 

“W-What is going on?”

The conductor straightened his tie and cleared his throat nervously. “N-Nothing to worry about!”

There was a deep thump on the door, followed by metallic screeching from the other side.

As one, everypony returned their attention to him.

He grinned, a far-removed caricature of his welcoming smile when they boarded the train. “Some minor technical issues, that’s all!”

Secant and Mortimus shared a glance.

“What’s really going on?!” the stallion from the back demanded. “You can’t possibly expect us to believe that there isn’t a problem!”

“H-H…” the conductor mumbled.

“H…? Come on, out with it!”

“Hijackers!”

The mare gasped. “Goodness, ruffians! Whatever shall we do?”

The stallion eyed the door. “I’ve got too much money to be part of this nonsense!” He drew out a sack of bits and threw it at the conductor’s hooves. “Deal with the problem!”

The conductor shook his head. “Dear Celestia, no!” he spluttered. “There’s no way I’m going out there! If you saw how big that stallion was, you’d think twice before even thinking about it!”

The wealthy individual shrugged as if it were no concern to him. Actually, Mortimus was sure it was of no concern to him. “I don’t care how you do it, just deal with it. I’m going to be late for a meeting.” He eyed Mortimus. “You look poor enough—” His eyes shifted to Secant “—and a strange creature follows you. If you set your beast on them, they will probably scamper away with their tails between their legs! What do you say? There’s money in it for you too!”

Mortimus eyed Secant, and hastily moved in front of her. “Certainly not! Secant is not my pet, she’s a…” he trailed off, wondering what Secant meant to him. In the little time he’d been with her she hadn’t been much more than an inconvenience and annoying. Even so, he wasn’t about to just throw Secant in the firing line, especially not for money. How low could a pony go?

“She’s a friend!” he declared.

The stallion didn’t seem impressed. He rolled his eyes. “I have the solution to that.” He withdrew another bag of bits and tossed it at his hooves. Mortimus wasn’t poor, but he wasn’t rich either. He’d never seen so many bits all at once. It was easily a house’s worth. Before he could decline, Secant leaned in.

“What is ‘money’?” she whispered.

“Not worth your life,” he hissed back.

“Is it important? Is it something we need?”

Mortimus eyed the bags. “No… money can be useful, but it’s not worth what he’s asking.”

“He just wants me to deal with the ponies outside, right?” Secant smiled. “I can try talking to them.”

“Are you daft? Forget about it,” Mortimus said hastily. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Money can help us find the other human, right?”

Mortimus couldn’t deny it, but he wished that Secant could see what he was trying to say.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is,” she said, then louder to the stallion, “we accept!”

The stallion seemed surprised that she could speak, but then nodded. “Excellent,” he replied imperiously. He waved a hoof in dismissal. “Carry on.”

Secant grinned and gathered up the bits, handing them over to a sputtering Mortimus.

“What are you doing?!” he cried. “How are you going up against a bunch of criminals? Are you trying to get us killed?”

Secant tilted her head. “I told you,” she replied easily. “I’m going to talk to them.”

———————————

Bricker used to be a bricklayer. He supposed with a name like that it would be unavoidable starting off as a bricklayer. Bricker used to work constructions at Hard House’s Housings before he turned to a life of crime. There hadn’t been any particular need to, actually. He just did what other ponies told him to. It was a speciality of his. Why he wasn’t still a bricklayer he supposed had something to do with his enormous strength. 

He didn’t know his supervisor had local ties to the pony underground. He didn’t know that his strength, enough to lift several hundreds of pounds of brick and mortar, would be a desirable trait in the service of crime. It wasn’t as hard as construction, but it paid better and he didn’t have to do much. Most of the time he was just asked to give a demonstration of his skills. He never hurt anypony, he never had to. He would simply break through a couple walls of concrete, that’s all. The frightened ponies then paid up what was owed to them. Plus interest. It was still honest work. Sort of.

He could imagine his mother having a disapproving frown. She couldn’t have known, of course, that his grey-area side-venture paid for her failing health. He’d told her he was working for ‘very kind ponies’. He could imagine her mortified. But he’d rather her mortified than dead.

Still, this job was different, and it didn’t sit well with Bricker. This time they were outside the grey area of the law and right into the dark, black part of the underground.

“Get on with it,” one of his ‘colleagues’ growled, giving him a light shove. Or they intended to. He was a lumbering mass of muscle and the prod didn’t so much as move him an inch. Calm, clear eyes swung around to meet the owner of the hoof. Just because he was muscular didn’t mean his brain was made of muscle. He did these jobs because he was suited to them, not because he couldn’t think for himself.

Registering his menacing look, the crook took a step back, regretting his actions immediately. “I-I mean, p-please,” he stammered, to the laughter of his associates.

That was the thing about this organisation, they were just ‘friends’, ‘relations’, ‘colleagues’, ‘associates’… the list went on. Even their names were somewhat superfluous pseudonyms. Though he was the rare exception, as his real name was as tough as his alternate one. Plus, nopony could force him to use another, even if they wanted to.

Bricker quite liked the term ‘partner’, but he could see the value of ‘team’. Out of all the teams in the organisation, his was the worst. They were often given the dregs of the dreg-jobs. Things that didn’t require much thinking, and usually didn’t have much in the way of morally questionable acts. He also got along with most of the ponies in the group, unlike some in the organisation. Well, most of the time.

“You don’t move Bricker, Bricker moves you!” A roguish smile danced upon the lip of the mare that said it. She grinned wickedly. “But yeah, Bricker, any day now.” That was Raven, their ‘leader’, in a sense. Raven was the reluctant shepherd of the group. She was often the one that got things moving. Mainly because Bricker didn’t like chatting idly, and the others often didn’t know what to do. 

Bricker lumbered up to the door of the carriage and tapped it a few times to gauge the composition. It might have felt like a light tap to him, but to others it was as if a battering ram had been taken to the wood. Most of the ponies in his group were surprised that that door didn’t break down then and there. A couple of them backed away, regarding him with even more caution, if that were possible.

Bricker paused as he heard muffled sounds from beyond. The ponies behind the door were probably scared stiff. This was his least favourite part of the job. At least they wouldn’t be getting hurt. Just escort somepony away and the rest were free to go. Perfectly legal. Well not completely legal, but soothing to his conscience.

With a firmer tap, he judged the door thin enough to pummel through. He stepped back a bit and swivelled, preparing to buck the door down. He tensed to make the shot…

“Woah!”

“Wha-what?!”

His hoof, already on its trajectory, didn’t stop, continuing along its path and narrowly missing the creature’s head. Bricker stumbled back, horrified that he had almost decapitated somepony. Though now that he recovered he saw that it wasn’t a pony at all. It was a strange being that stood on two legs and was smiling nervously at him.

The creature recovered first. “Uhh, hello!”

Bricker didn’t know what to do. This was usually the part when ponies started shrieking in terror. He supposed this creature wasn’t a pony, but still… 

“Hello,” was all he could say.

“What’s that?” That was Swiper, the resident pickpocket, though he’d have difficulties pickpocketing out of a paper bag. Bricker thought a pick-pocket like him should stay out of the criminal business. Maybe pick some oranges instead of pockets. Oranges didn’t call the police.

“A human,” Raven answered, blinking at it.

“What’s it doing?”

“Uhh, I think it’s waving at us, boss.”

“Hi there!” the human repeated.

“Isn’t that the thing we’re supposed to get?”

“Hold on, Swiper.” Bricker eyed the relatively tall, but gangly looking creature. “You’re a human, right?”

The human shook her head. “I’m not human.”

Bricker turned to Swiper. “She says she’s not human.”

Swiper turned to the boss. “Yeah, Bricker said…”

The mare sighed and rubbed her suddenly aching head. “I know what she said,” she growled. “Look, guys, you can’t believe what everypony tells you, alright?”

Swiper cocked his head. “Yeah but you told us to always listen to you, so wouldn’t that mean—”

“Oh by the Stars— look, I don’t have time to explain just how much money we’ve been offered to get this human. Do you see any other creature walking around on two legs?”

Swiper looked unsure giving the surrounding area a casual sweep. “Uhh…”

“Stop… just…” she sighed again. “Bricker can you just fetch the human?”

“Now hold on,” the human said, “can’t we just work this out? First off, I’m not human. I mean I have the form of a human, but I’m not a human. You… you don’t want your superiors mad at you, right? I know how that feels.”

Bricker retracted his hooves but shrugged, confident that even if the human tried bolting she wouldn’t be able to escape anyway. “Yeah, sometimes they can be real mean.”

“I know right? You know how he does that look.”

“The look,” Swiper breathed. “Yeah…”

They both turned to the mare that stood off to the side.

“What do you think, boss?” The title had stuck with Raven ever since she pointed out to Swiper that he had to pickpocket from behind the target instead of the front. 

Raven shifted uneasily, but pressed on. “I-It doesn’t matter what I think, we have a job to do. Swiper, you need some coin for your sisters, Bricker, you need some for your mother. We’re all here to do a job, and then we’ll get paid. Can you please grab the human now, Bricker?”

As Bricker reached over, the human spoke again. “On the off chance, how much are they paying you?”

“A lot,” the mare replied shortly. “Why?”

The human glanced back and shrugged. “Oh you know, I was just given a whole lot of money and I was wondering if it was a lot.”

Wile spoke up. “Just how much?” he asked suspiciously.

The human shrugged. “Ah… I don’t know, I haven’t counted it, I’ll have to ask Mortimus.”

“Mortimus?” The mare shook her head. “Anyway, it’s not important how much we earn, right guys? We just do the job.”

The others mumbled back varying degrees of agreement.

“A hundred bits,” Bricker said. “I think I get hundred bits.”

The human blinked. “Is that a lot?”

Wile gaped at them. “Are you kidding, I only get eighty bits!”

Bricker shared a glanced with Swiper. Then they looked at the mare standing off to the side.

“I-It’s a little on the small side for crimes…” She shook her head. “B-But it’s steady pay!”

“Yeah, steady pay,” Wile muttered. “The Big Boss says so, but he said we’d get a bonus before the job’s over so…”

The human looked surprised. She reached behind and held out a hoof-full of bits cupped in her hands. “Hey, if I give you this much, can you let me go?” The bits jingled a little.

Bricker glanced at the bits and shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think that’s…”

Swiper shouldered his way to the front. “Wait. Are those Classical bits?!”

“What’s that?” Wile asked.

Swiper looked at Wile as if he were the one acting daft. “Are you kidding? Classical bits are minted bits before Equestria’s coin system became centralised! They’re worth a fortune!”

“A fortune?” Bricker asked, suddenly interested.

“How did you know that?” Wile asked suspiciously.

“Enough!” Raven interjected. “We don’t do another job on the job!”

“What’s it to you, Raven?” Wile shot back. “How much do you get paid?”

“I-I don’t have to share it around!”

“It’s lower, isn’t it?” Swiper said.

Raven’s mantled cheeks did all the talking for her. She spoke louder as if to smother her embarrassment with her own voice. “I-In any case, we need to take this human back with us—”

“Hey, I have an idea.”

The party of four swivelled around, turning their attention to the human.

“What if I just hired all of you? You could quit your old job.”

“What, just like that?” Bricker said incredulously.

The human nodded emphatically. “Yep!” she said proudly. “I did it in my last job. I found something much more important.”

“And what was that?” Swiper asked.

“A human!” the human said.

“Aren’t you—”

“No, no, no,” the human said. “I’m not a human. You’ve got it all wrong. Wait a sec, I have to talk to Mortimus.” She ducked into the carriage while the members of the group glanced at each other.

“Hey,” Wile said, “shouldn’t we stop her or something?”

“I say we take her deal,” Swiper said.

Bricker shrugged. “She’s got the money.”

“Yeah,” Wile said. He paused, then added reluctantly, “I don’t like doing these jobs anyway.”

Raven nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “I never really wanted to do this… but nopony usually gets hurt and the money is kinda okay…”

“I’m back,” the human announced. “Mortimus says we can afford to pay you all, isn’t that great?”

Bricker blushed. “That’s very kind of you, miss…?”

“Secant. Call me Secant.”

“Miss Secant.”

“Hold on!” Raven said. “We can’t just abandon the job! What’ll the Big Boss say?”

Swiper and Wile shrugged. “Not a lot of nice things,” Swiper said simply. “If you don’t want to come that’s fine. I’m going with this nice human.”

The human threw up her hands. “I’m not… oh fine, whatever you little ponies say.”

Bricker gave Raven a sympathetic glance. “Come on, Raven, what’s stopping you?”

Raven’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. She looked away as she replied. “I can’t tell you that.” She ran her hoof through her mane in frustration. “Just… can you follow the plan? We’ve known each other for years and now you’re just all going to give up and go, all for a little money?”

“A lot of money,” Swiper corrected. “Do you want to keep working for a hundred bits a job?”

“Ninety,” Wile muttered, but mostly everypony ignored him.

Raven stamped a hoof. “Of course not, I couldn’t care less about—” She stopped her herself.

Bricker knew that look. It was the same sort of look he had when he was on his first job. It’s the look of a pony with their back against the wall and how a little extra help would be offered for a ‘small’ job.

“Do you have somepony that needs you?” Bricker said quietly.

Raven didn’t reply, but her eyes said everything.

“Okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to come with us, just report back to the boss that we’ve escaped, or something.”

Raven stared at the ground. “They couldn’t care less about any of you, but I know the Big Boss. I know when he really wants something, or if he’s just taking an opportunity. He wants the human, and he wants her bad. He’ll go through any number of you to get to her.”

“Oh,” Swiper said, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him. “That might be a problem.”

——————

“It’s a huge problem!” Raven shouted. “It’s a complex, messy, serious problem that’s a part of you, you, you and even me!”

Silence reigned at the head of the train. Raven’s chest heaved with ire as she stared them all down.

“Uhm… what’s your problem?” Secant piped up from the carriage door. The voice was gentle and calming, and Raven was partially angry that it was working so well.

Raven bit her lip and looked away again. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Secant nodded. “Okay, I was just asking in case I could help you.”

“What could you do?” Raven shot back bitterly. “How would you make a difference?”

Secant looked genuinely puzzled by the question. “That’s why I asked.”

“Huh? What?”

Secant rolled her shoulders. “I mean, how could I know if I can help you if you don’t tell me how I could help you? Or, how could I know if I can help you if I don’t know what your problem is. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Are you for real?” Raven spluttered.

Secant touched herself on the arms. “I think so. Wait, do you think I’m not real? That’s not supposed to happen!”

Raven watched in shock as the human started patting herself down. “Stop it!” she snapped. “What are you doing?”

“Checking if I’m real.”

Raven was just about to lose it when she was interrupted from making a caustic reply.

“Secant. You’re real.”

Raven registered the masculine voice before she saw the stallion behind it. She blinked as the pony stepped forward. He looked deathly pale, as if the Reaper had stopped halfway and changed his mind. His gaunt face reminded her of a walking corpse.

“Ah!” Swiper screamed. “A zompony!”

The pony rolled his eyes. “I’m not a zompony. I’m Mortimus.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Wile narrowed his eyes. “He’s a vampony.”

Raven gave them both a quelling look before she turned back. “What a weird name; it suits you.”

“Thanks… Raven, was it? I take it you want the human?”

Raven nodded wearily. She had tried to get everypony on her team back, but there was no hope for that now. It was all so hard… it wasn’t fair. This pony seemed nice. She wanted to say something, but she feared to test her voice just then.

“Uhh, so what’s the problem? Secant says she wants to help you,” he continued in the silence.

That again? Raven glared at the pony, even as he stood his ground and stared back. “You want to know so badly? All of you?” She directed the last part to the gathered members of her traitorous team.

Concession was unanimous.

“Yes,” Bricker said.

“Yeah,” Swiper added.

“Yep,” Wile put in, while scratching his nose.

Secant grinned, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

“Fine! You want to know so badly?” Raven ground out. “It’s my sister. She’s being held. Happy?”

Wile frowned. “I thought you said your sister lived with you.”

“She does,” Raven said impatiently. “Don’t I look a little young to you?”

The sudden question caught him off-guard. “Uhh, kind of? I guess?”

Raven sighed. “I’m using a cosmetic spell to age me. It’s hard to use, but none of you can tell I’m actually fourteen years old, right?”

Shocked silence greeted her. She barked a harsh laugh.

“Yeah, I thought so. I take a potion before every job, so there, you know.”

“Holy moly, were we being bossed around by a fourteen year old?” Swiper sunk to his hindquarters. “What the he—”

A loud crash interrupted Swiper, making everypony jolt. Bricker had smashed a dent in the side of the train. “They stole a foal?” he said through gritted teeth.

“No, no!” Raven said quickly. “They just… persuaded me to work for them, or they’d tell the Equestrian Social Services. My sister does live with me, she’s safe… unless you guys don’t help me! Don’t you see?”

“Equestrian Social Services?” Swiper asked, confusion written all over his brow. “Is that a bad thing?” 

Raven threw him a glare that was so intense, he had to take a step back. “You wouldn’t understand. We’ve been there before. We don’t want to go back.” She turned back to Bricker. “Come on, you know my story now. Can we please get back to the job?”

Bricker looked reluctant. After an interminable moment, Bricker shrugged and reached for Secant once again.

Secant clapped her hands together. “Wait! Why don’t we ask the Princesses? Mortimus told me they can help with your problems.” Again, Bricker stopped, and looked at Raven.

“What.” Raven couldn’t get around how unfathomably stupid this creature was. “That’s the exact opposite of what we want!”

Secant shrugged. “Well… what if we told Equestrian Social Services?”

Raven didn’t have an answer to that. She couldn’t get over her disbelief.

Mortimus rolled his eyes. “What Secant means to say is that either way, you’re trapped. You should follow us, at least there’s some chance we could help.”

“Are you crazy? What if I just get the human, she can’t tell tales where she’s going.”

“Where am I going?” Secant asked.

“I-I, just shut up. Let me do my job!”

Mortimus cleared his throat. “We can help,” he pressed meaningfully. “Just let us try.”

Raven glanced back and forth between the human and the other members of the group. “Why would you want to help?”

Mortimus cocked his head. “Hmm, maybe because I know what it’s like to be alone, with nopony to help you.”

Raven was about to disagree, but there it was, the unmistakable glint of pain hidden in his eyes. He broke contact first and turned his gaze downwards.

Bricker gestured at Raven. “You live in Canterlot anyway, right? We can pick up your sister and then we’ll see where this takes us.”

Despite being shaken by Mortimus’ sincerity, Raven tried one last argument. “How do I know I can trust you? How can we get my sister away safely?”

Mortimus eyed her keenly. “Tell me,” he said with a lopsided smile, “do you know what a human is?”

———————

With all the ceremony of a puppy tumbling out of a slide, Written landed in one of the Isles of Reality. Here, strange things happened. Reality wasn’t as firm underneath, what with being so close to the formless Void. That was why her ‘landing’—if one could call it that—had been so uncontrolled. Imposing your will on the softer sides of Reality was rather like herding a pounce of cats. An altogether unpleasant experience.

Though Author had defined the boundaries of Reality, only those close to the Roots, to the Registry, and the Atrium were firmly stable. Laws of nature were flexible in the outer Realities and despite the Auditor’s best efforts, they sometimes leaked into the core Realities, often in the form of boundless imagination, or transient phenomena.

Still, all was not lost, the Auditor held her staff while her cloak fluttered in the shifting eddies of metaphysical winds. Though Reality was softer, it wasn’t non-existent. Little ‘islands’ of reality cropped up here and there. Often unauthorised Reality-warpers and other entities would harbour themselves in these worlds. The Dweller had been careless, she should have taken the whole Record with her. Now that she had a part of it, a link had been established and the Root traced a path leading to the very island she lived in.

When she got her hands on the Dweller, she’d fix the anomaly in the Record and she could finally get back to hunting down the intruder. Written raised her staff reluctantly. Though she had the fortitude to push on, the idea of tumbling through and landing in another place in an uncontrolled tumble was not the most dignifying way to present oneself.

Written sighed, lifting her staff more firmly. She spoke the words of Creation and at once shifted to another reality.

———————

Princess Cadance was not having a good day. One would think that leading a kingdom was easy, but it wasn’t. Every time you thought you got the hang of it, something always throws it out of whack. For instance, the fact that her husband had gone off gallivanting with his old friends from the Equestrian military while she was stuck with the paperwork.

But that wasn’t the problem. Far from it.

Oh she’d smiled of course. Tea and biscuits. Lovely conversation. Polite manners, gentle hoof bumps and hugs. It was what they talked about as soon as they set their jock-hooves outside.

Nice one, Shining. They had said. You really bagged a cutie.

Normally, she wouldn’t care. No, she’d be flattered at the compliment, even, but it was Shining’s response that got to her.

You’re not doing too bad yourself, eh Rider?

Now what was that supposed to mean?! Shining had been grinning like an idiot when he said that, and even after the not-so-subtle nudges he still had the gall to ask what was wrong when she marched up to him and demanded an explanation. The thing that frustrated her the most was the fact that she knew he didn’t mean anything by it. That Shining was a natural airhead when it came to paying compliments to matters of the heart.

His genuine concern only made her more angry. Not at him, mind you, but at herself. Shiny didn’t mean it, he hadn’t known it was a mistake, he was just an innocent, clueless, sweet, loving, idiot! And she had acted like a jealous teenager in front of the guests!

Still. He could have had the presence of mind not to say it inside the castle. The walls had ears, and more importantly, the corridor echoed. So it was more chance than design that she happened to overhear the conversation. His friends were good, they’d dragged him away before she could further embarrass herself by chewing him out.

It was weird. She wasn’t usually this all over the place, she was… better than that. No, it was that Griffon diplomat. That’s what it was. The one who had waltzed in here like a Princess and slyly suggested that Shining—her Shining—might be amenable to a shared concession.

The nerve of that bird-brain!

Cadance took solace in the fact that at least the paperwork was almost done. Categorised, filed, sorted and signed. She’d worked through them breezily which gave her the time to think about her admitted overreaction. That griffon diplomat was playing her like a fiddle, and she’d danced right along to the tune! She’d make it up to her poor Shiny. When he got back, and they were alone, maybe they could have some time—

“W-What the heck happened here?!”

Beyond the door set ajar, was her office in a war zone. Or what appeared to be the aftermath of one. Her hard-earned paperwork that had been stacked neatly on her desk, now lay scattered on the floor. Her quills, her scrolls, her books that had lain on tables or shelves had joined the papers.

But that wasn’t what Cadance was looking at.

Among the detritus of her documentation, stirred a creature. It groaned, and unsteadily got to its two feet…

The creature cleared its throat as it straightened.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Auditor Written, please direct me to your nearest human.”

———————

It wasn’t long before Exuviae had brought up his little faux-pas.

“What in the world would possess you to say that?!” she demanded, her eyes glowing menacingly.

David sighed. For some reason, Exuviae’s frightening demeanour wasn’t as petrifying as before. Was it because he knew his own value to her? It still gave him the shivers, but just not as much. Maybe he was finally getting used to the weird stuff in the world.

“The truth,” he said. “That’s what we need.”

“What?” Exuviae huffed. “What do you mean?”

David paced forwards and ran his fingers along the walls. Over there the corridor was blank, with no carvings on the walls. He traced an imaginary stick figure as he talked. “You’ve been hiding for so long, nobody here knows the real you. There’s probably wild stories, myths and legends about you and your species. It doesn’t help when you can literally take the form of your prey, right?”

Exuviae nodded reluctantly. “Why do you think that would work?”

“They need to know. Trust me.” David gave a humourless smile. “I’ve been in the same situation, believe it or not.”

Exuviae seemed to accept his words as the irony sunk in. “I see,” she said with a nod. “A novel concept, but perhaps one we can afford to try now.” She raised an eyebrow. “But try only once. Revealing oneself as a changeling is a one-way trip. Destroying an identity means it cannot be rebuilt.”

David considered her statement, but shook his head. “Yes it can,” he replied wistfully. He thought of the new immigrants arriving at the airport. He remembered their faces, fresh, hopeful and determined. “It takes a lot of hard work and sweat, but it’s possible. You just have to trust the ponies.”

Exuviae narrowed her eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she muttered. “You say we have to trust the ponies… but I don’t.”

David ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, enough to at least discuss things with them. You need them.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. Exuviae reddened as she rounded on him. “I certainly don’t!” she shot back. “We simply need to gain an advantage over them, that’s all. For that we’d only form a temporary arrangement, then we’ll—”

“You can’t do that, how’re you going to foster trust?” he said incredulously. David wondered why the changeling queen was so resistant to the very idea she’d had in the first place. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Exuviae let out an indignant gasp. No doubt this was the first time anyone had the audacity to say something so bluntly to her. David would normally be counted as one of those who would not dare, but he was at his wit’s end.

“How dare you!” she hissed. “You don’t know anything!”

David gritted his teeth. Of course he didn’t know anything, he was a stranger in a foreign land in an unknown universe! Yet they expected him to be able to do something about it, and she had the utter lack of presence to tell him that he was wrong about her own idea?!

“I know enough!” he yelled back. “I know that your obstinate pride is going to kill you—you… you… reckless, hypocritical imbecile!”

In the ringing silence he was suddenly aware that they were surrounded by her ‘shadows’ the ever-present guard composed of changelings ready to spring into action if he were to pose a threat. He glared at them, feeling intimidated, but daring not to show it. If he were to back down now at the show of force, he might as well give up. If he couldn’t stick to his own resolution, then there was no point; he would have stayed with the ponies instead.

It was hard, though, when the very creatures he had thought he was saving were glaring at him with boiling rage. Or at least that was what he thought Exuviae’s reaction would be, but the Queen merely looked… pleased? What the heck was going on?

Exuviae looked very much like a cat that had finally snared the elusive mouse. She licked her lips and nodded approvingly. “You’re definitely committed,” she finally said. “I had to know for sure.”

“W-What?” David spluttered.

Exuviae rolled her eyes. “Oh come now, you don’t think I would throw away years of planning in a moment’s passion, would you?”

David didn’t say anything, he was still trying to process the sudden change in topic.

“You have to recognise that what I have done is merely confirmation that you would do as you say. That you would hold to your promises as binding.” She shied away from his stony look. “We’ve been deceived before, if you can get past the unbelievable irony in that.” Exuviae sighed, but laid a hoof on his shoulder while giving him a more tender smile. “I had to know that you would be willing to tell me I’m wrong. Care enough to know what’s best for me even when I can’t see it for myself.”

“Why would you need that?” David asked, his head shaking as he tried and failed to grasp what the heck Exuviae was on about. “Why would you need someone like that?”

Exuviae pursed her lips impatiently. “Because,” she said with exaggerated patience. “I don’t want something that always agrees with me, I need something that will help us. That starts by being close enough to care about me but far enough to care about us as a collective. That, human arbiter, is what qualifies you to be at the negotiating table.”

David didn’t like it, but he nodded reluctantly. “Alright, I think I see what you mean, but couldn’t you have given me some warning first?”

“Of what?” Exuviae snorted. “That I was going to surprise you by telling you the surprise?”

David sighed. “I guess not.”

Exuviae beckoned him. “Come,” she said. “I have one last thing to show you. It concerns not only changelings, but something a little bit greater than all of us, I fear.”

——————

Carrying Rainbow in tow, Twilight pondered the dilemma of getting ahold of a human without resorting to less savoury methods. It wasn’t fair that villains got to kidnap anypony they wanted. Where was the added advantage of not being able to bend the rules a little bit? The alicorn shook her head. That kind of thinking was wrong. Sure it was tempting to do it, but even desperate, like Exuviae had told them, she still wouldn’t do that. Something about Exuviae’s story didn’t seem right.

Why did changelings like her care about all that now of all times? Why did they want a human to play at being the fulcrum of a diplomatic seesaw? Too many things weren’t adding up. Still, Exuviae did seem genuinely desperate to enlist the human’s empathy. Whatever for, she didn’t know. Rainbow groaned softly, shifting on her back. Well, despite coming back unharmed, Exuviae was going to have to answer for kidnapping Rainbow and getting her all mixed up in this.

The abrupt dismissal of Rainbow’s life as something that was beneath Exuviae’s concern got Twilight’s blood boiling. How dare that insipid Queen pawn off her friends like some kind of afterthought?

At least nopony had been hurt. The changelings with them as they were escorted, told her that whatever it was that they had done to Rainbow, it would wear off as they left the changeling cave system. For that reason mostly, Twilight was trying to get out as fast as she could. It would be nice to have Rainbow around, she was always so dependable, even if she was a little brash at times. Apart from that little comment, the changelings didn’t respond to any of her pointed questions. She’d hoped to get a little out from the changelings themselves, but they weren’t very forthcoming.

