> To Serve In Hell
>  by CoffeeMinion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Book 1: Hell Awaits
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Princess Celestia rested her hooves on the railing of her high balcony, and watched as shadows from the setting sun rushed to overtake Canterlot. She didn't move as hoofsteps approached from behind and a pony cleared their throat.

“Princess,” said the low, rumbling voice of her advisor, Kibitz. “You should get some rest. We’ll need to be up early for the Summer Sun Celebration.”

“Of course,” Celestia said, though she didn't turn. “Tell me, Kibitz, do you remember Sunset Shimmer?”

Kibitz harrumphed. “I do indeed.”

“I know that she was… troubled. I’ve never met a pony so voracious for knowledge and power. But I hoped that Harmony itself could sate her, if she came to know it better… and that she, in turn, might help me wake it from its slumber.”

“Slumber, Princess?”

Celestia sighed. “The time grows short. Regret does little good. And yet, the day ahead is one I hoped I wouldn’t have to face alone.”

“But Princess, you won't be! You and I will be together, celebrating, along with all of Ponyville.”

Celestia watched as the sun fell below the horizon. The stars nearest the mare-marked moon shone brightly.

“No,” she said. “I want you to remain in Canterlot. I have instructions that you must deliver to my nephew if the sun is late in rising. But if it should come to that… have the mirror smashed. Immediately.”


> Chapter 1: Dark Visitations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity felt a renewed stab of craving as she strode the shadowed halls of Nightmare Moon's castle. The sounds of laughter echoed from behind, for the Mistress herself was taunting the new prey that had appeared.

Either an Alicorn or an untamed dragon would have been worthy specimens in their own right. But Rarity hoped that together, they might keep the Mistress entertained long enough to let her pay a visit that she’d been forced to postpone beyond what she could bear.

She took a turn that led her past the kitchens. It was only a few moments’ work to gather a small bag of oats, and to fill two vials full of oil and milk, respectively. She slipped them into discreet pockets that she'd sewn within her vest. None dared question her, though a few of the less savvy members of the kitchen staff made it clear that they had noticed.

Rarity made a mental note to deal with them later, and to prevail upon Redheart not to ask her to do this again—despite how greatly she longed to do it. But soon she was on her way.

Her stomach clenched with fear as she approached one of the castle's central intersections. Several bat-winged guards pranced nervously at each entrance to the high-ceilinged chamber, and a few began to tread in her direction. Not sure why they were so on-edge, and not wanting to linger to find out, she raised a hoof and removed the large, heavy, rune-carved keyring that normally stayed tucked within her vest. At the mere sight of it, the guards stepped back and dropped into a short bow, letting her pass. She turned left down one of the passageways, heading toward a section of the castle that she only entered on occasion.

Rarity lit her horn as she approached a heavy iron door flanked by another pair of bat-winged guards in full armor. They exchanged brief nods before Rarity selected one of the keys and slid it into the lock. There was an angry squeal of metal on metal as she turned the key. The door juddered and screeched as she fought to pull it open, and the guards winced at the sound.

The door had done the same thing the last time she'd been down there. Rarity frowned at the realization that nopony had heeded her orders to have the door oiled.

Behind the door was a spiral staircase, leading down. It was lit only by the occasional torch. Rarity began counting off each of the two hundred stone steps separating herself from the bottom.

The sense of urgency that clawed at her grew stronger with each step. By the time she reached the dirt floor of the subterranean passage at the bottom of the stairs, Rarity was panting, and not solely from exertion. She paused, set a hoof against the wall, and breathed.

Control yourself, she recited in her mind. You must be strong enough to face the darkness…

Her vision cleared after a time, revealing only gloom beyond the thin pool of light cast by the bottom-most torch. Rarity sighed, gripped the torch in her magic, and began the long walk down the umbral corridor.

It took effort not to focus on a sound of hooves against dirt to her left. It took greater effort to ignore a faint sound of clinking chains to her right. Gradually, more and more sounds lashed her with their tale of unmet needs: a cough, a gasp, a thin murmur in which the word “food” could be heard more than once. Yet still she plodded forward, heeding the insistent call of her own need.

Another heavy door awaited Rarity at the end of the long line of cells. She reached into her vest and brought out another key; this one was older and weightier, yet it was free from the heavy keyring. Rarity drew a long breath, steeling herself for what lay on the other side. Then shen thrust the key into the keyhole, and turned.

As always, this door opened with little more than a swish of air.

The room beyond was fetid and cramped. Rarity could hear faint drips of water and the sound of labored breathing. She raised the torch, casting a livid glow upon what seemed to be a mangy-coated, mane-less, living skeleton. It hung suspended from the ceiling by long chains that led to manacles around its forehooves. Its flesh was taut against its bones. The only sign of life it betrayed was the heavy rise and fall of breath within its torso.

Rarity stepped inside and slid the door closed. Still the creature hung in slumber.

“Zecora,” Rarity whispered.

Zecora’s head lolled slowly for a moment before her eyelids fluttered upward. She squinted, struggling to focus in the bright torchlight. Then her dry lips opened. “Hello… Seneschal Rarity,” she wheezed. “I'm glad… you've come… to visit me.”

Rarity's forehooves shook as she retrieved the vials and the bag of oats from her vest. “Redheart was sorry she couldn’t come sooner… as am I. It has been difficult to get away.”

Zecora made a sound that might have passed for chuckling. “Then you have not… found others… who can help? You must… leave comfort… and come down yourself?”

Rarity looked away from Zecora's sunken eyes. “I would not say this is a life of 'comfort.' I must remain useful, first and foremost.”

“I beg of you, forgive me, child. The pain and hunger… make me wild. But come, and lean your head in near; I’ll speak what you hunger to hear.”

Rarity took a steadying breath, then stepped close to Zecora. She shivered as dry lips brushed her ear.

“This world… is an anomaly,” the zebra breathed. “I know… it simply… shouldn't be.”

Rarity shuddered. “Tell me again… how can you be sure?”

“It’s something that… zebras can feel. But take heart, for my thoughts… are real. Foul Nightmare Moon should not control… our bodies, minds, or hearts, or souls.”

Rarity closed her eyes, feeling her pulse quicken as a sense of euphoric hope washed over her. “It still seems but a fantasy to think the world could be as it was again, before the Mistress came.”

She opened her eyes and found Zecora's face pressed uncomfortably close to her own. “It can be if you will take action, child… to fight to remake what she has defiled.”

Rarity stiffened. “I am just one pony. What can I do that whole armies, or the Wonderbolts, or even…” she paused, continuing in hushed tones: “the Princess could not?”

Zecora's limbs went slack again. “You must survive. I understand. You’ve made your place within this land. You share the things that pad your cell, but ask your heart…” She coughed, then took a heavy, ragged breath. “…if it should serve in heaven… or rule in hell?”

Rarity tightened her lips, then raised the bag of food and vials of liquid in her magic. She poured the oil into the oat bag, and proffered it to Zecora. “Hush now; I do not rule. Much as it might please the Mistress to allow me certain privileges, nothing that I have is my own.”

Zecora bent down and worked her muzzle into the oats. She spent long moments chewing. Rarity scratched at the ground as she waited, hoping that the Mistress would indeed stay busy dealing with the newcomers.

An Alicorn and a dragon, appearing out of nowhere. What could it mean?

At length, Zecora brought her face out of the bag. Rarity lowered it, then raised the vial of milk and held it steady as the zebra took slow sips.

When she was finished, Zecora almost seemed to relax. “Thank you for a bit more life, dear Rarity. I hope my words will give you clarity.”

Rarity hesitated. “And thank you for sharing your… vision of hope. Even if it is only a vision.”

“My vision can become reality. All that you need is great temerity.”

With a sigh, Rarity opened the door again. “Rest well, Zecora. I… will see you again, as soon as I am able.”

She stepped through the door, closed it, and locked it.

As she turned to set off toward the spiral staircase, Rarity stopped short. Far away, against the distant backdrop of dim light, she spotted a pony's silhouette.

“Well, well. Fancy meeting you here,” said the pony in a high but masculine voice.

Rarity swallowed. “H… hello,” she stammered, squinting, trying to make out who it was.

The figure shook its head, revealing the suggestion of a densely curled mane; but all their other details were obscured. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart. Your mistress would be… most displeased.”

She raised the torch. “Who are you? In the Mistress’ name, I order you to—”

The pony laughed. It started slow and menacing, but soon grew high and manic before cutting off abruptly.

A chilling silence hung between them.

“Change is in the air,” the pony added, turning back toward the spiral staircase. “The Alicorn and dragon have not gone unnoticed.”

Rarity blinked. “What do you know about them?”

The pony—who Rarity felt increasingly sure was a stallion—shook his head and started up the stairs. “Better skedaddle; ol’ Moonbutt might get back before you know it. But think about what your friend there told you… and don’t forget to check your mail. You never know what fun things might turn up!”

She watched him ascend, and felt herself shiver in the underground air as she listened to his hooffalls on the stone stairs. But after a moment, they halted, as if he was awaiting her.

Or as if he'd simply disappeared.

Rarity’s shivering grew more pronounced as she waited. And yet, even amid the uncertainty that stabbed at her, she felt that its cause was more than simple fear, and certainly more than the dungeon’s perpetual chill.

She shivered, for she dared to feel that hope might once again be possible.
> Chapter 2: The Letter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door let out another horrid squeal as Rarity emerged from the dungeons below. She paused, glancing at the pair of armored thestrals standing guard on either side.

The guards eyed her warily.

Despite her apprehension, Rarity felt a strong desire to be sure. “Did anypony follow me down into the dungeon?”

The guards looked at each other, then at Rarity. “No, Madam Seneschal.”

Rarity frowned. She knew it should be impossible to open the door without drawing attention. And she’d already used her magic to delve for signs of life as she ascended the stairs. Her horn lit again, and she tried delving instead for any lingering signatures of teleportation magic, but none were apparent.

“Of course not,” she said, before affecting a demure smile. “My apologies; I fear sometimes I still get jumpy in the dark.”

The guards murmured noncommittally, and Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. The shadowy stallion hadn’t been careful about who might’ve heard his words, and it was all too easy for Rarity to fear the rise of intrigue among guards and prisoners alike.

But the guards made no moves to stop her, and indeed seemed preoccupied with something else. Rarity feigned taking a moment to ensure her mane was still in an orderly bun. Meanwhile, she kept her eyes fixed on the frowning, occasionally wincing faces of the guards. Though she had little practical knowledge of the rumored link between thestrals and the Mistress who had remade them, she pondered whether the facial tics might be caused by some sort of sympathetic feedback.

That, in turn, brought forth new apprehension at the stallion’s words: don’t forget to check your mail. The place where she most commonly received mail was her office. She kept it locked when she was away, as there were indeed times when her correspondence was of an illicit nature. She felt her hackles rise at the prospect of having to answer questions about what he might’ve left, if somepony else got to it first.

And so she set off toward her chambers with a practiced stride that allowed for maximum speed without betraying the appearance of haste. As she walked, she fought to keep her pulse steady by dwelling on the purely mundane things that ought otherwise be keeping her occupied: “Check on the order from Lord Rich,” she muttered quietly. “Review the new freight contract from the Governor.” She paused to frown at a ragged tapestry hanging between a pair of high-set windows. “Ugh. Replace the decor in the southeast wing…”

Her gaze drifted past one of the windows, where the moon hung languid in the long night’s sky.

An old, familiar discomfort gnawed at her, and she allowed herself a moment of base envy for ponies who’d adapted to life without the cycle of night and day. Many would steal sleep whenever possible, and most seemed willing to accept the time as being whatever the castle’s clocks told them.

“This world is an anomaly,” she whispered, echoing Zecora.

As if in reply, she heard the distant sounds of heavy hooffalls and clinking metal armor. Rarity moved off to the side of the corridor, giving a wide berth to the cluster of guards who came trotting by. Again her heart leapt in her throat as she considered that they might be looking for some kind of interloper, which might ultimately reflect back on her. But again, none made a move toward her, hostile or otherwise.

Much as the desire to reach her chambers still stabbed at her, Rarity felt a growing curiosity about the thestrals’ movement. And about the tension that seemed evident in the faces of the guards from earlier.

Fortunately, she knew one thestral who might be willing to speak openly about it.

Rarity took another corner and set off toward the barracks, which wasn’t far from the dungeons. Twice again along her way, though, she found herself compelled to press against the wall as yet more armored thestrals clomped and clanked their way past her.

Soon, she approached the barracks’ heavy wooden door. A small group of guards milled about, engaging in hushed conversation. They gave Rarity only cursory glances as she passed.

The room beyond was large, open, and quite sparsely populated—likely due to all the troops being on the move elsewhere. Tall windows bathed the room’s many weapon racks, armor stands, and practice dummies in pale moonlight. Long perches hung suspended from the ceiling, for while thestrals didn’t need sleep, some did indulge in it regardless. At least, those who didn’t use the high vantage points to keep tabs on training regimens of potential rivals.

“Where are you hiding?” Rarity muttered, seeing only a few ponies perched above. She at least was one who still favored sleep…

Rarity’s eyes drifted down to another possibility: a set of doors off to one side of the great room. She tisked, then headed toward an unadorned desk just in front of the doors. Ordinarily it was staffed by a humorless log-keeper who maintained order among those reserving space for more private activities, but even he was absent. Rarity craned her neck to have a look at the open logbook’s most recent entries, expecting to find…

“R.D., number four,” she muttered, frowning at the closed door nearest her. She paused, and listened, hating herself for the indiscretion, but wanting to be certain her quarry was unaccompanied.

After several moments of silence, Rarity cleared her throat and knocked. “Sergeant Dash?”

Rarity heard a scratchy voice from the other side of the door: “Aw, c’mon, Rares! I’m trying to relax in here!“

Rarity stiffened. “It might behoove us to address each other by our titles, Sergeant.”

“All right, Sene-scharity.” She heard hooves moving across the floor, then the sound of a chain-lock being undone. Finally the door creaked open a few hoof-lengths, revealing Rainbow Dash’s bright cerise eyes and the faint outline of her bat-winged frame. “Look, can we get on with this? You probably wanna know where everypony’s going, right?”

“I do,” Rarity breathed. “I trust it has something to do with today’s visitors?”

Dash sighed. “Look, I wouldn’t do this for most ponies, but for old times’ sake, I’ll give you a heads-up: you might want to make yourself scarce for a while. The Mistress isn’t happy.”

Rarity felt a strong jolt of adrenaline at Dash’s warning. She all but trembled with concern about the nature of the Mistress’ displeasure. “Well, I honestly can’t think of the last time that I saw her happy, per se…”

“Yeah, but this time’s different. That Alicorn and dragon she took out into the ruins of Ponyville? They got away.”

An odd admixture of feelings roiled in Rarity’s gut. On the one hoof, she felt immediate relief at not being the clear focus of the Mistress’ ire. But on the other hoof, she knew Dash better than to think she’d yet heard the complete story. “What do you mean, Sergeant? What else aren’t you telling me?”

The thestral rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna pretend to understand everything that happened out there, but the Alicorn cast some kinda spell. I think the Mistress thought they’d teleported far away, and she got pretty mad… but then we ran into some ponies who swore up one side and down the other that they’d spotted them fleeing toward the northwestern hills.”

“I see.” Rarity swallowed, uncertain where to begin asking questions. “And now she’s summoning her forces to go after them?”

Dash shrugged a membranous bat-wing. “Yeah, probably. I mean, once she started cracking heads, I kinda pulled rank, dumped most of the blame on the newer guys, and got my butt outta there.”

Rarity tut-tutted. “How unbecoming of a loyal soldier.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things don’t go the way you think they will! But I was out there; I saw what that Alicorn could do. The Mistress might think it’s a good idea to send everypony out to search for her, but I think I’m better off here on the home front.”

Rarity bit her lip as she recalled the figure in the dungeon. “Sergeant, these intruders… are you certain there were only two of them?”

“I guess. I mean, you only saw the two of them, right?”

Before Rarity could answer, a high, sophisticated mare’s voice from behind caused her blood to freeze: “Why, pins and poisons, if it isn’t the castle’s Seneschal, fraternizing with a mere guardspony? I would’ve thought it beneath a pony of your station to engage in such impropriety, were I not already sure that you were up to no good.”

Rarity turned to see Sassy Saddles move into a pool of moonlight from the window above. She was a willowy unicorn of pale greyish-blue, with a long horn, orange eyes, and a cascading amber mane. She was bedecked in an elegant yet menacing suit of black studded-leather armor.

Genuine leather.

As always, Rarity struggled to tear her eyes away from it. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Overseer Saddles?”

Sassy gave her an imperious gaze beneath an upturned eyebrow. “Seneschal, I take no ‘pleasure’ in what must be done now. I would rather have been wrong about you. I want you to know this… need you to know this. But I fear that I was right all along, and I must now fulfill my sworn duty.”

Rarity fought down a growing dread at the implications in Sassy’s words. “Overseer, I assure you, any appearance of impropriety by my being alone with Sergeant Dash is much more sensational than its reality.”

Sassy wrinkled her muzzle, and her horn began to glow pale yellow. She levitated a small white envelope out from a gap in her armor. “That specific impropriety is dwarfed by what I’ve found. Now, is there anything that you wish to confess before I do what must be done with this?”

The pumping of Rarity’s blood grew fast and intense as she noted the envelope’s broken wax seal. Her mind leapt back to the shadowy stallion’s insinuation that she might have received some kind of message…

“What does it contain?” Rarity asked in hushed tones.

The Overseer bristled. “As if you’re not aware? As if now, with proof-positive of your connections to these sun-worshippers in my very hooves, you would still think to deflect my inquiries?”

Rarity made a small choking sound. She eyed the letter’s seal amid her best affectation of nonchalance, though her true purpose was to suss out whether it bore the seal of somepony she corresponded with.

Sassy’s eyes narrowed further. “Why, garrotes and garters, Seneschal; you look as if somepony has trotted over your grave.”

“I’m simply disturbed to hear there is another offender.” Rarity took a breath. “I assure you, it is not me. However, if somepony was trying to contact me anonymously… perhaps this information will point us toward the true offender? Given my position as Seneschal, it would be appropriate for you to include me in your investigation.”

“Rest assured, you will be included, though perhaps not in your preferred capacity.” Sassy shook her head. “I’ve waited for this moment ever since the beginning. And now at last, after years of suspicions and prancing-about, I finally have proof of the cancer that you represent. To think, the Mistress’s own ‘master of the castle’ and ‘keeper of all keys but one’ would be a traitor of the lowest sort!”

Rarity hesitated. “Sassy, please…”

“The time for you to beg is coming!” Sassy turned her gaze toward the door. “Sergeant Rainbow Dash, I have need of your services!”

After a moment filled with grumbling, Rainbow Dash threw the door open wide. Rarity noted that her already close-cropped mane looked mussed, and that she had lines by the corners of her eyes that could’ve come from being pressed together tightly, or—improbably—from tears. “What do you want, Sassy?”