They didn’t seem to speak at all, in fact. It reminded her a little of the Royal Guards. It seemed like they were trained to be stoic and not answer any questions unless specifically directed to. It occurred to her that they were much like the changeling equivalent. She didn’t know if that were the case, or if their silence were the norm instead of the exception. Twilight sighed, adding the curiosity to the jumbled mess of many others jostling in her mind. Looking ahead, she was glad for the break from the monotony of the cave walls the entrance was finally in sight.

Emerging from the cave systems, Spitfire and Soarin immediately alighted at their position and saluted the Princesses. Celestia and Luna dipped their head gracefully, and Twilight did so somewhat belatedly.

“Princesses, we’ve received a message from Doctor Stable and Nurse Redheart from Ponyville.”

“Do tell!” Luna commanded, but cleared her throat as Celestia sent her a look. “Uhh… yes, do tell us, please.”

If Spitfire had thoughts about the exchange between the Princesses, she didn’t show it. “Doctor Stable had instructed Nurse Redheart to extract samples from the human while he was at the hospital.”

“W-What?” Twilight squeaked. “Why?”

“Indeed,” Luna remarked. “We are curious.”

“Apparently, Nurse Redheart and Doctor Stable know something of the mythos around the humans,” she continued, shifting her hooves uneasily. “They sounded a little…” Spitfire trailed off as she tried to find the words.

“Crazy?” Soarin muttered.

Spitfire shrugged and nodded reluctantly, not really wishing to badmouth the doctor that had treated her. “Well, yes, they were, for lack of a better word, really, really, into the lab results from the blood samples.”

“How did they get blood samples off the human?”

“They said something about drugging him.”

“W-What? On a completely alien physiology?”

Spitfire shrugged. “The doctor said something about it being xeno-safe. It’s mostly so they could get samples from the human.”

“T-That violates so many ethics codes I don’t even know where to begin.”

Celestia interrupted before Twilight could go straight into a lecture.

“While I agree that Nurse Redheart and Doctor Stable need a revision on what constitute patient rights, what is done is done, we’ll need to see what they have for us.”

“Y-You can’t be serious, Princess, that’s almost legitimi—”

“I know exactly what we’re doing,” Princess Celestia said quietly. “We don’t have the time right now. Exuviae is planning something and a lot more ponies will get hurt. For now, we must consider the greater good and allow them to be dealt with later.”

Luna nodded. “Unfortunately, as Princess, you must sometimes make tough decisions if you want to make sure everypony is safe. Luxury of swift and total justice, or redemption, only comes after your duty is done.” Her eyes went slightly out of focus. “Personal feelings come second.”

Twilight reluctantly followed the two alicorns as they headed off. Carrying Rainbow may have slowed her down, but that wasn’t the only reason she was flying at the back of the formation.

She needed a moment to collect her scrambled thoughts.
	


> 6 - The Annals of Truth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Chapter 6: The Annals of Truth


Despite the delay, the train was well on its way, unmolested, to the capital of Equestria. Wealthy nobles, sightseers, and ordinary travellers on business, pleasure, or both, were seated comfortably. The travellers were told that a minor mishap had occurred on the line and the inconvenience had been promptly removed. 

Comforted by the friendly tones of the conductor, none really questioned why the conductor, originally a male, was suddenly speaking in a falsetto, or sounded more like a mare than a stallion. They didn’t dwell on it long, simply glad that they weren’t going to be too late.

Meanwhile, icy silence had descended among the passengers in the first carriage of the 2:45 express to Canterlot. In this part of the train, the occupants had been well-aware of the circumstances, but only one pony cared, being the original conductor of the train.

“Hey,” he whined, “I would like to have my job back.”

“Oh quiet you, there’s no problem here now,” Mortimus snapped back. He would have had more patience for the conductor, but he lost it when the conductor insisted they follow protocol and leave the train in the middle of nowhere to wait for the Royal Guard. It might have done no harm, if the griffons weren’t coming as well. Mortimus didn’t know what they wanted, but from the angry gesticulations they sent his way as the train started puffing away, only solidified Mortimus’ belief that he made the right choice.

“I must insist,” he continued. “This is my train after all!”

“Shut up,” Mortimus growled, sinking into the seat and closing his eyes.

“But—”

Mortimus’ eyes snapped open. “Listen very carefully. I would like you to be perfectly quiet.” The conductor shrunk back, unable to hold onto his temerity under the gaunt pony’s frightening mask of carefully suppressed fury. Mortimus was ready to reach out and snap the conductor’s neck. The conductor, on the verge of saying something else, conjured fanciful notions of the Grim Reaper, and he suddenly thought it wise to keep quiet. Mortimus never thought he’d be glad of his looks, but in this circumstance it certainly came in handy.

Waiting a few more seconds in case the conductor had anything else to say, Mortimus finally gave the pony one more murderous look for good measure and then sank back into his seating. 

“What’s going on?” It was one of Raven’s former ‘accomplices’ sitting across from him. Mortimus had some difficulty recalling his name, but then remembered when the pony couldn’t keep his hooves still.

“Swiper, right?” Mortimus asked.

“Yes, sir.” Swiper gulped. “I was was just wondering where the Boss had gone.”

“Boss?”

“Uhh Raven, sir, we sometimes call her Boss.”

Mortimus gestured behind him. “Raven is trying to get in touch with the drivers and explain what’s going on. She said she was going to smooth talk them.”

Swiper sighed with relief. “That’s good then.”

“I see,” Mortimus sat back and gave him a little smile. “You care for her, don’t you?”

Swiper shifted uncomfortably. “Don’t tell her this, but I sorta knew she wasn’t as… you know, old as she was.”

Mortimus gaped at him. “Then why…?”

Swiper shrugged. “None of us are really hard crims, we’re just getting by because we haven’t found another way. I can’t speak for the others, but I knew I didn’t want to sink further into the organisation. Still, we’re all rejects in some way or another, failures like us couldn’t find a decent job even if we tried.” The pickpocket glanced out the window and added bitterly, “Not anything that pays enough, anyway.”

“So what made you stop?” Mortimus frowned. “You can’t have just had these thoughts now.”

Swiper looked at his hooves tracing them along the side of the carriage. “I was a magician you know?”

“What?”

“Yeah I know, silly, right? But there’s an attraction. Not real magic, just sleight of hoof.” Swiper placed his hooves together then moved them apart to reveal a small coin. “Someponies just want to see an earth pony do some ‘magic’. It gives ‘em a sense of wonder, some of that mystery, eh?”

“But…” Mortimus didn’t know a delicate way to put it.

“Yeah, yeah, we have real magic. We have unicorns and spells and all that, but look at this.” He ran a hoof down his coat, changing the dirty brown colour to a bright pink. With another gesture it was dirty brown again. “See that?” He laughed at Mortimus’ shocked expression. “That’s what magic means to me. Something you can’t explain, the art of mystery and mystique.”

“I guess I can see that,” Mortimus admitted. “If you’re that good, what made you stop?”

“A unicorn and some bad luck,” Swiper replied quietly. “Some pony name Dixie or Pixie or something started showing off a flashier version of what I did. Nopony wanted to see a boring old earth pony anymore. Then the drought hit north of Filly Delphia and suddenly my family was neck-deep in debt. I was a travelling pony, but my family has roots as deep as the orchards they planted. I loved my parents, but it was really for my sisters.” He suddenly grinned. “My parents wanted me to inherit the farm, so I ran away. We’re on pretty bad terms right now, but my sisters always smiled at the little magic tricks as I worked the ground, when Ma or Pa wasn’t looking.”

“Do they…?” Mortimus trailed off as Swiper gave him a look. “Sorry.”

Swiper sighed. “Don’t be. I don’t have the right to be angry at you. None at all. They’re my choice after all.”

Swiper ran a hoof through his short-cropped mane, casting a shaded look towards Wile and Bricker. “We’re all the same, or at least in a similar situation. We usually do shakedowns and debt collecting, nothing too rough and tumble. We stick to the grey edges of the Law.” He looked at his hooves. “I guess we drew the line at ponynapping. We were darn sure surprised the human could speak. We thought it was some sort of weird, exotic animal.”

For a long time, Mortimus considered the other pony. Then he gave him a smile that told him he understood a little of his pain. “I guess I can sympathise. It’s hard for me to fit in as well. At least I found a place. I don’t know what I would have done if I was so desperate.”

Swiper glanced up, stared at Mortimus for a few seconds and gave a small lopsided smirk that told him he understood what he meant. “Thanks, but uhh, can you keep it on the down low? For the Boss?”

Mortimus glanced back at the train door. He spotted Secant humming to herself as she wiggled her fingers in a strange, wave-like fashion. He nodded.

“I’m sure you’ll tell her someday. She’s lucky to have you ponies around.”

———————

Raven poked her head in through the door, shutting it behind her and nodding to the admittedly intimidating Mortimus. Though he looked like he had a lot on mind, the pony gave her a thin, but surprisingly warm smile as she threaded her way down the aisle. Mortimus heaved a sigh, looking more than a little glad that nopony else seemed to connect the log laid across the tracks to the four new occupants now seated on the train. 

As she took an empty seat near the middle of the carriage Secant moved to sit alongside her, all the while wearing that inane grin she had since the beginning. Though she disliked the overbearing human being so close to her, she had to admit, she was glad they didn’t have to ponynap, or she guessed humannap her. If she stuck to her side of the seat, she would tolerate her presence. Leaning against the window, she tried hard to ignore the human’s beaming smile and constant attempts to engage her in conversation. 

Raven had a hard time believing the fantastical tales that Mortimus spun about Secant and humans in general. Some of it had to be true though, because the Big Boss specifically wanted the human. Whatever the Big Boss wanted, it was always valuable, and the things a human could do sounded really crazy. Still, it didn’t make sense that they were sent. They were after all, barely scraping by at the organisation’s lowest rungs. She wondered what kind of plan the Big Boss had. After all, it wasn’t like him or his second-in-command, Hard Line, to let an opportunity slip through their hooves.

Raven cast a furtive glance around the carriage.

Despite the presence of the human, and the assurances of her teammates, nothing could ease the churning knots her stomach was tying. Once the Big Boss found out about her betrayal, if there was a small chance that he got there before they could... he might not tell Equestrian Social Services, but there were other ways to extract revenge.

“You must let me stop the train!”

Raven snapped out of her thoughts as she glanced over to the conductor. Even though she wasn’t there for the larger part of his prattling, she was there long enough that it was starting to eat away at her patience. Making a quick survey, Raven saw that the other occupants of the small carriage were starting to show signs of ire. She was not the only one annoyed at the conductor. Making eye contact with Bricker, she frowned and nodded in the conductor’s direction. Bricker got the message and smiled wickedly.

He flexed his muscles. There was no practical use for the movement, apart from the added bonus of quieting the conductor for a brief moment in time. The other passengers nodded gratefully to Bricker, though the rich stallion that wore a suit that looked more expensive than the train itself, ignored the bickering. It was beneath him. None of them knew his name, either, he hadn’t deigned to offer it.

“Darling just relax,” the fanciful mare directed to the conductor with a hapless sigh. “All is well, is it not? We’re on our way and by some miracle, even on time!” Raven dimly recalled her name was Plush Velvet. She had almost forgotten she existed.

“It certainly is not!” the conductor grumbled. He stared out the window as if to find courage in the transitive landscape. “They haven’t even paid for their tickets!”

“Actually,” Swiper said awkwardly, “we did.” 

Wile held out the tickets, all four of them.

The conductor went cross-eyed at the gold-coloured passes flashing in front of his nose. “What?” His mouth worked open and closed as he snatched them out of the air and studied closely. “T-They’re legitimate…”

Wile nodded. “Yeah, uhh, we’re technically passengers, right?”

“O-Oh,” the conductor mumbled. “Well, I must apologise…” He looked like he was torn between the loyalty of customer service with his indignation in dealing with the train mishap. Finally, the conductor sighed and handed back the tickets. “Please take your seats,” he mumbled, before exiting the carriage.

“Thank Celestia he’s gone,” Plush muttered. “He was certainly whiny, and I would know whiny!”

There were silent nods of agreement all around.

Mortimus raised an eyebrow. “How did you get tickets?” He sat across Raven and gave her a muted smile, which she shyly returned, though she fidgeted uncomfortably.

“We were given them by one of the organisation’s handlers,” she explained reluctantly. “We were supposed to get on the train and find the human, but, uhh, we missed it.”

“Missed the train?” Mortimus gaped. “But how did you get ahead of the train?”

Raven flushed. “When we said we ‘missed’ the train, we actually caught an early train.”

“Early?” Mortimus cocked his head. “You mean you caught the wrong train?”

Raven bit her lip, she wanted to be anywhere but squirming under Mortimus’ critical look. “Yeah, the train stopped at a junction and booted us out because we didn’t have the right tickets. I only realised we were on the wrong train when the conductor had told us.” She hunched her shoulders. “So I came up with the idea to stop the other train with a log on the railroad. We made sure that it was plenty visible so they could stop in time, and we had a backup in case something went wrong…” Raven fell silent when she realised she was babbling.

Bricker cut in as Raven sat there looking at her hooves. “She’s got a good head, she does.” Bricker nodded in approval. “Though I never knew she was that young.”

Raven didn’t say anything but pressed her hooves together tightly. “That’s all done for now. I wanted to help out my sister, but I didn’t want ponies to get hurt all that much. Mostly we just fleece those that can afford it, or those that haven’t been paying their dues. It’s mostly legal work…”

“It’s okay.” Mortimus stopped Raven and reached out, patting her on the shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. For now, we’ll concentrate on finding your sister and making sure both of you are safe.”

Secant ruffled her mane with a cheek-splitting grin.. “Don’t worry, Mortimus always knows what’s going on, he’s a good pony.”

Mortimus, though frightening to look at as a pony, had this smile that seemed to make her feel better. Raven shared it for a few seconds and allowed the annoying human to continue petting her. It did kind of feel nice.

Just a little.

————————

Royalty, accompanied by their famous retinue, made quite a splash landing in the centre of Ponyville. The small town, though usually the centre of many weird and wonderful events, wasn’t quite prepared for the arrival of three Princesses and the two Wonderbolts. Residents gathered around to gawk at the group, and chief among them were Twilight’s friends who had caught wind of Rainbow’s disappearance through a most reliable source of the pink variety.

“I just knew I had a feeling!” Pinkie exclaimed.

Well, the source didn’t have to be based on petty things like facts or physical evidence.

Rarity mumbled something and passed over a small bag of bits to Applejack.

“Thank you kindly,” the farmer murmured with a smug expression. Rarity flicked her mane out of the way and huffed. She seemed to remember herself as Twilight approached and bowed delicately.

“Princesses, Twilight, Captain,” she greeted smoothly.

“Hiya, Twi’!” Pinkie added, instantly breaking decorum. She paused halfway as she recognised the bundle of feathers on Twilight’s back.

“Dashie! Hello?”

“She’s fine,” Twilight said by way of explanation as Fluttershy and Applejack eased the unconscious pegasus off her back. “I think she’ll wake up soon, but we should get her checked out just in case.”

Celestia looked pleasantly surprised to see Twilight’s friends gathered. “Twilight, it’s wonderful to see your friends gathered here at such short notice.”

“If it’s a new spell, you must let us know,” Luna added with a crafty look.

Twilight chuckled. “I’ll let you know if I ever figure it out.” Pinkie grinned as Twilight shot her a look. “In the meantime, I think we should head to the hospital. We need to talk to Dr. Stable and Nurse Redheart.”

Fluttershy edged her way forward. “Oh, uhm, is Rainbow hurt? That’s terrible!”

Twilight waved her hooves frantically. “No, no, it’s something different. I’ll explain on the way, if the Princesses—”

Celestia shook her head. “You have it well in hoof, Twilight.” She gave her a reassuring smile. “In fact, I think I need to head back to Canterlot to coordinate guards. If something is happening with the changelings, we will need a swift response.” She paused. “Unlike last time.”

Luna reared her head. “Perhaps I should follow—”

Celestia held up a hoof, stopping Luna. “I think it’s best if you stay here with Twilight, Luna. I trust Twilight, but she may need some extra help with Exuviae out and about.”

Luna’s eyes hardened considerably when Celestia mentioned the name of the changeling Queen. “Indeed, her past transgressions are more than enough warning. A wise decision, sister. Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking.”

Celestia chuckled, then laughed at Luna’s stricken expression. “A little less stiff, little sister, we each have our own roles and I trust you.” Celestia gave Luna a warm hug, with Luna looking a little embarrassed to be in the centre of attention, especially with what seemed like all of Ponyville looking on.

“Ahem, well, yes, I best… apprise the hospital…” Luna got out before she flew off in a flurry of feathers and furious flushes of the cheek.

Celestia eyed the dwindling form of her sister, then turned to the rest of the ponies gathered. “Luna knows what Exuviae was like, as do I, so she may explain to you personally what misfortune befell us when we had to deal with her. She may be shy of showing her affection, but you are in no better hooves when it comes to protecting and defending those she loves and cares for.” She bent down low and nuzzled Twilight in a sudden hug that surprised the alicorn. “I need not tell you how much it would hurt to lose either of you, so please, be careful.”

Caught off-guard by the princess’ concern, Twilight stayed silent, only nodding in reply. Celestia held Twilight’s gaze for a few seconds more before parting. She turned to the rest of Twilight’s friends.

“Thank you for being there for Twilight, and for all of us.”

“No problem,” Applejack immediately replied.

“It’s no trouble,” Fluttershy said.

“We’re always there for Twilight,” Rarity said.

“It’s okay, Princess! Twilight will just blast miss meanie in the face, or Applejack will tie her up, or Rarity will dress her up, or Fluttershy will stare at her, or I’ll throw a party!” Pinkie whipped out her colourful party cannon. “I mean that literally!”

Applejack sighed and shook her head, smiling slightly as Pinkie bounced on top of her cannon. “Well, Princess, as you can see, we wouldn’t let Twilight, or anypony else down for that matter.”

Celestia looked genuinely relieved when she saw their resolute determination. “Thank you all.” She turned to Twilight and leaned in close, her voice just above a whisper. “Speak to Discord, if you can.”

Twilight blinked, her eyes filled to brim with questions, but already the Princess had turned around and spread her wings. With a powerful downstroke, Celestia took to the air, leaving behind Twilight with troubled thoughts.

————————

“Ugh, where the heck am I?”

“Dashie! You’re alright!” Powerful hooves were crushing the life back out of her.

“P-Pinkie! I… need… air… !”

“Sorry! It’s just so good to see you up!”

“Twi’?”

“Yes?”

“I’m in the hospital again?”

“Yep.”

“Where are the others?”

“Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy are outside, we decided to keep it to two ponies at a time so the bedroom wasn’t too crowded.”

“Right… but like… so that means… the human! Where’s the human?”

Twilight looked away. “He’s with the changelings.”

Rainbow frowned. “Changelings? What? Here? In Equestria?”

Twilight made a calming gesture with her hooves. “Rainbow, calm down, I know this is going to be a lot to take in at once, but let me go through it all and then you can ask me questions, okay?”

Rainbow’s questions were squashed under the troubled look sunk into Twilight’s expression.

“Okay,” she replied softly. “What’s wrong, Twilight?”

“The human, David—”

“Day-vid?” It sounded weird in her mouth. 

Twilight frowned, but continued anyway. “That’s his name. He was taken with you to the caves to the west of here. We don’t know how they got in, but I think they masqueraded as medical staff and flew you both out in stretchers. Seems like they cast some sort of spell to keep you unconscious, but it didn’t work as well on David.”

Rainbow was about to ask a question, but held it back when she remembered what Twilight had told her. She gestured for Twilight to finish.

“Anyway, when I found out he was missing, Princess Celestia and Luna showed up—”

“What?!”

“—Then Soarin and Spitfire found out where the changelings were and we tracked them back and infiltrated the cave. We met Exuviae, and David was with her.”

“What?!”

“Turns out the human wants to help the Queen, although I don’t know why.”

“WHAT?!”

Twilight was spared another disbelieving shout from Rainbow, as another voice interceded. 

“I believe she has deceived the human.” Rainbow’s eyes shot up and found that Princess Luna had entered the room, only just closing the door behind her softly. Twilight had also turned around in surprise, but it looked like more in surprise of what Luna had said rather than her sudden entrance.

“I heard you both conversing,” Luna replied to the unspoken question. “Especially Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow shrugged helplessly. It wasn’t her fault she was loud; Twilight had said some pretty weird things.

“So this Queen… does she have a name?” Rainbow asked.

As soon as she mentioned her, Luna’s expression darkened. “Queen Exuviae.” Her mouth twisted in a way that looked like she’d bitten a lemon. “An unpleasant individual we’ve had the displeasure of knowing in the past.”

“Who is she?” Twilight asked, unable to contain herself. Pinkie opened the door in response to the knocks from the other side. Belatedly, Twilight waited as the rest of the girls came in and shut the door behind them.

“Okay, now that we have all gathered,” Luna said impatiently. “I can tell you about Exuviae.”

“You don’t seem to like her,” Pinkie said with a frown. “She must be a meanie.”

“Yes, I must admit I don’t really have a fondness for Exuviae. She herself may not have directly been involved in invasions and such in Equestria, but she’d been at the heart of complex deceptions and manipulations that would put most the Court of Hibernatum to shame.”

“Hiber-what now?” Applejack blurted.

“It’s a griffon city,” Rainbow explained. She twitched at their stares. “What? So I know some geography. Plus Gilda tells me about it sometimes.”

Twilight nodded. “Hibernatum’s Court houses some of the most influential griffons in the land. It’s famous for their petty manoeuvres and treacherous politics.” Twilight grinned. “In fact, I read—”

“That’s right,” Luna interrupted. “Exuviae was a master at tipping the balance of power. She would often destabilise our relationships and the politics in the regions around to take advantage of the chaos and infiltrate yet more of her changelings. It’s mostly died down now since we’ve developed passive identification methods for changelings.”

“You mean those little glowing crystals in the walls and such?” Rarity said, her eyebrows shooting up. “I simply thought they were decorative.”

“Who can say they cannot serve a double-function?” Luna gave her a wry smile. “In any case, they’re not perfect, the crystals are prohibitively expensive to produce and can only detect for one pony each. However, they certainly discouraged any further incursions from changelings, at least in positions that matter.”

“So what Exuviae was saying might hold a grain of truth? The changelings are now being starved out?”

Luna rolled her eyes. “While it may be harder to obtain an abundance of food, the problem of changelings is the size of their Swarm. They are much too keen to expand and as a consequence, threaten to destabilise the equilibrium of nature. Exuviae simply wants the human for her own ends. She wants to eliminate the competition so that she can have any of the hunting grounds to herself.”

“I must say, I dislike that idea.” Applejack wore a disgusted look. “We ain’t some kind of food to just go out and hunt and eat.”

Fluttershy looked doubtful, but looked like she didn’t want to say anything.

Twilight glanced their way. “Exuviae and the changelings don’t look like they are well off compared to others in Equestria.” Twilight shifted uncomfortably as everypony stared at her. “I mean, I know the dragons are heavy traditionalists, so they haven’t made much effort in producing technology, but they have decent magic despite it all going into augmenting their physical abilities. Still, it does seem complicated, there must be some other explanation for Exuviae and the human.”

“We’re not sure,” Luna finally said. “Exuviae had been mostly quiet as of late, but there have been times before when she had our nation at the brink of collapse.” An intensely bitter expression passed like the head of a thundercloud through Luna’s face as she scowled in condemnation. “She cannot be trusted, that much we know.”

“So…” Rainbow said. “What are we going to do? Steal back the human?”

Luna smiled in a way that made Rainbow suddenly feel uncomfortable.

“Yes,” she said. “We are.”

—————————

Despite the awkward silence that followed, Twilight kept her tone decidedly chipper, despite it coming out more forceful than she desired.

“Before that,” she began slowly, “we should do some research on the human. We should interview Dr. Stable and Nurse Redheart on their findings.”

Luna nodded. “I have ordered them to report to us, so they should—”

A knock interrupted her.

“Ah, good timing,” Luna remarked, then telekinetically opened the door.

“You needed to see us, Princess?” Dr. Stable asked.

“Come in, come in,” Luna said, beckoning with an inviting hoof. “No need to feel shy.”

“Despite what you’ve done,” Twilight muttered to herself. Some of her friends shot her a querying look but Twilight sent one back that meant ‘later’. She hoped they would realise.

“What?” Nurse Redheart frowned.

“Nothing,” Twilight answered, with a forced smile. “We wanted to know what you wanted to talk to us about, concerning the human.”

At that, the two ponies relaxed, their excited enthusiasm erasing their initial unease.

“Yes!” Dr. Stable exclaimed, withdrawing a bag from one of his pockets. “Do you know what this is?”

“A plastic bag?” Rainbow called out from the bed.

Dr. Stable shot her quelling look and turned to Luna. “It’s a sample. Specifically a small snippet of human hair and some of its blood.”

Luna’s eyebrows drew together as she peered at the bag. “And…?”

Dr. Stable and Nurse Redheart looked at Luna like she was daft. “It’s shorter, that’s what.”

“What is?” Twilight interjected.

“The hair,” Dr. Stable said. “It’s shorter than when we first cut it.”

“Uhh…” Even Twilight didn’t get it.

“We’ve run some tests,” Dr. Stable explained patiently. “On both the samples and they react to magic. It’s crazy! The blood and the hair synergise with magic in very different ways.”

“But I don’t see how that…” Twilight trailed off. “What do you mean ‘synergise’?”

Nurse Redheart raised an eyebrow. “I mean ‘enhance’. For lack of a better word, ‘amplify’.”

“It does more than that,” Dr. Stable corrected impatiently. “It is revolutionary in terms of magic itself! Not only does it work with magic and enhances it, it’s highly synergistic with the caster too! When I was examining it under the microscope, I was suddenly aware that I had much better control with the fine-tuning knob. Nurse Redheart also noticed that suddenly all her blood sample batches were pure. Everything that I touched with magic suddenly worked! It’s amazing!”

“What?” Twilight replied, dumbfounded. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“We thought so too,” Dr. Stable admitted, “but when we started testing it with different materials, we noticed something.”

Luna leaned in. “What is it?”

“The hair and blood was getting shorter. Like we were using it up.”

“That’s impossible,” Twilight blurted. “The hair and blood can’t just disappear!”

“It did!” Nurse Redheart cut in. “That’s why we wanted more. We were already testing it on various substances and seeing the effects. It seems to just improve anything it mixes with, as long as there’s a bit of magic exposed to it. I believe if you ingest the blood, you could potentially become—”

“That’s enough,” Luna said sharply. She glared at them both. “Even if what you said was true, even if these miracles were true, do you think it is a good idea to continue testing without the human’s consent?”

“But…” Dr. Stable replied with a frown. “It’s just an animal.”

Fluttershy gasped and stepped forward. “Animal or not, they would both have feelings, did you consider that?”

Dr. Stable made a helpless gesture. “But can’t you see that there could be—”

“No way, I can’t believe that you—”

Nurse Redheart reddened. “You don’t know a thing about medicine you’re just a veterinarian!”

Applejack stomped her hoof, nostrils flaring in indignation. “Hey now, don’t you go insulting my friends—”

“It’s true isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“We still need to test—”

“Absolutely not—”

“Enough!” Twilight yelled. She glanced around to make sure she had everypony’s attention. She had it. Instantly. “Now,” she continued with a dark scowl, “let’s put arguments aside for now. Princess Celestia has ordered that we simply get the information about the human from you both. We’ve done it, you two are dismissed.”

“Twilight—” Luna hesitated as Twilight glared at her. Despite the shock evident on her face, Luna elected to stay quiet, her jaw snapping shut with a click. She waited a few moments more to see if Luna would speak, then turned back to the two medical staff.

“You’ve overstepped your bounds. You are dismissed.”

Dr. Stable tried one more time. “But—”

“Out. Now.” There was no mistaking the calm anger that seethed underneath her words. Both the doctor and nurse made themselves scarce.

“Who knew Twi’ could be so scary?” Rainbow muttered.

“I can hear you,” Twilight said without looking. She heard a gulp and rolled her eyes, turning around to the rest of her friends who were staring at her with wide eyes. She made an effort to calm herself. “We weren’t getting anywhere with those two. Our priority now is to retrieve the human and fetch the one from Manehatten.”

“Manehatten?” Rarity asked, perking up.

“That’s right,” Twilight gave her a slight smile. “We know of at least two humans, but there could be more.” A quill, parchment and an ink bottle burst into existence. “We’re going to split up into three groups.”

“What?” Applejack said.

“What?” Luna said.

“What?” Rainbow said from the bed.

Twilight pursed her lips, but didn’t comment. “One group will have to keep an eye on Exuviae, they’ll be going after David and getting him back.”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes. “I’m in.”

Pinkie raised her hoof. “Sounds like fun!”

Twilight nodded. “Another group will have to go to Manehatten—”

“Darling, can I suggest—”

Twilight finally smiled. “Rarity, Applejack and Fluttershy, you can go.”

Applejack reared back. “What? Me?”

“Yes, don’t you have family there? Maybe you can get in touch? They might have heard something.”

“Well I suppose…”

Twilight gave Applejack a sympathetic look. “If you don’t want to go, I understand.” She raised her head and swept around. “I mean that. If anypony here is uncomfortable with any of this, please say so. I would like your help, but you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” Rarity said, flicking back her mane.

“Baloney,” Applejack added. “I was just being a stick in the mud. I reckon I can muster up the courage to visit the Oranges again.”

Rarity gave Applejack a teasing smile. “Even if you have to wear a dress?”

Applejack winced. “Yeah, even if I have to wear another dang dress again. Though if I can help it, it won’t come to that.”

Twilight smiled sincerely. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“Don’t worry about it, sugarcube, I know you’re fretting about these humans. Hopefully they won’t be as much as a hoof-full as the one down here has been.”

Twilight chuckled.

“Princess Twilight, I believe you have forgotten one individual.”

Twilight gave Luna a lopsided smile as she finished writing on the parchment, dismissing the quill and ink. “Sorry Princess, would you mind delivering a letter to the Crystal Empire?”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “A princess as a mailmare?”

Twilight shrugged uncomfortably. “An alicorn can make better time than a pegasus.”

Rainbow bristled. “Hey! If you—”

Twilight cocked her head. “Unless you want to fly all the way to the Crystal Empire?”

Rainbow froze, then shrank back. “Yeah, uhh sorry Princess Luna, I’m more of a sprinter…”

Luna chuckled, but shook her head. “Twilight, why do you wish me to head to the Empire?”

Twilight’s troubled expression flittered across her features. “In the letter is a list of books of things I can remember relating to humans. The Crystal Empire has a library that holds an extensive catalogue of knowledge that even the Canterlot Archives doesn’t retain. The Crystal Empire has been uniquely preserved for the last thousand years, and I think you can find something about humans there. With your knowledge and the library there, you can quickly find more information about David and hopefully the other human.”

Luna considered this, then tilted her head, raising her eyebrow in suspicion. “Surely you would like to go yourself?”

Twilight bit her lip and nodded. “I would, but…”

“But?”

“But I feel a little responsible for what happened to David.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“Yes, it is.” She clamped down on the discomfort seeping into the tone. “I’m a princess now, and that means things that Dr. Stable and Nurse Redheart and Exuviae have done should never have happened! In fact, they wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t so ignorant!” Twilight took in their sympathetic looks and heaved a sigh. Her anger was immaterial, and there was no use snapping at her closest confidants just because of her own shortcomings. “Sorry… It’s just that they took my friend right from under my nose. I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t you start blaming yourself for what other ponies or changelings did.” Luna softened her tone, giving Twilight a somewhat bitter smile. “Going down that road leads to ruin.” Placing a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, Luna gave the downcast alicorn a reassuring smile as she took the letter from her. “I will do as you requested Twilight, but I suspect that in your letter you will be asking after Princess Cadance or your brother?”

Twilight flushed. “How did you know?”

“If there’s one thing I do know,” Luna replied with an easy grin, “it is that Twilight Sparkle cares about her friends and family.”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but a flare of white and blue light temporarily blinded her. Out popped a scroll… bound with the Royal Seal of the Crystal Empire.

“Whaaa…?”

Luna peered at the seal with a cocked head. Her eyes widened as curiosity quickly evolved into concern. “That is an emergency spell unique to the Crystal Empire. It only works between blood relations, so I suspect Shining Armor will have sent this.”

Twilight could only nod as she opened the scroll. Her stomach felt as if there were a swarm of butterflies. She took a breath before diving into the contents.





Dear Twily,

Send help.

Love,
Shining





Twilight blinked at the contents and was almost about to say something when within moments, another scroll popped into existence. This time with writing that Twilight recognised was from Cadance.





Dear Twilight,

Your brother was panicking and didn’t think before sending the letter, so you might be worried. We would really appreciate it if you could—

HELP US.

Sorry about that, Shining took the quill from me. I would appreciate it if you could give us a little advice. We have a mysterious creature in our palace and it has told us some… very disturbing things. Attached is a sketch to help identify what it is. It claims to be ‘an Auditor’ though I suspect she’s informing us of her job rather than her species, I’m not entirely sure what she is other than that she looks like a human.

But seriously, we need some help.

Love,
Cadance





Wordlessly, Twilight passed the scroll back to Luna.

Luna took a few moments to read the contents, then turned to Twilight.

“I will leave at once,” she said.

————————

Cadance couldn’t process the fact that the creature could stand so calmly after what it did. Ahead of her was the remnants of her office, a more than regrettable casualty in the aftermath of what looked like a major magical fallout. Papers were scattered, ink was spilled, and the floor was littered with torn documentation and filings. Her work, handled for the Empire for the next couple of weeks, a monumental effort, lay shattered in the wake of this creature.

The creature stared around itself and seemed to catch onto her disbelief.

“My apologies,” it spoke in stentorian tones that sounded cracked with age. Underneath that, she sounded distinctly feminine. “I did not mean to disturb your furnishings.”

Clutched in her fleshy hands, bald of all but faint wisps of hair, was a staff that glowed blue. With a wave and muttered phrase, the creature set all her mutilated reports on fire.

“The mess is now removed.”

Cadance finally jolted into action.

“THAT WAS TWO WEEK’S WORTH OF PAPERWORK!”

A long silence stretched between them as Cadance stood in the doorway, her chest heaving with the exertion of belting out that violent bellow. The creature cringed a little.

“Ah.”

Cadance was ready to blast the creature out of the window. “Don’t ‘ah’ me! Fix it! Or finish all the paperwork again!”

“I apologise,” the creature said simply.

Cadance tapped a hoof impatiently on the floor before letting out her pent-up anger in a single, relieving breath. “Fine,” she said with a sigh, suddenly not feeling up to the task of throwing a fit. “It was just a lot of work that was all.” 

It was more important that she found out why this ‘Auditor’ called ‘Written’ wanted to find a ‘human’. Something about the way Written gripped the staff like it was a branch held out to a drowning pony, and the way she was slightly hunched, told Cadance that it was almost as unsettled as she was. Whatever this ‘human’ was, it must have been important, otherwise why would she appear in the middle of the Crystal Empire? Even more urgently, why in the castle?

The creature brought a finger to its face and cocked her head in a way to suggest that it was considering something. As she tilted her head, the hood of her robe fell back and Cadance could finally see the creature’s wrinkled features. Her eyes, bright and penetrating, seemed to take her in without seeing her. Cadance shivered, it was the same sort of look some of the courtiers in Canterlot gave her when they cordially greeted her with barbed intentions.

“That is fair,” Written finally said. “I am accountable for this, so I must make reparations.” She bowed slightly, somehow sounding deferential without being subservient. “Allow me to assist you for the duration it requires to make amends for this grievous mistake. I am Auditor Written, at your service.” As she bowed lower, the tip of the staff touched the floor. With a flash, the staff burned a hole clean through the crystal. Cadance couldn’t conceal her shock as the creature righted itself and then looked apologetically at the floor.

“Ah, apologies.” The Auditor whispered something again and then waved the staff, then the hole in the floor, which was growing rapidly. In an instant, it was suddenly back to normal as if nothing had happened, making it seem almost like she just hallucinated it. Maybe she had, Cadance couldn’t wrap her head around it. The magic looked completely foreign, and though spells like that were possible with magic of her own, the staggering complexity of the spell was in startling contrast to the absurdity of the creature’s casual gesture. Cadance shook her head, she had to find out what—

“What are you… doing…” The beginning of Cadance’s interrogation trailed off as Written suddenly started strolling around the room and began picking books off the shelves in her study.

Written flicked through the book, but didn’t answer for a while. After flicking through half the book she glanced up. “I will need to attain a level of understanding of your culture and policies for the effective application of governance. Once I attain your trust, you may be able to help me find this other human.” She flicked through the rest of the pages then snapped the book closed and sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t have to disturb the inhabitants of these garden worlds, but I can’t sense the anomalies like usual, there’s something here occluding the Truth. Not surprising considering—” she glanced up as if suddenly aware of Cadance “—I intend to find the human, correct the anomaly and return.”

“What?” Cadance pursed her lips. Anomaly? Human? What is this creature talking about?

Written took another book from the shelf and flipped through it. “Do not concern yourself, I will be done soon.”

Cadance pursed her lips, getting the feeling that the creature was going to be a vexing conversant. “Okay,” she said, turning around. “Can you please stay in this room until I come back?”

Written looked up. “I give you my word,” she replied solemnly. She snapped the book closed with such force that it made Cadance flinch. Written seemed not to notice her reaction and simply picked another book.

Somehow Cadance got the feeling that the creature didn’t really want to help her, despite its seemingly neutral intentions.

I better let Shining know, she thought to herself as she reluctantly left the creature alone in her study room.

———————

Shining spotted a somewhat frazzled alicorn approach him from the other side of the corridor. In rare bout of clarity, Shining knew what was wrong.

“Is this about the comment I made earlier with my friends? I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“What? No.”

Then again, maybe he didn’t get what was wrong after all. There was only one course of action available to him after this.

“Uhh… what’s wrong?”

Cadance bit her lip and beckoned her husband over. “You wouldn’t believe me unless you’ve seen it.” She started off back down the corridor she came from as Shining scrambled to keep up.

A little shiver worked its way down his spine. It was an ominous premonition. “What? What’ve you seen?”

“It’s the strangest thing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this creature in Equestria before. It stands on two legs, has hands like a Minotaur… in fact I’m not even sure it’s not some misshapen Minotaur, I mean it looks like one, but it doesn’t behave like one. At least, I’ve never seen a female like it…”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Shining interrupted, his head was spinning from the deluge of words. “I don’t get it, start from the beginning.”

Cadance took a deep breath. Something had rattled her.

“There’s this… creature… that suddenly appeared in my study. There was a loud bang and I came into the room to see that all my paperwork had been torn apart while it stood in my room, looking at me.”

“Your paperwork? You mean the one you worked almost two weeks on?!”

Cadance winced. “Yes. That.”

Shining scowled in condemnation. “Alright, so what does it want?”

Cadance half-shrugged. “It called itself ‘Auditor Written’ and asked me to take it to the nearest ‘human’.”

“You think it’s also this ‘human’?”

“I don’t know…”

Shining smiled. “But you do know somepony who would?”

Cadance grinned.

“Twilight,” they both said at the same time.

—————————

“We’ll try and find out as much as we can before sending a message to Twilight.”

Cadance rounded the corner, then stopped, staring through the doorway. She felt a sense of déjà vu.

“What…?”

The creature placed a stack of documents on her desk that looked suspiciously like the sheaf of paper and parchment of her former paperwork. Written straightened and gave her a self-satisfied smile as she gestured to the table.

“I’ve recovered all your reports and made my own notes, annotations and commentary on them. It was a simple matter of extrapolating from the raw data and writing it up.”

Cadance shuffled over and picked up a report. It was identical, save for the fact that it was in different writing. She read a little further. Discrepancies highlighted, calculations accurate, excellent recommendations written into the margins… the Auditor even suggested improvements to the tax problem they had with crystal mining, a problem she had spent many months debating with the Court.

“H-How?!” she spluttered. “We were only gone for ten minutes!”

Shining came up alongside and mutely sifted through them as well. Cadance heard the occasion gasp and frantic rustling as he read another.

“These are all…” he shared a look with his wife.

Written smiled. It had all the warmth of a glacier. “I’ve been doing this for millions of years. I’m used to it.”

Cadance looked up sharply. “Millions of years?”

Written nodded genially. “Of course, I am an Auditor. In any case, I trust this proves that I have made reparations. Would you honour my request?”

Shining placed the documents down and stared at Written with a wary look. “What request?”

“I would like you to help me find a human.”

Cadance sighed. “We have no idea what a human is.”

Written frowned briefly, then nodded slowly. “Yes… of course, you probably would not know what a human is. I thought because this was a…” She shook her head. “A human looks like me. Stands on two legs. No hair except on the head.” 

“Aren’t you human?” Shining asked with a furrowed brow.

Written crossed her arms, leaning the staff against her body. “No, as I’ve mentioned, I am an Auditor.”

Cadance shrugged, they’d work it out later. “We can’t help you, I’m sorry. As much as we’d like to… we don’t have a clue where to start, or even how to go about finding one. I’ve never heard of a creature that is a human, but even if we did, I’m not exactly sure I’d want to tell you.”

Written crossed her arms. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Cadance rolled her eyes as she snorted. “No offence, but we don’t know you, or even what you are. You’ve mentioned you were an Auditor, but that doesn’t explain anything.”

Written uncrossed her arms and took the staff back into her hands. She ran a finger down the smooth wood as she contemplated what Cadance had told her. Finally, she just gave an almost self-conscious shrug.

Shining and Cadance tensed as she lifted her staff, but instead of waving it towards them, she touched the staff to the ground and murmured something. Instead of burning a hole into the floor like before, a glowing point of light blossomed from the tip and started tracing out a complex series of curves, lines and patterns on the floor. Along the lines were small points of light, which flared briefly before settling into varying shades of brightness as the pattern stretched out. It kept going, past their hooves and beyond the door.

“What are you doing?” Shining asked.

“Showing you a map,” Written replied simply.

Strange little symbols appeared under various points that connected to the single hub of light in the centre of her original casting. The pattern was mesmerising, with speckles of light traversing the lines, some slowly, some quicker than Cadance could register.

“This is a visual representation of the Ephemeris, a catalogue of all the known Realities from the Atrium.”

Cadance frowned. “The Atrium?”

Written tapped her staff’s end on the central point. “The Atrium of Articulate Creation, the point of all creation and where the Author resides.”

“The Author?”

“The creator of all Reality.” Written traced a glowing path from the Atrium to another node not far from it. “This is the Auditorium and next to it, the Centre for Reality Control within the Root of all Causes. This is where the Auditors come from. We enforce the nature of Reality and make sure that there aren’t any anomalies present.” Written held up a hand as Cadance was about to ask another question.

“Please, let me finish.”

Cadance reluctantly nodded.

Written moved her staff and walked away from the centre, towards Cadance. She stopped just in front of her and tapped a dull point on the Ephemeris that was barely visible over the sheen of the floor. “This is your world.”

Cadance blinked. “That tiny thing? That can’t be true. Our world is the only world there is…” She trailed off as she suddenly recalled Celestia mentioning a gateway to another world, and she wondered if it was a dot of light on the map. Her world was merely one of many? The scale was hard to take in, or even comprehend.

Written smiled. “Perhaps, or perhaps there is more beyond that which you can see.” Suddenly growing serious, Written tapped another point, closer to the centre and brighter. “This is another world. It is where humans have come from. At least, the ones you should know of, if you’ve encountered them in your history.” She tapped different points around the map, each lighting up a deep shade of blue. “These worlds are what we call Nodes, they connect to other worlds, one of which is yours. Since you are far from the Centre, it’s hard to reach your world, let alone enforce the Laws.”

Cadance’s head felt like it was spinning.

Written came back to the Node with the humans. “This Node is also notoriously difficult to maintain. Despite our best efforts, sometimes inhabitants slip through the cracks.” A small glow left the point and traced its way to Equestria as if to emphasise her point. “Before they can wreak havoc, we track them through the Registry and put them back where they belong.” Written’s eyes came up, the grey irises ringing her penetrating pupils as she stared at them both. “But that is a relatively minor problem to one I’m dealing with now.” Written returned to the centre of the Ephemeris and tapped the central point. The lines and light faded away.

“Some time ago, the Auditors disappeared. All of them, except myself. Something is deeply wrong with Reality and all that seek to maintain it. The Registry has been compromised, the inhabitants of the Atrium and its Departments have all gone awry, and I am no closer to finding anything that has happened ten thousand years ago!”

Silence smothered the study as Cadance and Shining stared at the Auditor. Written stared at them briefly, then took a deep breath, looking like she was trying to regain a measure of control. Her hands gripped the staff so tightly, her knuckles stood out in stark relief to her whitened hands.

“You must help me,” Written finally muttered, “Reality is at stake.”

—————————

With a flare of blue light, Cadance watched as the message was sent away.

“You think we were being a little overdramatic?”

Shining grinned nervously. “Maybe a little.”

Cadance glanced back behind her to where the Auditor was standing, looking a little lonesome… or maybe that was her imagination? “If what this creature says is true, then this could be bigger than we all imagined.”

“It’s hard to believe…” Shining muttered.

“That’s why we need Twilight here, she would know something about these humans, even if its obscure—” Cadance grinned “—especially if it’s obscure.”

Shining took a deep breath. “I know, you’re right. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

“I know what you mean.” She rubbed her eyes with a weary hoof. “I can’t get past just how… big it is.”

“No kidding,” Shining replied. “What are we going to do?”

Cadance considered it for a moment then shrugged, giving her partner a warm smile. “I think we should help, don’t you?”

————————

At the station, Twilight caught Applejack sending a glance more than once her way. At some unspoken prompt, she trotted closer to her as they waited for the train.

“What’s eating you, Twilight?”

Twilight glanced back at the rest of her friends before replying. “Something is wrong.”

“With the changelings? I gathered as much,” Applejack replied easily. “They might be tough to beat and we might be tested, but we’ve always come out the stronger for it.”

Twilight smiled at the word ‘test’. Though she no longer had the knee-jerk reaction, it still made her pause. Applejack knew full well, and grinned back. 

Twilight took in Canterlot. From here she could see the city perched on the mountain, the castle dominating the view with the whimsical towers reaching out into the sky, like it was a tree poised to touch the heavens. As a filly, the tall buildings around her had always filled her with a sense of peace and safety, and it never failed to settle her thoughts whenever they turned troubled. Now, outside of the buildings, and spotting it from Ponyville, it stood in stark contrast to her castle which reared behind them.

It seemed the weight of the two were pressing down on her.

“Strangely, it’s not about the changelings.”

“The human?” Applejack muttered. “It was mighty confusing when you were explaining what exactly a human was.”

“I’m worried about them, I think they’re serious.”

“You don’t think they’re dangerous?”

“No!” Twilight lowered her voice, with a glance at the others. They were still chatting. “I mean, not that I think. The one I was in contact with didn’t seem so bad.”

Applejack smiled. “Nopony ain’t born a bad batch.”

“I think so too, I just don’t like how he stuck with Exuviae.”

“From the sounds of it, that changeling gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“Me too,” Twilight admitted. “She’s very calculative, and different.”

“To Chrysalis?”

Twilight shivered. “Yes. Her. Still, we have to get our hooves on David. There’s no telling what the changelings are planning. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s going to be good.”

“Twilight, about the medical staff…”

 She grunted dismissively, her brows coming together into a fierce scowl. “I’ll deal with them later.”

Applejack touched Twilight on the shoulder and looked into her eyes with sympathy. “Go a little easy on them. I don’t like to see you angry like that, Twi’.”

“You heard what they did—”

“I did, but they probably thought they were doing the right thing.”

“How—”

“Twilight.” Applejack took a deep breath. “Nopony does anything thinking they’re doing the wrong thing. They all think they’re doing the right thing. That they are justified.”

“Well you can’t just go around testing on anypony without their permission!”

“Of course not, and I’m not suggesting that. I’m just saying you shouldn’t come at them hard, you just need to show them that they made a mistake.”

“I can’t forgive—” Twilight cut herself off as she reared her head, shocked by her own words.

Applejack patted her friend on the back. “I’m just worried that you might be heading down a path you might realise you don’t want to take.”

That stymied her reply. She was getting so worked up on those two, she needed to see the bigger picture. With a swallow and a mute nod, Twilight gave her friend a weak smile. “Thanks, Applejack.”

Applejack grinned at her. “What’re friends for? Come on, let’s go see each other off.”

Twilight made her way towards the rest of her friends. Pinkie bounded over as the rest waved.

“Hiya, Twi’, you feeling alright?”

Twilight grinned back at Pinkie. She tried her best to match her smile, but nopony could ever match one of Pinkie’s jaw-splitting grins. 

“Right now, I’m feeling fine.”

———————

They entered a wide cavern lit from all sides by what appeared to be veins of crystals marbling the walls. The floor, initially hard rock and dirt, ended at the entrance. Leading the way to the centre of the cavern were a series of geometric crystals inset into some glossy stone that looked similar to granite, except that it was dotted with red.

But all that was not what captured David’s attention.

“What’s that?” he spluttered.

In the centre, the sole object reigning over the confines of the underground chamber, was a massive crystal pillar. The crystal seemed to be made of one massive block and looked like it was growing out from the floor all the way to the ceiling. The crystal seemed to be lit within, with faint streams of lights coursing within it that gave it the appearance of something alive rather than an inanimate object.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Exuviae murmured. 

“What is it?” David asked.

She gave him a lopsided smile. “I don’t know what it is.”

“You took me down here to take a look at something you know nothing about?”

“Perhaps a more accurate description would be ‘I don’t know what it does’.” Exuviae trotted forward and placed a hoof on the structure. “Other than the hunch that it is possibly connected to other parts of Equestria and that it is made from some kind of magical crystal impervious to mining, I don’t know much about it.” The queen pointed a hoof to the ground. “See these?”

 David glanced down. The geometric structures of the crystals resolved themselves to a regular pattern that looked like…

“Writing. These symbols look like some sort of writing.”

“I can’t read them,” Exuviae admitted, “but I believe them to be important.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

She shot him a look. “Isn’t it obvious?”

David glanced around. “You think I know something about this?”

Exuviae raised an eyebrow, but didn’t do anything else other than wait patiently.

“What? How would I know anything about this?”

The queen sighed. “You do seem awfully ignorant of this world. I had hoped that this could be something useful…” She shrugged. “It was simply a thought, and I wanted you down here for another reason. I wanted you to meet someone.”

“Someone?”

Exuviae shrugged. “My daughter, if you recall. You can meet her now.”

David scratched his head, then nodded slowly. “Yes… I think I remember you mentioning that.” Then the realisation hit him. “Your daughter? Would that make her the Princess?”

Exuviae snorted. “Goodness no, that’s a very pony way to look at it. My daughter is simply herself.” Exuviae glanced past David. “Ah, there she is now.”

Looking back, David spotted a diminutive figure approaching them from across the room. The changeling looked like a miniaturised version of Exuviae, only slightly bigger than two changelings that flanked her as a guard. When she approached, she gave a shy nod to him and a small bow to her mother.

“As you can see, Hyaline isn’t exactly the most comfortable in the spotlight.” Hyaline cringed slightly at her mother’s words, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure she’s just a little put off by me,” David interjected while he pretended to ignore the grateful look Hyaline sent his way.

“Ah, already you’re playing the diplomat.” Exuviae chuckled. “If you were not a human, but a changeling, I would perhaps be interested in, hmm, shall we say… acquiring you.”

David laughed nervously, but when Exuviae only looked at him, he quickly changed the subject.

“I know you’ve explained this to me before, but I’m a little confused, what exactly do you want me to do?”

Exuviae glanced at the two changeling guards, and by some unspoken command, the two bowed and left. Returning her gaze to David, she paced around him to stand by her daughter’s side as she replied.

“You will not have to do much, David. Simply stand by her side while I make the announcement.”

“To the rest of the changelings?”

“No, not anymore.” Exuviae’s mouth twitched. “The ponies had interrupted that course of action, we have to move faster than that.”

“What do you mean?”

Exuviae paced a tight circle as she bowed her head in thought. “Originally, I was planning on getting you to confirm my daughter as a successor, as this would deter the other changelings from taking advantage of our weakness. I was going to leverage you in our negotiations with the ponies, but now that avenue has closed to us.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she paused briefly in her pacing. “And you have shown to be more autonomous than I originally gave you credit for.” Exuviae stopped and gazed at the tree, seemingly lost in thought.

David glanced at Hyaline, but the changeling princess—he decided that would make it easier to refer to her as that—bit her lip and looked equally lost. The ensuing conversation seemed to make her uncomfortable, and judging by the way she hadn’t said anything for last five minutes, seemed to point to the fact that she was more than a little shy.

“So…?” David prompted the Queen. “What’s our next step?”

Exuviae blinked and focused on David again. She gave a half-hearted shrug and gestured between the Hyaline and himself. “Much as I dislike the idea, I believe we should send a delegation.” A slow, devious smirk spread across her lips. “In fact, now that the ponies have been kind enough to show themselves into our home, I think it’s fitting that we should show up in theirs.”

“Don’t you think that’ll cause some, uhh, distress?” If the three princesses’ reactions were anything to judge by, then waltzing in with a changeling and a supposedly mythical creature such as himself would probably end up with mobs and pitchforks. Given that castles and villages were still around in rustic force, there was a fair chance that could happen.

Exuviae flicked a hoof dismissively. “Don’t worry about that, Hyaline will go in disguise.”

“It’s a little hard to cover up holes and black uhh, chitin?”

Exuviae burst into laughter. David frowned at her. He glanced at Hyaline, and even she was smiling. What was so funny?

“Oh I’m sorry,” Exuviae choked out, in between chuckles, “I had forgotten you would not know about our little skill.” A slow intimate smile spread on her lips, showing to full advantage her sharp, predatory teeth. “Watch this.”

——————

Green fire sprang up from the ground, quickly spreading upwards. At first shocked by the flames, David couldn’t stop his mouth falling open as the creature before him morphed, size and all, into a completely different creature.

In front of him was the pony he knew as ‘Twilight Sparkle’. Everything was the same at least as far as he could recall.

“Every time, it never fails to amuse me when I see their reactions.” Even the voice.

It was uncanny how she looked exactly the same. The size, the shape, the colours… no wait…

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have green eyes.”

Exuviae smirked with Twilight’s face. “A mistake easily corrected.” With a flash, her eyes turned amethyst. “Better?”

David shook his head in wonderment. “I didn’t know you could do that, I thought when you mentioned hiding and living amongst them… Actually, I don’t know what I thought.” Though Exuviae looked physically the same as that pony from before, she couldn’t quite replicate the bearing, the differences in her stance, her gaze, instead it felt like Exuviae in a second-skin.

“You’re quite observant,” Exuviae commented as she shifted back. “Your expression tells me that you think something’s off.”

“It just doesn’t seem right, it’s her, but not her. At least I think so.” David splayed his fingers as he gestured helplessly. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think you’ve done an adequate job.” Exuviae smiled. “Perfect disguise is a skill that’s hard to learn. Even harder is copying behaviour. It’s also why we tend to track our quarry for some time before aiming to mimic them. Appearance is not always everything, though some changelings believe otherwise.”

David caught the tone of the latter end of the sentence. He thought about bringing it up, but Exuviae’s look made him change his mind. Instead, he gestured to Hyaline, while he directed a question he wanted to ask since she brought up the concept of a delegation. “Are you coming with us?”

Exuviae gave him a tight-lipped smile. “As much as I’d like to, I think a small group is better. Also, I need to keep an eye on my home.” She glanced back at the crystal pillar. “And what it contains.”

David nodded. It made sense, but there were a few things he needed to get off his chest. “First, I know the translation thing works between us right now, but once I’m away from here…”

“Ah, I was wondering when you would bring that up. Though she may look somewhat diminutive, Hyaline is quite accomplished with changeling spells. I’ve taught her all I know, and she’s been able to surprise me once or twice.” David caught the slight hint of pride under her words. “One day, she will be a powerful Queen. Right now, more than anything, she needs experience.”

“Do you expect me to, uhh, protect her?”

Exuviae laughed again as David flushed. “My, my, someone thinks highly of himself. No, you will have a few unobtrusive drones with you. We also have a contact within the pony world, an oddball of sorts. Hyaline will tell you everything you need to know as you go.”

“One more thing,” David added, this time his voice turning grave. “I would like to keep in contact.”

Exuviae smirked as she considered his statement, her look bearing the knowledge of the unspoken question. “And underneath that I’m sensing this is your way of keeping me accountable to my word?”