“You will keep the Seneschal here while I take this to our mistress, understood?” Without waiting for a reply, Sassy turned and set off at a gallop. “I didn’t want this, Rarity, but you have brought this on yourself!”

Rarity watched Sassy disappear into the castle’s gloom. She gnashed her teeth, agonizing over the uncertainty of what the letter might contain.

She forced a swallow down her suddenly dry throat.

“Sergeant, please—”

“I don’t wanna deal with any of this,” Dash said, slamming the door shut.

“Yes, but if I may prevail upon your flying speed—”

“Not my problem,” came the muffled response through the door.

Rarity huffed. “What of loyalty to old friends?”

There was a pause. Then: “Lots of things have changed since Ponyville, Rares.”

Throwing decorum to the wind, Rarity turned and galloped after Sassy Saddles.

Her life, and quite possibly the lives of others, depended on her recovering that envelope.
> Chapter 3: Keys to the Kingdom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity’s legs burned from exertion as she sprinted past the guards and back out into the castle’s twisting, turning halls. Sassy was well out of sight, but Rarity could hear her hooffalls—and Rarity felt a brief burst of elation that the tall mare evidently hadn’t alerted any other guards besides Rainbow Dash. But the urge to gloat about Sassy’s hubris was short-lived, as Rarity’s chest heaved with hot, ragged breath. She muttered a curse about the lack of regular exercise afforded by her station, even as fear spurred her on to all the speed she could muster.

Visions of what had been done to Zecora—or worse—played through her mind as she considered what the letter might contain. Sassy had said it contained proof of her involvement in something forbidden… but that still left a host of possibilities. Rarity clenched her jaw, and galloped harder. The relentless pounding of hooves on stone rendered her legs increasingly numb.

Sudden sounds from up ahead—a heavy impact, followed by clinking and loud groaning—threw off Rarity’s concentration. She slowed as she approached the corner where she’d last seen Sassy, then paused a moment before stepping around it.

Sassy Saddles lay upon the floor in a tangle of limbs. The letter lay next to her.

Rarity blinked as it dawned on her that the shadowy stallion might’ve had a hoof in taking Sassy down. She couldn't resist smiling as she lit her horn and started drawing the letter toward her. But Sassy grunted, lit her own horn, and used her magic to pull against Rarity’s.

“How dare you trip me!” Sassy lashed out with a whip of force, scoring a hit on Rarity’s cheek that made her hiss with pain and nearly lose her hornglow. “Is it not enough that you abuse your position with treasonous intent? Must you also fight with all the dignity of common gutter trash?!”

Rarity fought to maintain her concentration on the magical tug of war. “I did not trip you, and I have not abused my station!”

“Why lie now? It’s clear enough that those you consort with have found you a willing buyer for their illicit, sun-made foodstuffs!”

Rarity pressed forward. “It’s not a lie. And do you take me for a fool? Of course I’ve made illicit contacts! Precisely how do you think I keep this castle fed?!”

Sassy gave her a look of shock. “Then you admit your collusion with the Mistress' enemies?”

“Overseer, we must be practical; the Earth Ponies do their best, but crop yields are nowhere near sufficient!”

“I’ve heard enough,” Sassy said, struggling to her hooves. She flared her horn, and used the sudden burst of magic to thrust herself forward into a charge.

Rarity reversed her magic, pushing on Sassy instead of pulling on the letter; but the taller mare had built too much momentum. Sassy plowed headlong into Rarity, knocking her to the ground before leaping upon her in what became a snarling, cursing melee. Each struck the other with hooves and magic.

Seeing an opportunity, Rarity headbutted Sassy, dazing both of them. The sudden blow gave her enough of an advantage to clamber atop her opponent, trying to pin her down. But then Sassy roared and threw Rarity aside. She conjured a series of hot magical sparks that made Rarity flinch, before pressing a leg down hard onto her throat.

“That is for tripping me!”

Rarity’s eyes widened with shock. She lit her horn again, this time emitting a bright burst of light. Sassy blinked, shielding her face with a hoof; and Rarity jabbed her horn into Sassy’s chest, aiming to knock the wind out of her. The foreleg on Rarity’s throat lost its strength, and Rarity pressed upward, gasping for air as she pushed the larger mare off of her again. Rarity dragged herself up to her hooves and boxed Sassy’s face with a pair of heavy blows. Then she turned, pressed down on all fours, and threw her legs back in a harsh buck to Sassy’s jaw.

The Overseer sailed backwards like a sack full of apples, and hit the ground with every bit as much grace. As her hornglow flickered out, Rarity lit hers again, bringing the letter to her. She plucked it from the air, unfolded it, and set about reading.

Rarity’s brow furrowed. “Where did you get this?”

Sassy answered only with a groan.

“Overseer!” Rarity shouted, gripping the prone mare’s barrel-armor with her magic and giving it a few shakes. As Sassy’s eyes fluttered open, Rarity asked again: “Where did you find this letter?”

“In your chambers,” Sassy slurred.

A scowl crossed Rarity’s face as she thought back about the shadowy stallion’s words. “I would never be so amateurish as to leave incriminating evidence against myself lying unattended.”

“And yet…” Sassy trained an unsteady glare at her. “It bears Lord Rich’s seal. It names you.” She took a heavy breath. “And it mentions this… ‘underground sun.’”

Rarity looked closer. Her breath caught as she spotted herself on a list of “Known Sympathizers,” and as she absorbed the brief but accurate summary of the illicit food she’d purchased from her suppliers.

But then she spotted a mention of “sun” alongside the description of a cavernous crop-growing space that would be many times the size of the Mistress’ castle. She scanned the document for more details, but found only allusions to “the City” and a “Pair of Specialists” sent to work on it.

Rarity lowered the letter. “Growing crops with simulated light has been done before, but never on this scale…”

Sassy struggled to her hooves. And though she seemed to have difficulty focusing her eyes, there was unmistakable fire in her voice: “I will see you answer to the Mistress for this treason.”

“That m… may not be necessary,” Rarity stammered. “There are things that you haven’t been told… information that we felt you might not receive well. For though the Mistress values your thoroughness, she ultimately craves results, not your misguided ‘purity.’”

“I find that hard to believe. My duties involve the safety of the realm; yours are merely to mind the castle. What could the Mistress possibly wish to keep from her very right-hoof that she wouldn’t from a small, uncultured thing that crawled its way up from the ashes?”

“And I suppose your career in fashion taught you the value of flaunting advantages,” Rarity said, scoffing. “Were the shoe on the other hoof, Overseer, I would’ve simply shown the letter to the Mistress if I was going to.”

Sassy paused, pressing a hoof against her forehead, clearly trying to regain her focus. “I thought it only right to give you a chance to explain yourself. Though I suppose I should’ve known that worthless excuse of a Sergeant wouldn’t do her job, and I should’ve foreseen that you’d fight dirty… even trip me, if given half a chance.”

Rarity stamped her hoof. “I swear upon my life that I did no such thing!”

Sassy narrowed her eyes. “Then if it wasn’t you—”

There was a noise from a darkened side-passage. The pair turned and lit their horns. Standing in the dim pool of illumination was a solitary thestral who let out a hiss as she held a hoof up to her eyes.

“Sergeant Dash,” Rarity said, her tone icy.

Dash put her hoof down and grinned. “Don’t mind me; I just wanted to make sure ‘tall-dork-and-handsome’ here didn’t end up cutting off the good oats. Y’know, at least not before I could stock up.”

Sassy narrowed her eyes. “So you knew of Rarity’s connections, too? And now it seems you’ve both allied against me…”

“What?!” Dash scoffed. “Look, me and Rarity aren’t exactly close. And it’s not like I’d risk my neck to jump somepony from the shadows if I didn’t absolutely have to, Overseer Butterhooves.”

“That’s an alarming amount of disrespect from a pony of your position,” Sassy said, before reaching a hoof up into her chest-armor and producing an oblong metal object on a delicate chain. “Perhaps you both need a reminder that I cannot be so easily silenced?”

Rarity’s breath caught. She’d only seen the Hellshard a hoof-ful of times. It was a key that didn’t look much like a key; its shape was more like that of a coffin, and it bore the luster of obsidian. Yet it never failed to bring Rarity to perspiration when she did see it, for it was a key to someplace otherworldly, and darker even than a land without sun.

Dash cocked her head and took a step forward. “I mean, if we wanted to, I bet we could—”

Rarity held up a warning hoof. “Rainbow Dash! Sassy, I assure you, this situation seems much worse than its reality. There are things you should be told, but let us pause first, and take a few deep breaths…”

“You play with fire, Seneschal,” Sassy said. “As with your ring of keys, the Hellshard will alert Nightmare Moon if removed from its bearer.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, ending only when Dash coughed and said: “No, seriously though, if I really wanted to, I probably could take her out by myself.”

Sassy flinched, breaking the chain.

A strand of Rarity’s mane flicked upward, carried by a wind that hadn’t been there a moment before. She looked down, seeing dust begin to swirl around her hooves.

Nearby windows bathed the corridor in brightness from a lightning-bolt, and a crack of thunder split the silence.

“You utter fools,” Sassy said, her lips drawing back in a rictus. “I gave you every chance to avoid this. But now she’s coming, and there’s not a thing that I can do to stop her!”
> Chapter 4: Regent of the Sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brilliant lighting shot down from the sky, bringing rare illumination to the gloomy castle. Rarity raised a hoof, shielding her eyes.

A mighty rumbling sound inspired her to look up again. She squinted, studying a twisted, warping haze that floated in the middle of the corridor. The sound intensified as the distortion resolved itself into the image of a large room full of heavily armored thestrals running to and fro. Some shouted orders, many gathered supplies and weapons, while others moved with less obvious purpose.

The Mistress herself stalked through the guards’ midst, baring her teeth. And one thestral, whose armor was of a quality surpassing that of his fellows, followed close behind her.

Sassy touched a hoof to her chest and inclined her head. Rarity and Dash exchanged glances before following suit.

Nightmare Moon stepped through the portal, fixing the trio with a glare. “Overseer! You will explain why the Hellshard calls me from my preparations.”

Sassy gave her a look of subservience. “Forgive me, Mistress, but these traitors were threatening to keep vital information from reaching you!”

The Mistress narrowed her eyes. “Seneschal?”

Rarity swallowed. “Mistress, I assure you, this is all a misunderstanding!”

Nightmare Moon’s lips curled back. She turned toward the portal and lit her horn. Within moments, it faded back into a haze, then dissipated, leaving only the Mistress herself and the armored thestral—Sergeant Wind Rider—by her side. “Show me this information,” she said.

Rarity hesitated before lighting her horn and producing the letter. Nightmare Moon took it in her own darkling magic and began to read.

She snarled, looking back at Rarity. “The Overseer has seen this?”

“Y… yes, Mistress,” Rarity said.

Nightmare Moon’s magic first crumpled the letter, then tore it into scraps. “And what of our agreement, Seneschal?”

Sweat beaded at Rarity’s scalp. “I… Mistress, I don’t know where that letter…”

“I care not for excuses!” Nightmare Moon shouted. She shook her head. “I trusted you to keep these connections discreet.”

Sassy’s jaw slackened. “You knew about this?”

“Indeed, Overseer,” Nightmare Moon said, laying her ears flat and baring her teeth. “I have remade this world in my image…” She gestured first at Wind Rider, and then at Rainbow Dash. “It is, therefore, embarrassing that such mundanities as food would lead me to compromise that vision.”

“I assure you, I took every precaution,” Rarity said. She winced as she considered how much careful work and planning had been undone in a single stroke by the careless actions of the stallion who she’d met down in the dungeons. “Perhaps… somepony else might’ve planted the letter, not expecting the Overseer—”

“To do her job?” Nightmare Moon fumed, turning to Sassy. “Look at you; so eager to serve, yet so utterly rigid. Do you truly not see the realities that drove the Seneschal to do what she’s done?”

Sassy dared to meet the Mistress’ eyes. “Then you knew about the ‘Underground Sun’ that the letter spoke of? And why Lord Rich’s seal would be upon it?”

Nightmare Moon’s lips twisted into a grim mockery of amusement. “Why, no; perhaps the Seneschal could tell us?”

Sassy shot Rarity an accusatory glance. “Indeed, she and Lord Rich are quite close.”

Rarity shook her head. “I swear, Mistress, Lord Rich has shared nothing about this.”

“And why, exactly, should I trust your word?” Nightmare Moon asked, leaning closer. “Seneschal, I tolerate the hints of treason revealed by your dreams because you are highly effective at your job.” She paused. “But perhaps I have grown weary of tolerating your… other proclivities.”

Rarity froze.

“Relinquish your keys,” Nightmare Moon said with a scowl.

Rarity raised the heavy keyring in trembling hooves. The Mistress took them in her magic, examined them, then snarled: “All of them!” And so Rarity swallowed hard, before slowly producing the key to Zecora’s cell.

Nightmare Moon snatched it from Rarity with her magic, then tossed it to Wind Rider. “Sergeant, bring me the zebra in our dungeons!”

He took the key and saluted. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, before flying away at speed.

Nightmare Moon glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Hold these for me, will you?” she asked with feigned nonchalance, before tossing the keyring to her. Dash fumbled her catch, and had to pick them up off the ground.

Then Nightmare Moon whirled on Sassy. “Overseer, you will relinquish the Hellshard as well.”

Rarity’s eyes darted toward the Overseer, and watched as she raised it in her long, willowy hoof.

Nightmare Moon brought the Hellshard closer in her magic, then lowered her horn to touch its surface. All at once, it sparked and rippled in response.

A stench of ozone wafted through the chamber. Rarity’s coat stood on end.

“Perhaps you need a reminder of the way things are,” Nightmare Moon said to Rarity. “You think that you can sneak around unnoticed, with one hoof in the world as it is now, and another in the world that was before I remade it?”

“Mistress, please. I will go to Lord Rich. I swear, I will use every aspect of my relationship with him to learn what he knows about this ‘Underground Sun!’”

“Indeed you will.”

The sparking of the Hellshard intensified. Lightning shot from its surface with greater frequency. A surge of coruscating energy swirled out in front of it, creating a circular, pony-sized disruption in the fabric of reality. The disruption’s innards turned to black, and a sense of distance asserted itself, bringing visions of amorphous silhouettes that writhed in livid pools of fire.

Tartarus.

Sensing movement to one side, Rarity turned, and found that Wind Rider had flown back already. A desperately emaciated figure hung limp in his forehooves.

Rarity struggled against the urge to reach out to Zecora. A flood of unbidden memories threatened to overwhelm her. She thought of those in Ponyville who she’d lost when the Longest Night began, and of the aid Zecora offered those who fled into the Everfree…

Zecora’s eyes drifted open as her head lolled around, giving her a clear glimpse of the open gate to Tartarus.

“I commend your determination to keep this relic of the ‘time before’ alive,” Nightmare Moon proclaimed, keeping her gaze on Rarity, even as she grasped Zecora around the throat with her magic. “But I wonder who ultimately brought her greater torture: me for leaving her to die, or you for prolonging her life for all this time?”

“The path of good… is difficult to see—” Zecora choked.

“Enough with your damnable rhyming!” roared the Mistress as she whipped Zecora through the portal with her magic.

Rarity averted her eyes as Zecora was lost amid the flames, and lowered her ears as she began to scream. At first the sound grew distant, but then Rarity flinched as it became louder and more strident.

In time, Rarity looked back at the portal. There, floating just on the other side, was the backlit silhouette of something that may have once resembled a pegasus. Now, though, it was gnarled and twisted, with rough fur, ragged wings, and legs that ended not in hooves, but claws. And as always, it was holding something.

“Good day to you, Regent of the Sun,” a spectral voice intoned.

“I am in no mood to deal with the likes of you, Guardian,” Nightmare Moon snarled.

The thing on the other side of the portal flapped its wings, buoying itself on unseen currents. “You know the arrangement. If one pony enters, one pony leaves.”

Nightmare Moon growled, and turned back to Rarity. “Seneschal, let this be a reminder that you still have things to lose… ponies to lose… however much you feel you’ve lost already. I’m sure you didn’t work alone to keep Zecora alive all this time, and I’m equally sure that your relationship with Lord Rich involves more than mere ‘business.’”

White-hot panic lanced through Rarity’s mind. Her jaw moved, but no words came.

“And yet,” the Mistress said with a sudden and unnerving mildness, “you still are one of the most competent and thorough ponies in my employ. Indeed, there are few who might be more capable than yourself and the Overseer to investigate and stop this new conspiracy.”

Rarity watched with widened eyes as the Nightmare turned on Rainbow Dash. “Sergeant Dash, in light of your long and loyal service, I’ll exempt you fully from my expeditionary force. Instead, you’ll take the Hellshard to my private vault, and bear the Seneschal’s keys in her absence. I trust she’ll make your transition as painless as possible?”

Nightmare Moon laughed, then lit her horn, and teleported both herself and Wind Rider away with a loud crack and a burst of energy.

“Farewell, Regent of the Sun,” the Guardian said. 

Rarity felt, more than saw, as it turned unseen eyes on her. Her flesh began to itch as it regarded her from the crackling portal.

“And good evening to you, Rarity.”

“H… hello,” she said, averting her eyes again, and battling a crawling feeling of discomfort that it knew her name. She didn’t know how, but it had always known her name.

“Give my best to Rainbow Dash,” it said. “I tried very hard to keep this one safe.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed. It knows her name, as well?! But then there was a sound of greater sparking and protestation from the Hellshard, followed by a heavy thump upon the floor.

“I only hope I tried hard enough.”

Rarity looked up at an orange-coated filly now lying in front of the gate. Nothing from the filly’s hooves to her dark-pink mane looked harmed in any way. Yet Rarity knew that those the creature sent back were not always damaged on the outside.

The portal sparked and whirled again. Rarity watched as the creature and the flames beyond it seemed to flatten before being lost amid a spinning surface of electricity. Then that power flowed back into the Hellshard again, and it clattered to the floor, silent and unmoving.

Sassy took a few steps toward the Hellshard, and eyed it with what seemed to be a mixture of both envy and fear.

But Rarity’s focus was drawn to the filly lying before her. She bent and ran a cautious hoof through her mane, then took a closer look at her diminutive wings.

“I recognize this filly from Ponyville,” Rarity said. “She must have been taken when the Longest Night began.”

Rarity looked at Dash, whose eyes and mouth were wide.

“Sergeant Dash, what is it?” Rarity asked. “Do you know her?”
> Chapter 5: That Which Remains
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity broke the silence: “How did you know her?”

She turned her head, studying Dash’s face, watching her swallow, and seeing the skin around her eyes pull tight.

“Compose yourself, Sergeant,” Sassy said. “Your new responsibilities won’t see to themselves.”

Dash stepped backwards, jaw moving soundlessly, eyes darting to and fro. “R-responsibilities,” she said, breathing deep and fast. She shook her head again and winced, pressing a hoof to her forehead. “No… the Guardian, Zecora, and now—” she gestured towards the prone filly “—her?”