David gave her a cool smile, trying to play down the insidious flight or fight response that threatened his composure. “If need be.”

Exuviae tilted her head. “I’m impressed already.” She tapped the floor. “I believe this holds the key to powerful magic. Magic that can be used to alter this world… or perhaps visit others.”

Satisfied that Exuviae had a plan, David held out his hand.

“What is this?” Exuviae said suspiciously, staring at his open palm.

“Don’t you shake hands in your world? We usually do this during farewells or greetings, especially among friends.”

“Really?” Exuviae cocked her head. Her smile was an intimidating as it was intimate. “The usual protocol would be to give a polite bow.”

“Do you bow to your friends?”

Exuviae blinked. “Queens do not make friends. Alliances, perhaps.”

David chuckled, but when the Queen didn’t join him, he frowned at her. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, why would it surprise you? Friends aren’t a common occurrence among royalty. Often our goals are in contention with those that oppose us. Which are many, including our subjects. Those in the position of power are often alone. I’m sure it is the same in your world.” She looked away. “More so among changelings.” Exuviae glanced back at David. “Are you comfortable with being friends with a creature such as I?”

“Who cares? I’ve done less for people I’ve called friends, anyway. We’re trusting each other this much, why not go the extra mile? In any case, my arm is getting tired from holding up my hand, so can you…” He waited patiently with his arm raised slightly higher as a prompt.

Exuviae glanced at her daughter and back to David. She looked into his eyes, as if trying to penetrate through any potential subterfuge. Finding none, she hesitated, before delicately placing her hoof in his hand. He shook it a couple of times before letting it drop. It felt hard on the outside, which was to be expected, but underneath it was a little pliant, which surprised him.

“So now we have a physical accord, friend.”

David nodded. “I’ll, uhh, do my thing.”

“I certainly hope you’re more eloquent when addressing the ponies.”

“Wait, one last thing, what exactly are we bargaining for?”

Exuviae didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gestured at the doorway, and David heard the approach of a couple of changelings.

“The Council. A place at the table, if you will. Hyaline will tell you of the details as you make your journey.” Exuviae paused, then added awkwardly. “Good luck, friend.”

David had the feeling he wasn’t going to get much else out of her, so he simply bid her farewell.

“Good luck to you too, Exuviae.”


> 7 - The Salient Script
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 7: The Salient Script


Primum couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I don’t get it… we’ve been doing this for so long…”

The Echelon raised an eyebrow, uncrossing her foot and leaning forward in her chair. The chair groaned as she tapped the desk with a finger. It felt like the temperature had dropped, though that was impossible, the notion of temperature didn’t extend this far into the Root.

“It’s a verified Work Order.”

Primum swallowed. “I can see that, ma’am, it’s just so sudden… I’m responsible—”

“There’s been a restructuring. We thank you for your many years of service.” The Echelon’s eyes blazed with muted intensity. Her piercing gaze forced the Head Auditor, a venerable bureaucrat of Reality holding his post since almost the Beginning, to cringe and bow his head.

“Yes, ma’am.” The Echelon was new, but her Authority was clear as day. The letter, accompanying the Work Order—and held in his shaking hands—was marked with the undeniable Salient Script of the Author. The orders were inviolable. But still, they’ve had this job for so long…

“You’re sure? Without the Auditors, Reality will become—”

The Echelon did not hesitate. “I’m sure. And I have permission. Must I spell it out for you?” Her lips twisted in distaste with the drawn-out conversation. “Carry it out. I expect it done by the end of the cycle.”

“W-What will become of us?” Primum couldn’t help stuttering over the words. He felt like Reality was dissolving around him. “Where will we go? What will I tell them?”

The Echelon brushed off a piece of lint on her uniform. “I’m sure you will figure that out yourselves. There is no longer a place for you here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The Auditors had to be called back from all corners of Reality, there was paperwork to be done. He glanced at his desk and sighed. Lots of paperwork to be done.

“Good.” The Echelon rose from her seat in one fluid motion, picking up her staff of office on the way out. “Don’t make me come back here again.”

Primum nodded quickly. Nobody in their right mind wanted the Echelon to pay them a visit, once was enough in an Eternity.

————————

On the way to the Crystal Empire, Luna decided to take a short detour to see Celestia. Though an alicorn’s wings could bear a long-distance trip, the effort non-stop would likely be exhausting, so she would conserve some energy and steel herself for the arduous journey ahead.

Also, she wanted to see her sister and tell her about what had transpired after she had left.

The ponies of Canterlot were often thought to be a snobbish lot. This was not entirely true, it would only apply to those that frequented the palace and had grown fatally attached to the fineries that only those in the upper echelon of the socioeconomic ladder could afford. The rest of Canterlot was alive with the hustle and bustle of ponies of all types and flavours. On instinct, instead of immediately alighting at the castle, Luna decided to trot her way up the street.

The sights and smells of Canterlot filled her lungs and immersed her eyes. The bubbling murmur of vendors and patrons frequenting the stores filled the air. It reminded her of old times where compatriots would do the same on the open market, before a rift had separated her from her sister, duty, and country. Luna was glad that her ponies were so forgiving of her. Everywhere she went, they gave her grateful grins, as if she had saved the world rather than threatened it. The little waves and the sincere greetings were enough to bring tears to her eyes. She settled for a reflection of their warm adoration with a subdued, but sincere, greeting back.

Luna made her winding way through the streets that were more like the mortar between the cobblestones underneath her hooves than the planned design of a town architect. Canterlot seemed more organic than the flat grey divisions that fitted block by block in other more modern cities like Manehatten. Truthfully, Luna preferred this more olden style. While it was certainly less ‘efficient’ than other denser designs, the charm exuding from the quiet terraces to the bustling inner markets felt truly like an extended home rather than a city.

“Princess, Princess, it’s a Princess!”

“Oh, you’re right, it’s Luna, Princess Luna!”

Luna shook herself from her thoughts, realising that she had stopped near Canterlot station. Around her hooves were the wide eyes of a few precious foals that had approached her, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Their mothers and fathers stood to the side, waving frantically at the children to leave their Princess alone. Judging from the little signs and badges, it looked like it was a school outing, with the foals accompanied by their parents. A tour of the city, perhaps?

One parental pair was almost jumping up and down in panic-stricken fervour as a filly tugged on her mane.

Luna bent down with a smile. “What is it, little one?”

The filly was beside herself with barely contained excitement. “What’s it like, being Princess?”

Luna didn’t immediately reply. Instead, she turned to her parents and caught their attention. They straightened and gave a slight bow, but she waved them off and gestured to the little filly they were trying to catch the attention of. Looking helplessly embarrassed, they waved their acquiescence for her to interact. She picked the filly up and smiled at her, placing the little one on her back.

“Would you like to see things like I do?” she whispered. The filly squealed and nodded vigorously. The rest clamoured to join her, but she laughed them off, telling them perhaps another day. Her back would not forgive her if she carried so many.

“Thank you, Princess,” the filly said, hugging her neck as she made her way to her parents.

“What do you see?” Luna asked.

“My parents, the city and a lot of smiles,” the foal replied.

“That’s what it is like, being Princess. I see what you see, hear what you hear, and feel what you feel.”

Luna set her down gently beside her wide-eyed parents.

“F-Forgive us, Princess, she’s such a curious foal,” her mother stammered with a bow.

“Nothing to forgive, my subjects. You have a lovely foal.”

“Thank you, Princess,” her father said with a proud grin.

Luna turned away with a smile, thinking that it’d be nice if every day could be like this one. Her thoughts turned back towards her initial purpose, and of Exuviae’s devious plots, Cadance’s plea for help, and the strange presence of the mythical humans that were shrouded in mystery. She heaved a despondent sigh. There were always weeds that needed tending in a such a sprawling garden.

Luna almost turned to the castle, but froze with a stare as Canterlot station caught her eyes. Amongst the recent arrivals, ponies, a few griffons and maybe a dragon or two, stood a much more exotic creature. It stood erect on its two feet, looking about curiously without a care in the world, and had stepped out onto the platform.

A human, the creature which they had been looking for so intently, had just fallen into her hooves.

————————

“The Princesses have claimed it, they appeared to have captured our little calling card.”

“WHAT?!” A clawed fist slammed into the desk, the resounding bang echoing around the room much like dragon’s crackling roar. Hardline didn’t so much as twitch.

“I assure you, sir, the Princesses have the human.”

“Why didn’t you send the best team? They would have recovered the human straightaway.” Eyes narrowed dangerously. “You have disappointed me, Hardline.”

Hardline didn’t say anything, he merely stared at his master. The griffon stood, chest heaving, giving a glare that would have seared through stone. When Hardline remained passive, awaiting either judgement or clemency, the griffon stifled his instinctual response to tear the office apart and took a deep breath. He visibly calmed down.

“No, wait, perhaps I was immature with my assessment.” The griffon flexed his claws and took another breath. “I should allow you to explain yourself.”

Hardline showed no emotion, earning approval from his master.

“Thank you, sir.”

The griffon turned towards the window, staring out into the cold grey granite and shale cliffs. “Yes, you have been unquestioningly effective in the past. You must have a scheme, hmm?”

“Yes, sir. The griffons we have sent are tracking the human. I was being cautious, sir, just in case the human has something up its sleeve. I would not want to expend our assets too easily if we underestimated the human. A small gamble, sir, if you will. If they were successful, a human in your pocket, if not, not a great loss.”

“Quite right, quite right, Hardline. Logical as always, I’m sorry to have doubted you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The griffon raised an eyebrow. “You do have a plan for recovering the human?”

Hardline bobbed his head, managing to look both prideful and subservient at the same time. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, let me know when you have completed your task.”

“As you wish, sir.” Hardline began to turn away when the griffon tapped his desk with an aged claw.

“Just a moment, Hardline.”

“Sir?”

“Which team did you send as our calling card?”

Hardline paused almost imperceptibly. “Sir, I—”

“Enough, I know.” A claw tapped the table. “Perhaps I was too hasty.”

“Sir—”

“Don’t bother, Hardline. Do not make any further moves.”

“Sir, I must—” Even before the words were out of his mouth, Hardline knew it was a mistake.

“You must what, Hardline?”

Hardline stopped himself just in time.

“Nothing sir, as you wish.”

————————

Luna was rooted to the spot. She was unable, for the moment, to think of the next move. Fortunately, the human saw fit to promptly fill in that role. It pointed excitedly, whipping its head around so fast that its long mane of hair, so long it almost touched its waist, swung around and hit a pony exiting the carriage after it.

The pony let loose an exclamation and stumbled to the ground, the human following quickly after him to help the poor stallion out. The human no longer held Luna’s interest when she spotted the stallion. Even from this distance, Luna saw that the pony looked all bones and gristle. The gaunt, emaciated-looking pony looked as if a mummified corpse had been brought to life. The way he moved, all smooth motions and calm regard, reminded Luna of the way a predator of the night moved, had it taken the form of a pony.

Looking on, Luna got over her initial shock with a firm shake of her head. She reminded herself why she had stopped by in the first place. Her sister needed to know she was headed to the Crystal Empire. But what in Equestria was a human doing in Canterlot out of all places?!

The human chattered something to the pony and he shook his head. From behind, a few more figures stumbled out, looking more like a travelling circus than ponies departing from a train. A massive pony, a stallion that dwarfed the others in comparison with his bulk, stood impassive as a couple of other ponies, wearing matching brown coats and crumpled top hats flanked him. They protectively ringed a filly looking like the sky was going to fall down on her at any moment. Somehow, she figured the human had something to do with it all.

Steeling herself, Luna strode forward, preparing to introduce herself. First she would—

“Hey there! My name is Secant, how do you get your hair to do that?”

Luna didn’t even have the opportunity to open her mouth. With a surprised blink, she stared back. The ghoul-like pony had chased after the human and stopped breathless in front of her.

“Secant, stop bothering the poor…” He trailed off when he realised who he was addressing.

“Princess Luna!” he spluttered, giving her an awkward bow.

The human leaned in. “Is she important?”

The pony shot to his hooves. “Of course she is! She’s one of the rulers, a princess! Didn’t the title give that away?”

Secant, the human, seemed to ponder this statement, as if it were a profound fact that required deep thought.

“Ah…” She reached out and touched Luna’s mane. “Is that why it’s all flowy?”

“Stop that!” He hissed at her.

Luna finally found her composure. She felt sure it was lost somewhere in the cracks of Canterlot’s cobblestones, but she managed to gather it up and remake it into a shadow of her former presence.

“Yes, well, no harm done…?”

“Mortimus,” he answered, bowing once more. “This is Secant, a human, incidentally a creature we were going to ask you about, but now we have—” he glanced back behind as four other ponies crept nervously forward “—another issue.” Mortimus coughed politely. “This is Raven, Bricker, Swiper and Wile, we’ve… met under extraordinary circumstances.”

Luna was about to ask another question, but stopped midway, suddenly aware of the faint whisperings as the beginnings of a crowd formed. Ponies glanced their way, curious of the ongoings. Now was not the time to begin an interrogation.

“Why don’t we… discuss this back at the castle? I was on my way to meet my sister, actually, but I’m afraid I will not be sticking around. There is urgent business to attend to in the Crystal Empire.”

Mortimus looked surprised but visibly suppressed with another slight bow. “Of course, your Highness, thank you for granting us an audience,” he replied smoothly. Mortimus tugged at the human to follow his example, but Secant was staring at Luna with an uncomfortable intensity that made Luna swing around and start towards the castle.

“Hey,” Secant called out, stopping her in her tracks. “Why is she bigger than all of you?” The human paused with a frown. “Does she eat more? Is that why she is so… large?”

Having already turned around, Luna was glad that they couldn’t see her shocked expression. From the muffled yelp, she was sure Mortimus had answered Secant’s question with a suitable response.

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Secant grumbled. “No need to hit me.”

I beg to differ, Luna thought to herself snidely.

———————

“Hey, so we’re going to be travelling together.”

No answer was particularly forthcoming. David casually took in a few of the murals as he racked his brains for something to talk about. He didn’t particularly want to dive into the interspecies diplomacy of two countries… or nations… or whatever they would call it, he was unsure. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable, and he usually avoided discomfort as a matter of principle. Keeping things distant, and quiet was often a good idea when he was keeping track of records and personal information. It wasn’t exactly a job that required much interaction with people. File and save. Maybe move something from one part of the airport to the other.

Coming to think of it, it all started when he went for his shoe. He didn’t like losing things, but his mind usually kept track of one or two things at a time, and the rest… well he couldn’t be expected to keep track of little things like shoes anymore. He let loose a sigh as the unexpected thoughts of Earth popped up in his head. What the heck did he think he was doing? What did he hope to achieve? Was he crazy? Maybe the idea that he was still having some sort of hallucination after being clobbered in a back alley stuck in his head. Maybe, deep down, he didn’t think any of this was real. He raised a hand in front of him. Was he real?

“Are you okay?”

The diminutive statement laced with shy apprehension knocked David out of his headspace. He stopped suddenly, watching Hyaline hesitate mid-stride and gently place her hoof down. Unlike Exuviae, Hyaline had rounder, softer features, and while Exuviae had vicious, sharp fangs and a piercing gaze, Hyaline had an uncertain wavering look and small fangs that barely protruded from her mouth.

David drew his bottom lip through his teeth before he answered with a question. “Why do you ask?”

Hyaline shrunk back slightly, and David regretted his harsh tone. He took a few steps forward and gestured for Hyaline to follow. He needed to walk and talk.

“I’m sorry,” David muttered, running a few fingers through his hair, “I do miss home.”

Hyaline was silent for so long that David almost turned around to check if she was still behind him.

Eventually, with reluctance underscoring her words, Hyaline spoke. “I’ve heard tell that: ‘home is where your heart is’. Or, that’s what some ponies say.”

David blinked, then chuckled sombrely. “I don’t think that really applies in this case.”

Hyaline came alongside him. “Do you know that we feed on emotions? I can sample your emotions using our magic.”

“Your mother mentioned as much.” David shook his head. “But no, thank you.”

“I can feel your heartache. You want to go home.” Hyaline paused slightly. “You miss something.” She paused, studying his face. “No, more like someone.”

David stood in mute shock. “You can get that all from my emotions?”

“No.” He turned around to see Hyaline shaking her head. “I can’t sense anything that deep, yet, but I’m good at figuring it out… my mother says that’s a good trait as well.”

David raised an eyebrow. “But Exuviae never said anything about—”

Hyaline looked uncomfortable. “She might not have mentioned it because she thought it might give you an advantage.”

“And you don’t?”

“I do but…” Hyaline frowned at his expression. “I knew you’d find out eventually.”

David’s wariness turned to curiosity. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Hyaline bit her lip, her eyes shifting away to wander among the murals on her side of the tunnel. Her eyes roamed the art as if to find the answer buried in them.

“I-I might not have my mother’s strength, or her power, but I do know that lies aren’t the best way to start an alliance.” She turned back to him. “You seem like you care, despite what you say.”

David rubbed his right arm self-consciously. “What are you talking about? I just want to go home.”

Hyaline rolled her eyes. “If that was all you cared about then you wouldn’t have tried to protect that pony we took with you, or you would have abandoned us the moment you got in contact with the Princesses.”

David shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

Hyaline galloped a few lengths in front of David and forced him to stop.

“Why are you helping us? Tell me your real reasons.”

David sighed. “Why do you want to know? You’re getting help, you’re getting what you want.”

“And you don’t ask questions when a stranger offers you a bag of bits?”

“What’s a bag of bits—”

Hyaline growled something under her breath. “Forget it.”

“No, wait.” David wiped a hand across his face. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Hyaline glared at him. “My feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Okay, that came out wrong.” David sighed again. “Right, let’s…” He glanced around. “No seats, huh?”

Hyaline merely stared at him with an unimpressed pout.

“Alright, I guess I owe you some form of explanation. I did have someone. She wanted me to be… more, I guess. Something a little more than just who I am.” He gave Hyaline a weak smile. “Did you ever have that feeling? Of wanting more, but you’re just too afraid to try? That was me. All the time.”

Hyaline trailed her hoof through the loose dirt of the cave. She nodded glumly.

“I know what you mean,” she muttered.

David sighed. “They say back on my world: ‘Better to regret it than to never have tried at all.’ I was a zero-conflict person. I just wanted to stay out of sight, out of mind. I was never a fan of just jumping right in and potentially upsetting someone.”

The changeling looked at him with eyes that said she was more than a little surprised. David noticed that though they were green, a little blue crept in, giving it an almost sea-green colour. Hyaline was first to break contact.

“I guess I can see where you’re coming from,” she said, “but why the sudden courage, the change of heart? What changed when you got here?”

“You want to know the truth?”

Hyaline nodded.

“Nothing changed. I’m still scared witless. The only difference is that I’m beyond that.” He swept a hand around the caverns. “I mean can you imagine what it would be like to be trapped in another world? Then suddenly thrust into the centre of it without so much as a chance to catch your breath? What would you do?”

Hyaline either couldn’t answer, or wouldn’t.

“I’ve decided to take this as far as I can. Do something different for once.” He sighed, giving a faint, derisive chuckle. “But I guess I can do these things because I don’t really believe.”

“Believe what?”

“That this place is real.”

Hyaline frowned. “Of course this is real.”

David shrugged. “To you, maybe, but how can you be sure?”

“Of course it’s real. I can feel it’s real.”

“And so can your dreams, but how do you know they’re fake?”

Hyaline shifted on her hooves, giving him an uneasy look. “Y-You just know.”

David lifted a finger, pointing it straight at his head. “It could all be this, a product of my mind.”

Hyaline stared at him. “Then whatever you do here will have no consequence. Are you saying you don’t care what happens here?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. It’s just a thought that keeps recurring. I think it’s why I’m able to step out and do all I did. Maybe, deep down, I’m just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Waiting to wake up.”

———————

Hyaline stared at the human, questioning, perhaps for the first time in her life, whether her mother had made a sound decision. The human was undoubtedly not right in the mind.

“You’re not serious are you?”

David shrugged. “You wanted to find out my reasons for helping you, there they are. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Hyaline pursed her lips. “I’m not.”

David smiled. “Well, if anything, we’re talking, which is a lot better than a few minutes ago.”

At that, Hyaline had no answer. It was true, she realised. All this time they had been talking, revealing more than she ever intended to and speaking more than she ever thought she would. She didn’t know what to think. Clearly the human was a strange creature with some sort of power to compel her to respond. It had to be magic. There was no other explanation.

Maybe… maybe her mother had been right after all.

She glanced at the human from the corner of her eye. He stood there, looking at the murals on the walls.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. Hyaline nearly jumped out of her chitin.

“W-What?”

He glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow. “Ever see these before?”

Hyaline stepped up to the wall, looking at the vague figures of humans and ponies performing rituals. She peered at them. They looked the same to her, after all, they hadn’t changed in all the time that she’d been raised in the caves.

David caught her blank look and pointed to a few figures. Hyaline peered at them, not comprehending, then the human shifted his finger to the right…

She gasped.

“Crazy, huh? Why do you think they drew that?”

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered. She really didn’t.

“Humans look like they have the same sort of shifting ability as you guys, huh?”

On the walls, painted in faint, fading colours of ancient dyes and ink, were humans… turning into ponies, griffons, dragons, and even some creatures that Hyaline couldn’t identify. Why would the drawings in these caves have something like that? Did her mother know? Whatever the implications were, they weren’t good.

———————

When they entered the hall, Secant couldn’t help but gape. In fact, Mortimus was sure that the tireless human had been gaping all the way since the mountain-borne city had popped into view as they emerged from the train tunnel leading to Canterlot station.

“Secant, would you calm down?”

Secant stopped darting around and melded back into their loosely-formed party. “Sorry, but there’s—”

Mortimus rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“And—”

“I know.”

“Also—”

Mortimus shook his head, giving a half-hearted shrug. There was no use dampening Secant’s experience. Most ponies probably did the same thing when they first saw the castle; it was pretty impressive. Contrasting sharply to the excited babbling to his left was an ominous silence to his right. Sneaking a glance, Mortimus found Raven fidgeting, looking increasingly worried with every minute that passed.

“Feeling nervous?” he whispered discreetly.

Raven hesitated, then turned slightly, murmuring out the corner of her mouth. “We’re getting side-tracked.”

Mortimus licked his lips. “We can’t really refuse a Princess, Raven.”

“Then we should find a way to slip away, any second now my sister could—”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, patting her back. “We’re as safe as we can be. Look at Bricker, he’s a picture of patience.”

Raven snorted. “Bricker’s always like that.”

“Indeed he is. Take a note.” Mortimus nudged her with his flank. “Muzzle up, eyes forward now.”

Mortimus was gratified to see Raven’s jaw firm up in response. “Of course,” she said, flicking a few stray mane strands with an imperious lift of her head. “That’s a given.”

“We’re here!” Luna announced, gesturing up at an imposing set of wooden doors. “My sister should be beyond. I will check, please stay here.”

With that, Luna disappeared through a semi-visible adjunct door. The rest of the group waited in the imposing silence of the expansive antechamber. They were all acutely aware—perhaps due to the fact that most of them were criminals having recently committed a crime—of the attentive gazes of the royal guards situated at the obvious exit points.

“Anypony feel like being on the other side of Equestria right now?”

Bricker glanced at Wile, and for once looked liked he agreed.

Moments later, the side-door that Luna had used popped open and instead of the Princess, a guard spotted them and beckoned them forward.

“Why don’t these doors open?” Wile wondered aloud.

“The doors open on special royal occasions, for diplomatic meetings and the such,” Raven replied.

Mortimus clicked his tongue. “How’d you know that?”

“My mother used to work in the Courts.”

Seeing the look on her face, Mortimus didn’t enquire any further.

A head poked through the door, it wasn’t Luna, but one of the guards.

“Come in,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. He beckoned them through. “Just step in and remember to give a little bow, but the Princesses won’t mind very much if you break etiquette.” He spotted Secant and blinked. “You won’t have to, of course.”

Secant tilted her head. “I don’t?”

“It is customary to show a sign of respect, but since you aren’t a citizen of Equestria it’s not obligatory. You may choose to do so if you wish.”

Secant tapped a finger to her chin. “Thank you, I think I might.”

Mortimus nodded to the guard, grateful for his ten-second primer on royal decorum. He was at a loss around here, the fanciest event he was a part of was the local Mayor’s funeral. Even then he was a figure more tolerated than respected, so he’d stuck to the edges and made sure he was an inconspicuous as possible. Even at a funeral, he reminded ponies too much of their own mortality.

Trailing behind the guard, they shuffled in, all hunched shoulders and darting glances. Each pony taking in the austerity and grandeur that thrummed through what could only be described as the centre of Equestria. This was Canterlot, the seat of power, the centre-point of a nation. Though the thrones were empty, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna stood side by side just ahead of the dais and both wore serious expressions. A little thrill of unease worked its way down Mortimus’ spine as he approached the two Princesses and gave a clumsy bow.

“Presenting assorted guests of Princess Luna, Mortimus and company.”

Raven raised an eyebrow at the chamberlain’s introduction but said nothing. Secant saw everypony else bowing, and belatedly bowed too, accompanied by a no small amount of chagrin.

“Welcome.” Celestia’s voice was satiny with an ancient acuity that seemed to shroud her like a mantle. “My sister tells me you have a request?”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Mortimus spoke up.

“Yes, your Highness, we’ve come to ask for help with…” He shared a look with Raven, who bit her lip, but nodded along. “With a certain Organisation.”

Celestia tilted her head. “Does this Organisation have a name, and what would you like us to help you with?”

Mortimus cleared his throat and nudged Raven.

“Now or never,” he whispered under his breath.

Raven, almost stumbling over her hooves, came forward.

“It’s about my sister.”

—————————

“Discord?”

The draconequus was lying on a burbling cloud of clothing that shifted and squirmed underneath his weight. Occasionally, a garment would be ejected from the ‘cloud’, but would quickly rise back up into the bulk and be reassembled. He didn’t seem to have heard her call.

“Discord!”

His ears perked up and the sinuous neck swivelled his inquisitive gaze towards Twilight.

“Twilight! What a lovely surprise.”

For some reason, Twilight doubted his claim.

“Why are you here?” She distantly recalled Celestia mentioning that she should talk to the draconequus, but Twilight thought she might have to drag him out of wherever he hid himself, when he wasn’t in Equestria. She didn’t think he would drift across her path, literally.

“Why Twilight, is it a crime to enjoy the day?”

“Twilight, let’s go, Discord’s a waste of time,” Rainbow muttered, giving him a glare.

Pinkie licked her lips. “Is that a milkshake?”

Discord blinked innocently. “It is. Maybe you’d want to listen to me, if I gave you this little treat?”

“Discord, we’re not so easily—”

Pink hooves gripped her shoulders. Serious blue eyes locked with her own. “Twilight. I think we should listen to him.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but shrugged. “Alright, I guess there’s no harm in—”

Discord snapped his claws and the rest of Twilight’s sentence was drowned out as the whiplash in scenery took the words out of her mouth.

“W-What?!”

Discord tutted, waggling a claw. “Not the right question, Twilight.”

She hardly heard him.

Around her were glowing points of lights suspended in the air. They floated serenely like dust motes lit by the morning rays of the sun. Underneath her, was a metallic platform that seemed to be suspended in a void, though ahead was a form that dominated the boundless space. A massive structure that resembled something of a silvery double helix twisted into the space as far as the eye could see. A low hum seemed to shake the air whilst slow, lazy pulses of energy crackled around the structure.

It felt… alive.

“W-Where are we?” Twilight managed to say. She glanced around. Her friends weren’t around, only Discord.

“Now that,” Discord said with a mischievous smile, “is a very good question.”

—————————

Discord gestured to the double helix. “You can call that the Root. It basically houses everything about Reality.”

“Reality?”

“I guess you could call it the centre of Life itself.”

Twilight didn’t know how to respond.

“B-But how can everything have a centre? That seems…”

“Impossible? Spoken like a fish in a pond.” Discord snapped his claw again.

With a flash, everything changed. They were no longer standing on the platform, but on a strange surface that was transparent, with a fierce blue light above that seemed to crackle with dangerous energy.

“Don’t look at that too long,” Discord warned, putting a paw in front of her eyes. When she looked at him, his eyes were alight with impish passion. “It can drive you insane.”

“Where are we now?” Twilight managed to get out.

“This is what the local beings call ‘The Registry of Mortals’. It houses a ‘Record’ for everything mortal.” Discord pulled a book from a nearby shelf. Twilight glanced around, suddenly there were ordered shelves around her, like a library.

“H-How?”

“You get used to manipulating Reality when you’ve been around as long as I have. Don’t try it yourself right now, you have to be able to fold ten dimensional space.” He licked a paw and flipped to a page. “Interesting. Is it true you wet your bed the day before—”

“W-What! How’d you know that?!”

Discord waved the book in front of her muzzle. On the cover it read: ‘Twilight Sparkle’. Twilight couldn’t comprehend how she knew it, because the title was written in a language she hadn’t seen before.

“This book is about you.” He put it back on the shelf, just as Twilight reached for it. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t touch it, this Record goes both ways. You destroy it, and it could destroy you. You’ll do well to remember.”

“Really?” Twilight stared at the book with uncertainty. Could a book like this really do that? What kind of place had something like that? It was imposs— She caught herself before she could go down that path. With Discord, there were some things that weren’t impossible.

“I don’t believe you,” she accused, gaining a little of her nerves.

Discord placed a hand to his chest. “I’m offended! Would I lie to you, Twilight Sparkle?” Seeing her dour look, Discord rolled his eyes. “Need a demonstration? That’s very… Twilight of you, Twilight.” He summoned another volume. “This is mine. Take a look.”

Twilight suspiciously took the book in her hooves and opened it up. The pages filled with writing as she read it. She marvelled at the animated script, it flowed down the pages smoothly, like water. There was a problem, though.

“I can’t read—”

The words were still indistinguishable, but suddenly she grasped its absolute meaning.

Registrant: Discord, Entry: Present, TMD: e2I93J

Location: The Registrant is currently within a restricted area. Last known location: ERROR

Time of Death: ERROR

Record:

Twilight Sparkle was reading the Registrant’s entry as the Registrant observed her. The Registrant was feeling bored and so decided to take the Record back—

“Hey!” Twilight felt the volume slide out of her hooves as Discord took the book back. “I didn’t get to read anything.” She frowned, trying to recall the writing, but it wouldn’t form in her mind. Try as she might, the writing didn’t ‘stick’. “How come I could read it, but not remember it?”

“The writing is done in the Salient Script, something every living being apparently recognises. You can’t remember what it tells you, unless you’re meant to. Not that it’s of much use anyway, because it’s not a real Record.” Discord shrugged. “If you want the real deal, you’ll have to go to the real Registry of Mortals.” He smiled. “Not that you’d find it there, either.”

Twilight blinked. “So wait, this isn’t the real Registry?”

A roguish grin decorated the draconequus’ features. “No, that would be quite the feat. I’ve never been there, actually.”

A thought crossed Twilight’s mind. “Wait, but then how did you know about my past?”

Discord waggled a claw in front of her face. “Hiding a book within a book in a library? A tree within a forest! Clever, but diaries are just begging to be read.”

“What?!”

Discord continued, ignoring her. “I couldn’t just pass it by when I was snooping—oops, I mean, innocently checking academic references in your library. I wouldn’t be able to read your Record, anyway, because I’m not supposed to. Your other secrets are safe in that diary.”

Twilight added the diary transgression into her growing list of grievances she had with the impudent draconequus. She gritted her teeth, and tried to focus on what was important. There was time enough to do something about his antics later. Right now, she had to learn more about the human and this strange world Discord had shown her.

“How do you know it exists? And why are you showing me all of this?”

Discord frowned in disappointment, his expression showing that he’d expected get more of a rise out of her. He shrugged, continuing on. “Finally getting to the point, Princess Twilight Sparkle?” Discord emphasised her title mockingly as he waved a paw airily. “How I know is a secret. As to why I’m showing you this…? Well, you could say that there’s a bit of trouble about.”

“Trouble?”

Instead of immediately answering her, Discord summoned a flickering image of various humans cloaked in a dark robe, each holding onto a staff. They seemed to be looking straight at her with a severe expression, as if she were a foal that had misbehaved. The judgement in their gazes were not helped by the fact that some had the cowl of their cloak over their heads.

“A long time ago,” Discord said, “the Auditors disappeared.”

The Auditors! Twilight remembered the name from Cadance’s letter.

“You know them?” he queried mildly.

Twilight shook her head. “No, I’ve heard it mentioned.”

Discord leaned in, a dangerous smile gracing his lips. His eyes gleamed with curious intensity. “Really? You must tell me about it later.” Just as quick as it had come, Discord’s intimidating stare went. He continued as if nothing had happened. “These Auditors were responsible for one thing: To keep Reality in check.”

“What?” Twilight was dumbfounded. “How is that possible?”

Discord shrugged. “I don’t know everything, despite what I look like. They just do, often with instruments given to them from another part of the Root. Probably from the Author herself.”

“The Author?”

Discord grew quiet, choosing not to answer immediately, but to look out into the void. Somehow, Twilight found this serious side of Discord, something she’d never seen, to be more disturbing than whatever maddening method of mayhem he usually had up his proverbial sleeves.

“The Author,” he said. “An immensely powerful being that was said to be the spark of Reality, and of Life, itself.”

“You said she. Is the Author a mare?”

Discord smiled at that. “Who knows? Maybe it’s a fashion she wears it like clothing?”

“What?!”

“Oh, don’t be surprised, Twilight. Common sense doesn’t apply too much in this place.” He cocked his head. “Which is ironic, considering…”

Discord crossed his arms. “I’ve been doing a little looking here and there, but the key seems to lie with you.” He sighed. “Don’t tell me how I know this, but you, the strange creatures in Equestria calling themselves Auditors, Dwellers or humans, are all connected in this grand web of schemes.” Discord frowned in a moment of silence, then flicked a paw like he was shooing a fly. “Never mind, I think you can handle it. The whole of Reality collapsing seems more like your job, not mine. I’ll take you ‘back’.”

Twilight waved a hoof to stop him. “Hang on, I thought you’d be all over the idea of Auditors going missing, if they correct Reality, like you said, then wouldn’t you like them gone?”

A sinister smile graced his lips. “I like a game with replayability.” Then he snapped his claw.

Twilight found herself back in Ponyville.

“Where’d he go?” Rainbow asked, looking around.

“Where’s Discord?” Twilight looked around. The draconequus was gone.

“I dunno, he was here a second ago!” Pinkie said cheerfully.

Twilight shook her head. The infuriating creature was always here when you didn’t want him, and always gone when you did.

“Oh, let’s not bother with him.” She muttered it more to herself than them.

“You okay, Twilight?” Rainbow asked.

“I’m fine, I have to think about it. Everything’s just so fractured. I need time to piece it together.” Twilight started moving again, her hooves headed off automatically to the castle library. With a shared glance at her response, Rainbow and Pinkie reluctantly followed in tow.

———————

Twilight was deep in thought, so the first time Rainbow said something, she didn’t register it.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rainbow looked annoyed, but repeated herself. “I saaaaaid.” She paused while Twilight cringed a little. “Aren’t the caves that way?” She pointed a hoof towards the mountains. “Are you sure Discord didn’t do anything to you? You’ve been really quiet since we met briefly.”

Twilight shook her head hastily. “No, no.” She didn’t like keeping a secret from her friends, but how was she supposed to explain something she barely knew anything about? “We’re going to make a pitstop at the castle.”

Rainbow sighed. “Books?”

Twilight nodded as Rainbow groaned. “Also something else.”

“Oooh what is it?” Pinkie said, perking up. “I thought we were going to meet some new changelings buuuuut books are okay too!”

Twilight frowned. “Not every part of my life revolves around books, you know.”

“Could have fooled me,” Rainbow said. “When was the last time you put something ahead of your books?”

Twilight’s blank expression turned to embarrassment. “Okay, but just because I can’t think of an instance where I’ve done so, doesn’t mean…” Twilight stopped in her tracks.

“What?” Rainbow asked looking at her friend in confusion. She followed Twilight’s gaze. “Oh.”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Looks like we won’t have to go to the caves after all!”

There, standing casually outside the castle, was the human.

————————

Written was examining the Crystal Heart.

“How does it work?”

“Well the emotions of the Crystal Ponies activate the—”

“No, no,” Written said, tapping her staff on the ground impatiently. “How does it keep spinning?”

Cadance looked at the Crystal Heart, then back at the Auditor. “Magic?”

Written seemed to be deep in thought, and didn’t look like she’d heard her. “No, the mechanics are all wrong. There are some Realities where that’s true, but this is not one of them. Why…?”

Written circled the Crystal Heart while Cadance and Shining shared a worried look. It was one thing helping the odd creature find another one, but the Crystal Heart was a foundational artefact of the Ages. It was immeasurably valuable, and for some reason, Cadance felt nervous letting the self-proclaimed Auditor of Reality near it.

“Maybe you should look at it later, for now, we should help you find your human.”

Again, Written didn’t seem to hear Cadance. She kept up the dialogue with herself. “It seems to be warping reality by itself, but that’s impossible, every device needs a user.” Written turned around suddenly, startling Cadance. “Magic? What else is magic?”

Shining took point, lifting a rock with his magic as a demonstration.

“See, this is—what, hey!” Written had touched his horn. Immediately the magic cut out and the stone fell to the ground.

“How did she do that?” Shining spluttered, backing away and clutching his horn.

“Hmm.” Written rubbed her fingers together. “Tingly.”

“What?”

“Reality warping always feels like this. How do you manage to do that without the proper equipment?”

“Equipment?”

“Yes, you have to have the proper equipment. The only way you could do that would be if you were authorised as an Auditor and had created a—” Written stopped mid-sentence, tapping the point of her staff and muttering something while doing so.

Cadance sighed in frustration. “Now what?”

————————

“What do you think she’s doing?” Shining asked, looking slightly exasperated.

“I don’t know,” Cadance replied, almost at the end of the rope herself. “She keeps saying things that make no sense and sniffing around more like a dog than… whatever she is.”

Written had taken to touching the walls of the castle with her staff and muttering incoherent statements in a strange language that Cadance couldn’t parse. Whatever language it was, it was probably best they didn’t know. Her countenance had darkened considerably than when she started. Curious citizens and guards alike had watched the royal couple trail behind the baffling creature as it meandered through the castle in a seemingly random pattern.

“You think we should—” Shining started, but was interrupted by a sharp squeal from Written.

“Aha!”

Cadance trotted forward. “What is it?”

“I knew there was a reason why things around here were so strange!”

Cadance shared a look with Shining, but stayed silent, though confused.

“The patterns on the floor, the ceiling, the makeup of the charges and everything around here thrums with the Authority of an Auditor.”

Cadance cleared her throat. “So what does that mean?”

“There were Auditors here, I’m sure of it! Something happened to destabilise Reality around here and the Auditors present cast a particularly powerful system to keep it in check. It’s absolutely insane. The level of Reality warping equipment concentrated just to keep it going, is pretty much…” The rest of her sentence faded away, her staff falling to the ground with a dull thump.

“Are you alright?” Shining asked tentatively.

The atmosphere had changed from epiphanic euphoria to sinister silence.

“Everything we had.” Written turned towards them with a frightening look on her face. “Why is this universe the centre of things? This is supposed to be on the outer edges, near the Isles of Reality. Nothing links this universe to anything!”

“Are you saying that something happened here in Equestria?” Cadance bit her lip. Would it affect them? “Is it related to who you’re searching for.”

“I’m not sure,” Written replied uneasily. She leaned on her staff. “The layout is so complex. It’s designed to enforce Reality in this Islet universe, but with that much power, Reality warping should be impossible. How can you creatures do it? It doesn’t fit.”

Shining tossed his head. Most of the answers the Auditor was talking about was making him confused. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Written gripped her staff and sighed. “First thing’s first, I have to locate that Dweller. There must be a reason why it’s here.”

“Dweller?”

“Another being that looks like me found its way to this Reality. It’s the same Reality shift that I picked up before that.”

“Reality shift?” Cadance frowned.

Written caught the expression and shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose you’ll want an explanation. You’re quite powerful Reality warpers, and while usually you’d get a citation, I get the feeling that this is an endemic problem seeded through this bizarre universe. Further investigation is required. I’ll need to reprioritise.” Written swayed on her feet. “Ah, and this mortal form comes with all the inconveniences as well.” She clutched her midriff. “Oh what’s this? Hunger? How peculiar. Is it fatal? It feels like it.”

“Not exactly.” Cadance shared another look with Shining and shrugged. “We’ll get you something to eat.” She turned to Shining. “And we’ll have to wait for a reply from Twilight, anyway.”

Shining frowned at that. “I wonder how Twiley’s doing, she would have found a way to reply by now.” He clicked his tongue. “She’s probably doing much better than we are.”

————————

Upon exiting the caves, David scanned the skies and took in the terrain. With a sharp rock, he’d torn strips of cloth out of his loose-fitting gown and wrapped them around his feet, over the bandages. He winced, hoping there weren’t any particularly sharp stones out down the mountain.

“What’s wrong with your uhm…?”

“You mean my feet? They’re really soft, so I have trouble walking around on them.”

Hyaline seemed dumbfounded by the idea. “How do you get around?”

“Using shoes?”

Hyaline seemed to have a different picture of shoes, because her face scrunched up.

“That must hurt, they look soft.”

David caught the look. “Probably not the shoes you’re thinking of, not horseshoes, if that’s what you call them here, although you’d probably just call them shoes—” he stopped himself before he got too far “—I mean hard coverings to go over my feet to protect them. My feet aren’t much harder than my hands.”

He wriggled his fingers in front of her face. Hyaline was making a visible effort not to look disgusted, so he stopped.

“They’re quite useful, see?” He petted her on the head.

“Oooh, that’s strange.”

“Eh, you get used to it.” He removed his hand.

Hyaline followed his hand with her eyes, looking strangely wistful.

“What? Never had anyone pet you on the head?”

Hyaline cocked her head. “No, not really.”

“Oh.” David finished up tying the last of the knots in his makeshift footwear. “Anyway, I’m done, should we get going?”

Hyaline considered his feet and then glanced back up at David. “Maybe we should carry you?”

“We?”

Hyaline gestured behind him and David spotted five changeling drones standing stiffly at attention. “Oh right, these guys.”

“We might be smaller compared to you, but we’re surprisingly strong.”

David waved off the offer. “Thanks, but it shouldn’t be too far.” He shaded his eyes against the sun, it was making its way towards noon. From their vantage point, all he could spot were steep cliffs and the winding tracks of a river etching the ground with blue.

“It’s best not to go that way,” a voice said beside him, making him jump. It was one of the changeling drones who had been silent up until now. “The Bogg is a hard place to navigate through and it probably wouldn’t be comfortable walking with your feet like that. Climbing along there you can cut through grass and relatively level terrain before arriving at the pony town from the west.”

David was surprised, but nodded genially. It made sense. “Thanks…?”

The changeling drone blinked at him.

After a considerable pause, David felt the need to prompt the changeling.

“Your name? I’m asking for your name.”

The drone continued to look at him blankly. David turned to Hyaline, who was preoccupied with something in the ground.

“Uhh, a little help here?”

Hyaline glanced up. She had been looking at a small patch of green in the copper-coloured dirt. It was an island of vegetation in the otherwise sterile desert-like landscape. As far as he could tell, it was a dandelion that happened to embed itself in the rocks. It wasn’t blooming, but the leaves were distinctive. David caught himself. Would they be called dandelions here? Would they even be similar?

“Sorry,” she said quickly, “I’ve never seen plants this up-close before. I’ve heard a lot about them. I was just wondering what type this one was.”

David blinked in surprise. “Oh, well, that’s a dandelion.” He hoped it was.

“Oh okay, thanks.” Hyaline shook herself, blushing a little. “We didn’t have many of those. Plants, I mean.”

If she lived the majority of her life in the caves, then David could see what she meant.

“Ahem, to answer your question,” Hyaline continued, “communication for us doesn’t happen that way. We don’t use ‘names’ so often. Royalty is different for diplomatic purposes since other races feel the need to call things by name.”

“Right, but if I’m going to be travelling around with these guards, I’ll need to know which one is which.”

“Really? Can’t you tell?”

“How?”

Hyaline looked miffed by the question. “By the texture of their chitin.” She said it in a way that made David feel like he had just asked what colour blue was. “It varies between each changeling.”

David studied the accompanying guards with a careful eye. “Erm, I can’t see any difference between them. They all look the same to me.”

Hyaline cocked her head. “Interesting, I guess only changelings, griffons and dragons can tell the difference.”

“Ponies can’t?”

“If they try really hard, they might. I’ve never asked since my mother doesn’t seem to like talking about them too often.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Something happened between her and Princess Celestia, but she’s never said anything about it. I’m taught things that only really relate to how we’re supposed to ‘deal’ with them.” Hyaline looked embarrassed at the lack of information. “I don’t know too much about what happened between them, but I know it was something serious.”

David nodded thoughtfully, then gestured ahead to the guards. “Since you all know the way forward, I’ll let you lead. You need something to distinguish each other…” David pursed his lips. This was going to be hard. The changelings were fairly monotonous. He couldn’t tell gender just from the voices. Besides, all of it was due to some passive magic that Hyaline was using. He tried not to think about it, magic in itself was something crazy to think about all on its own.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, dismissing their attention with the wave of his hands. “I guess later, when I get to know you guys a little better.”

————————

“Just up ahead is a pony settlement. The one you came from just before we… invited you over.”

David gave Hyaline a wry look as she squirmed a little on the spot.

“I-I didn’t have anything to do with that, it was mother’s idea.” She tossed her head. “N-Not that it matters anyway, you were fine.”

David chuckled softly. “You’re surprisingly easily flustered, aren’t you?”

Hyaline rolled her eyes. “Everything about this is new to me. You’re the first creature I’ve talked to that’s not a changeling. This is the first time I’ve been out of the caves. And this is the first time I’ve been sent on a mission from my mother.”

“Wow, you’re like a real royal shut-in, aren’t you?” He was more surprised that Exuviae had entrusted such an uncertain mission to her daughter without prior experience. Either she had faith in her daughter, or her situation was getting pretty desperate.

Hyaline glared at David.

He threw up his hands. “Hah, sorry. I just say what I think.”

Hyaline rolled her eyes. “I can see that.” She signalled behind her. “Get your disguises ready.”

“Pre-made disguises?”

Green flames wreathed her form as she smiled. “Something like that. It’s up to us to decide what we look like.” After transforming, David registered a pony with sea-green eyes looking through turquoise and mauve streaked hair. A strange symbol adorned her flank, looking like a pair of shooting stars over the daybreak.

“Like it?”

“It’s, uhm, I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer to the nature of beauty for different species.”

“Just say I look nice, or pretty,” Hyaline growled with a pout. She put on a haughty expression. “You don’t have much experience with the opposite gender do you?”

David shrugged, but didn’t give her the satisfaction of anything more.

“Okay, we’re ready. Let’s just go in,” he said, instead.

Hyaline huffed, but nodded anyway. She stopped him with a hoof as he rose.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re just going to waltz right in?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t you have a plan for this?” she hissed, shooting the town a wary look.

“Yes. We talk to them. So we’ll have to meet them right?” He dodged the outstretched hoof and ambled towards Ponyville without a seeming care in the world.

“This creature is crazy,” Hyaline muttered, watching him go.

————————

It didn’t take them very long to get noticed.

“Uhm, are you that creature the Princesses were looking for?”

David stopped in his tracks. There were a bunch of small ponies at his feet. They barely reached over his waist. He realised from the higher pitched voices and the youthful, guileless expressions, that these were probably children of sort. He scanned the area around and realised that he’d stumbled into a playground.

He threw a look behind him and saw that Hyaline and the drones hadn’t followed him in.

“I’ve got to get going…” He made to leave but the circle of curious foals closed around him.

“Hey, hey, what exactly are you?” This one was white with a curly mane. Her voice squeaked.

“I’m a human.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a—” he didn’t get the chance to finish.

“Where are you from?”

“Don’t you know what a human is?” One of the others strutted forward with an imperious look. “Daddy told me about them.”

David cocked his head. Maybe some information was worth gathering before heading straight into the centre of town?

“A human is a creature that has incredible powers.” She flicked back her mane as she recited her knowledge with a smug confidence. “You can be healed if they touch you and their hair is good luck.”

The foals stared at him with renewed interest that made David break out into cold sweat.

“So he’s like, really valuable?” Another one with an orange coat and a yellow mane had a smile that looked more at home on a wolf than a pony.

“What do you think we’ll get if we catch him?”

“How do you know it's a him?”

“You can tell by his voice!”

“Oh yeah? Like you could tell in Guess Who?”

“Like that matters—hey he’s sneaking away!”

David had taken the opportunity to carefully extract himself from the bickering foals while they were distracted. The tableau was frozen for a handful of seconds. A human, with his foot half-raised, and on the other side, a cluster of foals, all staring at him.

David broke into a run.

“Get him!”

————————

They were still following him even after he left the school grounds and followed the path towards the town.

Solid regrets were contemplated amidst the upending of barrels and scrambling around ponies and carts.

Why didn’t I have a plan? Should have asked Exuviae or Hyaline for a map or something.

“Hey!”

“Watch it!”

“Sorry!”

“Dear Celestia, what has this—”

The voices were lost in the pounding of his heart. He drew ragged breaths as he rounded a corner.

“There he is!”

“Oh, for the love of—” David quickly reversed directions and headed out the alley.

“Go around the other side!”

Not good. They were starting to organise themselves. Wait. Why the heck was he running in the first place? The mistake was sneaking away. They smelt fear, and children were up for a game, anytime. Didn’t they have school, though? Shouldn’t they have stopped at the boundaries of the school playground?

He skirted past some ponies chatting idly about the weather and a spa treatment. He hopped over a table and past some chairs. There was a fountain nearby, with a horse in mid-prance. Some ponies relaxing by the fountain, had turned curiously to the source of commotion.

“Hey, is that the—”

“Why are the foals chasing it?”

David skirted the fountain and rounded a corner. Up over the roofs of the houses was the glint of the crystal castle he had spotted on his first visit to the town.

Maybe I can find the ponies that helped me before.

He rolled his eyes.

Although Hyaline could lend a hand… or hoof.

In the distance he heard a clanging. Looking back, he saw the disappointed looks of the foals as they sighed and shook their heads, trudging back the way they came. One gave him a particularly long, uncomfortable stare, but eventually joined the others, galloping to catch up.

“Saved by the bell,” David huffed, slackening his pace. He took the opportunity to collapse on the ground and catch his breath.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Argh! Don’t do that, you scared me!”

Hyaline chuckled, moving to stand in front of him and looking somewhat imperiously at him. “That’s why you don’t go casually wandering around without a plan.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” David muttered, getting to his feet again. “We might as well go wait near the castle.”

Hyaline glanced at the castle and back at him. “Okay. The goal is to meet the Princesses anyway, so I guess this is as good a place as any.”

David stopped at the doors and wondered if he should knock. As he was about to lift his hand, he heard a conversation of sorts.

“Okay, but just because I can’t think of an instance where I’ve—”

Hyaline cocked her head. “I guess that solves that problem.”

David spotted Twilight and waved nonchalantly.

————————

“Hello.”

That was David. The human. Standing outside her castle.

“W-What are you doing here?!” Twilight gasped, taking a couple of steps back. “And who’s that with you?”

“Oh this? She’s uhm… someone. Listen, I need to talk to you.”

Twilight didn’t know where to begin, it was quite unexpected.

“How did you escape?” Rainbow blurted ahead of her. She stopped at a hover in front of David’s face, forcing him to take a half-step back.

David looked at Rainbow blankly. Then turned to the pony with him and whispered something. She shrugged and shook her head as David placed a hand over his face and sighed.

Rainbow frowned. “What’d he say?”

Twilight repeated what he said.

“How’d you know what he said?”

Twilight shook her head pursing her lips. “I’m not sure, but maybe he knows?”

David, having only been exposed to one side of the conversation merely shrugged. “I might have an idea, but it might be better if we do this inside.” He gestured meaningfully at behind them. Curious ponies had perked up and were looking at the proceedings with varying levels of interest.

“Oh, right.” Twilight opened the doors and invited the human, and his strange companions, in.

———————

Inside, David took in the spacious cavity that served as the main hall. The walls sparkled with brilliant intensity that seemed to make the whole place glow. It was as if the light streaming in the windows complemented the crystal’s luminescence, and were ancillary to the function of the crystals.

“It looks bigger on the inside than it does on the outside,” he commented, eyes wide.

“Ahem, well, it’s just great,” Twilight replied. It seemed that he was so unexpected that she was at a loss to direct the conversation.

Hyaline chose that moment to step forward. She gave a slight bow. “Princess Twilight, we’d like a moment of your time.”

Twilight twitched, but broke into a polite smile. “Of course, of course, uhm, I’ll try and get some tea ready and why don’t Rainbow and Pinkie keep you company while I do that?” The end of her sentence was spoken much more rapidly than the beginning and by that time, Twilight had retreated to the other end of the room.

Rainbow, a pony that was familiar, said something to Twilight, but in her haste, Twilight had already ejected herself out of the room. With a grumble and a sigh, Rainbow nickered, saying something to ‘Pinkie’, which he assumed was the really pink pony. A heated conversation of sorts ensued between them, but finally Rainbow said something, patted Pinkie on the shoulder, and then dashed off after Twilight.

Pinkie sat there smiling nervously. She also looked like she didn’t know what to do.

David stood in the hall, shifting uncomfortably.

Hyaline turned to David. “You know, maybe I should shift into my form so you can speak with the ponies?”

Pinkie looked surprised, as if finally registering Hyaline and the other drones’ presence.

She asked Hyaline something.

“Uhh, yes.”

Pinkie made a gesture and threw out a hoof, which Hyaline shook after a moment’s hesitation.

“My name is Hyaline. Nice to meet you too.”

Pinkie said something and waved her hooves around with a face-splitting grin.

“Oh, okay, maybe later. Right now might not be the best time for a party.”

Her ears drooped slightly.

“Don’t feel bad, maybe after my mother works out something with your princesses.”

Pinkie cocked her head and asked her something.

“No, I come from down south, just past the Bogg.”

Pinkie’s expression was even more confused.

“I’m a changeling. Yes. No. No.”

Pinkie smiled. Then said something in a cheerful tone.

“That’s very kind of you. I hope we can get along.”

Pinkie nodded emphatically, bouncing up and down.

“What happened?” David asked.

Hyaline turned around, her face bearing a bemused expression.

“I think I made a friend.”

———————

Rainbow caught up to Twilight as she stumbled into the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s up with yo—”

Twilight made it to the sink just in time.

“Woah, Twilight, are you okay?”

Twilight’s eyes were slightly glazed as she responded queasily. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Rainbow put an arm around her friend. “What’s the matter?”

Twilight turned the tap on and let the water wash away her breakfast, meagre as it had been.

“I just felt suddenly sick, I don’t know why.”

Rainbow considered the possibilities and came to one conclusion.

“You think it’s the human?”

Twilight thought about it briefly, then shook her head. “I don’t think so…” Though it didn’t look like she was fully dismissing the idea. “It felt like it was my magic. I feel nauseous, like I had overstrained myself.”

“Hey, I heard you come in, and—woah, what happened to you, Twi’?” Spike had entered the kitchen casually, but rushed forward as Twilight staggered a couple of steps.

“We don’t know, Spike,” Rainbow explained for her, as Twilight held a hoof to her mouth. “Something about her magic.”

Spike dashed to a cabinet and quickly set up a teapot and a kettle. He spooned something into the kettle as he continued. “Does it have something to do with the new guy in the foyer?”

Rainbow shrugged. “Maybe, I kind of think so, it’s a bit of a coincidence.”

Twilight nodded approvingly at whatever Spike was doing to help.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a couple of deep breaths. “It’s going away now, ugh.” The chair scraped back as she got onto her hooves. “We need to talk to David and—” heurk “—do some research.”

“You should lie down,” Spike shot back, eying the alicorn critically. “You might make yourself worse if you do anything else.”

“Hey, he’s got a point. If you—” Whatever Rainbow was going to say, it flew from her mind as Twilight fixed her with a determined look.

“I’ve got to do this,” Twilight said. “There’s something bigger than all of this wrapped up in that human, I can feel it!”

Spike sighed, but looked like he wasn’t going to argue the point. “You can go back out there,” he said, watching the kettle. “I’ll bring up the infusion when it’s done.”

“Thanks, Spike,” Twilight replied gratefully.

“Don’t mention it,” Spike answered wryly. “I don’t like making this, though, so please take it easy.”

Outside the kitchen, Rainbow asked the question.

“What’s Spike making?”