“I said, compose yourself!” Sassy shouted. She drew back a forehoof, aiming it at Dash’s face.

Rarity lit her horn and grabbed Sassy’s foreleg with her magic. Sassy turned, meeting Rarity’s eyes.

“She's just witnessed a good mare being cast into Tartarus,” Rarity said in a faltering voice. “Not everypony’s heart is cold enough to bear such sights dispassionately.”

Sassy bristled as if she’d been struck. “How dare you speak of me as if I don’t care! I’ve no desire to watch the Mistress dole out punishment. I simply refuse to compromise my standards for the sake of mere sentiment.”

“Lower your hoof,” Rarity ordered.

“As you wish,” Sassy said as she pulled her hoof back. Rarity released it from her magic. “Now if we’re quite done, we should secure the Hellshard in the Mistress’ vault and make ready to depart for Canterlot. I shan’t need to prepare; I like to keep a bag packed. Who would like to carry our young charge?”

“Wait,” Dash said. Her eyes were still wide, and her muscles still seemed taut, but there was a plaintive aspect to her expression as well. “Sassy… you carry her. I need some time. To, uh… talk to Rarity.”

“Excuse me?” Sassy scoffed. “You think to order me around, as you would a mere servant?”

Rarity drew herself up and met Sassy’s eyes. “Recall that she now occupies both of our stations.”

A tense moment passed between them. Sassy grumbled, but backed away, and turned to pick up the filly.

Rarity took a deep breath. “Sergeant Dash, the Hellshard.”

Dash slowly reached down and raised the coffin-shaped piece of dark metal in a trembling hoof, regarding it as if it might bite her. A few moments later, she tucked it into her armor.

Rarity and Dash set off walking ahead of Sassy, who seemed to be slowed by her burden. The ponies walked in silence for several minutes, accompanied only by the sounds of hooves on stone, the faint creaking of armor, and Dash’s heavy breathing.

They turned corner after corner, eventually arriving at the guardpost before the entrance to one of the castle’s tallest towers. A small squad of guards eyed them briefly before waving them on to the tower’s antechamber, which was bare but for the steep spiral staircase that ascended until vanishing in the stygian heights.

“I’ll understand if you prefer to fly,” Rarity said.

Dash flexed a wing, then grimaced and folded it back up. “N-no, I’d rather walk with you. If that’s all right.”

“It is. It could even be a chance to talk, if you still wish it.”

After taking a long, ragged breath, Dash nodded. “Y’know how most of the ponies who followed you when Nightmare Moon destroyed Ponyville made it out in one piece?”

Rarity gave a small sigh, then started up the staircase. “Zecora didn’t.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Dash said, moving to catch up with Rarity. “Do you remember when Nightmare Moon attacked the… the Princess?” Her last word was but a whisper.

“How could I not?” Rarity squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, unable to suppress the mental images of City Hall crumbling around her, or the ground opening up in pools of fire, or ponies being swept down into Tartarus dozens at a time. “I also remember helping organize the Summer Sun Celebration, inviting all of Ponyville into that small, confined space, and even helping to secure the Princess’ attendance.”

“You were just doing your job,” Dash snapped. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“I take that as cold comfort,” Rarity said, fighting a tremor in her voice.

Dash’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. Look, the filly… her name’s Scootaloo. I don’t know why, but she always looked up to me. Like I was more than just a washout from the Cloudsdale Weather Institute. Like I wasn’t just some loser crashing on a friend’s couch, trying to figure out what to do next.”

Rarity turned to look at her one-time friend, studying the patterns of shadow on her taut face. “I take it she was one of the ponies your group lost when you tried to surrender?”

“I failed her,” Dash said, her voice breaking. "I failed all of them. And I knew she’d been in Tartarus ever since, but now… now I have to find something to say to her, if she’ll even be able to understand me. I mean, I’ve heard about some of the others who came back…”

“I understand,” Rarity said, trying not to dwell on what had become of poor Diamond Tiara. “But we each saved who we could, and none of us could’ve anticipated the fire and insanity that have since come over Tartarus.”

Dash didn’t meet her eyes. “I thought Zecora died forever ago.”

“Yes, that was rather the idea. Redheart and I didn't know what to do after she was condemned; we couldn’t free her, but neither could we stand by, doing nothing. Though I fear the Mistress may be right about what we ultimately accomplished.”

“It was good of you to try,” Dash said. “Neither of our groups would’ve lasted as long as they did out in the Everfree without Zecora’s help. I just wish… I dunno. I never figured out why she didn’t like me.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I don't know. It wasn't anything she said… it was how she looked at me. Like she kept expecting me to do something.”

They reached a small landing at the top of the stairs. A pair of torches burned in sconces set on either side of a large, ancient metal door with a sturdy brass handle. Dash reached into her armor and took out the ensorcelled keyring. She hoofed through the keys for a moment, then paused and glared at them. “Seriously, how am I supposed to know what all of these go to?” She gestured toward Rarity. “Do you mind?”

Rarity hesitated. “The first thing you must know about bearing those keys is that the Mistress will know—and will likely be displeased—if they should leave your possession, just the same as with the Hellshard.” She studied the keyring for a moment, then pointed at a key that looked particularly heavy and oblong. “I believe it's that one. And don't worry, I’ll leave you with instructions about the ones you’ll need most often.”

Dash raised the chosen key to a keyhole at the center of the door, turned it, and heaved at the door’s handle. Rarity’s ears flattened as it protested even more loudly than the prison doors had.

Within was a pitch-black chamber whose features were only barely suggested by the few stray lances of light that shone in from the outer sconces.

Rarity turned to Dash, studying the thestral’s look of uncertainty, before turning back and lighting her horn.

Tiny reflections glinted back at her from the cavernous room’s long rows of glass display cases, and from the precious artifacts therein. Rarity strode into the room, first eyeing a set of jeweled daggers, before turning her gaze on a pair of heavy-rimmed goggles displayed upon a plaque that bore the eight-pointed star of Chaos.

A faint nagging buzzed at the base of her horn. She turned her head on instinct, looking for the source of the feeling, if it even had a source. Though uncertain of whether she was on the right track, Rarity found her eyes drawn toward another display case—this one fairly large.

She paused and examined the five head-sized stone orbs held within. They were smooth and nondescript, but each bore outlines of different, simple images carved upon their surface. “I recognize these,” she said, furrowing her brow and leaning closer. “They were among the Princess’ effects that she brought to the Summer Sun Celebration—”

She startled as the door began to squeal again, closing seemingly of its own volition.

“Well that’s not creepy,” Dash deadpanned.

“Another of our Mistress’ security measures.” Rarity glanced back at the stone orbs for a moment, then shook herself and looked around the vault again. “Ah, here we are.”

The pair approached a set of small, square, marble-accented doors set at head-height in one of the walls. Each door had a single keyhole inset into their otherwise smooth surfaces.

“I believe the ones on the right are mostly empty,” Rarity said. “Sergeant Dash, if you would? It’s going to be one of the very shortest keys.”

Dash fumbled with the keyring, but after several failed attempts, she found a key that fit one of the doors. It opened slowly, swinging on cleverly concealed hinges to reveal a long, empty safe deposit box.

“Good riddance,” Dash said, dropping the Hellshard into the box, then closing the door and locking it. “Now, wanna bet Sassy stopped following us at some point and decided to get some more practice with tripping over her own hooves?”

Rarity stifled a chuckle. “The door, please, Sergeant.”

Dash rolled her eyes, but smiled, before crossing to the door and grasping its handle. Again, with much effort and the protestation of metal, it began to swing open. Light from Rarity’s horn shone out upon the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Hold on,” Dash said, looking back at her with furrowed brows. “Did you magic out the torches after we went inside?”

“No,” Rarity said, frowning. She approached the door and peered around it, first spotting Scootaloo lying on the ground, then—

“Well, finally,” said a familiar voice.

Rarity looked over at a cloaked figure at the far side of the landing. One of his forehooves pressed the unconscious form of Sassy Saddles against the wall. Something shiny glinted in his other.

“Miss Rarity, you oughtta know this hasn’t gone the way I planned,” said the stallion who she’d first seen down in the dungeons. “I’m sorry that your friend here had to go and make things complicated. How’s about we cut her down to size?”

And with that, he drew a slash of livid red across her throat.
> Chapter 6: Marked for Death
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity stared wide-eyed at the cloaked stallion holding Sassy upright. The breath froze in her chest as she waited for blood to pour from the crimson line on the unconscious mare’s throat.

But none did.

A slow giggle rippled through the stallion’s shoulders, building toward high and grating laughter.

Rarity’s coat stood on end. Rainbow Dash stepped up beside her. Their eyes met for a moment before Dash looked toward Scootaloo’s prone figure.

The stallion’s breath ran out. He paused, turned his head toward Rarity and Dash, loudly sucked in more, and threw his cloaked head back in a laugh that was even louder and harder than before.

“Oh!” he shouted through the laughter. “Oh, your face! The look on your face!”

Rarity pointed a trembling hoof at the cloaked stallion. “What…is… the meaning…”

He tossed something hoof-length and shiny toward them. Dash recoiled, but Rarity stood motionless, watching as it landed and began to roll towards her. She looked closer, noting its cylindrical shape and small, angled, red tip.

“Is this…” Rarity swallowed, fighting to maintain her composure. “A marker?!”

The stallion’s laughter cut off abruptly, leaving an oppressive silence.

“Not workin’ for ya? Maybe not direct enough?” He reached into his cloak with his free hoof, then pulled out an actual knife. He gave it a twirl, affording Rarity a clear view of its blade. “I’m okay with ‘cutting’ to the chase.”

Rarity forced her dry throat to swallow. “Please, I do not wish to see her harmed.”

The stallion raised his knifepoint to the corner of Sassy’s mouth. “Oh, you say that now, but we both know she’s gonna have a big ol’ grumpy frown on her face when you start finding where the bodies are buried. Metaphorically speaking… or realistically speaking… or both?”

“All right, that’s enough clowning around,” Dash said, stepping forward. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t lose the knife right now—”

There was a blur of motion. Dash jerked back with a shout, then raised a hoof to the knife protruding from her shoulder armor.

“Sergeant Dash!”

“In my defense, she told me to lose it,” the stallion said, drawing out another knife with this free hoof and pointing it at Dash. “No, you wanna know who I am? I’m the guy who could’ve put this through your skull if I didn’t think you were worth keeping around. So make no mistake: that was just a warning. Try something again, and you ain’t gonna get a flesh wound.”

Dash cursed as she pulled out the knife. A thin trickle of blood worked its way down her armor.

Rarity took a breath. “Please, then, let's remain calm. Nopony needs to be harmed… any further.”

He snorted. “Now that's funny.” Then he gestured toward Rarity with his blade. “You might not be fond of getting your hooves dirty, but that’s not how the world outside these walls works. Ponies starve to death, or fight over scraps, and most are too afraid to breathe a word against the one who stole the ponies we loved and ruined everything else!”

“Lower your voice!” Rarity hissed. “Your blasé attitude toward caution has already cost us somepony dear tonight!”

“And we’ve all lost ponies we cared about,” Dash said.

The stallion groaned. “And now we’re gonna stand around talking about our feelings instead of killing one of Nightmare Moon’s top lapdogs!” He raised his blade, and sighed as he danced its point a mere hairsbreadth away from Sassy’s neck. “This is what I get for trying to be spontaneous for once. I could’ve just recruited you in person, but noooooo—” he touched the knife onto the red ink staining Sassy’s throat “—I had to try to make it fun!”

“Wait, please,” Rarity said, trying to remain composed despite the hammering of her heart within her chest. Her mind searched feverishly for any combination of words that might save Sassy from an untimely end. “It occurs to me… if the ponies I’ll soon meet are disreputable… it might be advantageous if I have a ‘lapdog’ of the Nightmare close at hoof. To barter, for information, or favors.”

Dash grabbed her shoulder. “Rarity, what are you talking about?!”

The stallion paused. “So you want me to believe that you object to watching her bleed out, but you’d hoof her over for all kinds of torture if the price was right?”

“Y… yes.”

“Works for me!” He sheathed his blade and dumped Sassy face-first onto the stone floor with a dull thud. “You better keep her on a short leash, though. I’ve got too much on the line to let some two-bit leather queen muck things up before you even get started.”

Dash stepped towards Scootaloo, shooting glances both at Rarity and the stallion. “I can’t believe this. Rarity, I know you’re not the Mistress’ biggest fan, but… you’re talking about treason!”

“Yeah, she is,” the stallion said. He moved closer, his gait predatory, like a cat. “And I don’t think you’re gonna do anything about it. In fact, I think you’re gonna help us, when the time comes.”

“W… why?”

He pointed at Scootaloo. “Cuz you just got a fresh reminder of what’s down in Tartarus. Or should I say, who.” He leaned in, pressing his hooded face close to hers. “And maybe you can understand, not everypony’s quite as fortunate as you are, having gotten someone back.”

Before she could reply, he whirled on Rarity. “Important detail!” he shouted, stepping close enough to both violate her sense of personal space and tease her with vague outlines of his form in the cloak’s shadows. “You don’t tell them that we talked. You don’t tell them that you saw me. In fact, that letter’s all you know. Otherwise this whole thing goes… kablooie.”

Rarity took a step backward, in spite of her resolve. “I see. And, what if they compel me on the subject?”

He turned, walked to the edge of the stairs, and heaved himself up onto the railing. “Well in that case, lie like a rug and throw ’em your pet lapdog!” He started laughing as he began to overbalance.

Rarity felt a sensation of pins and needles on her coat as she watched him fall over the edge, and failed to resist the urge to canter over and peer down after him. She searched the long, empty darkness of the spiral staircase, and listened for a telltale sickening crunch below.

But all was silence.

“Who was that lunatic?!” Dash asked, stepping up next to her.

Rarity bit her lip. “He could have killed us. He certainly could’ve killed Sassy. But he wants our help instead. I think… he must care about somepony in Tartarus.”

Dash tried again to wipe the blood off her armor. “Yeah, he’s warm and fuzzy like that.”

“Forgive me, Sergeant Dash. Are you all right?”

Dash’s muzzle crinkled into a deep frown. “I’ll live, but I don’t like this. Suddenly you’re all eager to hitch your wagon to some rando who shows up spouting treason and making threats?”

“His abilities to disappear and move without detection don’t seem random,” Rarity said, furrowing her brow. “But then, neither does his skill with a blade. And earlier, when I asked you if the Alicorn and Dragon were the only trespassers you’d seen, what I didn’t share was that this stallion had appeared to me down in the dungeons as well. He came to tell me that he’d planted the letter among my effects… and he must have significant connections among those who’d defy the Nightmare to procure such a thing.”

“I guess,” Dash said, prodding at her wounded shoulder. “But what’s his plan? And isn’t she gonna know about it, anyway? Can’t she spy on his dreams?” Dash went silent, her face turning from blue to an ashen grey. “Is she gonna spy on ours now?”

“All the more reason for the Overseer to live, and to foster her belief that she is in control,” Rarity said. “Don’t worry about me; the Mistress has known about my inclinations since the beginning. And as for you, well… just be yourself. I doubt she’d consider you her most zealous subject as it is.”

Dash furrowed her brow. “Great, so my saving grace is being lazier than a sack of manure?”

Rarity touched a hoof to her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter now. Look after Scootaloo, and try not to destroy the castle while I’m away.”

“I’ll try,” Dash said, looking uncertain. “So how are you gonna get Sassy-pants outta here without explaining all this?”

“She said she keeps a bag packed in her chambers. Perhaps you’d be a dear and help me carry her down to a cart? Then could you take the keys and fetch her bag? I’m sure we’ll only be a moment, and Scootaloo will be just fine in the interim.”

Dash grumbled, but gripped one of Sassy’s forelegs and heaved it up over her shoulders.

The pair began to work their way down the darkened stairs, Rarity with her horn lit, and Dash with wings flapping hard as she struggled to control Sassy’s descent.





High up in the darkness of the tower antechamber, Scootaloo’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Her vision swam, unfocused. Her breathing became sharp and rapid. And as she saw the world around her, she screamed.
> Chapter 7: To Canterlot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity watched the moonlit path roll by outside the carriage windows. She leaned a bit closer, studying the edge of that path, as well as the drop-off from their vantage point high up in the Canterlot mountains. The rhythmic sound of hooves on dirt and the gentle jostling of the carriage were all that intruded on her reverie… except for the occasional groaning of Sassy, who still held a hoof up to her head from time to time.

“It defies belief that I could’ve tripped and hit my head again,” Sassy said for at least the third time.

Rarity sighed. “Would you prefer if I told you you were attacked by a shadowy assailant who held you at knifepoint and forced me to agree to his terms in order to save your life?”

Sassy rolled her eyes. “Concussions and cushions, is that your best attempt at humor?”

“If you think you can do better, then by all means, knock yourself out,” Rarity muttered. But Sassy merely grumbled in response.

In time, Rarity turned her head and looked out the other window, away from the drop-off. She watched as they rolled past a wooded grove that encircled several ruined houses. Now, with their leaves bare and their bark flaking, the trees looked more like skeletal giants reaching down to devour the former homes. The eeriness was only amplified by the group of thestrals in full armor who kept watch from the buildings that remained structurally sound.

“I believe that is the last checkpoint,” Rarity said.

“Good.” Sassy fidgeted with her hooves. “The sooner we can speak with my informant, the sooner we can wrap this up and head back to the castle.”

“And… you are certain we should not try for a more stealthy approach?”

Sassy gave her a flat look. “We are senior representatives of our Mistress. Why should we not make ourselves known? Let those who oppose order tremble before us.”

Their carriage hit a bump that jostled Rarity out of her seat. She scrambled back up, then looked out the window again, this time seeing that they were in clear view of Canterlot proper. The city’s golden gates and white stone walls still struck an impressive figure in spite of the eternal gloom cloaking them. And yet, as Rarity’s gaze lingered, she noticed signs of wear and cracking in the stone itself, and bits of tarnish on the shining gates. The thought intruded that it was as if they felt the same wear on their silent souls as endless night had brought upon the ponies they kept out, or in.

As a filly, Rarity had imagined Canterlot to be a shining place of light, elegance, and limitless opportunity. But as the gates were opened before them, and the carriage rolled through, Rarity saw only shadowy streets filled with low, hunched figures, who were engaged in the unsavory business of eking out a living in the crumbling slums of the city’s outskirts.

As much as the sight of those city-ponies raised her hackles, what truly wormed its way into her consciousness was the city’s smell—unkempt, fetid, and at times eye-watering in its pungency.

“Is this the order we would seek to fight for?” Rarity asked under her breath.

“The realities of the Lower City are not lost on me,” Sassy said. “I merely think it better to accept that this is how things are now, rather than to dally about with brigands, thieves, and liars, in the vain hope that it could be changed.”

Rarity scoffed. “The connections I’ve made have helped to better everypony’s life within the castle, including—dare I mention it—your own. And given your role in the Mistress’ service, did you never think to investigate them?”