“It’s a sort of drink that helps with magic exhaustion. I don’t use it, but sometimes a spell might catch me off guard, or an unexpected complication in the thaumological flow causes a—”

“Alright, alright,” Rainbow said hastily. “It helps you feel better, right?”

“Right.”

Twilight was looking better, though Rainbow agreed with Spike, she needed to rest. The only problem with that was Twilight also happened to be the best pony to help with her own condition. She also knew a thing or two about overexerting yourself, so Rainbow didn’t want to push it. It still made her worry, though.

——————

When Twilight came back, Hyaline tried to explain the outline of the situation to her.

“Now don’t be alarmed, but I’m a changeling.”

Twilight shrugged. “I knew that.”

Hyaline blinked. “How?”

“There are changeling detection spells impregnated into some of the crystals in the walls, they glow a different colour when there’s a changeling nearby.”

Hyaline looked around.

“Oh.”

She morphed out of her disguise.

“At least that makes explaining this a little easier,” Hyaline remarked. “Okay, how about—”

“Actually, you might be feeling a little uncomfortable standing around in the foyer. There’s a small room with a large table that can fit you all,” Twilight interrupted. She swept around them, looking a little worse for wear than when they had originally met her. “Please come along.”

Forcing the rest to follow, Hyaline was acutely aware that the momentum of the conversation had ebbed from her lead and smoothly lay at the hooves of the pony princess. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the image of admonition her mother would have given her for letting that happen. A strong lead was always important in any negotiation.

The exchange hadn’t been lost on David.

“Tried a little something, didn’t you?”

Hyaline sighed. “I guess I don’t have the presence that mother does.”

David did that weird ‘petting’ thing again with his hand.

It… feels kind of nice.

“Don’t worry, there’s something worrying these ponies, and I don’t think it’s you,” he said.

Hyaline didn’t miss the tight focus of attention fixed on the human throughout the proceedings. The ponies were interested in the human for sure. Did they know what humans were capable of? Suddenly, Hyaline felt a little naked. What if the ponies decided to take the human for themselves? Would she and her small guard be able to stop them?

“Just here, you can take any seat you like.”

Ahead was indeed a large table. Some attempt had been made to decorate it, with small candelabrum placed evenly along its length, though not lit. There were chairs, which Hyaline disliked, but put up with. There weren’t much in terms of seating in the caves. Besides, how do you even sit in the chair? This Twilight Sparkle was a new princess, but she was a formidable opponent. The chairs were there to make her uncomfortable and she knew it.

——————

Twilight noticed that Hyaline looked uncomfortable in her seat. The other changelings, still in their own disguises, also looked at unease with sitting down in a chair. Only David didn’t seem to mind, though he barely fit in his seat, his knees were forced up almost to his chest.

Maybe it would be more comfortable for her guests if they did stand around in the foyer?

Twilight still felt a little queasy, but suppressed the feeling by faking a nonchalant smile. “So,” she began, “what brings you here?”

David looked at Hyaline.

“My mother wants to establish a ‘partnership’ with Equestria.”

Twilight, expecting the conversation to turn to the subject of humans, was surprised.

“Why?”

Hyaline tapped her hoof on the table. “If you know anything about changelings, then you know we don’t have an abundant food source, right?”

Twilight nodded.

“You might be able to solve our food problem.”

“What?!”

Hyaline gestured around herself. “With all this magic that you have, there must be some way you can help us.”

“And why would we do that?!” Rainbow interjected. “You changelings were sucking the life out of us just a while ago.”

“They weren’t the same changelings!” Hyaline shot back. “We aren’t that desperate, and we do have a line we don’t cross.”

“So destabilising geopolitics in the region using deception and fraud is fine?” Twilight posed with a smirk.

“T-That’s—”

Pinkie tapped the table to get everypony’s attention. “Hey, Twilight, I think we should listen to what she has to say.”

Twilight hesitated, looking back at Hyaline. She looked distraught. A small feeling of guilt settled like a stone in her abdomen. “It won’t hurt to hear what she has to say.”

“Just don’t expect us to rush into anything,” Rainbow muttered.

Hyaline took a steadying breath. “It’s like this. Mother wants to secure the future of our Swarm. We want to solve the problem of our food, but we can’t keep going about it like we did before.”

Rainbow snorted, but Hyaline chose to ignore it as she continued.

“Out of all the races around here, the ponies seem to be doing the best. You’re further along than any other species, but we changelings are lagging behind. We need a way to put our interests forward.”

“That sounds like you want us to help you get stronger,” Rainbow said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What if magic’s the way we need to fend off a changeling attack? Maybe you’re planning something similar to Chrysalis?”

Twilight didn’t think the changelings were going that route, but there wasn’t anything really attracting them to this proposition.

“What do we get out of it?” she asked.

“Keep in mind—” Hyaline was about to add something else, but David interrupted her.

“Hey, I can’t hear what the others are saying, can you do that spell?”

“Oh right, sorry.” Hyaline’s horn glowed slightly, then faded away.

That instantly got Twilight’s attention. “What spell was that?”

“It’s not really… it’s kind of a translation spell, of sorts.”

Twilight blinked. “But a translation spell is very complex. You’d have to match the linguistic patterns, grammar, colloquialisms…”

Hyaline smiled. “A changeling doesn’t work off the language of speech, but rather the language of emotions.”

Twilight leaned back, understanding dawning on her features. “So as long as they feel emotions.”

“We can understand them.”

“Hmm.” Twilight rubbed a hoof along her chin, deep in thought. “You realise that changeling magic is fundamentally different from pony magic?” A corner of her mouth twitched up in amusement. “There’s no guarantee we could help you out with your request.”

“I understand, but—”

“We’re willing to try.”

“You are?” Hyaline spoke up hopefully.

“We are?” Rainbow Dash spluttered.

“We are!” Pinkie added in for good measure.

“Yes,” Twilight said, with a smile, “in exchange for the human.”

“I can’t give you that!” Hyaline exclaimed.

“Isn’t that why you’ve come with him?”

“N-No, at least, he was just here to help with negotiations.”

“Well, he’s helped by being a part of it.”

“I didn’t mean literally!”

“Hey! Can you two stop acting like a bunch of five year olds and act like the leaders you’re both supposed to be?” David interrupted, looking annoyed. “I swear, if it weren’t for the fact that you looked so different, you’d fit right into the federal government.” His gaze swept around the participants, taking in Twilight and Hyaline who were a little embarrassed. “First off, I’d like a little agency here. I don’t like being ignored.”

“Now,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go about this logically. There’s a reason you want me, right?” He directed the question to Twilight.

Twilight wasn’t comfortable answering the question. They were, after all, after the human. It was partially due to the fact that he was valuable to the changelings, and partially due to what Doctor Stable and Nurse Redheart had found out about him. The human was a goldmine of information, but suddenly Twilight was aware of the fact that she had treated him as little more than a bartering chip. She had allowed herself to be carried away in the heat of negotiations.

“Can’t answer? Alright,” David spoke, breaking the silence. “I guess enmity for each other can’t easily be thrown aside, and maybe it was too quick for us to ask for trust.” He cleared his throat. “You strike me as a reasonable being, Twilight. Why don’t you stop thinking politics and start thinking about what you want to do?”

What I want to do? Twilight thought to herself. Twilight had been so focused on trying to do what others thought was right, that she didn’t consider it herself. What would I do?

Twilight needed some time to think about it. She needed time to research…

Wait. That was it. Research.

“I think there’s a lot we can gain from each other,” Twilight began, shifting her focus to Hyaline. “Changeling magic is academically new and foreign, and it is based upon emotion-driven magic, one of the most powerful types in Equestria. We can try working something out.”

“Really?” Hyaline looked relieved, for a moment, then turned wary. “What do you want in exchange?”

Twilight waved the issue away. “Like I said, there’s something we can learn from each other. We can finally turn the conflict between our species as prevention, rather than treatment. We learn a little changeling magic, you can possibly get an alternate food source. Or one that’s… not so reliant on ponies.”

“So you’ll do that for us?” Hyaline smiled giddily.

“Well, all I can promise right now is to talk to the other Princesses about it. I doubt I could just go right ahead and commit ponies into this endeavour without consulting our government. It will also take time, of course.”

Hyaline nodded genially. “Right, of course.”

Twilight held out her hoof.

“So we have a deal?”

Hyaline stared at it apprehensively, but firmed her stance and bumped her hoof against Twilight’s.

“Yes.”

———————

“Good, now onto the second matter. David. I’d like to speak with you, alone.”

“What?” Hyaline stuttered.

“What?” Rainbow said.

“Okay,” Pinkie said with a smile. She looked like she wanted to talk to Hyaline.

“Sure,” said David.

Twilight waved at David to follow her as she made for a smaller, fairly nondescript side-door.

He stopped when Hyaline tugged him back. “Hey, why are you going?”

David shrugged. “She wants to talk to me. I don’t see why not.”

“But it could be… a ploy.”

David smiled. “Of what? The Princess, here, just brokered a diplomatic agreement with you. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to endanger or renege on it so easily.”

“But…”

“Let’s put it this way. Do you think she could do that?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she would?”

“No,” Hyaline admitted, “but you have to be careful.”

“I will,” he said reassuringly. “They saved my life before, which has to count for something. I’d say that’s worth at least a private chat.”

“Okay,” Hyaline said reluctantly. “But get back. You’re important to us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, giving her a thumbs-up. He smiled, to make sure she understood that it was meant to be an encouraging gesture. He forgot that these creatures didn’t have thumbs. She didn’t look confused by his hand sign, and smiled back.

David followed the unicorn with wings and wondered where things were headed next.
> 8 - The Department of Universal Affairs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 8: The Department of Universal Affairs


Secretly, David had always wanted to meet someone famous. Someone who could inspire regard, awe, or passion. He wondered what it took to be a person that commanded. To have an iron-will, or a captivating charm, or an inspiring record of achievements. It all seemed so different to his bumbling existence in his own little world within Terminal 691. He finally got his wish, and met someone famous, royalty, even. But it turned out to be a shapeshifting equine-insectoid that had kidnapped him.

However Exuviae had not been the first royalty he had met. Unbeknownst to him at the time, Twilight had been a princess. She had been part of the party that had saved his life. Though if David were to pick between the two, he would say that Exuviae had more of a commanding appearance. One that was used to the role she had been born into. Twilight… Twilight didn’t fit that description. It was subtle, as much as the synthetic aftertaste of sweetener was to sugar, but David knew that Twilight was new to her job. She had the same sort of enthusiastic-but-cautionary aura similar to an intern working in the first few months.

It was this, as much as the fact that she was a familiar face, that initially put David at ease. That was why he had initially decided to follow Twilight. Through a couple of twists and turns, and looking at the surroundings, he had surmised that they had entered a private study of sorts. Inside was a heavy desk, burdened with a few parchment scrolls, and backed with fibrous-like materials. A quill and ink pot sat to the side, looking as if they had been recently used, judging from the fact that the cover for the pot lay to the side.

Though there was an imposing high-backed chair, it sat off in the corner, and substituted with a more modest counterpart to which Twilight had taken as her choice of seating. She sat behind what looked like a small, but practical, desk. Feeling a little like he were called to the Boss’ office, David took the seat opposite of her, and tried not to squirm.

“Okay, we can speak privately now,” Twilight said.

It suddenly occurred to him that speaking together like this was something strange. He had gotten the impression that changeling magic communicated speech through emotion, so the sounds did not match up with their words. Carefully observing Twilight now, her words had matched her mouth. Maybe it was something special between them?

Wait. This had happened before, with the children. How did he understand them when Hyaline had not been there to translate? Why then, was he unable to comprehend what the other ponies were saying?

“David?” Twilight was looking at him with slightly furrowed brows. He realised that he had probably stayed silent a little longer than etiquette considered polite.

“Uhh, yeah, sorry, blanked out there.” He cleared his throat. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Twilight put her hooves together in a way that reminded David of a human tenting their fingers. The corners of her mouth drew down as she appeared to order her thoughts.

“Do you know that your very being is synergistic with magic?”

David shrugged as he ran a few fingers through his hair. He didn’t know what she meant.

Twilight took a deep breath, ploughing on. “Do you remember the hospital?”

David could feel a nervous tingle in his extremities. Of course he remembered, he didn’t like them at all.

Seeing his expression, Twilight relaxed her tone. “The medical staff had extracted your blood and hair without your permission there.”

David blinked. Though most of the visit was hazy, he did remember a pony jabbing him in the neck, and instinctively a hand shot up to touch the spot. He hated needles, he never understood how people count just stand there and take a jab to the neck, the very idea sent a prickle of goosebumps along his upper arms.

“I’m sure… there was a good explanation…” He trailed off when he saw Twilight’s cheeks flush red with seething fury. He almost took a step back.

“There wasn’t!” Twilight shouted, causing him to actually take the step back. She took in his guarded stance a little guiltily. Taking a calming breath, she closed her eyes briefly, then made an effort to continue in a more moderate tone. It was not quite enough to take out all the anger and disgust in her speech. 

“What they found out was disturbing. The hair and blood they ‘harvested’ would allow magic to be used more efficiently. To them, it was like they were able to finely control spells that would normally be difficult to do so.” She fixed him with a serious look. “When doing these experiments, they found that the blood and hair that interacted with the magic, and would be consumed.”

It took David a while to comprehend the implication, but when he did, he couldn’t help but shift back in his seat, as if he was suddenly in the presence of a lion.

“Don’t worry!” Twilight said, trying quickly to assuage his rising anxiety. “We’re not going to do anything to you! Not if I can help it. But it would be very dangerous if word got out that humans could do such things.” She cleared her throat. “They might be out for your hair, or worse, your blood.”

David sagged in his seat. This was getting a little too heavy. The thought of the creatures around him suddenly bloodthirsty—A chilling thought occurred to him.

“Is that why we’re talking here?” David asked suddenly. “So that Hyaline wouldn’t know?”

Twilight nodded gravely. “Even if she knows, there’s no guarantee she’ll have your best interests at heart. There’s the possibility she doesn’t. In which case… it might be safer not letting her know.”

David stared at his hands as he thought about it. From a purely rational point of view, Hyaline and Exuviae would want to know about his abilities. For them, it might even help their crisis of power, extending their reach by amplifying their magical abilities. But it was too vague, and he himself was a finite resource. A hardly quantifiable resource.

From what Twilight suggested, what they’ve found out was that his hair and blood was ‘synergistic’ with magic. What did that mean? Better control? Better power? He felt he knew as much about magic as he did with airplanes. Like a passenger on one, he knew that it ran on fuel, was piloted by a specialist, and it somehow could fly. That was the extent of his knowledge. If someone came up to him and asked him, ‘what would make an airplane fly better?’, he wouldn’t know. More fuel? A better pilot?

“I-I don’t know,” he answered honestly. It was the best he could do. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Twilight considered him for a moment, but after a moment’s silence, nodded. She looked reluctant to let it drop, but did so anyway. “The next item on the agenda: we need to get you home.”

For a moment, David couldn’t react. Home? So soon?

Twilight chuckled. “No need to look like that, I can see it written all over you from the beginning. You look like you don’t belong here.”

“Yes.” He felt the tension bleed out from his shoulders with a hapless shrug. “I want to go home.”

Twilight grinned. “In that case, we can help. Short of another country—what? What’s so funny?”

David waved a hand as a helpless laugh overcame him. “Sorry,” he spluttered in between snorts and stifled giggles. “It’s just that.” He wiped a hand across his face, regaining his composure. “I’m not really sure you can help me with that.”

Twilight cocked her head.

“Why’s that?”

David shrugged. “Because I think I’m from another world.”

——————

With that short sentence, Twilight’s thinking short-circuited. “Well…” She struggled to fit things together. On the surface it seemed unlikely, but factoring in the rarity of a human and the way they suddenly appeared all over Equestria…

“You can try,” David added quickly, “I mean, I’m really grateful you would offer. Any help would be great.”

“A different world…” Twilight was still trying to wrap her head around the concept. “Do you mean—” she pointed to the ceiling “—up there?”

David rubbed the back of his neck. “No, probably not, it’s more like this…”

He recounted the events leading until this moment.

“So you just ended up here out of nowhere?” Twilight blinked. “That’s… I don’t… why?”

“I keep telling myself that all the time,” David replied sombrely. He shook his head as if to free his thoughts from the clingy cobwebs of self-pity. “So, we’ve started on good terms with the changelings, we’re making progress. Now we just need to find a way home.”

Twilight rubbed a hoof under her chin, her brows drawing together as she pondered her next move. From what David had told her, the most interesting aspect was the crystal structures within the ruins of the temple. Judging from the small glimpses of the architecture, Twilight had surmised that the designs were too alien to be pony built. Rather, the aesthetics didn’t match anything she learned from the historical texts and museum pieces she’d encountered.

“We need to take a look at that crystal cavern,” Twilight announced with a smile. “There’s something strange about it. I want to investigate.”

“Great,” David said, “you can meet Exuvaie again.”

Twilight could feel her smile die down a couple of notches.

———————

Back in the ‘meeting room’, Twilight and David were greeted by a strange sight.

“Raise.”

“Aww!” Rainbow shoved a few bits into the centre of the table. Hyaline revealed the cards she had been holding, eliciting groans from the whole table.

“You’re cheating,” Rainbow groused.

“Am not!” Hyaline shot back, grasping the bits. “You’re just too easy to read.”

Rainbow crossed her arms and glared at the changeling. “You aren’t using any magic, are you?”

Hyaline shrugged. “It wasn’t banned in the first round, but like I said—” she smiled condescendingly “—you’re just too easy to read.”

Rainbow threw up her hooves and turned to Pinkie. “How come she couldn’t get you in the first round?”

Hyaline’s mouth twitched, annoyance flittering over her proud features. “She’s always happy.” Her eyebrows furrowed at the grinning pony. “Even when she wins or loses.” Hyaline threw up her hooves in frustration. “I can’t read any change in her emotions.”

“What’s all this?” Twilight finally asked, causing the occupants to look up in surprise. It seemed like they were so engaged in the game, they failed to realise that the pair had returned.

“We were playing a little poker. It was fun! How’d you go?” Pinkie threw up her earnings haphazardly, but for some reason they fell back into a perfect pile. Twilight could feel David’s disbelief, but didn’t want to feel too smug, because of the fact that she didn’t do too well the first time she tried to make sense of the pink party pony phenomenon.

“Uhm, well, good. I’ve spoken to David about a few matters and I want to help him get home.”

Hyaline, who up until now was smiling, shot to her feet with a scowl. “Hang on, that’s our agreement with David!”

Twilight cocked her head. “Is that now?”

Cheeks blooming with the regret of leaking that information, Hyaline fumed in silence.

Twilight dismissed her concerns. “This is has nothing to do with our agreement.” She gave Hyaline a reassuring smile. “We’re just helping him get home.”

“And what do you get out of it?” Hyaline asked.

Twilight looked taken aback by the question. “I just thought… I would help.”

Suspicion flickered among the myriad of emotions that danced among Hyaline’s face.

“Why?”

It was a simple question, to which Twilight only had a simple answer to.

“Erm… isn’t it the right thing to do?”

“But…” Hyaline gestured helplessly. “What benefit do you get for helping?”

Twilight tried not to let the shock show on her face. “It’s just the right thing to do. It wouldn’t feel right to just let it go…” Twilight tried to think of a better way to explain it, but came up short. When she saw Hyaline become increasingly wary, she felt indescribable pity for the changeling.

“Feelings?” Hyaline snorted. “How can you act based on that?”

Maybe it was the fact that changelings took advantage of pony emotions that Hyaline had such disdain for the concept of emotional motivation. For a moment, Twilight felt a pang of sympathy for the creature that so readily dismissed altruism as foolery.

“Well, it’s not that.” Twilight tried to frame it in a logical sense. Then a thought occurred to her, making her ears perk up in excitement. “How about the concept of reciprocity?”

“Reciprocity?”

“When somepony does something good to you, the natural inclination would be to do something good back, right?”

“Or you could take advantage of their relaxed guard.”

Twilight shrugged. “Then the next time that pony sees you, they won’t be inclined to help you. What if you needed help only that pony could give?”

“Unlikely.”

“But possible.”

“Then I would just disguise myself as a different pony.”

As she locked gazes with Hyaline, Twilight could see she was unmoved. Seeing that, the conversation was only going to get more difficult, and she decided to switch the topic before it could get heated. Twilight hadn’t planned on being inflammatory around the changeling, but their ideals were too divergent to easily reconcile.

“Putting that aside, our new agreement is to help foster relations with each other, right?”

Hyaline nodded reluctantly.

“So in this exchange, we’d like to take a look around your home, while you can take a look around ours.”

“Not that you haven’t been helping yourself already,” Rainbow added under her breath, just loud enough for most to hear. 

Hyaline frowned at Rainbow’s comment, but didn’t say anything in reply, just shrugged like it was an obvious fact. Instead, she addressed Twilight’s proposal with a shake of her head. “I’m not sure about that. My mother might not appreciate it.” Hyaline swung around and prodded David towards the exit. “We’ll have to discuss it with her.”

“Hang on, before she gets her approval, why don’t we have David stay over for a while?”

Hyaline gave Twilight a somewhat frosty smile. “No thank you, it’d probably be best if David left with us.”

Rainbow darted forward. “The human should stay with us!”

Pinkie glanced at Rainbow, then came forward with a bounce. “He’s new.” She gasped. “We should throw him a party!”

“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that.” Hyaline glanced at the rest of her contingent. The guards were instantly by her side. Hostility welled up in the tense silence that followed.

“Food!”

Everyone looked at David.

“Food,” he repeated. “I’d like to eat something. I’m starved.” He turned to Hyaline. “Got any food back there?”

Hyaline hesitated. “Uhhh… what do you humans eat?”

David blinked. “A lot of things. Try me.”

Hyaline smiled uncertainly. “Nutrient-enriched slime—”

“Woah, stop there, that doesn’t sound edible to me.”

He turned to Twilight. “How about you?”

“Hay burgers?” she asked hopefully.

“Hay? As in, like, grass?”

Twilight nodded.

“Eww, I can’t eat that.”

Hyaline darted forward. “We can give you some emotions? Do you feed on that?”

David shook his head, then turned to Twilight, looking like he was unused to anypony asking him what diet he ate. Perhaps on his world, whatever he ate was common enough so that it wouldn’t have to be explained. “You got any fruit? Or vegetables?” Twilight nodded at each of those items with a relieved expression. She didn’t know what she would have done if neither of them could feed David. She shivered slightly as she considered what  could have happened if David had instead starved… She shook her head, not out of the woods yet. If what he said before about being on a different world was true… would he be able to eat anything? Would what he asked for even translate properly? Twilight caught herself analysing the situation so deeply that she missed him saying something.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He cocked his head as if an idea occurred to him. “I said, I don’t have anything to pay you with…”

“Oh, you don’t have to trouble yourself, you’re a guest!” Twilight exclaimed. “That reminds me. Most of your belongings are back at the hospital!”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable without paying…” Though David nodded reluctantly. “I’ll fetch my stuff from the hospital and see what I can pay you back with—” He slapped his head. “Hospital fees, emergency rescue…”

“There’s no need,” Twilight said hastily. “Spitfire and Soarin told me it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t try to hurt them or anything.”

“Okay,” David said, the reluctance still around. “I guess it’s settled for now—”

“Wait!” Hyaline looked desperate. “While we don’t have much food on hoof, we can get some in no time—” 

David frowned. “What’s the matter? I’m sure I can do something to scrounge up some food. I might not be able to pay for it, but I can work…”

Twilight shook her head. “While I appreciate the gesture, we should, at the very least, help you out with some food and return you your belongings. You know, after what happened in the hospital. We were responsible.”

David looked uncomfortable with the idea. “Well, you have saved my life, and it wasn’t your fault at all.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “What if I gave you a bit of my hair?”

Twilight’s eyes widened. With that hair, they could conduct some research—she shook her head hastily. The first priority was to discern why humans had appeared, and to return them to their… world. Research could come later. She felt an ironic smile grace her lips. Who would have thought she would ever think that?

“Thank you, David. You don’t have to do that. We wouldn’t want to force you to give up your hair.” She sighed. “It would really help us if you could stick around until we find out what’s going on. You seem to be connected to a series of events with other humans—”

“Other humans?!” David spluttered. “There are others around here?”

Twilight nodded warily. “There are—” she glanced at Hyaline “—but we should probably discuss it later. For now, Hyaline can relay what we’ve worked out with her mother, and we can go to the hospital to retrieve your belongings.”

“But…” Hyaline looked torn.

David laid a hand on her head. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to abandon you. I doubt the ponies are going to try anything while you’re gone.”

Hyaline sighed. “All the same…” She glanced sideways at Twilight. “You won’t object to having a couple of changelings stay behind with David?”

Twilight was surprised, and more than a little annoyed. “Alright,” she said reluctantly, “but while they’re around, they should be respectful and follow reasonable requests.”

Hyaline nodded, turning to speak with her changelings.

David glanced between Twilight and Hyaline and noisily let go of a breath he’d apparently been holding. “We’re going?”

Twilight acquiesced with a nod.

“Good,” he said. “I’m sick of wearing a hospital gown.”

—————————

David stayed outside the hospital while Twilight and Rainbow retrieved his stuff. Outside, he stood awkwardly, uncomfortable under the curious gazes of the ponies around him. Pinkie said something, but all he could do was smile and nod nervously. He no longer had the ability to communicate to her.

Even without the ability to understand her, he knew the pony was making an enormous effort to make him feel comfortable. She was babbling in her language about this and that, and kept tugging him on the arm, or gown to look at a cart, or meet a bemused pony crossing their path.

For the most part, ponies remained curious, yet removed. It seemed that knowledge about humans was indeed esoteric enough to warrant a lack of suspicion. In sum, he was a newcomer amongst the town’s populace. A foreigner that looked strange and out of place, but didn’t seem to be a threat. Some, apart from the curious stares, apparently recognised him from the first time he’d come and they would approach Pinkie and address her in a way that sounded mostly like a question. Pinkie would answer excitedly and the querying pony would leave, looking satisfied with the explanation.

From this, David deduced that the town’s ponies trusted Pinkie, and judging by their smiles and the way she handled them, liked the pony. He could understand, her demeanour although excessive, was also a constant bright light of bubbly happiness.

“Hey! Isn’t that the human?”

David knew the voices. They sounded young, even to his ears. A feeling of dread worked down his spine. Turning around, he spotted three curious faces.

“Uhm, hi?”

“Hello!”

Pinkie looked excited, she pointed to him, then said something.

“Yeah,” said one of the foals. “We can understand him.”

Pinkie frowned momentarily, then asked the foal something.

“Uhm, Pinkie asks if you have any food allergies?”

Confused, but seeing no reason not to answer, he told her he didn’t.

Pinkie asked him something else.

“She asked why you could speak with us, and not with her?”

That’s her second question?!

He shrugged. It was just as confusing to him as it was to her.

“I don’t know.”

————————

Inside the hospital, Twilight was not feeling in the mood to talk to Nurse Redheart or Doctor Stable. She really hoped there was some other staff at the reception, but unfortunately, being a small hospital, Nurse Redheart was predictably at the desk. She briefly considered going back outside and asking Pinkie to do it, but since she was here already with Rainbow Dash, it would have been a little awkward, considering.

Rainbow spotted Nurse Redheart and furrowed her brows. Twilight sympathised with her, but in a discreet voice, warned her to be prudent.

“We don’t want to antagonise her, this isn’t the time.” Twilight murmured.

As they approached the reception, Nurse Redheart finally noticed the pair and stood more to attention. From the way she was acting, it was clear she didn’t expect them to come back to the hospital.

“H-Hello, Princess Twilight, Rainbow Dash, how can I help you?” There was an almost painful tone of politeness underscoring her greeting.

“We’re here to pick up the human’s belongings,” Rainbow Dash said, her eyes speaking a challenge, if Nurse Redheart failed to pick up on the irate undercurrent in her speech.

Nurse Redheart seemed surprised, as if it were the last thing she was expecting them to ask. “If you would please wait here.” She paused, as if considering something. “Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong hoof last time but I want to say I’m so—”

“I don’t care,” Rainbow shot back. “Just—”

“Hold on,” Twilight held out a hoof to stop the pegasus from advancing. “While I won’t say, ‘It’s fine.’, we can put aside our differences for now.”

Nurse Redheart paused, looking a little nervous. “How about I take you to our storage, and I can tell you my side of things?”

Twilight saw the hopeful expression on her face and sighed. “Alright,” she said, gesturing for the nurse to lead the way. “Although honestly, I don’t understand how you would not think it was wrong. Especially after the fact.”