Sassy narrowed her eyes. “You think I didn’t? My work has been slow going, but that hasn’t been for lack of effort on the part of my own connections.” She looked back out the window. “Still, it hardly matters what I think of this, or of the deluded souls who feel true chaos would be better. And for what it’s worth, at least the Upper City hasn’t suffered this great of a decline.”

“Indeed not, but the Lower City always leaves me feeling that something essential has been lost under the Mistress’ rule. Whether that be care for the poor, or simple hope, I cannot say.”

Sassy sat quietly for a moment, looking pensive. “You seem almost eager to say these treasonous things, now that you and I know how the Mistress views both of us. Perhaps you should be mindful of what might come after we return, and re-learn how to mind your tongue.”

“I tire of hiding things,” Rarity said, sighing. “The secrets, and the lies… I use them as I must, to do the things I must. But I have no fondness for them.”

Sassy considered this for a moment before speaking: “Then perhaps there is something redeeming about you after all.” Rarity raised an eyebrow, and so Sassy continued: “I cannot stomach all the falsehoods ponies perpetrate in the name of one cause or another. I will not sugarcoat my view of this world, but I choose not to speak of it, and to instead focus on doing what I can.”

“And what is it, exactly, that you think you do?”

Sassy raised her head, and managed to look haughty despite a voice that faltered somewhat: “I serve a purpose that is greater than myself. By serving Nightmare Moon, I serve the cause of order, and I hold back the anarchy that would sweep this land clean, if we but let it.”

Rarity felt discomfort at Sassy’s words. She took a deep, steadying breath. “Then if I may be honest with you once again, I think this plan of making a bold entrance might backfire. Whoever wrote that letter must either be delusional, or extremely well-connected, if they seek to make this ‘Underground Sun’ a reality. A stealthy visit to your informants would allow us to learn what we can and formulate our next steps, before somepony else might have the chance to intervene.”

“Nobly argued, though I can’t help but think your true motivation might be to arrange a stealthy dalliance between yourself and Lord Rich.” Sassy followed her statement with a sneer.

“You think less of ponies for seeking comfort in a time like this?” Rarity looked back out the window. “Surely you must understand if I care about more than just order? More than service, even, if I cannot honestly say my service helps the lives of those I love?”

They sat in silence as the carriage continued rocking its way down several more of the dingy city blocks. But then, eventually, Sassy raised a forehoof and clopped it against the side of the carriage.

“Driver, stop!” she called. Then as he complied, Sassy glanced out the window. “You may be right about drawing undue attention, much as I hate to admit it. We’re still a ways out from a front that one of my informants uses, but if you can get there stealthily—as you suggest—then I’ll consent to letting you handle the initial meeting with her.”

“That seems… inconsistent with your stated level of trust in me,” Rarity said slowly.

“Not at all,” Sassy said, giving her an unsettling grin. “My informant is a dangerous mare indeed, as well as a personal friend from my fashion days. I’m not sure where she had her training, but I’ve seen her in action once or twice, and her prowess is remarkable. Even if you brought a coterie of Resistance thugs to apprehend her, or to press her for information, I doubt that any would survive.”

“Indeed?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “And just where am I to find this mare of mystery?”

“A sweet shop, near the corner of Sixth and Main. And while you’re at it, bring me back a few of the wrapped chocolate candies that she specializes in… and a cupcake.”
> Chapter 8: Kill the Pain
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A loud bang heralded Rainbow Dash’s entrance through the wooden door to the infirmary. That, coupled with the howling filly on her back, drew the eyes of everypony in the long lines of beds on either side of the great chamber, as well as those of the orderlies and hoof-full of nurses.

“You’ve gotta help me!” Dash shouted, heading for the nearest empty bed and depositing Scootaloo on it. The shrieking filly bucked and writhed, her eyes rolling back with panic.

A white earth pony mare in a medical hat—Doctor Redheart—galloped over to them and helped Dash keep Scootaloo from inadvertently throwing herself off the bed. “What happened?”

Dash cringed and continued struggling to hold Scootaloo steady. “I don’t know exactly. I mean, I don’t have all the details, it’s kinda complicated—”

Redheart growled at her. “Come on, Dash, give me something here. Is this trauma, or drug-induced, or…?”

“She came out of Tartarus.”

Redheart’s eyes widened. “Tartarus?!”

Dash flinched. “She seemed okay, at first. I had to leave her for a little bit because of orders. I guess she started freaking out while I was gone.”

Redheart glared at Dash. “Brilliant. Give a cursory visual inspection to a pony straight out of a dimension of fire and torture, then leave her alone while you go do whatever?” She shifted her weight, struggling to keep Scootaloo down on the bed.

“No, I get how it sounds, but I was under orders. Rarity needed me to—”

“Rarity wouldn’t be this stupid,” Redheart snapped.

The outburst made Dash draw back for a moment. She wanted to argue that Rarity had been more than a little distracted by the crazy pony with the knife, not to mention what had happened with Zecora. But in that moment her grip weakened, giving Scootaloo a chance to thrash out of her grasp entirely.

“Doctor, should we prep a sedative?” one of the orderlies called.

“I need to know what I’m up against here, first,” Redheart shouted over Scootaloo’s howling. She looked back down at Scootaloo and grunted, clearly trying to help Dash get her back under control. “Somepony get over here and help us! There’s no way I can examine her like this!”

A muscular green-coated stallion rushed over and took Redheart’s place helping Dash hold Scootaloo. Between the two of them, they managed to keep her steady. Redheart took a breath, then hurriedly set about examining her. “Forelegs look good. Hind legs, too. Nothing wrong with her head. Barrel is… huh, poor thing’s got such tiny wings.” She paused, then looked at Dash. “This is Scootaloo!”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe this.” Redheart sat back on her haunches for a moment. “Then the Nightmare really did exile somepony else again. And that thing guarding the entrance sent her back. Do I want to know who got ‘traded’ for Scootaloo here?”

Dash lowered her head. “It was Zecora.”

Redheart slumped. Her eyes went wider, but became less focused. Dash couldn’t name the look on her face, but it was as if Redheart was no longer tracking with the situation around her.

“Hey,” Dash said, rising up and poking her with a hind hoof. “Earth to Redheart. What about Scoots?”

“I… yes—” Redheart shook herself, then spent a few more moments examining Scootaloo. Eventually she sighed. “I don’t know, Dash. She looks fine on the outside. Even her coat looks decent, all things considered. That’s the best I can do without a trained unicorn on staff to perform deep internal scans. Thank your boss for that one.”

Dash pressed a hoof to Redheart’s chest. “She’s your boss too, y’know.”

“I do,” Redheart said, brushing the offending hoof away. “And now she’s not just organizing some kind of pointless expeditionary force; she’s actually throwing creatures into Tartarus again! If she’s on that big of a power trip, she’ll definitely want me and my staff to tag along. We’d better do everything we can to get the rest of these guys stable enough to let us leave ’em unattended for a while…”

Dash bit her lip. “Please, Doc; you gotta do something for Scoots.”

Redheart sighed. “Well, since she just came out of Tartarus, I guess a mild sedative can’t make things much worse.” Redheart walked over to a nearby cabinet, took out a syringe and a vial, filled the syringe partway full of colorless liquid, then walked back and stuck it into Scootaloo’s hip. As she depressed the plunger, the filly shuddered, then finally went limp.

Dash breathed a heavy sigh, then nodded at Redheart. “Thank you. I… I don’t know what to do here,” she said quietly. “I can’t take care of a filly on my own. I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

Redheart shrugged. “Then think of something. It can’t be worse than leaving her to manage on her own. Harmony knows enough kids have had to, with the way things are out there.”

“No.” Dash furrowed her brow, looking down as she wracked her brains for a solution. “Her folks made it out of Ponyville, didn’t they?”

“You mean her aunts? I dunno. They weren’t with me and Rarity’s group. But even if they got out on their own, they’d be long gone by now.”

“Maybe they could’ve left clues about where they were going?”

“Look, Sergeant, Scootaloo’s gonna have a long, dreamless nap there. But when she wakes up, she’s gonna need someone to take care of her. Well, that and psychiatric help that goes far beyond my training. I’ve got some books, though, if you feel like doing some reading.”

Dash gritted her teeth. “So that’s it? You’re just saying she’s my problem, and moving on? Why can’t you do something?!”

“You think I’m happy leaving anyone from Ponyville high and dry? Look, on a good day, I could at least keep her under observation. But I literally don’t have time here, because the Nightmare’s off chasing something shiny, and ponies are already getting hurt and dying because of it!”

“I…” Dash looked down at the artificially peaceful slumber of the filly in front of her. Scootaloo lay motionless, save for the ragged rise and fall of her breath, and the occasional twitch of a leg.

A dark thought entered her mind. “Y’know, I get that you don’t like the Mistress, but you’re stepping pretty far over the line with your attitude. Maybe I should have some guards stop by and ‘talk’ to you about it?”

Redheart’s expression hardened, and she gestured toward the line of beds. “How about them? They’re already here. I mean, that’s half of the patrol that you and the Nightmare took out with that ‘Alicorn and dragon,’ or whatever. Look what she did to them.”

Dash couldn’t bring her eyes to linger on the bloodied forms.

“It’s hardly treasonous to be sick of seeing ponies die of infection, or blood loss, or other stupid things I could’ve easily dealt with back at Ponyville General,” Redheart continued. “Adding the Nightmare’s hissy-fits to that list is the last thing I need. She may call you thestrals her ‘True Children,” but do you think she’ll actually care enough to let us stay here and try to keep them alive?”

“I did this,” Dash whispered, her eyes downturned. “I… I put the blame on them for what went down out there, and I…” She lowered her head in shame. “I bailed out before this happened.”

Redheart scoffed. “You haven’t changed a bit since Ponyville. You shirk responsibility and suffering onto others, then you complain about how bad you have it when something goes wrong. Why don’t you try being on the other end of things for a while, and see how it feels?”

Dash looked around the room at the other doctors and orderlies shuffling from pony to pony, and frowned. “If you hate the Mistress so much, why do you keep doing this for her?”

“Because…” Redheart grimaced. “The castle staff and guards are all that’s left of Ponyville. And even though I only have the technical training of a nurse, I’m still the closest thing they’ve got to a real doctor.” Her eyes narrowed as she turned a glare at Dash. “Those bat wings might’ve helped you forget who you were loyal to, but I never did.”

“What?!”

Redheart set her jaw. “You heard me. I might not be lining up to kiss the Nightmare’s flank, but at least I’ve never sold out any of my ponies.”

Dash’s face tightened with barely contained rage. She reached down, scooped up Scootaloo, and laid her across her back again. “You know what? Fine! You may not care about anypony but yourself, but I’m gonna do what I can to help her!”

“Sergeant, all I do is provide care for others.” Redheart shook her head. “If you’re too blind to see that, then I don't know if you can be helped.”

Dash stood there fuming wordlessly for a second, but then turned away and stomped out the door. “I’m not just gonna let Scoots lie here with no one to take care of her. I’m gonna do something. And I don’t care about my—”

She paused, looked at one of her wings, and gave it a brief stretch. The fine bones running through it felt so different than her old pegasus wings had. Gone were her warm feathers, as well as the comforting sensation when wind billowed through them; instead, her leathery wings were often cold, and flying only made them feel moreso.

“Stupid Redheart,” Dash muttered.
> Chapter 9: Cast in Stone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sassy drummed her hooves against the carriage’s floorboards for a few moments as she watched Rarity’s cloaked figure disappear down one of the stinking side streets of Canterlot. Both her breathing and the nervous tapping continued as she contemplated the possibilities at hoof.

The driver bent his shaggy head down to the window. “Everything all right, Overseer Saddles?”

“Not at all,” she said slowly. “A change of plans may be in order.”

“Ma’am?”

“Take us to the Governor’s mansion,” she ordered. “You will drop me off, then continue as planned to the hotel. I will give you papers that will let you register on our behalf, and you will leave the Seneschal’s luggage in her room.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, though she could see hesitation as he glanced in the direction Rarity had gone.

Sassy growled. “Perhaps you’d care to help with our investigation? It seems you are a natural at sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He blanched and turned to avoid eye contact. “Sorry, ma’am!”

The cart jerked and started moving again. Sassy took out a small wooden box with ink, quills, and parchment, and began writing. It was simple work, yet she did it slowly, trying to compensate for the uneven rocking of the cart. It gave her time to reflect upon the dull ache in her head, the worse pain in her jaw, and the oddly matted fur around the front of her neck. She couldn’t account for how she’d gained any of them, except that they’d turned up in the course of her dealings with Rarity.

“How could I have missed such naked treason happening right under my muzzle,” Sassy muttered. “And how could the Mistress condemn it as such, yet condone it in the case of her Seneschal…”

Sassy sealed the finished letter with her magic and held it out before her, staring at its smooth surface as though it could help her reclaim some measure of control over the situation. At length, she shook her head and set the letter on the seat beside her.

The carriage sped her through the worst sections of Canterlot and over one of the long, narrow bridges that connected the Lower City with the Upper City. There, she found the streets were filled with marginally less refuse of inanimate or equine nature, and most buildings looked as though they’d at least had the filth scrubbed off them since the Longest Night began. The smell was also notably less pungent, though Sassy could still detect hints of it when she breathed deeply.

Simple shops faded into grander storefronts as they drew farther north and into the commerce district. Sassy felt her lips quirk upward into a smile as she passed a long row of boutiques with windows that displayed fine-cut suits, or elegant dresses of taffeta and lace. A scowl soon followed though, as she saw several shops beyond that were unlit and empty.

At last the shops entirely gave way to a series of dried-out and vacant public parks, as the carriage set off down the cobbled path toward the former grounds of Canterlot Castle.

Sassy looked out a window as they approached the Governor’s mansion—an oblong, skeletal remnant of the castle itself. She found her eyes drawn by a blown scrap of paper, which drifted on the wind toward the withered remains of a once-manicured hedge maze. She gazed beyond it, spotting what had formerly been a garden full of elegant topiary and ancient statues—now either burned or smashed to rubble that still lay carelessly where it had fallen.

The carriage drew to a halt outside the sole surviving wing of the castle itself. Sassy studied the tall building of dark-veined marble as she waited for the driver to come around and open the door for her. It was the only part of the castle that the former Princess Celestia hadn’t updated from its original styling after the exiled Princess Luna, and thus was all that the ascendent Nightmare Moon had deigned to leave standing after her return. Its polished beauty offered a stark contrast to the blasted and uneven husk around it, which had yet to be fully cleared away even years after its destruction.

The driver let her out and placed her bag by her side. She gave him the letter, then watched a pair of white-coated guards descend from the mansion’s mismatched stone entrance, which had been constructed into and from the surviving pieces of the structure’s curtain wall. “Do you have an appointment with the Governor, ma’am?” one asked.

“I don’t have an appointment,” she said, before drawing herself up to her full, considerable height. “But the Governor will see me.”

As recognition dawned in their eyes, the guards turned towards each other and exchanged a series of nervous whispers. Eventually the one who had spoken approached and took her bag in a hoof. “Of course, Overseer. Please follow me.”

They entered into a reconstructed entry hall, which was roughly three-quarters plain stone and salvaged wood, before giving way to what was left of the marbled, ornate original. Torches blazed in high wall sconces, casting an angry, reddish glow throughout.

Sassy followed the guard up a grand staircase with silver-chased bannisters at the far side of the hall. At the top they turned down a long hallway, which was hung with colorful tapestries, before eventually reaching a large double-door of dark wood and inlaid silver filigree, which was flanked by two more guards. Sassy read the hesitation on their faces and pre-empted them before they could speak: “Is the Governor engaged in yet another dalliance?”

“No, Overseer Saddles,” they answered.

“Good.” She lit her horn and opened the door, revealing a stately office filled with comfortable-looking furniture that seemed to glow in the light of a fireplace set in the wall to her left. Wooden display cases on either side of the fireplace showed a collection of small glass and porcelain curios.

At the far end was a massive, yet finely crafted desk. Its sole occupant, a finely-dressed, white-coated unicorn, had clearly been hunching over a letter, but now rose, turning an irritated scowl on the opened door.

Once again straightening her posture, Sassy strode boldly into the office. “Governor Blueblood, we must speak immediately.”

The erstwhile prince’s features softened as he saw who had interrupted his work. “Indeed, Overseer Saddles? This must be urgent; the first I’d heard of your coming was as your carriage made its way through the checkpoints up the mountain.”

She closed the door and approached his desk. “Governor, I hate to prevail upon your kindness, but my circumstances have become… complex of late. It would only be prudent to seek the protection of someone with close ties to the Mistress.”

Blueblood pursed his lips and nodded slowly. Then he lit his horn, folding the letter he’d been writing, and levitating it over to a nearby shelf. “Well then my dear, I shall have to finish corresponding with my lady-in-waiting after I learn more about this juicy bit of gossip.”

Sassy tightened her jaw, which made it ache even more. “I have no time for inanities. The Mistress has sent me to investigate certain illicit activities, but I’m learning that their roots run deeper than I realized. Some rather unforeseen entanglements have arisen as a result.”

Following a slight nod of his head, Blueblood sat back down at his desk and steepled his forehooves. “Well, I am always interested to hear more about unforeseen entanglements with desperate mares.”

She flared her nostrils. “Governor, I serve at the right hoof of the Mistress herself. It is your duty to comply.”

“Oh, duty this and duty that.” He sighed loudly. “I suppose if it can’t be avoided…” He bent to the side, rummaged around a bit out of view, then levitated up a bottle of dark amber liquid. Two short glasses and a small bucket of ice soon followed. “Can I interest you in a nightcap?”

“You know I prefer not to drink.” Sassy frowned as Blueblood unstoppered the bottle and filled both glasses regardless. A moment later, she sat down in an overstuffed chair before the desk. She paused, studying a sizable piece of decor set upon it: a large stone head of beastly aspect, with mismatched horns and a look of mirth on its chipped face.

Blueblood gestured toward the head. “Do you like it? I picked it up from the remains outside.”

“You are a bold pony indeed,” Sassy said under her breath. And yet, the thing was almost hypnotic in its ugliness, and she found herself continuing to focus on it. “Is it supposed to be equine, or draconic?”

“I believe it’s a bit of both,” Blueblood said with a wink. “Oh, I’ve found myself quite fascinated with it, too… so much so that I couldn’t resist doing some digging. Turns out this is likely a depiction of one ‘Discord, Lord of Chaos,’ who was apparently a big deal back around the time my new auntie got herself exiled.”

Sassy shook her head, and finally managed to refocus on Blueblood rather than the stone head. “Governor, let me be frank: I have come to fear that Seneschal Rarity is actively involved with the Resistance against our Mistress, and that she may now pose a threat not only to the kingdom, but to my own life as well.”

Blueblood chuckled. “My, how scandalous.”