Nurse Redheart didn’t immediately answer her charge. “Is your horn still okay? You didn’t come in for a follow-up so I assumed everything was fine.”

“Yes.” A pause. “Thank you.”

Nurse Redheart frowned. “No dizzy spells, headaches or anything?”

Twilight thought back. “Actually…” She debated whether she should tell her. Finally, seeing no reason to lie, Twilight shrugged. “I’ve been a bit nauseous, actually.”

Nurse Redheart grew concerned. “It might be…” She stopped at her office. “Could you please wait here?” She went inside, fetched a small cup and some pills in a tray. She set them aside and filled the cup with a nearby water cooler. “You should take these. They’re some anti-emetics.”

Rainbow looked confused. “Anti-what now?”

“They stop vomiting,” Twilight explained.

“Oh. Okay.”

Twilight took the pills with a nod and downed them.

“Thank you,” Twilight said gratefully.

An indecipherable expression briefly flickered across her features, before Nurse Redheart replied. “You’re welcome,” she said with a smile so bright, Twilight thought she had imagined it. Maybe she was getting too suspicious of Nurse Redheart? She had taken the initiative in trying to apologise and explain herself…

The nurse continued down the hall, beckoning for the pair to follow. “At first I thought, ‘What’s the harm? It’s only a little blood, some hair.’.” Nurse Redheart glanced at her hooves. “I just wanted to help. All the possibilities with a substance synergistic with magic? It’s exciting, you know? Almost like being the Star Swirl of our time!”

It wasn’t like Twilight couldn’t understand the passion, the urge, to discover something new. She could really see herself getting excited because it concerned magic. If she found a substance synergistic with magic, she would drop everything to experiment. The discovery would be revolutionary. But when it was that weighed against somepony else, was it really worth it? She thought about David, clearly nervous in the room, but still trusting them to help. He didn’t even have a choice.

“I know,” Nurse Redheart continued, “I lost it back there. It seemed like nopony was taking our discovery seriously. Then it was taken away, and our once in a lifetime opportunity vanished.” She gritted her teeth. “Every year, somepony dies because their medical care was just not enough. Research that could have saved somepony slowed down by a lack of funding, or a hiccup in research, or simply being unable to do anything with the level of magical technology available. When I saw what the human’s blood could do, I saw a change in our profession. What could one do with more potent magic? If only we could isolate the principal component of that magic synergism…”

Nurse Redheart bowed her head. “But you’re right. I’ve made a choice, and it took me time to see that it wasn’t the right one.” They passed Doctor Stable’s office, Nurse Redheart skipping a step as she saw the sign. The light was off. “I know Doctor Stable was having second thoughts about it. He went straight home after our… meeting, and didn’t show up for work today. He looked like he’d been run over by a train.” Nurse Redheart let out a dry, mirthless chuckle. “He’s a good pony, Doctor Stat showed up instead, but it wasn’t his shift. Doctor Stable must have convinced him to come over and check on his patients.”

Throughout her explanation, Twilight stayed silent. Though she could still feel Rainbow’s displeasure, it had come down a couple of notches, less seething and more simmering. For her part, Twilight could begin to understand, though nowhere near approving.

“I made a mistake,” Nurse Redheart said sincerely. “I know the human wouldn’t want to come back and hear it from myself, please pass it on for me.”

Twilight let go of a breath she had pent up. “Alright, I’ll pass it on.”

Nurse Redheart nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Twilight.”

After that, the conversation died between them, and the last minute or so of traversing to patient storage was held in painful silence.

Nurse Redheart opened the door and gestured for Twilight and Rainbow to step inside.

“His belongings are on the left shelf,” she said as they walked into the rather cramped storage room. True enough, there they were on the shelf. As Twilight reached out to grab them—

The door slammed shut.

Twilight and Rainbow spun around as they heard the lock click.

“What—?”

A muffled voice filtered back through the door. “I didn’t want to do this, Twilight, but I have to do as they say.”

“What?! What who says?” Twilight pounded on the door. “Why are you doing this?!”

Nurse Redheart was silent for a moment. “I thought you’d understand, you being a more intellectually inclined princess and all.”

“What?”

“Congratulations, you’ve been the test subject of a very advanced form of clinical trial. We’ve injected portions of the human’s blood into your body intravenously and orally. Preliminary results show a startling suppression and change in your magic.” Nurse Redheart paused. “Though nausea and other ill side-effects come into play.”

“W-What?! How could you—”

“It’s not that hard, a little here, a little there! But you’ve taken the majority of the sample and secured the human. I can only report back what I’ve found out.”

“What—”

“You sound like a broken record, but effects should kick in right about… now.”

“You can’t—!” Twilight’s vision swam slightly. She stumbled.

“Hey!” Rainbow yelled. “What have you done?”

“Can’t have you escaping, now can I? Also, I’ve arranged for something extra.”

Twilight was staring at the door, but Rainbow noticed something else.

“Uhhh, Twi’?”

A sinister wispy white smoke was filtering from a vent near the ceiling. Both of them backed away quickly.

“Hang on,” Twilight reassured Rainbow calmly. “I’ll just teleport us out of here.”

She concentrated briefly, then felt violently sick. “Ugh!” She sank down. “What…?”

Nurse Redheart’s voice came back through the door. “You’ve probably tried teleporting by now, haven’t you? Well, if you can hear me, then the drug worked. Even though it’s near the limit…” She didn’t sound too happy about that. “If only you hadn’t come today.” The last part sounded softer, like she were directing it more at herself than them. 

In a louder voice, she added, “Don’t worry, it’s just a sleeping gas, you won’t feel a thing. Don’t bother looking for me, I’ll be long gone.”

“Wait!” Rainbow braced herself and kicked violently at the door. It wouldn’t budge. “You get back here!”

Twilight groaned, and Rainbow was instantly at her side. “Come on, Twi’, keep it together. What has she got you on?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight held her head in her hooves. She felt like her brain was trying to force itself out of her head, making it impossible to concentrate on a spell. “I’ve never… ugh… heard of a drug like this.” She shivered at the implications that the drug may have been laced with human blood. Who knew what the effects were? Did it start from the very first moment she made contact with David? Or was it after? Was that why…?

Rainbow glanced back at the door, thinking of giving it another try. Apart from the fluorescent lights above, there weren’t any light sources, no windows they could go through. Twilight struggled to her hooves, seeing the ominous vapour drift closer.

“Prop me up,” she told Rainbow. Rainbow came to her, wrapping her hooves around her midsection and supporting her friend. “The gas seems to hug to the ground, so we have some time before it reaches the right concentration and diffuses to our lungs.”

Rainbow was rooted to the spot, thankfully having the foresight not to fly or move around excessively and disturb the gas. Her eyes were darting around the room, trying to find a solution in an increasingly dire problem.

“What do we do, Twilight?”

Twilight’s headache was receding, but she didn’t know if she could attempt to teleport again. “If we stay long enough, we’ll eventually succumb to the gas. I don’t know what it is, but it’s probably something that can knock us out for a time. By the time we’re discovered, Nurse Redheart will have gone and whatever she wanted to keep from us, with her.” 

She bit her lip as she considered the facts. The gas that was flooding the room seemed to have stopped, so they were probably counting on it being an enclosed space to eventually knock them out. If they were in a storage room, they must have been moved to a part of the hospital with no adjacent rooms. Otherwise shouting would have helped. Twilight doubted any would be forthcoming even if they tried.

The shelves around them were filled with cloth and hospital supplies. Twilight brightened considerably. That was their mistake.

“It’s not ideal, but I have an idea to buy us some time. The gas is hugging the ground, so I’m glad you’ve noticed that it’s not a good idea to move around. Though aerosolised, it’s probably got some particulates weighing it down. We need to breathe filtered air to buy some more time. Get some of the hospital gowns and rip them quickly. We’ll soak them in some detergent, hopefully the gas is composed of particulates and most will be blocked by the materials, if not maybe the surfactants will absorb some of the gasses from the air.” She didn’t know if it would, but it was worth at least trying.

Rainbow blinked at Twilight. “Huh?”

“Soak some material in detergent and wrap it around your head, then we can breath. I’m hoping it’ll buy us some time.”

Rainbow didn’t argue, trusting what she said. She soaked some hospital gowns in the detergent being careful not to move too quickly through the smokey gas.

She gave Twilight the makeshift face mask as they both tied it around their heads.

Twilight’s eyes darted around the room. It was small, cramped, and they didn’t have much time—

No, stop! Think. There are shelves, some items, can’t block the ventilation, too late. Break the door? Pick the lock. Nothing to do that with… How about magic? I can’t do it, but Rainbow has wings. The room is too small— Wait. The room is too small…

“Okay,” Twilight said, her voice muffled through the mask. “The door seems quite strong, but maybe the walls aren’t.” Twilight tapped her hoof on the wall adjacent to her. It sounded solid. She brushed aside her hesitation. “I’m thinking that one of the walls is covered with plaster and board and the other is brick. This storeroom might have originally been one room, but partitioned. If we can escape into the room, there might be enough air to dilute the gas.”

“Why did the gas stop, why didn’t she just keep it going?”

“I don’t think they wanted to give us more than necessary. We might die from an overdose.” She shivered, hoping that was the case. If she wanted them dead, she might’ve flooded the room. Or used lethal gas…

Rainbow shivered with barely contained rage. “Next time I see her, I’ll—”

“I know, Rainbow. For now, let’s concentrate on getting out.”

The wall on the opposite side sounded similar, although the echo might have been slightly more hollow. Twilight growled through her mask. She couldn’t tell. It might just be bricks on the other side. Twilight eyed the pooling gas. They would have to try soon, a sickly sweet aroma was starting to make its way through her mask, through the detergent. She was starting to feel slightly light-headed. Or maybe it was her mind? Either way, they had to try quickly.

“We should try and buck it down together,” Twilight said hastily, tapping the right wall. “Hopefully this wall.”

“I wish AJ was here,” Rainbow grumbled as she came alongside Twilight.

Twilight silently agreed. She’d probably kick through brick, let alone plaster.

“We have to try, Rainbow. Alright, on three.”

Rainbow nodded.

“One, two, three!”

Both their hind hooves struck the wall. A slight cracking could be heard, but the wall stayed put.

“Again!”

More crackling.

“Again!”

Nothing sounded.

“Twilight are you sure—”

Twilight shook her head doggedly. It had to work, they didn’t have time for another shot.

“One more time, again!”

They kicked again and felt something collapse against their hooves.

Yes! Twilight cheered in her mind. The next room could be seen but the hole was nowhere big enough. Quickly, Rainbow kicked and hacked through the rest of the plaster, only avoiding some of the support and crossbeams in the way.

“Alright!” Rainbow slipped through the hole and helped Twilight clamber through herself. On the other side, they almost collapsed in relief.

“We should search for Nurse Redheart, she shouldn’t be far,” Twilight mumbled. “Can you go look for her? I’ll go warn the others.”

“Right.” Rainbow gritted her teeth and headed for the exit. Luckily, the door was open.

Twilight glanced back at the storage room.

Why did Nurse Redheart risk so much? What the heck was the Organisation?

————————

Twilight spotted David and Pinkie standing around a few foals. Inwardly, she sighed in relief. The thought crossed her mind that Nurse Redheart or whoever else the Organisation was around would’ve tried something in the short period of time she had left.

“Pinkie, you’re okay!”

“Heya Twilight! Of course I’m okaaaaa—woah, what happened, you look terrible. Why is there a bandana around your face?”

Twilight realised she was still wearing her makeshift face mask and hurriedly removed it. She must have looked strange, going into the hospital and coming back looking like she’d been through a battle. Well, in a way, she had. She drew Pinkie away from David and the foals. Afterwards, she quickly summarised the situation to her friend in a low voice.

“Whhhaaaaaaat?” Pinkie’s eyes grew wide. “I never knew that Nurse Redheart could be such a meanie!”

Twilight nodded gravely. “We better tell David.” She turned around and focused her attention on the human.

David and the foals were speaking, but Twilight couldn’t understand a word the foals were saying. She only heard the one-sided conversation from David.

“What’re they saying?”

“I have no idea!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Although the Crusaders do.”

“Hey girls,” Twilight said, approaching.

“Oh hi ya Twilight!” Apple Bloom replied. She was speaking in a recognisable language again.

“Girls, how do you know what the human is saying?” Twilight asked. “Do you know you’re speaking a different language?”

“Uhhhh.” Scootaloo frowned. “No? Were we?” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle both shook their heads.

“Really?” Twilight’s face contorted as she tried to find a rational explanation. Coming up with none, she pursed her lips. 

Luckily, the answer fell out of the sky.

Literally.

——————

Written was staring at the food.

“What do you do with it?”

Cadance shared a look with Shining again. She felt like she was running out of reactions to the strange Auditor.

“You eat it.”

While Cadance thought that it was self-evident, apparently, Written didn’t think so.

“How?”

Cadance could only meet her questioning gaze with her own.

Written deigned to clarify it further. “In some realities I’ve seen food absorbed in a variety of ways. So as to not offend possible sensibilities, I sought advice.”

Shining asked the morbid question that hung around the table like an unsavoury smell. “So how do other places eat?”

“In different ways, using various orifices, sometimes in the reverse directi—”

“Okay!” Shining exclaimed, his face scrunched up with the regret of positing the question. Cadance shared his sentiment with carefully controlled coughing to cover up the slight gagging reflex accompanying her unfortunate mental image.

“Like this.” Cadance mimed a normal eating routine, with exaggerated motions.

Written nodded her thanks and ate a small peach that lay on the table.

“The furry texture of the skin produces a strange sensation on my tongue.” Written’s comment was both strange and unnecessary, Cadance thought. But at least she looked relatively harmless, although slightly gormless in other respects.

Written finished a couple more fruits and sighed with appreciation. She spotted something on the table.

“What’s this?” she asked, grabbing the handle.

Before Cadance could reply, or object, Written downed the contents in a few, short gulps.

“That was entirely strange,” she commented, looking cross-eyed at the now-empty pitcher.

Cadance thought it was too late to warn the strange creature that the pitcher had contained a strong alcoholic wine. In a way, downing the whole contents in a few swallows was a feat in itself. The pitcher was large and heavy, though the Auditor had wielded it like it were a fine glass cup.

“The satisfaction that mortals feel when ingesting foods is parallel to none!” Her declaration was both sudden and surprising. Rising from the table, she spread her arms. “This speaks to my very core! No wonder some choose to be mortal, food is to die for!”

The Auditor broke into a giggling fit at her own poor joke.

Cadance rose smoothly from her seat. “Maybe you’d like to sleep it off?”

“No!” Written gripped her staff and gestured at the table. “I shall repay kindness with—” she hiccupped a few times and stumbled into her chair “—with kindness!” Slurring a few words together, the Auditor muttered something under her breath. The table was suddenly overflowing with wine as the pitcher bubbled with dubiously-sourced alcohol.

“No need for that,” Cadance said quickly.

“Actually…” Shining caught a look from his wife. “No, you’re right… turn it back to normal, Written.”

The Auditor mumbled something and waved her staff. The wine disappeared.

“Where’d it go?”

“In my stomach!” Written said happily.

“Oh no.”

————————

“We really must be getting you somewhere to rest… ponies usually die with that much alcohol in their system.”

“I’m immortal!” Written declared. She gestured to herself. “This container is just… just… does some things that are like…” she trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Alright, let’s just find your—”

“Human! Dweller!” Written stiffened, she pointed her staff at the floor. “I think I know where this… this leads!” Her eyelids dropped slightly, ruining the impact of her declaration, slightly.

“Okay, okay,” Cadance said in a soothing voice. “Let’s get you back to your—what are you doing?”

“We’re going!” Written announced. A glowing point of light left her staff and grew in intensity as it traced out complicated lines on the floor. “It’s all connected!”

“Where are we—”

With a flash, Written, Cadance and Shining Armor were suddenly in mid-air.

“What the—why are we above Canterlot?!”

“Ssssssslight miscalculation,” Written replied drowsily. She tapped her staff to her head. “Hmmmm.”

Cadance dove towards her husband, but only made it partway before the scene abruptly changed.

Splash.

Water was everywhere.

“P’wah,” Cadance spat out a mouthful of water.

Written was lying face down in the pool of water next to her.

“Oh!” Cadance quickly used her magic to drag the half-drowned Auditor from the fountain. Wait a second, she recognised the fountain.

“Cadance?” Twilight’s shocked face greeted her. Another creature standing next to Twilight looked on curiously, but visibly surprised when it saw Written.

“Oh, we’re in Ponyville.” She held Written upside down slightly as she coughed the rest of the water out. Some wine followed the water. “And I think we’ve found your human.”

——————

It took a while for David to register the strange shape as being human. Heavy robes swathed the flailing thing, looking like they should have impeded her movement, but were not much more effective at stopping her than air. David watched in morbid curiosity as she regained the breath of life in the spectacular way that alcohol and water did when being mixed, especially when administered through the nose.

Cough. Hack. Splat.

The being looked like an elderly woman, but the vitality of her constitution suggested otherwise.

“Human?! Where?!” Surprised by the sudden movement, Cadance let go of Written, and she flopped to the ground with a sound much like a fish flopping on the poop deck of a ship.

It was surprising, Twilight thought, that anything still surprised her.

Written struggled to her feet, swaying a little as she blearily took in her surroundings. She spotted David.

“Ah,” she muttered, holding a hand to her mouth. “The aberration.”

“I’m sorry?” He thought he might have misheard her. “The what?”

“You’re the mistake,” she continued, not appearing to have heard him, “in Reality.” She swayed slightly. “I should send you back.”

“Hang on, wait—”

Written didn’t wait, she muttered a few things then waved her staff. Squeezing his eyes, David expected the worst to happen.

He waited longer.

He waited a little longer.

Cracking open an eye, he found the strange human gazing in befuddlement at her staff. “That’s strange…” she trailed off, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Cadance, with hooves dangling over the fountain, glanced at the downed human, then back to Twilight. Looking around, she noticed the gathering interest of spectators. For their part, they were curious, but must have begun to acclimatise to the almost-regular occurrence of the strange and unusual in Ponyville. One could say that Ponyville was the epicentre of the paranormal, which to some residents, was a frustrating fact of living there. Still, the price of apples couldn’t be beat.

“Well, I think I should get out of the fountain now.” Cadance clambered out of the fountain, trying not to leave her dignity behind.

It was then Cadance noticed somepony was missing.

“Shining Armor?” She glanced around, but he was nowhere to be found. “Where is—” Cadance registered the slumped form of the Auditor, it was useless. Written was unconscious, her chest moving in regular slow breaths as she slept off the rest of her intoxication.

Twilight seemed to get a hold of herself. “He isn’t with you?” she asked cautiously. Cadance glanced around and shook her head.

————————

Meanwhile, Shining was in an uncontrolled descent above Canterlot. Having seen his wife and Written, his only two lifelines disappear, he could only surmise that the situation was very, very bad. Despite the claws of fear gripping his heart, Shining was doing his best to remain calm. He was, after all, a former Captain of the Guard. It was natural to be thrown into unexpected situations.

He looked down and registered that he was rapidly approaching terminal velocity. He realised he’d been deposited at a height that allowed him to see the smudge of the Crystal Empire in the distance. Hitting the ground at this speed would almost certainly be fatal. There was nothing he could use to slow his descent, expect perhaps magic. He could construct a sort of sail, but he’d never studied how to stop air, more like spells, energy and projectiles. Besides, without a proper harness to attach to, the sudden deceleration could snap off any part of the body he cared to attach to the magical parachute. He would need to construct a—

Shining stopped himself there. Already he had wasted too much time thinking of an alternative way to settle down. He could try teleporting, but momentum was retained when doing so. Teleporting to the ground would result in a pony pancake, and teleporting above water might as well be brick. If only he had wings. He knew his sister had figured out a spell that would do that, but unfortunately, he had never learned it.

Perhaps a testament to his ability to think on his hooves, Shining concluded all of this in a few seconds.

Perhaps luckily for Shining, a few pegasi were patrolling the skies.

“Heeeeey!” he shouted. Predictably, his voice was snatched from his mouth by the rushing wind, he doubted they would have heard.

Maybe they could see me?

Shining quickly conjured a spell that would signal to the patrolling pegasi.

He hoped it would work.

“Hey look, a fireworks display.”

“Ooooh, pretty.”

It was the wrong kind of attention.

The only action Shining could take was to try to land somewhere soft. He didn’t have much time, the castle was rapidly approaching and he was headed straight for one of the windows. He hoped the room was filled with feathers, but he didn’t think it was likely.

————————

Though Celestia had been around longer than Luna, Celestia didn’t quite have the reflexes that her sister possessed. When a unicorn burst through the window of the throne room, Luna ducked, but Celestia was slow on the uptake. Shining Armor crashed into Celestia as Luna grabbed the object and tried to yank it back. Impressive, since the only warning she had were a couple of seconds between the glass breaking and the unicorn hitting her sister in the face. Though a lot less fatal, it still sent Celestia tumbling in an undignified heap to the other side of the chamber. When Luna finally realised just who had tackled her sister, she sighed in relief. It was Shining Armor. Still, the former Captain of the Guard flying through the window was strange to say the least. 

It was a miracle, Luna thought, that he wasn’t skewered by her sister’s horn.

“Sister, are you alright?!”

Luna hurriedly approached the crash zone. A pained groan emanated from the pile of tangled white hides, horns and hooves.

Secant was the first to break the silence.

“Is that supposed to happen?”

Even though Secant had looked innocuous throughout the whole proceedings, somehow, Luna believed humans were behind this latest upset in the order of things. Discord would get along splendidly.

“Uhh, no.” Mortimus sprang forward. “Is Her Highness okay?”

Luna was tempted to answer, but it seemed like anything she wanted to say would be thoughtless, given the circumstances.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Celestia said, trying to maintain her regal aplomb with a calm reply. The slight quiver in her voice and shaky steps dispelled the illusion of unruffled serenity. She reached down and helped a battered unicorn to get to his hooves. “Are you alright, Shining Armor?”

“My apologies, Princess, it looks like I dropped in at an inopportune time.” His words were delivered in a daze that stood in stark contrast to the impeccable etiquette that was no doubt second-nature to the former guard.

“What happened?” Luna, like the majority of the room, wondered what would prompt such an… entrance.

“A human—” Shining got no further and sank down. “Ooooh—”

Secant shook her head wildly from side to side and held out her hands as they all turned as one to look at her.

“Nope!” Secant exclaimed. “I had nothing to do with that!”

Celestia touched Shining on the shoulder. “Looks like he might have a concussion.” She signalled to the seneschal. “Please arrange for Prince Armor to visit the infirmary.”

“Yes, Princess.”

As Shining was led away, Celestia made her way back to the dais, this time standing clear of the windows. Luna joined her, leaning in.

“Are you alright, sister?”

Celestia nodded. “A little shocked, but there’s nothing wrong. I think Shining took a greater blow than I.”

“Indeed,” Luna replied, “at least an alicorn’s body is sturdier than it looks.”

Celestia and Luna turned back to the assembled guests, acting like nothing had occurred.

“So… you were saying?”

Mortimus frowned. “…We’re going to ignore the fact that Shining Armor, former Captain of the Royal Guard just burst through the windows and hit Princess Celestia in the face… with might I mention his behi—”

Celestia cleared her throat. “We’ve yet to ascertain the exact cause of the incident, but let’s refrain from mentioning it until Prince Armor has regained his senses.” Her gaze narrowed as she took in Secant. “Unless you had something—”

“Wasn’t me!”

“Then we’ll put the matter aside. I’m told Raven has a tale worth telling?”

Raven bobbed her head in a half-bow. “It’s like this…”

—————————

A griffon stood in his office, surveying the surrounding vista with a piercing glare. The glass panelled window that separated him from the sheer landscape below would be what most would describe as breathtaking. But the griffon could not be happy. In fact, he had not been happy for the past several years. This griffon was usually referred to as Gale the Pale. Pale, as his feathers were stark white, as though bleached of life.

Many had come into his presence, and always his feathers had given them pause. He found his appearance useful, though he had never been fond of name or title. He preferred anonymity. It was one of the reasons he had come to be the head of the Organisation. When one was that far up, no one asked questions, his attention was only directed to matters of interest. Interests that consumed the waking time of the leader of the world’s largest underground network.

Like the human, perhaps.

Gale was personally invested in the procurement of a human. It was interesting, it seemed, that such a being could potentially augment magic. Gale was a collector, an enthusiast, whose hobbies extended not only for rare creatures, but rare objects. Ancient volumes filled his shelves, covering a broad range of topics, some which are shared by Canterlot’s famous ‘restricted’ section.

There were many books, covering fairly mundane topics such as rare mining prospects lost to time, or the sibylline grimoires of dearly departed mages. They came from all manner of places, from private hoards of fellow collectors such as he, to the fabled feline Library of Alecazandria. One thing all these books had in common was their rarity. Gale was in love with the rare, the singular, the exceptional. He found it fascinating that objects, or indeed living beings, could increase in worth by simply being different, hard to obtain, or being the last of its kind.

But Gale didn’t collect living specimens. Nor did he collect items which boasted value due to craftsmanship, precious metals, or the like. Gale valued knowledge. Knowledge was power. His information network was extensive. In fact, Gale had started humbly in the bottom ranks of the street gangs within the griffon kingdom. He quickly realised that instead of a well placed punch, a well placed rumour or slip of the tongue got him further than any brawn to start with. He traded in information, and found that within information was power. That was what allowed him to come into his most powerful position. He had traded up in secrets until he stood over the rest with the information to destroy lives, if not nations. He stood at the pinnacle of his network, now known as the Organisation, and should have been content.

But gradually, he had become aware of a startling discovery.

Tracing back the roots of history, taken from as many of the heteromorphic species he could find, he had stumbled on the one piece of knowledge that could shatter the world. He chuckled to himself. What was once a hypothetical had now become reality all due to his careful investigation. The proof was in his grasp, all he had to do was obtain one.

The griffon ran a claw across his desk. A small amount of dust gathered on the tips of his talons. He would have to clean soon. None were allowed to be alone in his study; he didn’t even trust the maids to clean the room. He supposed the paranoia stemmed from his early brokering days, when he was always looking over his back. Now, it was below that he gazed, and he took little chance in letting anyone get close.

The loneliness sparked a brief bout of memories, which he quickly suppressed.

He had a friend, before. She was a pony of all creatures, and loyal beyond a shadow of a doubt. Only in her presence could he relax and talk candidly. No lies, no secrets, no information, no leverage. It was… pleasant and once in a while he could feel like he were back in the orphanage where they grew up, at least the happier memories. Now she was gone. It had been his fault. A chasm of debt to be repaid that he could never honour. Not because he hadn’t the means, but because of who he was.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He realised his talon had moved on its own. It usually did so when he was agitated. He slowly let go of his emotions, a spring unwinding ponderously, but still taut with energy.

It would soon be fixed. He would see to that.

He glanced at his ledger.

A choice, then.

——————————

“Unacceptable!”

Luna couldn’t keep the words to herself. It was a breach of etiquette, but she wouldn’t settle down, not for this. She could see her sister stiffen in surprise, but from the way she neither reproached her, or said anything, spoke volumes of how she felt.

“I cannot stand to see you accosted by these underhooved knaves!” Luna looked ready to fly straight out of there, regardless of the fact that there were doors or walls in the way. At this point, Luna welcomed resistance, it would feel great to smash down a wall.

Celestia cleared her throat. “We will of course, lend a hoof in this situation, but my sister—”

“Will tear down their sorry abode even if it is brick by brick!”

“—will maintain a neutral stance until we can sort this out from both sides.”

Luna whipped around. “Surely you do not mean to parlay with these fiends?! They have done unspeakable atrocities to the innocent and the young!”

Celestia response was carefully measured.

“Luna, we can’t rush into this, not with humans involved.”

Luna opened her mouth to retort instantly, but as her sister’s words sank in, she belayed her instinctual riposte.

“Alright, sister.” Luna sighed, gathering her thoughts. “But one issue is likely separated from the other. We must approach them as parts that sum to the whole.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Is that you telling me that you’ll rush over there anyway?”

“A filly, sister!”

Celestia’s stern look broke into a hapless smile. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Maybe sitting on this throne for so long has made me too much of a diplomat.” Her eyes hardened, the flinty look even sending shivers down Luna’s spine. “I don’t care for much of a group that resorts to such measures in Equestria.”

“That’s settled, then,” Luna declared, giving Raven a beaming grin.