“Scandalous?! No, this is serious! The Mistress seems much less concerned about the Seneschal’s connections than I am, but—”

“No,” Blueblood interrupted, clearly suppressing a grin. “ I mean yes, it’s scandalous enough to learn that the Mistress’ Seneschal may be a party to treason. But the real scandal may be that the Mistress’ Overseer—a mare who routinely works with spies and other operatives—has no ability whatsoever to conceal her own failings from others, like a normal pony would.”

“Governor, I have come here to conduct an investigation, not to waste time stroking your ego.”

A smile worked its way across his face. “Oh, sometimes the most obvious jokes are the hardest to resist. But all right, let us entertain the notion that Seneschal Rarity is half as dangerous as you claim. Of course you’re invited to take up residence in our guest apartments, and we shall post guards for you at all hours of night and… night.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, Governor. And while I should prefer to say as little as I can for now, rest assured, I’ll be speaking more about this matter with both you and the ponies in your employ in the nights ahead.”

He nodded, then gave her a coy tilt of his head. “But of course, you’ve asked much of me and offered little in return. Perhaps a bit of tit-for-tat might be in order?”

“What do you mean?”

Blueblood set his glass down. “You’re quite the lovely mare, Miss Saddles. I must confess a fondness for fine ladies of the unicorn persuasion, especially those who are a bit tall, and a bit slim…”

Sassy rose from her chair in as swift a manner as her indignance would allow. “Governor Blueblood, I do not have an interest of that nature in you, nor any stallion.”

“Ah, so you’re into mares, then?” He laughed and waggled his eyebrows. “Hot.”

A fierce blush rose in Sassy’s cheeks. “That isn’t what I mean!”

“Of course it isn’t. You’re so wonderfully obtuse! Why, even Seneschal Rarity would at least flirt with me if prompted so bluntly.” His laughter continued for a moment, then subsided. “Sassy, what do you do for fun?”

“…Excuse me?”

He swirled the glass around with his magic. “I’ve never known you to drink, or dance, or dally, and yet there must be a pony in there somewhere. So tell me, what brings that pony pleasure in life?”

Sassy shook her head. “This is foolishness. I’m here to do a job.”

“Could it be proving yourself right?” His eyes twinkled, and he took another sip.

She clenched her teeth.

“Ah, there it is! I think there must be nothing you love more than proving yourself right beyond a shadow of a doubt, so you can lord it over those who doubted you. Tell me though, are you truly satisfied frittering your days away inside that castle, trying to maintain order in a world that doesn’t give a damn?”

Sassy looked away, her features contorting with barely suppressed rage. “Enough with this, Governor. I need your protection, but that is all.”

He straightened in his chair. “And what if I should like to see you loosen up a bit first, Miss Saddles?”

She glowered at him. “Governor Blueblood, what would this… lady-in-waiting you mentioned think of your advances?”

“Very well, Miss Saddles; if that’s how you wish to play this, then perhaps you would at least accompany me to the ball I plan to hold in your honor? Oh, and don’t look so self-conscious; the nobles will be all atwitter at having both yourself and the Mistress’ Seneschal here at once. Times may change—the pegasi might all be gone, or in hiding—but you can always count on the nobility to love preening themselves in public.”

A tense sensation nestled in Sassy’s gut. “I’ll agree, but know that neither my heart nor my loins will be swayed by mere foppery, nor by the spectacle of seeing bits wasted by the thousands—”

“Come now; I said this would be a grand ball for the nobility,” he said, chuckling. “You have to shift the decimal point at least once!”
> Chapter 10: A Pointed Question
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity worked her way down another dank, garbage-choked alley, striving to keep her movements silent as she approached an intersection. Not for the first time, she felt her teeth grinding as she tried to recall what Sassy had told her about the nests of disreputable ponies who gathered amid the Lower City’s warren of crisscrossing avenues. She’d managed to avoid a hoofful of the ruffians thus far, but there had been innumerable sounds or unaccounted-for shadows that she’d jumped at along the way. Overall, the experience had filled her with regret about taking Sassy’s offer to contact the informant by herself.

A faint sound from the intersecting alleyway made her ears flick. Rarity paused and held her breath as she listened. The sound repeated after several moments. It was brief but swishing, like the wind.

Rarity took a slow, careful look around the corner. There, halfway down toward the street, she spotted a figure leaning against a wall. As she watched, it idly tossed a knife upward, then caught it again.

She drew back, then turned her head to check the way she’d come, making sure that nopony was there. Then she took another quick look at the figure, before trying to make out what lay past it. The street beyond looked busy; ponies passed by quickly, none seeming to notice the figure.

Rarity gritted her teeth and tried to recall her route in exacting detail, fearing that she might’ve taken a wrong turn. But despite the pounding of her pulse in her ears, she felt sure that Sassy’s directions remained clear in her mind, and she was certain she’d followed them to the letter.

For a moment she considered bolting through the intersection, trusting in stealth and speed to help her avoid the unknown pony. But as she thought it through, she realized that the pony likely wouldn’t be alone. If they and their friends weren’t bothering the passersby on the street beyond, that might be much safer.

Rarity turned around, beginning to retrace her steps toward the main street she’d come from. But after a few hoofsteps, she heard the swishing sound again. Only this time it was much clearer, and much closer.

“Your money or your life,” a stallion said from right behind her.

Rarity froze. A prickling sensation worked its way down her spine. “V… very well,” she said, slowly reaching into her cloak and unlimbering her coin purse. “Please, the money means nothing to me; just take it and let me be on my way.”

From behind her came a high, familiar cackle. “I swear… one of these days, you need to throw me a curve ball or something, ’cuz you are so predictable!”

She recognized the voice, and the laugh, of the stallion who recently held Sassy’s life in his hooves.

She slowly turned to face him. He was cloaked as always, though dim reflections of starlight glinted off what she could see of his unnerving, white-toothed grin. “I should say the same for you as well, leaping from the darkness like some grotesque jenny-in-the-box at every turn!”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s kinda my schtick. Which segues nicely into the question of what you’re doing out here in no-mare’s land? I mean, you’re not just ‘off the beaten path’; I'm pretty sure this is a path where ponies get beaten, regularly.”

Rarity swallowed. “The Overseer has asked me to assist with business in the Lower City.”

He shook his head. “Oh, but where’s the fun in keeping secrets? I don’t really go in for the Zebrican proverb that ‘there’s a difference between knowing the path and walking it.’ Let me tell you: you wanna find some folks who don’t know how to have fun, zebras are even worse than yaks.”

She furrowed her brow, trying not to let herself be overcome by the memory of Zecora being flung into Tartarus. “The… zebras?”

“Sure. I lived among ’em for a while. I used to wander all over when I was younger, trying to find my place.”

A thought danced through Rarity’s mind. A loose thread presented itself, and she decided to risk pulling on it: “But you did find it eventually, didn’t you? Perhaps with somepony who now lies in Tartarus?”

All at once, his countenance deflated. His head darted to and fro as if watching for something, and his shoulders slumped. “I… yes, my wife,” he said slowly. “I don’t much like to talk about her, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes you did. It’s all right; I just haven’t talked about her with anypony in a long time. She… was beautiful. Funny too, though most ponies never got to see that side of her. And sad… so very sad.”

“You have my sincerest condolences.”

“The worst thing is, she always had this… feeling. I don’t know how else to say it. But she always said she felt like she’d missed something important; something that would’ve changed her whole life.” He sighed, and his voice hardened. “But whatever it was, it never came. And then, somehow, I found a way to make things worse.”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose.

“We were there,” he said, and Rarity could feel his eyes start to bore through her. “In Ponyville. On the day it all started.” He laughed, but it was hollow and dead. “It was my idea to take her and the fam to the Summer Sun celebration. I thought maybe it’d make her smile.”

A leaden feeling crept into Rarity’s gut. From there it spread through her chest, seemingly trapping her heart in a cold, unyielding mass. “I… I’m so dreadfully—”

“That’s not even the worst of it,” he said, clenching his teeth. “I… I see her sometimes.” All at once he lurched forward, pressing his muzzle close to Rarity’s, teasing her with the moonlit outline of a face creased with smile-lines, yet marred by heavy bags under the eyes. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear the Nightmare sends me dark, awful visions of her sometimes. Like she just appears, looking so… so…”

He turned away. His shoulders began to shake, perhaps with tears.

Unwanted thoughts intruded into Rarity’s mind: her family screaming, lashes of fire scourging the crowd, Ponyville’s City Hall engulfed in flames. She reached a hoof toward him, though she stopped just shy of making contact. “From time to time, since Ponyville, I also have been prone to… traumatic recollections. Some have been quite vivid indeed.”

His breathing became heavier. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just in my head! It’s real enough that I can touch her for a moment… or hear her screaming out in pain.”

Rarity recoiled, and he chuckled darkly. “Because Tartarus, right? Y’know—” he stuck his tongue out, raised his hooves, and pantomimed flailing about in torment while making gagging sounds.

“That is ghastly,” Rarity said, feeling her gorge rise.

Fortunately, he stopped. “You judge me for laughing now? I’m happy, Lady Rarity. The Alicorn and dragon are the sign that we’ve been waiting for. Now I don’t have to face each day with dread about failing to rescue her; we are making things happen, and quickly too.”

She blinked, as his words evoked a thrill of hope within her. And yet she was curious: “Who’s… we?”

“Just some friends.” He grinned, and held up his knife, causing Rarity to take a step back. “We’re going down to Tartarus. We’re gonna rescue my wife. And while we’re at it, we’re gonna cut the Nightmare’s beating heart right out of her chest. Then won’t her face be red?!”

“Impossible,” Rarity whispered, though her mind seized upon the possibility. “Even if killing the Mistress was possible, I fear you’d need something much more serious than a knife.”

The stallion giggled for a moment, then threw his head back with boisterous laughter. “Exactly! See, I knew that I was working with the right mare!”

“Please, keep quiet,” Rarity said, looking around. “I still must be getting to the sweet sh—”

She regretted the words immediately as she watched his grin deepen. “Oh really,” he said. “You’re kidding! Ol’ Sassafrass sent you to meet her?”

Rarity shivered as she took a deep breath. “I take it that you know this… candy maker?”

He chuckled. “Sure I do. And I bet I know which way your sassy lil’ BFF is sending you, though I bet she doesn’t know just how bad things have gotten around Main and Sixth lately. You better come in from the north unless you want things to go south…” He finished with a giggle.

“Thank you,” Rarity said quietly.

“Not a problem, milady; I’ve got the feeling you and me are gonna get on like a house on fire! But I’ll tell you what… while I’m being helpful, why don’t I help you lose the mook who’s been tailing you for the last couple of blocks? Think about it like a ‘free gift with purchase.’”

“The… what?!”

“Oh yeah, for real. Hey guy!” He turned to face the way Rarity had come from, and then held a hoof up by his mouth. “Yeah, you there! What gives? Didn’t your mama teach you not to stalk defenseless mares in dark alleys?”

A sound from farther down the way made Rarity jump, despite having been warned that it might come. She stared wide-eyed as a large and grumbling shape shuffled out from the embrace of shadows, revealing itself as a heavyset unicorn stallion carrying a large knife in one of his forehooves. His horn began glowing, and his magic took over gripping the knife.

“That’s enough outta both of you,” the newcomer said in a thick voice. “You wanna make it out of here in one piece, you hoof over everything you’ve got. Now.”

“Perhaps we can resolve this amicably,” Rarity whispered.

“Perhaps,” the cloaked stallion said under his breath. She spotted the outline of a grin under his hood, then listened as he put on an egregiously poor Trottingham accent: “I say, good thuggish stallion; did you indeed command us to relinquish ‘everything’ in our possession?”

“Yeah,” the newcomer said. “Right now.”

Rarity gasped as she realized that she’d heard this “joke” before. “Wait, no—”

The cloaked stallion shrugged. “Right-o, guv’na; as y’wish!”

He whipped his hoof around like lightning. The heavy unicorn stumbled backwards, pressing desperate hooves to the knife handle protruding from his throat, before collapsing in a burbling heap.

“Sorry, old chap, that was all I had—aw, nuts!” He turned to Rarity, and dropped his fake accent. “I already did this one, didn’t I? Sorry! I try to be careful about recycling material…”

Rarity’s throat went dry. She rushed toward the fallen unicorn and began tearing long strips off her fine cloak. “No! NO! This is not how we shall do things! I have seen enough of suffering and death, and I will not be party to creating more!”

“I’m sorry, are you trying to save him?” Her companion chuckled, then pointed at the fallen unicorn. “This ain’t one he’s gonna walk off, sweetheart.”

Rarity trembled with rage. “And what would you have me do instead?!”

The stallion knelt down beside her. “Well, you’re kinda stuck with death at this point—but you said you weren’t a fan of suffering and death. So, pull the knife out.”

“But… that would…”

“He’s dead anyway! You leave it in, and what? He gets an extra minute or two to reconsider his life choices?” The stallion leaned closer. “I know you don’t like getting your hooves dirty, but you’re gonna have to if you want to help me bring the Nightmare down and get the prisoners out of Tartarus.” He pointed at the still-moving unicorn. “So right here, right now, what are you going to do?”

Her jaw worked its way open soundlessly as she gazed into the pony’s fearful, desperate eyes. On instinct, her hooves raised toward him, drawn like a lodestone by her own frantic need to offer him aid. But recollections of the cloaked pony’s words about hastening death stopped her, leaving her teetering just on the edge of motionlessness.

She couldn’t choose. Just like she’d failed to choose then, also.

Rarity’s breath grew shallow, like that of the dying unicorn, and her trembling grew difficult to control, as recollections of the sights and sounds of fire and death streamed through her mind in an inexorable torrent. Back then, she’d stood transfixed and unable to flee the burning sepulcher of City Hall until a nameless yellow mare had grabbed her. But as the visions replayed over and over with each heartbeat, gaining intensity every time, the mare never came. It wasn’t until hundreds of thousands of terrified faces screeched out their accusations—of her leading Ponyville to slaughter—that she at last felt a hoof on her shoulder—

“Huh, will ya look at that.”

Rarity startled. The hooded stallion had approached her, and she could almost see the outline of his face in his hood. He gestured toward the fallen pony with his free hoof. “Looks like you went with the ‘suffering and death’ option after all. I take it back; I guess you can surprise me!”

A hot, insistent sensation overtook Rarity’s gut.

She vomited.

The stallion took a few steps away. “Aww, that was too much, wasn’t it? My in-laws always did say I came on a little strong.”

“I… I didn’t want this,” Rarity managed between shaky breaths. She spat, trying to clear the taste of bile from her mouth. “None of this.”

She watched as his head came down to her level, and his eyes locked with hers. “Welcome to Tartarus, sweetheart. None of us wanted this. Only question’s what we’re gonna do about it now that—” He paused, sniffed audibly, then reached into his cloak and produced a tiny metal box. “Breath mint?”

Rarity slapped the box out of his hoof, squeezing her eyes shut. “I've had quite enough of your assistance!”

"Fine, but do us both a favor and start thinking about what you really want, not just what you're comfortable doing to get it."

Eventually, after several moments of heavy but unsteady breaths, she opened her eyes again. The stallion was gone. The knife was gone. Even the breath mints were gone. Only the fallen unicorn remained, and the sight of his body made her shudder.

Rarity looked up, studying the cold moon and the faceless buildings that surrounded her.

“Celestia, forgive me,” she whispered.
> Chapter 11: Cold Comfort
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash stalked away from the infirmary toward the barracks, struggling to keep her breathing even and her temper from boiling over. Porters, guards, and cleaning staff alike gave her a wide berth as she roamed the dark hallways of the castle. A few saluted quickly or looked askance at the unconscious figure of Scootaloo draped across her back, but none said a word, likely sensing from her heavy hoof-steps that she wasn’t in a mood to talk.

Dash felt Scootaloo’s body begin to slide. She stopped, turned her head, and used her wings to push the filly back into a secure position. As she did, Scootaloo’s soft, tiny, feathered wings brushed against her leathery bat-wings, and for a moment Dash was reminded of the sensation of thermals caressing the underside of her feathers as she flew through sunlit skies…

Nearby hoof-steps intruded on her reverie, and Dash glowered at a pair of scullery maids who were passing by. Once they’d fled, Dash took a long breath, savoring the pause. Her pulse began to slow as she focused on the distant echoing of hooves on stone, and the faint clinking of her own armor as she breathed.

Dash looked back at Scootaloo again, then grunted and adjusted the filly’s weight. “I don’t know if I wanna know what they fed you down there, but I swear you’re heavier than the last time I gave you a ride.”

She remembered the feeling of late-spring air streaming through her mane, and the sound of her favorite passenger whooping and hollering right by her ear. She recalled the exhilaration of throwing herself into a dive toward a stream, pulling up at the last moment, and kicking-up a fine mist of water as she’d launched into a backward roll. Sunlight had hit the arc of mist that trailed behind her, creating a stunning rainbow…

But many things had been different then. Dash glanced at her wings again before resuming her walk.

Dash maintained a steady pace until she came into view of the now-unguarded entrance to the barracks proper. “This’ll be alright for now,” she said quietly, looking back at Scootaloo. “Most ponies should be out with the expeditionary force—”

“Sergeant Dash,” said a deep, familiar voice, that conjured recent memories of Zecora’s death. “I wasn't sure if you were going to bother reporting for duty before I had to ship out.”

Dash paused and leveled a glare at the finely-armored, cerulean-coated thestral emerging from the barracks. He’d removed his helmet at some point since aiding the Mistress’ damnation of Zecora, giving Dash a clear view of his yellow eyes and close-cropped mane of graying brown. Despite the battle he was losing with middle age, she couldn’t deny there was a certain attractiveness in his confident stride that bordered on a swagger.

“Wind Rider,” she said flatly. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I had to debrief a couple of scouts who got back from a recon flight to the northwest. Sounds like they ran into some civilians who saw this Alicorn and dragon that the Mistress wants us to find, heading even further northwest. I don’t know, though; maybe it’s nothing, but something about all this feels… a little too convenient.” He craned his neck, eyeing Scootaloo. “Wait a minute. That's her, isn't it?”

Dash took a step backward. “What do you mean?”

Wind Rider pointed at Scootaloo. “Your little quill-whore there. She’s the one the Guardian sent back from Tartarus.”

Quill-whore. Dash winced at the vulgarity it represented.

“I know it’s an ugly thing to think about,” he said, scrunching his muzzle. “Especially for a foal. But be realistic; there aren’t many better fates in store for her if she won’t accept conversion.”

Dash swallowed, trying—failing—to think about anything other than her own transformation. The discomfort of her feathers spontaneously falling out, and of her wings’ soft skin drying into bat-leather. The awful, agonizing feeling of her wing bones being wrenched apart and re-partitioned. The unthinkable uneasiness she felt when the Mistress’ eyes were upon her…

She shook her head. “Look, she just came out of Tartarus, all right? What she needs right now is rest. So how ’bout I let you be on your way, and you let me be on mine.”

Wind Rider shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don’t get too cozy; you know how long ponies who keep pegasi last these days. Especially once the Mistress knows where to find them.”

Dash shook with the barely-suppressed desire to strike him. “Are you saying that you’d take me down just because I’m trying to help a kid who wouldn’t make it otherwise? Since when did they make that a crime?!”

His expression softened into a faint but sad smile. “The heart’s a liability, Dash. I hope you have fun playing house while you skip out on the expeditionary force; all I’m saying is, be realistic. And speaking of the force, I’d better get moving. Some of us actually serve the Mistress, and we could use another decent Sergeant out there.”

As he turned and walked back into the barracks, Dash squeezed her eyes shut, feeling shame that someone who could call Scootaloo… what he had, could still be considered such a loyal Sergeant to his ponies.

He’s a lot more loyal than I am, she thought bitterly. Then she muttered: “It’s cold. Wish somepony still took care of the weather.”

Scootaloo began to shake as well. Dash steadied the filly with her wings and looked back at her once again. After a few moments, Scootaloo’s shaking subsided, and Dash sighed. “I guess you feel it too, eh? Maybe we can find you someplace safer… or at least warmer. I just hope Rarity won’t mind me barging in.”

Dash set off on a lengthy, quiet walk across the castle, eventually arriving at a modest set of double doors in the middle of a better-furnished hallway. She reached a hoof up into her armor and produced the heavy keyring Rarity had given her, then set about the painstaking task of selecting, examining, and trying keys. She muttered any number of curses before she finally found one that turned in the lock.

The doors swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing only hints of the pitch-black and deathly cold room within.

“Ugh, how is it even worse in here?” Dash asked nopony. She picked her way toward Rarity’s desk, then fumbled for the steel knife and piece of flint that Rarity kept there. She struck them together in the nearby fireplace, which she was glad to find prepared with kindling and dead wood scavenged from the remains of the Everfree.

With the fire lit, deep shadows leapt out, and the finely furnished room came into view. Dash crossed to the opposite end of the room and opened the door to Rarity’s bedchamber. Most of its details were washed-out in semidarkness, but the large bed in the middle of it was all she really needed…

Dash approached the bed and pulled the covers aside. She then carefully laid Scootaloo down and pulled them back up over her.

After a long spell of simply watching Scootaloo’s chest rise and fall, Dash whispered: “Why did you always want to hang out with me? I was a laughingstock in Cloudsdale. Never even made it as much of a weatherpony, unless you needed a rainbow.” She laughed bitterly and looked back at her flank. “Like making big, cool rainbows was supposed to make me special.”

Scootaloo began to shake again. Dash glanced around the room. “Hold on, maybe I can find you some more blankets…”

The shaking grew more violent. Dash leaned closer to the bed, refocusing on Scootaloo. “Uh… you okay, kid?”

Dash trembled as the filly’s back arched suddenly, and the dim thought surfaced that what she was looking at might be a seizure, rather than Scootaloo merely being cold. It was something she’d learned about in Cloudsdale, as sometimes pegasi would get struck by lightning, and seizures could be among the aftereffects.

Her mind raced as she tried to recall anything useful that she’d learned, and her pulse and breathing quickened as she took stock of the situation. Scootaloo was already on her side, and being on the bed, her head wasn’t in any immediate danger of hitting something hard. But there wasn’t anything in Scootaloo’s mouth to keep her from grinding her teeth or biting down on her tongue, and it didn’t seem like she was going to relax enough for Dash to get anything in there.

“Okay, kid,” Dash said, her voice and hooves trembling as she tried in vain to hold the filly still. “I’m just… I’m gonna be right here, okay? You just… I’m here. You don’t have to worry. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The words rang hollow to her, and she had no way of knowing if they could even reach Scootaloo. But she stood fast, watching as much as she could bear of the filly’s rigid writhing, and of the pained expressions spasming intermittently across her face. Dash folded her ears down as Scootaloo began a series of hissing, stuttering vocalizations.

“I gotta get Redheart back,” Dash said through clenched teeth.

After what felt like an eternity, the seizure calmed. Dash let her hooves enclose Scootaloo in a gentle hug, in part to make sure that the filly’s body was still warm.

Scootaloo’s breathing came in uneven gasps, but at least it continued.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let you get some sleep, while I…” She swallowed, dreading the prospect of leaving Scootaloo alone again. “We’re just gonna pray to… to you-know-who that I can drag Redheart back here to look at you again.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself to say what she needed to say.

“To Celestia,” she whispered. “We’re gonna pray that to Celestia.”
> Chapter 12: The Candy Maker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity plodded through the moonlit alleys with heavy hoofsteps. Inwardly she cursed each rough, arrhythmic scrape of hoof on stone, but her limbs didn’t seem to respond with their usual grace. Her breathing was still ragged from her encounter with the shadowy stallion, and the taste that lingered in her mouth remained acrid and sour.

She chuckled darkly at the thought that it may have been best to accept one of the stallion’s breath mints after all. But her heart held little room for mirth, and soon her head hung low as the thought faded into quiet sobbing over the would-be mugger whose light she’d seen snuffed out.

In the midst of her lamentations, a curious scent wafted past Rarity’s nose. She crinkled her muzzle, taking in the warm and smoky odor. She raised a hoof and wiped her tear-streaked face, noticing up ahead that the alley emptied out into a street passing by a tall, red-painted watchtower.

Rarity smiled. She knew the tower must mean she was, at long last, approaching her destination: the sweet shop at Sixth and Main. But then she furrowed her brow as she absorbed the sight of a few dozen ponies milling around the street past the end of the alley. Several more ponies dashed by as she watched, shouting something she couldn’t make out clearly. A low but powerful roaring sound, deeper and more subtle than the sounds of the gathering crowd, began to assert itself as she quieted her breath and listened.

Rarity pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she approached the end of the alley. She moved slowly, not wanting to draw undue attention. She peered out to the right, seeing more ponies running her way on the sidewalk.

Then she peered left and saw a quaint two-story home that was engulfed in flames.

—like a house on fire, he’d said.

Rarity’s mouth worked open soundlessly. She covered her mouth and felt hot tears welling in her eyes as she recalled the stallion’s exact words at their parting.

“No,” she said aloud. “He couldn’t have. Why would he…”

All at once, her memories of him came crashing back into her consciousness. There were recollections of seeing him taunt her after visiting Zecora, of his “jokes,” his pantomimed killing of Sassy, and of his all-too-real killing of the mugger. Doubt wracked her mind as she weighed the hope that his promises had filled her with against the death and fear that they’d been steeped in. The notion of fighting to rescue a lost wife who called to him from the fires of Tartarus still struck her as noble—even romantic—though its virtue was suspect when placed next to the grim reality of fiery torment that he’d just brought to earth.

A glint among the gathered crowd of gawkers in front of the sweet shop caught her eye. Rarity wiped away her tears and looked carefully, spotting a metal holding-tank mounted on a cart that was accompanied by a hoofful of nearby stallions in heavy and slick-looking red coats. Some of the firefighters seemed to be fussing with a pump apparatus next to the tank, while others were merely standing, seemingly content to let the building burn.

She felt a surge of indignation at the sight. It came as yet another reminder of how far the world had fallen. Yet in the face of her doubts about the shadowy stallion’s blood-soaked promises, the firefighters’ shiftlessness struck her as a situation where she felt confident that she could at least try to do some good.

After a few moments, another large cluster of ponies passed by the alley. Rarity seized the opportunity to flee out in their midst, keeping her hood pulled low, hoping they would mask her motions in case he was watching the scene. She let the wave of equine flesh carry her out into the greater throng of onlookers, and then meandered toward the firefighters on a path that she hoped would look more incidental than deliberate.

“You there!” she shouted at one of them as she approached the cart, struggling to make her voice heard over both the crowd and the roaring blaze. “Why aren’t you doing anything to put out the fire?!”

The heavyset stallion gave her a look of surprise above his bushy mustache. “Nothin’, m’am? There ain’t enough wind to make the fire jump for how far apart these buildings are. We’re just keepin’ track in case that changes.”

“But why aren’t you putting out this fire? There could still be ponies trapped inside!”

He scoffed. “Anypony caught in there’d be crispier’n a burnt batch of hayfries by now, ma’am. Whole place went up in a right big hurry. Reckon it’d have caught most anypony unawares.”

“Please, I cannot bear to stand by and see this continue unabated. You must at least try!”

The stallion shook his head. “Like I said, ma’am, we’ll step in if it looks like it’s gonna kick up. ’Til then, though, I mean no disrespect, but why don’t y’all just let us do our job?”

Rarity turned away from him. Guilt washed over her as she considered how the words she’d let slip about her destination had contributed to at least the candy maker’s death, plus however many ponies might’ve been in the shop when it went up. She could scarcely bring herself to ponder how many might’ve lived up in the building’s second floor.

“Are you certain there were no survivors at all?” Rarity asked.

The stallion shrugged. “Can’t say for sure, ma’am. I just know we ain’t seen anypony come out through the front since we got here.”

Rarity nodded slowly, as the the thought occurred to her that she could try the back. And so she broke away from the stallions, pushing as swiftly as she dared through the crowd toward the side of the building. As she moved closer to the inferno, the heat grew to stifling levels and she was forced to fight against the instinctual surges of panic that screamed at her to flee. But soon she exited the knot of ponies closest to the building and took off at full gallop down the alley running next to the building. At this distance she was sweating more from the flames than from her own nerves.

As Rarity came around to the back side of the shop, she spotted a door labeled as a service entrance. She lit her horn and cast a spell to delve for nearby life signs. Innumerable pinpricks of light sprang up in her mind’s eye from the heavily populated streets around the shop. None seemed to be coming from the shop itself, though.

The moments dragged on, and Rarity felt a growing ache in her horn from the effort of maintaining the spell. She turned her eyes downwards and touched a hoof to her brow, massaging it. But in doing so, she noticed a streak of red that had cut its way across the dirt and filth behind the shop and deeper into the darkness of the alley.

Rarity’s eyes widened as her spell lit up a single, dim life-sign somewhere in that alley.

“Hello?” Rarity called, stepping slowly down the crimson trail. She flared her horn-light, trying to cast a bit more illumination. Yet she also glanced upward and into a multitude of recessed doorways as she moved down the alley, any of which could be hiding a criminal or, worse, him.

She spotted movement near some bags of trash. Rarity approached cautiously, trying to build confidence as her horn-light gradually revealed more details.

The thing jerked suddenly, and Rarity gasped with surprise as she realized that it was a leg; specifically the hind leg of a pony, albeit with patches that were alternately blackened or raw. Rarity moved closer, seeing from the size and shape of the pony that it was a mare. Her yellow coat was matted with mud and filth in some places, and scorched in others. Her mane and tail were almost worse; they’d likely once been blue streaked with pink, but much of the hair was stained with ash or simply burned away.

“Who’s… there,” the mare rasped, before erupting into a series of pained coughs.

“Oh m… my goodness, you’re alive,” Rarity stammered. “Let’s see if we can keep you that way…”

The mare fixed her blue eyes on Rarity. They were red-rimmed, likely from smoke and pain, but they remained vivid and intense. “Closer,” she said, scrunching up her tear-streaked muzzle.

Rarity approached her. As she did, she noticed that the mare’s barrel was also marred with lines of livid, bubbling red. “You’ve been stabbed,” she said quietly, affecting deliberate calmness for the wounded mare’s sake. But on the inside she was wracked with mounting dread about the shadowy stallion and his favored tools.

The mare raised a bloody, shaking hoof toward Rarity, and she gripped the front of her cloak. Rarity felt herself pulled uncomfortably close to the mare’s blackened, spattered face by a grip that was like iron, despite her considerable injury. “Leave a message,” she breathed. “Starswirl… Fountain. Upper City. Find the loose stone. Leave a note… ‘He’s back.’”

“He…” Rarity’s stomach felt leaden again. “The message—”

The grip on Rarity’s cloak loosened as the mare slumped to the pavement, hissing through gritted teeth: “Just make it say, ‘he’s back!’”

Rarity nodded as she considered her options. Much as she didn’t want to risk being spotted by him, she also knew there was little chance of saving the wounded mare’s life without seeking help. “Wait here a moment,” she said, frowning. “Whatever you do, please try to stay conscious.”

“W… what…”

“I will not leave you to die.”

The mare struggled to rise again, but ultimately couldn’t. “No… just… the message…”

Ignoring the mare’s protests, Rarity galloped back down the alley, letting the purpose of her mission steel her against the raging heat of the inferno. She pushed into the crowd once more, and worked her way to where the heavyset firefighter was waiting by his cart. “Excuse me again, good sir?”

“Oh! Howdy, ma’am.”

“Yes, dreadfully sorry, but I wonder if you might have any other carts at hoof, besides your pump-wagon?”

He frowned. “I s’pose we do, ma’am. Why do you ask?”

Rarity fished out her billfold and discreetly counted off a sum of bits that made his eyebrows climb. “Do you suppose that you could have a cart come around to the alley behind this building?”

“Well ma’am, I reckon that a lot o’things are possible,” he said, taking the bits from her.

“Go then, please; time is of the essence! And bring a tarpaulin to cover the cart as well!”

She left him, once again braved the flames at the side of the building, then hurried to where the mare still lay groaning. “Thank goodness you’re still with us. I have good news: our transportation should be sorted. Though I never did properly make your acquaintance, miss…?”

“Bon Bon,” the mare croaked. “Baker… and candy maker.”

“Bon Bon. A pleasure to meet you, excepting the circumstances. You… likely recognize me, given what you do for Overseer Saddles?”

“Wait… did she—”

“She asked me to come.” But Rarity paused, noticing that something beyond just burns and dirt-stains looked amiss with Bon Bon’s flank. Amid a cutie mark that gave the appearance of three wrapped candies, one of those candies was… smudged. Not stained or injured, but smudged. As if it was painted on.

“Darling, what is this?” Rarity asked, raising a hoof and rubbing at the smudge. She examined her hoof, and her brow furrowed at the sight of yellow, pink, and blue paint flakes upon it.

“It’s… not…” Bon Bon said weakly.

Now curious and fascinated in equal measure, Rarity lifted a corner of her cloak and used it to continue rubbing at the ostensible cutie mark. Bon Bon’s protests diminished in their conviction, due to her fading consciousness. And as the paint flecked away, Rarity found herself entranced by what she discovered underneath: two thick, grayish, parallel lines. It was unlike any cutie mark that Rarity had seen before, and striking in its plainness.

Rarity couldn’t escape the thought that it resembled an equals sign.


END OF BOOK 1: HELL AWAITS

> Book 2: By the Pale Moonlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Cheering, running pell-mell with excitement, or simply pointing at her with wide eyes… the reaction had been consistent enough over the centuries that Princess Celestia no longer questioned it when she visited their towns. It made her smile to bring her ponies joy and to see them share her smile. But this time, as she descended from the sky toward the ponies gathered in the moonlit town square of Ponyville, she found her smile wouldn’t come.

“Welcome, Princess!” shouted a familiar tan-colored pony who was leading the throng.

“Mayor Mare,” Celestia said, touching down.

“Ponyville is honored by your choice of our town for this year’s Summer Sun Celebration!” Mayor Mare gestured toward the crowd, which erupted in whooping and applause. “My new Deputy Mayor is simply over the moon with excitement at the festival she’s prepared in your honor.”

The Mayor gestured at a pretty white unicorn next to her, whose flowing purple mane bobbed as she gave a demure curtsey. Celestia returned it with a slight bow of her head. “I’m sure it will be lovely. But first, Mayor, there is a matter I need your assistance with.”

“Oh! Um,” the unicorn said, holding up a clipboard in her magic. “But Mayor… Princess… we are running on a rather tight schedule tonight. There are a number of requests to meet you. Three sick foals, an elderly mare, and a family from out of town, with a husband who seemed quite keen on surprising his wife!”

Celestia tried not to frown. “Deputy Mayor, I’m afraid I must ask for a bit of flexibility. Would you please give the Mayor and me a few moments?”

The unicorn did a poor job of concealing her disappointment, which gave a sharp contrast with the surrounding crowd’s joviality. “I… yes, of course, Princess. I shall simply have to move some things around…” She trotted off, scratching at her clipboard with a pen.

“Princess?” asked the Mayor.

Celestia leaned closer, and spoke in hushed tones: “I believe there is an earth pony mare who moved to Ponyville not long ago. She had a yellow coat, and a cutie mark looking like wrapped candies?”

“That sounds like Bon Bon.”

“Bon Bon. Can you arrange for her to meet me somewhere discreet?”

Mayor Mare furrowed her brows. “Y… yes of course, Princess. May I ask what to tell her?”

For a moment, Celestia watched the mass of laughing, dancing, celebrating ponies in silence. Then she sighed. “Tell her I forgive her, and that I may need her services again before the night is through.”


> Chapter 13: The Dead Mare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity kept a furtive watch on the streets through holes in the tarp covering the cart-bed. At least, she did so when she could spare attention away from Bon Bon, whose fluttering eyes and labored breathing made Rarity wonder if the poor mare would survive to their destination. More than once, Rarity had to jostle her back awake, or even go to the distasteful extent of using a small spark of magic to focus Bon Bon’s attention on a new, sharp, but ultimately superficial source of pain.

Her heart leapt as the cart turned onto a street she recognized. “It won’t be long now, dear. You’ve been so strong; please hold out for just another few moments.”

Bon Bon only nodded.

Rarity looked back out through the hole, and watched as cart passed through a familiar set of tall wooden gates and into a compound surrounded by high stone walls. The cart stopped a few moments later, and she threw the tarp aside.

A trio of solid-looking stallions drew back in surprise amidst their approach to the cart. “Lady Rarity?!” they exclaimed.

“Gentlecolts,” Rarity said, trying to put on an affectation of grace despite her circumstances. She addressed each stallion in turn: “Would you be so good as to run over and close the gates right away? Then would you please summon Lord Rich’s doctors? And would you let him know I’m here? Quickly; this mare is wounded!”

The three cast wide-eyed looks at Rarity, Bon Bon, and finally each other, before they galloped off to their assigned tasks.

Rarity looked down at Bon Bon, and cursed herself for letting the mare lose consciousness. “Come on, darling.” She shook Bon Bon slowly, then faster, as the fear of losing her reasserted itself. But after a moment she pressed an ear to Bon Bon’s barrel, and tears of something just short of happiness sprang to her eyes at the sound of the mare’s ragged breathing.

There was a commotion from nearby, and Rarity soon found herself squinting against a harsh intrusion of torches into the moonlight. A dozen or so ponies came galloping toward her from the nearby “manor house,” which was in truth a long, oversized, multi-level warehouse of red brick, some of which had been converted to living space. At the center of the group of ponies was a brown-coated stallion with concerned-looking blue eyes whom she knew very well indeed.

“Lord Filthy Rich,” Rarity said, rising unsteadily. “I must apologize for coming to you in this singularly wretched state, but as you can see…”

She gestured to Bon Bon. Filthy’s eyes went wide. He froze that way for a few heartbeats, mouth hanging half-open, as ponies rushed around him to either help secure the gates or to start examining Bon Bon.