—————————

Raven got to her hooves slowly. She didn’t know what the proper response was and stood awkwardly at the centre of focused attention. Mortimus caught her hesitating, as if trying to decide whether to bow or nod or simply stand there. Finally, she elected to do a jerky combination of all three.

Mortimus shared a glance with the rest of the ensemble.

“So you’ll help?” he ventured.

“Of course!” Luna hissed, as if shocked he would even dare to phrase it like a question.

“Yes, Princess,” Mortimus replied hastily, and bowed again for good measure.

Celestia drew her sister back by her tail, a move that was so removed from expected royal etiquette that Mortimus could only gape.

“Luna. Are you not forgetting something?”

Luna’s eyes flickered to Secant, then widened slightly as she realised. “The human.”

Secant cleared her throat. “I’m not a human.”

Celestia blinked at Secant, then shared a look with Luna, as if confirming if she heard the statement right. Luna shrugged. 

“You look like a human,” Celestia finally said.

Secant flicked a hand. “I am human right now, but I’m not human. I’m a Dweller.”

Celestia hesitated. “A Dweller?”

Secant nodded emphatically, acting like it was a fact that needed no explanation. Mortimus nudged her, not only because it was rude not to reply, but also because he wanted a more thorough explanation too. The one Secant gave when they both met was sparse to say the least and small portion he got anyway was confusing as all else.

Secant pursed her lips as she tried to think of a way of phrasing her response.

“I manage—” she stopped briefly with a slight frown “—I mean I used to manage the Records.”

Seeing no comprehension on their expressions, Secant pulled a dimly glowing piece of parchment from… her chest.

Wile’s eyes bulged as he gaped at Secant. “Where did you keep that?”

“In my personal space.” Secant drew a cotton candy out of thin air, then placed it back. Mortimus could feel his mouth pop open.

So that’s where it went.

“This is part of a Record,” she explained, waving the luminescent document excitedly. “It has the most amazing thing written on it!”

“What?” Mortimus was intensely curious. What was it that was so important to the Dweller that she had come all this way to find the human?

“I have to show this to the human. His name is David.”

Celestia was intrigued. “Can we read what it says?”

Secant clutched the parchment to her chest. “It’s very important I give it to him.”

Celestia nodded reassuringly. “I promise we will give it back quickly, would you mind letting us take a look?”

Secant hesitated, darting Mortimus a tepid glance. 

Mortimus didn’t see the harm in giving it to the Princesses. He nodded his assent. “Maybe they can help you find ‘David’?”

Secant smiled. “You always think of everything, Mortimus.” She held out the parchment to the Princess.

Celestia’s horn glowed, then immediately cut out.

“What?” she said in shock. “I can’t take the sheet.”

Luna frowned. “Let me try, sister.”

Her horn glowed, and cut out as well.

“What?” Her expression mirrored her sister’s a moment ago. She glared at Secant. “What manner of trickery is this?”

Secant immediately turned to Mortimus. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed inwardly, it was as if Secant believed he had all the answers, all the time.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you hold up the parchment so that the Princesses can see?” He paired the suggestion with a nudge of his head to her behind. Secant stumbled forward a couple of steps, then made her way to the dais somewhat nervously, and presented the partial Record.

Celestia scanned it. Then scanned it again. Finally, she sighed, and beckoned her sister to take a look.

Luna pursed her lips. “I cannot read this.”

“Neither can I.” Celestia’s brow wrinkled. “It’s in some language I’ve not come across and there are many we are fluent in. This should not be a problem.”

“But it is, sister.” Luna grew thoughtful. “Perhaps the language had been inscribed by humans? A language we would not be familiar with?”

“Perhaps it was written—”

“Written!” Secant bit her lip nervously. “Where?!”

“What?”

“No, where?”

“Nowhere? Not here?”

“Here?!” Secant whipped around.

“No, I think she means ‘who’,” Mortimus interjected.

“Who?”

“Written.”

“Where?!”

Mortimus slapped a hoof to his face. “Written, whoever that is, isn’t here!”

Secant glanced around again. “Oh.”

“Who’s Written?” Celestia was beginning to lose track of where the Dweller was jumping around.

Secant looked like her own shadow was going to eat her with the way she nervously scanned her surroundings.

“Uhh, she’s an Auditor. Looks like me, except super-old.”

“An Auditor?” Celestia frowned, though Luna’s expression suddenly cleared.

“Sister, if I may?” Luna leaned inwards and whispered into her ear. After a minute or so, Celestia straightened.

“I see. Is that why you were present here?”

“Yes, sister. I was going to explain further, but events caught up to us.”

“Indeed.” Celestia paused. “Well, one problem at a time. We will help you, Raven, so we’ll prepare for a visit to your sister. Hopefully she will still be there when we get there, if not, we’ll do everything we can, okay?”

Raven glanced at Mortimus, who nodded.

“Okay,” she answered. Her eyes glittered with hope, but for some reason, Celestia felt uneasy.

————————

Cadance had caught up with Twilight.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I’m…”

Terrible.

“…fine.”

Cadance looked like she wanted to pursue the matter, but reluctantly let it drop.

“Twilight, what are your thoughts about… all of this?”

Twilight wiped her face with a tired hoof. “Honestly, I don’t know, it’s been one rollercoaster after the other.”

Cadance nodded. “Somehow I don’t think taking a dive in Ponyville’s fountain is going to be the weirdest thing I’ll be doing.”

Twilight managed a weak laugh. “It just makes me feel strange, thinking of Nurse Redheart. I’ve never had a pony do that before, so willing to do that much to deceive and destroy.” She shivered. “I can’t believe I trusted her.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cadance said, “at least you weren’t thrown through the window of Canterlot castle.”

Twilight giggled at that. News of her brother had been waiting for them, relayed by a slightly ornery Spike, who had felt a little left out from their recent adventures. Still, the dragon wasn’t too fussed, a recent comic had been released and he was nose-deep within the covers, working his way through the whole set before starting on the new release. There was one, Twilight thought, that always had a firm gasp on his priorities.

“Now, he can stop teasing me about causing the Princess trouble. If anything happens, I’m going to bring up the fact that he hit Princess Celestia straight in the face.”

Cadance grinned. “You’d think we’d be safe in the Crystal Empire, but noooo.”

Seeing Cadance make light of the situation made Twilight breathe a little easier. “Things have a way of catching up to us, don’t they?”

“Princesses don’t catch a break, Twilight, they just get a few months before the next disaster that’ll consume the world in a thousand years of darkness comes around.” Cadance smiled, but gradually grew pensive. “It doesn’t make it easier, though.”

Twilight nodded, feeling the weight of so many lives settle on her shoulders. “At least we know it doesn’t only concern us, I’m sure we can work something out between, well, all of us.”

Cadance clicked her tongue. “We’d better decide what to do from here on out.”

Twilight made to reply, but a crash from upstairs interrupted her.

“Where did that come from?” Cadance asked, it was in a tone that belied the fact she already suspected.

Twilight sighed. “From where the humans were.”

————————

Written was still out of it and David was watching her warily. From what he gathered from the hurried exchange between Twilight and the mysterious newcomer ‘Princess Cadance’, Written wasn’t exactly human. Or at least she claimed she wasn’t. She was an ‘Auditor’, apparently a being that exists in a place called ‘the Root of All Causes’. She was one of many Auditors that were in charge of keeping Reality in check, in the cases it went awry, like he was.

It seemed like everything he wanted was coming true in such an unexpected way. As soon as the Auditor woke up, he might be able to go home. It seemed like a great prospect. The whole concept sounded crazy, but he didn’t care. It was the most concrete thing he’d be given so far in this messed up reality.

David had been left alone with Rainbow and Pinkie, who were seated awkwardly on the other side of the room. They kept an eye on him from time to time, but with no real means to communicate, they didn’t say much. David was acutely aware of the laser-like stares Rainbow was giving him. He sensed the intensity behind it, and was uncomfortable, but the anger he saw practically radiating of her body didn’t look like it was directed at him.

Rainbow didn’t look happy at all when she came back from the hospital. She shook her head, kicked a cloud out of existence and then remembered something and flew back into the hospital. When she came out, David was surprised to see his clothes and phone still intact. They were dried and recently washed as well. He left his phone off, as it wasn’t useful and it would only waste power. He had a feeling there wouldn’t be a charging station anywhere around anyway.

When David asked Twilight where he could change his clothes, she had blinked dumbly back at him for a few moments. When he explained that it was a bit embarrassing for him to be changing out in the open, what with certain parts dangling about, Twilight was caught up in his self-consciousness and was amusingly mortified. They decided to move back to the castle in order to figure out what to do next. He got changed in their bathroom, at least he thought it was a bathroom, some of the facilities had looked unfamiliar, then was assigned watch over the sleeping Auditor.

Rainbow and Pinkie joined him shortly thereafter, but most of this took part in silence.

“Bleurgh.”

David never thought he’d be grateful to hear such a sound.

“Hello?” he tried. How do you greet a sobering lady? He’d never really had the opportunity.

“Argh, my mortal container is screaming so loud, how do you make it stop?” Written squeezed her eyes shut and moaned. “Oooh talking makes it worse, I should st—” True to her words, she stopped mid-word.

“Do you know where you are?” David asked mildly.

“In the Crystal Empire,” Written replied. She blinked blearily for a few seconds, then something seemed to sink in. Her eyes flew open.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, shooting bolt up-right in the bed and saluting David.

“Uhhh…” David trailed off.

Written shook her head. Then glanced back at David and then slapped her cheeks a few times. In her state, she apparently confused him with someone else.

“You’re the human, aren’t you?”

“Ye-es.” David didn’t know why he dragged out the affirmation, it wasn’t as if denying it would get him anywhere.

Written sighed in relief. Then she glared at him suspiciously. 

“You’re speaking in the Salient Script, how are you doing that?”

“What? The Salient Script? What’s that?”

“It’s the Author’s language—” Written wiped her face “—never mind, it isn’t relevant to you. I need to get you back where you belong.”

She looked around. “Where’s my staff?” she demanded belligerently.

David gestured to her. Written looked at her hand. Her staff was in it.

“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.”

David nodded, he was too nervous to comment.

“Alright.” Written mumbled something again and pointed the staff at David.

Rainbow leapt in front of David and said something.

Written blinked at Rainbow. “What? No. I’m sending him back to his world.”

Rainbow wrinkled in confusion and said something back.

“Yes, well, I think he would like to return as soon as possible.”

Rainbow turned to David, her eyes locking with his.

“Uhh…” He didn’t know why he was hesitating. This was what he wanted, right? To go home?

“I don’t belong here,” he said. “I…”

Where did he belong, exactly? Was it in the boring repetition of his predictable job? Was it in the safe environment filled with people he knew, and the constant flow of humanity? Was it in his cheap, cramped apartment close to the airport where he merely thought it a convenience for work? When did he start believing that was the place he wanted to return to?

Written brought him out of his reverie with a light tap of her staff. Her voice, if anything, was gentle.

“You shouldn’t be here, there is little joy in being different. Learn to accept your fate.”

Rainbow shouted something angrily at Written. Pinkie joined in and added in her piece, with the same fierce expression. Though he couldn’t understand them, he knew that for some reason, they were defending him.

Against what?

His thoughts dissolved in emotional turmoil.

“Enough.” Written’s words cut sharply through the noise of their protests. With a chilling glare, she appraised both ponies, then she returned her attention to David. “Do you have any defence that you would like to put forward so that you may stay?”

David clenched his fists, wracking his brains for a reason to reject Written. Hyaline needed a human, Twilight had mentioned her academic interest, and he had yet to thank and repay the kind ponies that had originally saved his life. But with one word he could be away from all this craziness, this magical world that was filled to the brim of death defying danger and the deep unknown. He could be back to his old life. Where everything, apart from his clumsy old self, moved like clockwork.

“I want to stay,” he finally said. “Some of them need me. I don’t know why, but they do. Until I finish what I started, I can’t go back home.”

Written was silent for a moment.

“Denied.”

Her staff struck the floor.

Nothing happened for the second time.

Written couldn’t believe it.

David heaved a sigh of relief.

A flash of annoyance was visibly suppressed. Written stared down David as if to admonish a troublesome child, though David glared back. It wasn’t his fault her stupid—whatever it is she was doing—didn’t work. 

“That’s impossible,” she muttered with a choked growl and gritted teeth. “It’s supposed to take you back.”

“Well it didn’t,” David shot back irritably. “Maybe I shouldn’t be taken back. Or maybe you should tell me why you’re so desperate to have me back in my world.”

Written glared at David. “You’re so adamant in your position, because you see things only in your limited world. This is an issue that expands beyond your narrow cone of reality. Your actions have an impact, no matter how small.” She sank back in her chair, looking tired beyond belief. “I have been doing this job for millennia. Longer than you or any creature of this world would know.”

David crossed his arms, refusing to budge.

“Fine, you want an explanation? Will that drill into your immature little mortal mind the importance of what I do? What it means to be an Auditor?” Written waved her staff. A brilliant point of light inscribed itself into the ceiling. From it, the glowing point branched out in a web-like pattern, growing along the plane of the ceiling and fading slightly towards the edges. Written tapped the staff on the ground again, sending a small sparkling cloud to surround the central point.

“Long ago, there was the centre of Reality. In it was the Root of all Causes, a vast structure that held the Author of all Things, a being of immense power that resided in her office on the highest point in the tower—”

“—The Author?” David interrupted. “What, like—”

Written shrugged. “That’s not a question I care to answer, nor is it relevant. All you need to know is that she exists and lives in that tower.” She glared at David. “Can I continue?” David sighed and nodded.

“Good,” Written replied wryly. She gestured to the point, and it grew, morphing into an immense structure that seemed to be composed of many strands braided together, like the thick trunk of an ancient tree. They formed two strands that twisted together, held in place with intervening platforms stretching up into the ceiling. It reminded David of DNA, the way the helical strands stretched high above. 

“Here is the Root. At first, nothing of much note occurred, the Author was content on being alone, and reflective. But eventually she tired of the static nature around her, and decided to create stories. From a small spark spawned a Reality. Realities of finite time teeming with finite life that would amuse and entertain with their maddening rush to compete against adversity… at least until their end. From this, the Author learned of both mortality and morality. She delighted in the antics of her creation, a self-replicating endless source of amusement.

“The Author took it upon herself to interfere with her creations, as her creations would often tempt her to dabble in their Realities. However, the Author did not anticipate the effect of a powerful being such as herself appearing in the fragile Realities, being able to create and destroy at whim. She found that in doing so, it would damage the fabric of Reality, causing rifts to appear. If these Realities weren’t corrected and the displaced restored back to their Reality, stories would bleed into each other causing chaos, upheaval, and the violation of the Laws of Nature within these Realities. This would often result in the extinction of both Realities.” 

Written paused here, locking eyes with David. “I believe you’ve fallen into one of these rifts.”

“The damage the Author had done was like cancer, it spread throughout the network of Realities, destroying everything the Author had created. Desperate to fix the problem, the Author decided two things were required. One, that she no longer interfered with Reality itself, instead recording Reality into the Registry of Mortals and secluding herself in the Root for all time until Realities were extinguished. Two, Auditors to help manage and maintain Reality. Their task was to correct Reality and prevent a catastrophe that will end in the extinction of all Realities and thus life itself.”

As Written finished her story, she glared at the ponies and David in turn.

“So, knowing all this, would you still refuse?”

————————

“This is my home,” Raven announced, looking a little sheepish to be in the centre of attention.

It was a quiet affair, tucked in between two townhouses that overlooked a quiet street. Raven bit her lip and strode forward, knocking on the door. When there was no reply, she cast a nervous look to Mortimus, who shared her rising unease.

Raven tried the knob… and found it unlocked. Rushing inside, she called out.

“Silkie? Silkie?!”

There was no reply.

“Here!” Mortimus called out, pointing to a piece of parchment fixed to the table with a knife. He prised off the knife and handed the parchment to Raven.

“To Raven and her associates,” Raven began, reading out loud the contents. “You are cordially invited to my residence, at the Grand Residential Manor on the edge of Hoofer’s road. You may bring whomever you wish. Signed, Gale.”

“Gale?!” Wile spluttered. “You mean the boss who runs the whole thing?!”

“Oh we’re in trouble,” Swiper muttered. He glanced guiltily in Raven’s direction. “Sorry.”

Raven sighed. “I guess I’ll have to go.”

Mortimus smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll come with you, you won’t be alone.”

Luna swept Raven up in a winged hug. “Don’t worry child, we shall see to it that your sister is returned.”

Raven nodded, too choked up to say anything. She just wanted it to end.

————————

Mortimus didn’t know what he had been expecting. Perhaps a run-down little shack, or some cramped accomodation that was unfit for pony-living, or maybe a grim-looking prison-house. He admittedly had let his imagination run wild.

The grandiose mansion looked startlingly impressive. Behind the small brick walls was a well-tended garden, with trimmed hedges of various animals from leopards to rhinos, and a beautiful babbling creek that ran between the hedge figures in a winding pattern, skirting around a central path leading up to impressive double-doors.

Secant was wide eyed and busy tailed, gasping and pointing out things here and there. Her reactions faded into the background, with Mortimus merely shrugging and nodding where appropriate. Raven’s gang walked in silence, looking increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment, more so than when they were visiting the Princess. With the way they were walking, mostly hunched, they looked like the sky was about to fall on them. Raven took the lead, stepping forward with confident steps, tinged with a shade of anxiety that Mortimus could see she was desperate to hide.

In contrast, the Princesses, trailing behind, took in the surroundings with opposing expressions. Celestia kept a fairly neutral indifference, whilst Luna looked surprised that the faceless being she cursed would live in something so beautiful. Or at least, that’s what Mortimus gathered from the way Luna grudgingly acknowledged the signs and kept to the path, though on occasion she would kick a loose stone into the pond, looking equally satisfied and guilty.

As they approached the doors of the mansion, it opened, and a wiry-looking pony stood there with a placid expression, as if they had been invited. Raven’s gang took a step back in surprise, but the pony ignored them, instead turning to the Princesses. He bowed slightly, his fine suit crinkling slightly as he did so.

“Good afternoon, my name is Hardline. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Hardline straightened his tie and ran a hoof through his slicked back mane. His expression was haughty, despite the polite-sounding ‘welcome’. 

“Certainly,” Celestia continued smoothly before anyone could react. “We would certainly like to meet your superior.”

Hardline’s eyes flashed in anger for a moment, but it was so fleeting that Mortimus swore it was never there in the first place.

“He will be with you in a moment. I will fetch him. Meanwhile, would you like anything to eat or drink?”

Celestia politely declined, and Hardline ignored the rest of the group, heading up the stairs. They all took a seat around an expansive table, surrounded by finery and art.

“My sister is in one of the rooms here,” Raven said, glancing around. “I can feel it.”

“She might not be, let’s keep our eyes open,” Mortimus warned.

Raven nodded.

They were interrupted by a side-chamber door opening. A towering griffon stood in the entrance, feathers white with the tips tinged in slight golden hues when the light struck in the right places. He glided more than walked, taking a place at the head of the table and nodding to the princesses, but now bowing.

“I am Gale, the leader of the Organisation,” he declared, “I’m sure you have questions.”

Luna shot up. “I don’t have a question. I have a demand. Let her sister go!”

Despite Luna’s inflammatory remark, Gale remained unmoved.

“Hardline?”

The pony was immediately at his side. “Yes, sir.”

“The papers.”

Shortly thereafter papers appeared in the grasp of his talons. Gale waved the papers, then placed them in front of the Princesses.

“These are guardianship papers,” he said. “I am their legal guardian. It was signed by their dead parents.” He raised a feathery brow. “Curious, isn’t it?”

Luna tossed her head, she didn’t even glance down. “Forged. They couldn’t be real.”

Gale sighed. “Why are you so adamant in taking Raven’s sister away? I can understand if Raven wanted to move away, but why her sister? She’s happy here.”

“Then why can’t we see her?” Luna pressed. When Gale said nothing, she grinned in triumph. “See? Now—”

“These are genuine,” Celestia said. Luna twitched in surprise and leaned in to whisper something to her sister. Celestia nodded and Luna looked shocked.

Gale was unruffled. “Of course they are.”

“Don’t talk about it like I’m not here.”

The voice came from a filly standing by the door. Her wavy two-toned mane swept back as she stared them down.

“Raven, why do you have to make things so difficult?”

Raven’s mouth popped open. She looked like she’d been slapped across the face. 

“Silkie, this isn’t our home.”

“It is. And just because you don’t care to abide by our new father’s rules, doesn’t mean—”

“He’s not our father!” Raven pounded the table. “And this isn’t where we belong! How could you say that? After all we’ve done! I don’t want to do all that we’ve been doing.”

Silkie tossed her head. “You’re such a drama queen about it. What’s wrong with an improvement here and there? So what if we have to do a couple of things? It’s worth it.”

Gale waved a claw. “That was my fault. I let Hardline get carried away. Though loyal, he is only loyal to me, he sees anyone else as expendable, even though it is not true. Isn’t that right, Hardline?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wouldn’t force you two to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. At first I thought to leave you two to your own devices, but I learned that you’ve been doing more than that.” His face affected a pained expression, but it looked out of place, as if he wasn’t used to that emotion at all. 

“I should have known,” he continued mildly, “but now that I do, I’ll make sure it never happens again.” Gale gave her a stilted smile. “In any case, bringing the Princesses here as well as the human, well done, Raven.”

Raven frowned. “I didn’t do it for you.”

Gale shrugged. “You’re just like your mother, such a rigid moral compass.” When Raven gaped at him, he shrugged. “I suppose she didn’t mention it, but your mother and I go very far back. She used to work for me. I’ve told your sister all about it, so she knows the truth.” Silkie nodded behind Gale.

“W-What?” Raven shrank back. “What was she doing for you?”

Gale didn’t look inclined to answer with the way he glanced at the present company. He turned to the Princesses. “I’m sorry you’ve made the trip all the way out here all for nothing, but I think it would be best for you to leave. This is a private matter.”

Celestia stared at the griffon. “How incredibly rude, dismissing two princesses like that.”

Gale bobbed his head. “Perhaps, but this concerns Raven, Silkie and I, I would like to keep it within the family, as it were.”

Celestia sighed. “Let’s skip through the dance with diplomacy, I’ve had enough of that in the Courts. You strike me as a characterful griffon, tell me, what do you know about humans?”

Gale’s eyes glinted as he leaned forward. “I’m an information broker, Princess, any information you want from me must be paid in full.” He leaned back. “Though I’m not averse to doing whatever is necessary to obtain it, and so are my subordinates.” He glanced sidelong at Raven. “…If they are so willing.”

“So you don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong?” Celestia queried mildly. She raised an eyebrow.

Gale tapped the table with a talon. “Right or wrong? Good and evil? Black and white? Order and chaos? It’s always these two extremes. Have I done something that could be considered ‘wrong’? Certainly. Do I regret it? That’s another question entirely. I haven’t done anything wrong so far in the eyes of the law. I’ve merely been gathering information. Now if my subordinates caused you trouble… well… that would be a different matter. I did take the opportunity to invite you here to see for yourself.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “The note was stabbed through with a knife.”

Gale laughed. “Theatrics, Hardline likes to get ahead of himself, don’t you?”

Hardline stood impassively. “Yes, sir.”

“See?” Gale waved away the issue with his claw. “But you’ve asked about the human. How much do you want to know?”

“What are they? Why are they here?”

Gale tapped a claw on the table. “First off, I want to get this out of the way.” He turned to Raven. “You don’t want to be here, despite your sister, despite the wealth, the lifestyle, all because of what you think of me and the Organisation I run?”

Raven hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “I don’t want my sister to be here, but if she doesn’t want to go—”

“—I don’t want to go,” Silkie interjected firmly.

“—Then I guess that’s her decision.”

“And what’s yours?” Gale asked. “What’s your alternative?”

“I…” Raven trailed off, fuming that she couldn’t think of anything.

“Just come here,” Silkie insisted, her immutable confidence tilting slightly. “We don’t have to answer to anypony but ourselves, and father. We can be free.”

Raven glanced around. Sure there were riches, sure there was power, but freedom? Silkie was only deluding herself, she was sure of it.

“You can’t stay here,” Raven pressed. “It’s poison. Mother said—”

“I don’t care what Mom said!” Silkie snapped. “She’s not here anymore. Gale is. And he knows stuff! You’re just too bull-headed to see that.”

“Silkie, you know that—”

“You always have my best interests, is that it?” She snorted. “You’re being selfish this time. You just can’t see the bigger picture. If you talked to Gale—father—you’d know.”

“Silkie—”

“Make a choice, Raven.”

“What other choice do you have, Raven?” Gale said, his claw tapped the table in a regular rhythm, the habit reminding her of the slow beat of the heart. Her own was pumping furiously. “I’ve got guardianship of you. Where will you go?”

“I’ll just go…”

“So, that’s it? You don’t wish to be here so you’ll run away? Perhaps you’ll try Equestria’s Social Services?” He leaned in. “And we all know how that went.” Gale leaned back. “Here, you have the opportunity to live as you wish. You needn’t concern yourself with the seedier side of life, you can just be here, carefree. Tempting, no? And if you want to avail yourself to the Organisation, we offer what we offer anyone. Money for service, what anyone would desire.”

“You are on the grey edges of the Law, as I recall,” Celestia remarked. “You’re borderline illegal.”

“Grey being ambiguously defined, and what of it? If some can’t pay on time, we give them a little ‘encouragement’. If we seek information that could tip the scales in our favour, why not? And what of information that could revolutionise the world? What would you do with information like that?”

Celestia’s answer was immediate. “Put it to the benefit of everypony, of course.”

Gale chuckled. “Are you a slave to your ponies, then? Do you do everything to their beck and call and hope they will make something of themselves if only they tried?” Gale’s face wrinkled in disgust. “That’s not living, that’s being parasitic.”

“And exploiting others isn’t?” Luna shot back. “Taking advantage of the many to please the few seems hardly the better alternative.”

“If you do not like being the many, consider becoming the few,” Gale replied. He gestured to Silkie. “She’s made her choice. What about you?” His question was directed at Raven.

“I… don’t want to be a part of this,” she said. “I’ll take my chances out there.”

Gale sighed. “I’m so disappointed in you, Raven. I guess this is for the best.” Gale shifted his attention to Secant. “What about you, Dweller? What are you in the flow of life? Drifter or seeker?”

Secant looked at Gale as if he were an interesting morsel of food. “Nothing that concerns you, fake-Auditor.”

For the first time since meeting them, Gale looked surprised. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Secant frowned. “Something about you tells me you’re one of them, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

The griffon nodded, getting up from the table. “Order, when there is Chaos. That’s what an Auditor does. I have spent years tracing back the roots of history to reveal the very nature of our reality.” He fixed Luna and Celestia a look. “But you two would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Celestia said evenly.

“No, I suppose not. You, like the others, have been fooled into thinking that you are inhabitants of this world. When you live so long in a mortal container that you eventually forget that you are something so much more.” His wings stretched out as he ran a claw through them, stroking them. “There are so many races here in Equestria. All a mix and match of beings jumbled all in one place, but do you know? They all came from one source?” He gestured at Secant. “You should know, you came from it.”

Gale licked his beak. “Ah when Reality collapses, there can only be one force to prevent it! The Auditors, who have all but disappeared, leaving behind an inheritance to their descendants. Only those who know can truly appreciate—and utilise—their legacy.” Gale tapped his chest. “And we know.” He turned to Raven. “Still think you picked the right side?”

Raven said nothing as Gale smiled wider. “Well, I think this will be all confusing to you, you who are ignorant of the true nature of the world. I pity you, you who will not know of the impact of the right mistake, at the wrong time.” He flicked a claw. “Unfortunately, the human you have brought was not a real human. She is not the one we’re looking for. You may go, all of you.”

“You can’t think that we’ll just leave after you have told us so much,” Luna spluttered incredulously. “If what you say is true—”

“Then what? You’ll arrest me? What wrongs have I committed right now?” Gale held up his claws. “If I have done a single crime that you could arrest me for then do so, otherwise I would kindly ask you all to leave. Silkie and I have much to discuss with Hardline. And it will concern the future of everyone. But for you, you will be the footnotes of a discarded history.”

Hardline gestured for them to leave.

Luna stood her ground, but Celestia touched her on the shoulder, lightly shaking her head.

“We can do nothing here,” she said, glancing at Gale, “but we will return.”

“I look forward to it, Princess.” He chuckled wryly as they left. “I’ve always found it poetic that alicorns would show up near the end of the world.”