“You there,” shouted one of the ponies looking into the cart. “Run immediately and start setting up the surgery! Time is of the essence! You others, fetch a litter! Quickly now!”

Rarity turned back to Bon Bon and gingerly touched the mare’s less-burned forehoof. “You did it, darling. There’s nothing to fear anymore. Lord Rich’s doctors and ponies of herbcraft are truly the finest that money can buy.”

Bon Bon’s eyes flicked open for an instant, but she said nothing.

Filthy continued to stare at Bon Bon with a peculiar expression. Despite the lack of privacy borne of ponies busying themselves all around, curiosity got the best of Rarity: “Filthy dear, do you know Ms. Bon Bon?”

“I… no,” he said, blinking. “I’m sorry, this is just…” He shook himself. “It’s Rich, please, dear. No, this is all just quite a lot to take in. Both your sudden arrival, and…” He gestured toward Bon Bon.

“I understand, and I hate to impose.” She raised a hoof toward him, and he offered one of his own to help her step down from the cart.

“No, no, it’s no trouble, I assure you. Here, let’s—”

They stepped aside as two ponies galloped back with a litter and moved it into place by the cart. Those ponies then climbed up beside Bon Bon and began to work their hooves underneath her. Bon Bon made a series of pained but indistinct vocalizations as the attending stallions loaded her onto the litter and set off carrying her into the house.

A strong pair of forelegs pulled Rarity close, and she let herself nuzzle into the warmth of Filthy’s barrel.

“My goodness,” he said, pulling away just slightly. “Dear, is this blood on your cloak?”

Rarity’s cheeks flushed, and she half-gasped, half-laughed in response. “W… why yes, it must have come from… poor Bon Bon.”

She threw the cloak off with her magic. A moment later, Rarity felt Filthy pull her back into his embrace. The warmth and pressure of his coat on her face was heavenly. “I’m so dreadfully sorry about showing up unannounced, unpresentable, and bringing untold trouble to your doorstep,” she said into his shoulder.

“My home is yours, anytime. Besides… apart from the blood, this isn’t the most disheveled that I’ve seen you.”

She gave him a strained smile. “You’re too sweet. But I fear we should discuss what brought me.”

He turned and looked toward the tall brick wall on the edges of his “estate.” “Would you care to walk and talk? It’s a lovely evening.”

“It feels as though I’ve walked through half the Lower City already tonight, but I suppose at least the company is better this time.”

Before they could set off, though, they heard the great front door to Lord Rich’s estate creak open again. They turned to see a pale pink filly standing there. Her eyes were pointed vaguely in their direction, but through their dry and bloodshot aspect they seemed haunted, unfocused... Rarity might say “empty,” if she were feeling anything less than charitable. Though a quick glance at the mass of scar tissue and sunken metal atop the filly’s head reminded her that charity was the least she could offer to somepony who had lost so much.

Filthy glanced at Rarity before turning a smile on the filly. “Now Diamond, dear, what have we discussed about going out of the house without supervision?”

Diamond Tiara’s eyes snapped in the direction of Filthy, and their unblinking gaze remained a fixed thousand-yard stare. “A dead mare came into the house,” she said, her tone completely flat.

Filthy and Rarity exchanged glances, and Filthy chuckled as he took a step toward Diamond. “Now, dear, that poor mare isn’t dead, and hopefully the doctors can help keep her that way. Though she has been injured dreadfully, which Lady Rarity and I were just going to discuss…”

Diamond’s eyes snapped in Rarity’s direction. The stare made the hair on the back of her neck stiffen, and a chill ran through her body. “You’ve seen her, too.”

Filthy gave Rarity an expression that told her she didn’t have to answer. But Rarity did anyway: “No, dear; as your father said, she isn’t dead.”

Diamond cocked her head to the side. The motion was cold, mechanical, and looked painful, but Diamond’s expression remained vacant. “I was wrong. You haven’t seen her yet. But you will.”

From behind Diamond stepped a flustered-looking pale yellow stallion whose greying mane was cropped short and easily outdone by his long, bushy moustache. “Sincere apologies, Lord Rich!”

He smiled. “It’s all right, Kibitz; she bolts on everypony from time to time.”

Kibitz bowed, then shooed Diamond back into the house and closed the door behind them.

Rarity swallowed, then looked at Filthy. “I’m sorry she hasn’t improved.”

He sighed. “Kibitz has been wonderful at finding ponies to work with her, but progress is slow. Truthfully… I’m just glad I have her back, no matter what her recovery might look like.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “I suppose we’re fortunate anytime a pony is sent back from Tartarus,” she said. The recollection of Zecora being hurled in, and of Scootaloo being returned, played through her mind again. For a moment, she let herself pause and wonder how Dash was getting along with the filly.

Filthy gave her a sad smile, but said nothing, merely gesturing back toward the wall.

They fell in next to each other silently. Rarity’s gut roiled with desire to talk about the circumstances that led her to his doorstep, but she held her tongue for the sake of respecting Filthy’s struggles with Diamond Tiara, whose namesake had—quite horrifically—become one with her during her time in Tartarus. For several minutes they simply walked next to each other down the gravel path along the perimeter.

As they passed a spot where guards were visible on the wall above, Filthy took another deep breath. “That mare. Where did you find her?”

Rarity looked at him with hesitation. Opening up with the truth would remove a dreadful weight from her chest, but Filthy had long since leaned toward the Resistance, whereas Rarity had only met Bon Bon while acting on behalf of Sassy. “I fear… I may have stumbled into something far more dangerous and uncertain than even what we usually face.”

“Good heavens,” he said, chuckling. “Just how bad is it, then?”

Rarity sighed, resigning herself to the realm of half-truths. “The Overseer is here in Canterlot with me. She had asked me to… bring her some sweets. A demeaning errand, to be sure; but sometimes it’s best to humor the irascible old thing and let her feel that she’s in charge. Unfortunately, it seems some misadventure befell poor Bon Bon and her shop before I arrived. But once there… well. I hate the sight of ponies dying right before me.”

Filthy nodded and raised a hoof toward her mane. “So then your visit to Canterlot is strictly business, not pleasure?”

Despite her apprehension, Rarity giggled a little. “I hate to disappoint you, darling.”

“No, it’s quite alright. Though I imagine there may yet be some entertainment to be had from the nobility; with yourself and Lady Saddles in town, they’ll be positively over the moon from the potential intrigue.”

“I promise that I would’ve let you know about our coming if there’d been time.” Rarity turned to glance back toward the house— 

Her breath caught.

For there, in one of the windows on the upper floor, was a sight that chilled her blood and raised her hackles once again: dead eyes, standing out cold and white, against a shadowy but lifeless pink face, all framed by a dark, limpid mane.

But the worst thing was the smile.

It was that of a pony, and yet not; for Rarity had never seen a smile so wide in all her days, and she hoped very much that she should never see one so broad, and toothy, and preternaturally terrifying, ever again.

“M… my Lord Rich…” Rarity stammered, raising a shaky hoof to point at it.

He whipped around, following her gaze, and temporarily stepped in front of her, blocking her view. Rarity could hardly move, and indeed could hardly breathe. Something about those eyes had bored straight through her soul, and the feeling of coldness that permeated her would not leave.

When Filthy bobbed back out of the way, Rarity saw that the figure was gone. The window seemed empty as a tomb.

Filthy clutched her shoulders. “Rarity. Rarity, are you alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

The mere memory of the eyes made Rarity’s blood run cold again. “I… it… it looked like… a mare. But like no mare I’ve ever seen…”

Filthy looked back at the house. “One of my servants, perhaps?”

“No,” Rarity said, quite emphatically. “No, I can’t imagine you would have a mare like that in your employ.”

“Please, my dear… you must’ve been through an incredible shock, given what you’ve seen just now with the mare you brought to us. Why don’t we come back to the house, and—”

Rarity shook her head. “N… no, I don’t think I could go back into your house now. I’m sorry, I… I just…”

“May I hold you?”

She shivered, but nodded, and he wrapped his forelegs around her. She sighed as she let his warmth unwind the knot of tension in her whole body. “Oh, Filthy,” she sobbed a moment later. “Perhaps you’re right, and I was just imagining things. I… I just need… oh, I don’t know what I need right now!”

“Rich, dear. And it’s all right. I can’t imagine the pressure you must be under, working directly under the Mistress’ gaze at all times.”

Rarity shook her head. Tears continued welling in her eyes. “No, you don’t understand.” She paused, took a deep breath, and pushed herself out of the hug. She stared into his warm, kind eyes, and studied the wrinkles at the corners of them. “You’ve always been so good to me, in spite of our… differences.”

“You mean, our different loyalties?”

She raised a hoof to his chin, tracing along his jawline. “The Overseer and I were sent to look for connections to the ponies who supply illegal foodstuffs.”

His jaw tensed. “Yes, I’ve long been under the impression that the Overseer suspects me and my connections.”

“I still don’t think the Mistress cares about smaller-scale operations. But I have to ask… have you, by chance, heard of anypony doing something grander? Something that could supply considerably more food, and much faster than anything seen before?”

“My dear, in most matters, I’m glad to help you in any way that I can. But it can be difficult to be fully open with you sometimes, considering your… employer. Do you have specific questions?”

“I suppose I’ve come into some details of a particularly large, new operation. Something that would require rather specialized skills to construct and maintain. I’m not even sure where it is, or if it has been built yet, or—”

Filthy stepped away from her. “I’ve always known you might come to me someday with questions like these. I suppose there are a few things that I would’ve been willing to share. But this sounds bigger. ‘Grander,’ as you might say. I fear it might lead you to ask me questions with answers that’d jeopardize ponies I know.” He glanced back at her. “That is, assuming I know anything.”

A fresh jolt of trepidation nipped at Rarity’s confidence. She feared pushing him too far, too quickly. “Of course, anything you say would be purely hypothetical. I assure you that my interest is not in leading ponies to death or incarceration. I…” She wracked her brains for any way make her position more persuasive, but found only visions of the ghoulish mare around each corner inside her mind.

The cloaked stallion had mentioned being haunted by such visions…

She shivered. “Filthy, surely you see that I wouldn't have come to you like this if I’d had a choice. Because you are right, there’s little I could say that would persuade you that I wasn’t part of some new crackdown. All I have to point at is the history we've shared, and what you know of me now, and whatever you might remember of the mare I was before the Longest Night fell.”

“It’s Rich, dear. But yes, I do remember that mare.” Filthy’s smile brought deep creases around his twinkling eyes. “Very pretty. Very young. Definitely not the sort of mare a married stallion ought to go near. But smart as a whip, and determined to be the best Deputy Mayor Ponyville ever had.”

Heat rose in Rarity’s cheeks as she returned the smile and batted her eyelashes at him. “Come now; flattery will get you everywhere.”

Filthy breathed a long, heavy sigh, as her hoof traced down the center of his chest. He gave another chuckle. “Oh, very well; I suppose that I can do some looking, though it may take time.”

Rarity glanced back at the house. “That’s quite all right. I’ve seen some things just now that leave me needing to take time and think anyway.”

“Well then, should I have one of the guest rooms done up for you? It’s no trouble. Then even if you’re not… in the mood to spend time now, at least we can be close?”

Rarity squeezed her eyes shut, seeking the void; but she found only recollections of that sepulchral vision in the darkness of her mind’s eye. “N… no,” she stammered. “I… I fear I must be getting on to the hotel. Sassy will be disappointed enough as it is to hear about her candy-making friend, and I’ve already had a hoofful of unexpected stops this evening. If I tarry much longer, she is liable to send ponies out looking for me, and the last thing I want is for your privacy to be invaded more than it already has been.”

Filthy kept his jaw firm as he gave her a curt nod. “Of course, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll ensure the mare you brought us receives the best care possible. And if you truly wish to be on your way, I’ll have Kibitz bring my finest coach around so you don’t have to travel so humbly twice in one night.”

“Though I appreciate the offer… is it safe to assume that you have more discreet transportation available? Perhaps to make it look as though nopony is being transported at all?”

His brow knit, but he nodded slowly. “Of course, but why go to such lengths? Are you in some kind of danger?”

“There are times when a lady must ask to be indulged,” she said, trying to keep her tone breezy.

Filthy’s frown stayed fixed, but he turned and led them both back around the side of the house. “All right, dear, I know better than to push you. But do call again when you feel more up to talking.”

“I will,” Rarity said, giving him a wan smile. “I promise, darling.”

They parted company under the eaves of the cart park. Filthy spoke a few words to the workers as he went, leaving Rarity to watch a team of stallions begin readying a pair of low-slung carts that looked as if they could barely hold a single pony in their beds.

Rarity startled at the sound of a throat clearing next to her. She turned and saw that the yellow-coated, mustachioed retainer—Kibitz—who had been shepherding Diamond Tiara earlier had evidently gotten a break from his charge. “Milady,” he said with a nod.

“Good evening?”

He worked his jaw soundlessly for a moment, causing his large moustache to bob up and down in the air. “Madam, at risk of imposing… these carts are meant to conceal a pony under them. They have their uses, of course, but they’re far from comfortable.”

“I’m sure they are,” Rarity said, her voice catching just slightly. “But I believe their uses to be rather in line with my needs at the moment.”

He harrumphed quietly, then turned and regarded the laborers. “I can understand your discretion in bringing that mare to us, of course. But I assure you, Lord Rich has taken pains to make his home a refuge from many kinds of danger.”

“I would simply feel better if I keep moving,” Rarity said, still trying not to shiver at the recollection of the mare in the window. “And I would prefer to do so unobserved.”

His face slid into a deep frown, though not seemingly one of anger; Rarity took the impression that it might instead be disappointment. “Very well, madam. Then before you go, I wanted to thank you personally for saving that mare’s life. Not many ponies would go out of their way to help somepony in such dire need these days.”

Rarity inclined her head. “I suppose we must do what we can for the ponies around us, even when—” she trembled as Zecora’s dying words pushed their way to the forefront of her mind “—the path of good is difficult to see?”

He nodded, and faint smile-lines stood out on his face.
> Chapter 14: Loyalties
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well they sure got the lead out,” Dash muttered, leaping out of an open window near the castle infirmary. She’d already found it running on a skeleton crew of orderlies struggling, and mostly failing, to keep up with their patients’ needs. But the main thing she cared about was that Redheart was gone.

Then again, so was the expeditionary force. Dash breathed a litany of curses as she set off flying above a road that slashed through the remnants of the Everfree. Cart-tracks left by the force’s earthbound elements stood out clearly below. They’d made swift progress, and regret filled Dash as she thought about the long, plodding walk she’d taken through the castle with Scootaloo on her back, and then about all of the delay she’d caused herself by debating whether Redheart would even listen if she went back to find her.

A deep sense of unease crept over Dash as she realized the road was leading her in the direction of Ponyville. Though it was relatively close to the castle, Dash only rarely went back to the ruins; there was nothing there for her anymore, save for bad memories. Including some of Scootaloo.

After a few minutes of flying, she began to close on the force’s caravan of carts and wagons. The ones toward the front of the column were made of tough, polished wood and looked every bit the part of troop and arms carriers. But the ones toward the back were much simpler and rougher, consisting mostly of open flat-beds. A few had canvas canopies, though, which marked them as field infirmaries. Dash circled these a hoofful of times, trying to spot Redheart. Eventually she noticed one or two orderlies whom she recognized from her recent trip to the castle’s infirmary.

“Hey, do you guys know where Redheart is?” Dash asked, descending next to them.

“Sergeant Dash?”

Dash’s stomach felt leaden, and her veins pulsed with adrenaline, at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. She turned, and watched as Wind Rider trotted out from behind one of the carts. Flanking him were two other soldiers; and while his helmet was off, theirs conveyed aspects of glinting, birdlike visages that looked menacing in the naked moonlight.

“This is the last place I figured I’d see you,” Wind Rider said. “What happened to your pet?”

“Well, uhh… yeah,” Dash said, before wincing at her own lameness. “We, uh, got a pretty bad injury up at the castle. One of… Rarity’s helpers. Gonna be a real pain in the flank trying to get anything done without them on their hooves.”

Wind Rider nodded, but frowned. “And the medical staff we left up there isn’t up to the task?”

“…Nope, no they’re not,” Dash said. “I was gonna stop in and… see Redheart, see if she could come back or something.”

“Must be serious. I don’t think we can spare Redheart, though. Our forward scouts have started taking potshots from some unicorns hiding Mistress-knows-where out in the plains, and the Mistress herself is up there trying to help flush them out. I was about to order Redheart and her ponies forward to start triage operations.”

Dash crinkled her muzzle. “Unicorns? I thought you were going after an Alicorn.”

“And a dragon.” Wind Rider paused, looking at Dash with narrowed eyes. “The timing doesn’t feel like a coincidence, does it? First we see strange creatures in the castle that the Mistress wants to possess. Then she starts hunting them, and we run into… what? ‘The Resistance?’”

“Heh, I guess I better get back and keep an eye on the castle, then,” Dash said aloud. Inwardly though, she wrestled with a feeling of despair at having to return without help for Scootaloo. And after a moment, the accompanying fear became great enough to override her concern about what Wind Rider might say: “Maybe I could just talk to her, though? See what she says about things?”

“I’m sure that’d be fine. You all heard what I just said about your orders?” Wind Rider glanced around the cluster of medical staff, who largely nodded. “Very good. Well Dash, I ought to get up to the front. Good luck back at the castle… and maybe it’s a good thing you’ll be there, after all. If anypony tries to make a move against it while we’re gone, don’t hesitate to use the Seneschal’s keys to let the Mistress know there’s trouble.”

“Good luck to you, too,” Dash said, fighting her hammering heartbeat.

He nodded, then leapt up into the sky, trailed by his compatriots.

Dash gulped as she watched them fly off. The heavy keyring was about the last thing she wanted to think about, given that so much as dropping it might draw Nightmare Moon’s attention. She turned back toward the medical carts, trying to suppress the thought. And in the shadow of one of their canopies, she saw a familiar frown on a white face.

“Redheart!” Dash couldn’t fight the grin, and only just stopped herself from leaping up into the air with joy. “Redheart, it’s—” She caught herself from saying more, and eyed the other medical staff nearby.

“What’s going on, Sergeant?” Redheart said, her tone suggesting she didn’t actually want to know.

“Uhh, can we talk?”

Redheart opened her mouth, but then closed it and scowled. “Fine. You lot, get going; Chapel, cover for me until I catch up.”

Her staff murmured their assent as Redheart hopped down out of the back of the cart. She and Dash moved out around behind the carts’ path. As the last of them passed, Redheart whirled around with a deep frown. “This is about Scootaloo, isn’t it? I told you, I can’t—”

“She… she had a seizure,” Dash said in a wavering voice.

Redheart closed her eyes and sighed. “And you just left her?”

“Well, what the buck was I supposed to do?! I don’t exactly have anypony there who I can trust to watch her while I go for help, do I?”

Redheart grumbled quietly for a moment. “How long did it last? …It’s over, right? You didn’t just leave her in the middle of one…”

“Of course not! I’m not that stupid. I don’t know how long it was, exactly. It’s not like I was timing it. It seemed pretty bad, though. I mean, just the way that she… the look as she was…”

Dash trailed off, struggling to find the words. One unexpected thing she found, though, was that Redheart’s eyes appeared to soften just a touch as she continued looking into them.

“I know how scary that can be for first-timers,” Redheart said. “I’ve treated plenty of kids who had those. Most parents can get used to them after a while, and seizures aren’t necessarily the worst problem, but the first time…” She sighed. “The first time always terrified them. So, I’m sorry. I know how hard that must’ve been.”

“So you’ll come back and look at her?”

“Dash… no, didn’t you just hear our orders? Like I said earlier, I’m stuck on this damn fool mission to nowhere. Besides, Wind Rider is definitely not somepony I want to mess with.”

“I told him one of Rarity’s helpers was hurt pretty bad,” Dash said slowly.

“You stupid pony! Now I have to come up with a lie about whatever you might’ve told me. And even if I do that, if he should think to check back at the castle to corroborate my story—”

“It’ll lead him right back to Scootaloo,” Dash said, her stomach sinking. “Ohmigosh… I didn’t mean to make things worse!”

Redheart sighed. “Then why did you come after me? I told you I couldn’t help. Truth be told, I hate saying that, but it’s what’s expected of me out here. So just go, will you? Before you dig this hole any deeper.”

With that, Redheart turned to walk away—but Dash flew around and blocked her path. “Wait, Wind Rider’s gonna be busy chasing the Mistress around, so he’s not gonna have time to spend keeping tabs on everypony in the field hospital. So he wouldn’t even know if you came back with me to take a look at Scootaloo! And I mean, just a look. Just to make sure she’s okay.”

“You obviously don’t know how to take a hint, so let me spell this out for you: I help take care of ponies. I can’t do that if I’m dead. So if I’m executed for abandoning my post, some of them are going to end up dying too. And frankly, even though I know there’s a selfish side to what I’m saying, I don’t need more meaningless, avoidable patient deaths on my conscience.”

“Okay, okay. So look, if this does come back on either one of us, just remember: me and Wind Rider are both the same rank. You could always just tell him I ordered you to come back, and you weren’t sure whose order you should follow.”

“So you’re ordering me to come with you?” Redheart asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess… no. I probably shouldn’t. It’s just…” Dash frowned, and looked out at Ponyville, seeing only the dim outlines of its ruins. “I failed her once. Failed all of them.”

“And you think that dragging me back now is going to make everything right?”

Dash shook her head. “I messed things up for all the ponies who were with me when the Nightmare came. I know I’ll never make that right again. But maybe I can make it a little more right for Scootaloo. And maybe if I can do that…” Dash gestured out toward the ruins. “I pledged myself to the Mistress, and she marked me as her own, but I haven’t forgotten about Ponyville. Even though… you were right; I’ve focused more on saving my own skin than being there for other ponies. Honestly Redheart, you’re not selfish; I am. Or I have been. But I don’t wanna be that way with Scootaloo.”

Redheart sighed again. “Look, I’m all for helping what’s left of Ponyville any way I can, but I’ve seen the consequences of stepping too far out of line.”

“Well, what about Zecora? That had to be risky for both you and Rarity.”

After a moment of quietly studying the ground, Redheart shrugged. “Yeah, but, we couldn’t just not try to do something for her. She saved our lives out in the Everfree those first few nights.”

A smile quirked its way across Dash’s muzzle. “Sounds like you’re willing to take risks if they’re the right risks.”

“Maybe.” Redheart accompanied the word with nervous pacing. “I mean, let’s say I did go with you; maybe they wouldn’t miss me for a while, but you’d have to get me back here in a hurry, and without drawing attention. Plus we’re gonna need one damn good lie to back up what you just told Wind Rider.”

“Yeah?” Dash studied Redheart expectantly, and guessed from the tension in her stance that she likely wasn’t done talking.

“...But in a way, you’re right about what going back would really mean. It’s not about you; it’s not even about Scootaloo. It’s about Ponyville.” Redheart met Dash’s eyes with an intense look, and spoke words that were quiet, but heavy with conviction: “The ponies of Ponyville are my ponies.”

“Alright!” Dash punched a hoof upward, utterly failing to contain her enthusiasm. “This is great news! Let’s get back right away, then. I found her this perfect place—”

“Try not to get too excited,” Redheart said over her. “This is still on your head if Wind Rider comes back looking for blood.”

“I know,” Dash replied. Worries over Scootaloo and Wind Rider nipped at the edges of her confidence. But as her eyes lingered on Redheart’s tight jaw and determined expression, she felt herself assuming a cocky grin for what seemed like the first time in an eternity. “Don’t worry; we got this.”

“‘We’ damn well better,” Redheart muttered.
> Chapter 15: Loose Threads
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Watch it!” Sassy shouted, dodging a pair of liveried stallions lugging a desk in their forelegs. Before she could think of a more pointed reprimand, two other ponies entered through her allotted bedchamber’s arched door carrying wooden end tables, prompting her to press against a tall, red-curtained window.

Despite Sassy’s increasingly frequent need to let other ponies by, the room was large enough to accommodate the desk, some chairs, a double bed, several bookshelves, and a chest of drawers. But the press of chambermaids and other sundry workers, either cleaning things or moving in furniture, felt stifling to her. And after another few moments of hesitation, Sassy felt that escape was in order. She pushed her way to the washroom at the far side of the chamber, lit her horn, and pulled the door shut behind her. Sassy closed her eyes and, with some effort, slowed her breathing.

When she opened them again, the first thing that she noticed was her own reflection in the mirror over the fine porcelain wash-basin. She turned her head from side to side, examining herself in the dull hornlight. Her already thin face looked pinched, and worry-lines stood out more strongly than she remembered. The frown she wore softened slightly as she looked at her eyes, though; while rimmed with heavy bags that belied her need for good sleep in a proper bed, at least they weren’t still swollen from the blows she’d suffered at Rarity’s hooves.

Her gaze moved downward, where she noticed little bits of the soft fur underneath her neck still showing signs of red from whatever had happened back at the castle. It struck her that it looked like it had been inexpertly dyed and then washed in haste. Sassy’s frown deepened as she studied it; finding such a thing went beyond merely uncomfortable and into the realm of the bizarre.

She lifted a cloth from next to the basin with her magic, then dipped it into the water, wrung out the excess, and rubbed it over her face. The cool water and the gentle stroking of the washcloth up and down her muzzle felt refreshing. She closed her eyes, and a rare and welcome sense of calmness overtook her as she continued washing her head and neck, trying to work out more of the strange dye.

The feeling stopped once she reached the top of her armor. Sassy opened her eyes again, studying the tall, hard, determined pony who stared back. A pony who liked to style herself as a survivor, and a bringer of order.

“But merely a servant,” she whispered aloud, “of a Mistress who cares nothing about violating her own decrees so long as it preserves her power.”

Sassy lowered the cloth back to the side of the basin. Her reflection seemed quite lonely now, with downturned eyes and damp, lightly-mussed fur.

A quiet rapping came at the washroom door.

“Enter,” Sassy barked.

The door creaked open, and a slim, white, bespectacled head appeared. “Overseer Saddles?” came the thin voice of Silver Shill, a servant whom Blueblood had loaned to her. “Ma'am, I was to tell you if there were visitors at the castle, or if anyone came or went.”

Sassy cracked a smile. She’d been told that the Governor’s own Seneschal was indisposed, but that Silver Shill would see to her needs in the interim—and thus far, he was doing admirably. “Indeed you were. Whom did you see?”

“Lord Filthy Rich, ma’am.” Silver Shill broke into a nervous grin. “He only just arrived a few minutes ago. I galloped straight up to tell you!”

“Rivets and rasps… he’s here? In the flesh?”

“He is, ma’am. Shall I take you to where he’s meeting with Governor Blueblood?”

“Yes indeed.” Sassy didn’t add how odd it seemed for such a disreputable pony to be associating with the Governor. Instead, she followed Silver Shill through the bedlam of her chamber, and back out to the mansion’s central staircase. They descended the stairs together, she with the sounds of creaking from her leather armor, he with a light, metallic clopping from his shod hooves.

In time, they passed through the grand entry hall once more, and Sassy looked with disdain at the small army of serving staff bustling to and fro with bright red bows, long table-runners, and preserved, possibly fake wreaths. “What are they doing?” she asked.

“Making ready for the ball, ma’am,” Silver Shill answered.

“He’s serious, then? I suppose he did say that this sort of japery appealed to him. But surely there are better uses of these ponies’ time?”

Silver Shill made no comment. Sassy spotted tension in his face, though. “Well? What do you think, then?”

“It’s not my place, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. I order you, speak your mind freely.”

He worked his jaw for a moment. “The Governor certainly enjoys making grand gestures. Especially this last year or so.”

“Hmm.” Sassy let her head droop slightly as they passed by a large, open room lined with statues and expensive paintings, which seemed to be the epicenter of the serving-ponies’ activity. Teams of stallions lugged in heavy wooden tables, and groups of unicorns raised expensive-looking silk and glass decorations to the walls.

Prancing through their midst was an energetic earth pony stallion with a deep blue-green coat, a close-cropped grey mane, a red plaid neckerchief, and—remarkably—a pair of silver sunglasses perched low on his muzzle.

“No, there!” the stallion shouted. Then he turned to another group and tsked loudly. “No, no no! That stays! Honestly, you ponies are lucky I don’t get out my riding crop! Yes, you heard me, I went there!”

Sassy’s steps slowed, despite the urgency she felt about her mission. “Is that who I think it is?”

“That’s the Governor’s Seneschal, ma’am,” Silver Shill said. “His name’s Fashion Plate.”

“Well I’ll be,” Sassy said, letting herself smile. “Always a pleasure to see a familiar face.” She entered the red-and-gold carpeted room, dodged between the many busy, milling ponies, and stalked right up behind the stallion.

“Move that there,” he said. “And that there, and that—” He whirled around, nearly plowing into Sassy, before he gasped and smiled. “Sassy Saddles! Oh…” He held a hoof to his mouth for a moment. “Sorry! Overseer. Sorry. Great to see you! How are you doing?!”

Sassy was pulled into a tight hug. She squirmed against the pressure of the much shorter earth pony’s face against her armored barrel, and of his foreleg around the back of her neck. And yet, she didn’t pull away, as she couldn’t recall the last time she’d so much as been hugged by anypony.

“Fashion Plate,” she croaked, noting the surprised and sometimes amused glances of the various serving-ponies all around them. At length, she gently pushed him off of her. “Come on, Plate. You’re making a scene.”

“Ha, not yet I’m not! Let’s get a look at your ensemble…” He took a step back, setting his eye roving over her. His smile lost much of its buoyancy as he did so. “Oh, honey,” he said, leaning closer and dropping into a loud whisper. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you got beat up for stealing from the kinky backroom of a department store.”

Sassy snickered. “Oughtn’t we maintain some semblance of decorum, as befits both of our positions?”

He giggled. “Not a chance, fillyfriend! The Governor didn’t pick me because he wanted a pony who got decorum; he wanted a pony who got him! He’s got this whole big, crazy, artistic vision! It’s the freshest thing I’ve seen in years, ha!”

“Can we… you’re busy, I see. But I should greatly enjoy catching up if you have an opportunity. I miss our correspondence. I didn’t even realize that you were in town…”

“And I do too! Well, this job’s still pretty new, and I haven’t made a big splash outside the castle yet.”

Sassy glanced at Silver Shill, who was prancing nervously by the door. “I’m afraid I have business to attend to, but feel free to work through the liaison that the Governor’s assigned to me. I’d love to schedule something.”

“No problem! I’ve gotta keep these slovenly ninnies on-task anyway. But it’s great to see you! Ta!”

Sassy let Silver Shill lead her out through a large hall lined with windows, and she turned her head to scan the mansion grounds. A glint of light on metal drew her eye toward its large gates, which were open; and she spotted a single pony passing through them, pulling a small covered cart. Sassy looked backwards along the path the cart-pony had taken, down toward the entrance to the mansion proper, and spotted a much grander coach parked there. The coach and its driver were bedecked in Lord Filthy Rich’s familiar livery: a trio of money bags over a brown field.

Her eyes were drawn back to the motion of the departing cart, though. “Mr. Shill, do you know what business that other cart-pony had?”

Silver Shill trotted over to the window and peered out. “I think that's the mare from the Royal Archives who stops by from time to time. Seems like she’s around a little more often, of late.”

Sassy furrowed her brow. “Interesting. How much further until—?”

“The reception hall is just through here, ma’am.”

As she approached the heavy wood double-doors, she noted the sounds of conversation and hooffalls from the other side. She had only a moment to duck back before the doors swung out toward her.

“—And that’s why I need your…” Lord Filthy Rich said before stopping short and locking eyes with Sassy. Governor Blueblood came to a halt beside him and gave Sassy a smirk.

“Lord Rich,” she said slowly, frowning at Blueblood’s unexpected expression. “Whatever brings you here tonight?”

He dropped into a speedy bow. “Forgive me, Overseer Saddles; the Governor did not inform me he had company.”

“Slipped my mind,” Blueblood said with a simper and a shrug.

“Nor did I realize we’d have a chance to speak so soon, Lord Rich. But in a way, you’re just the pony I’ve been looking for.”

Lord Rich cast a narrow-eyed glance at Governor Blueblood.

“Leave me out of this,” Blueblood said, holding up his forehooves in mock defense. “I’d rather watch you two fight it out, especially if it should come to blows.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Lord Rich said, taking a deep breath. “How may I help you, Overseer?”

Her pulse quickened with eagerness, and she gave him a tight smile. “Lord Rich, would it be safe to say your business reputation of finding rare goods for discerning ponies might bring you into contact with certain… less savory sorts, from time to time?”

His jaw clenched. “I work through a number of different associates, Overseer, but I always vet them carefully. I have my daughter to think about, after all.”

“Of course. It was a grand day for the kingdom when the deviant Svengallop was cast into Tartarus, and I’m sure you were elated that the Guardian returned your lovely daughter at the same time. Was that… six months ago, now?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Good that your sources are vetted so carefully. Some ponies choose to play with fire, and destabilize the Mistress’ order, heedless of the danger that lawless chaos might bring. I should hate to see the Mistress’ wrath visited on ponies whose only crime is being too close to the flame.”

Filthy took a step back, then glanced at Blueblood as if expecting aid. Finding none, he cleared his throat. “I agree, nopony would want that.”

Sassy hesitated. She all but knew that Filthy had ties to the Resistance, and she now knew that the Mistress knew as well, but the nature of her mandate was limited to investigation—at least until she had more concrete evidence. And so she said: “A pony sharing useful information about such matters could earn my recommendation for leniency, regardless of their past associations.”

“I shall bear that in mind, Overseer.” Filthy gave her a small bow, but his features tightened as he did so. “Is there anything else?”

“Perhaps not for now. Remain in town, though; we may need to speak again.”

As Filthy made his goodbyes and began to retreat, Sassy heard the sound of one hoof striking another. It repeated a few times before she could turn and see Governor Blueblood sitting on his haunches, giving her a slow clap with his forehooves. “Oh, very well done, Miss Saddles. I’d give that an eight out of ten for careful handling of a potential suspect in your investigation.”

“Indeed?” she asked, her tone flat.

“Certainly! Certainly. I should think you’d be upset—or maybe jealous—seeing your quarry flee into the same protective hooves that now encircle you.” He giggled. “Why, it’s as if I have two wonderfully eligible suitors chasing after me!”

“He sought protection from you?” She looked at him askance. “Why would a pony with Lord Rich’s reputation expect that from you?”

“Well, truth be told, he really is good at finding things other ponies can’t. Such as… vintage reading material.” Blueblood winked. “If you know what I mean.”

Sassy drew in a breath and prepared a retort, but paused as her mind raised a connection between Blueblood’s joke, a tidbit of information from Silver Shill, and something else the Governor had shared in his office. It was only a hunch, but it struck her as something that might be worth pursuing.

“Very well, Governor. Good night, for now.”

“Ciao!” he shouted, turning about and setting off down the hall.

Sassy’s brow crinkled. She turned to look at Silver Shill, who had moved back to a discreet distance. “Mr. Shill, you said the pony pulling that cart was from the Royal Archives, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And that she comes from time to time to… bring things for the Governor to read?”

“No, ma’am; I believe her cart’s usually empty when she comes.”

Sassy paused and replayed the information through her head. It was all so incongruous. And yet the hunch seemed to linger with her. “Do you think that you can gallop fast enough to catch her and bring her back for questioning?”

“P… possibly, ma’am. She only left before I came to you, and she didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry.”

“Very well, then. Even if this comes to nothing, let us have a look at what the Governor’s been sending to the Archives.”





Sassy relaxed into the comfortable overstuffed chair, feeling grateful that she’d wasted no time in establishing an office. The chair creaked slightly as she settled deeper into its plush embrace, and the heat of the crackling fire next to her sent waves of tingling pleasure through her left foreleg.

The yellow unicorn sitting opposite her looked much less comfortable, despite occupying a similar chair and positioning relative to the fireplace. As seconds passed in silence, she squirmed and fidgeted with her hooves and the few accessories that she wore. One hoof adjusted her glasses, then another smoothed out her floor-length black sweater-dress that was starting to wear and fray in places.

Sassy lit her horn and raised a quill and notebook from the small circular table next to her chair. She met the other pony’s eyes, then opened the book, flipped to the first empty page, and started by writing the date. “Let’s begin with your name. Miss…?”

“M… Moondancer,” the mare stammered. “And you’re the… Overseer. To M… Mistress Nightmare Moon.”

“Do you fear the Mistress, to speak so haltingly of her?”

Moondancer swallowed hard.

Sassy cracked a thin smile. “Fearing her is always wise, child. But you needn’t fear me, at least not if you’ve been a loyal servant. I don’t doubt that your work with the Archives serves a useful purpose, and that is what I wish to speak to you about.”

“The Archives, ma’am?”

“I understand the Governor has been contributing to them. I’d like to know more about the nature of those contributions.”

Moondancer sighed, visibly relaxing. “Oh, thank goodness that’s all. I…” She glanced back up at Sassy and swallowed. “Well, I mean… it’s strange. Or unexpected. Maybe both.”

“Take your time, please. Organize your thoughts.”

She nodded. “Sorry. Well, I don’t want to speak ill of the Governor, ma’am, but from what I’ve known of him, you might not expect him to be much of a reader. You know what I mean?”

Sassy’s smile deepened a shade toward genuineness. “Unless he’d happened to stuff a dirty magazine underneath the book’s dust jacket?”

Perhaps it was the tension of the situation, coupled with their greatly asymmetrical social standing and power-balance… but Moondancer chortled for a moment, before devolving into a fit of unseemly giggling.

“The Governor does have something of a reputation,” Sassy continued. “But I take it you’re going to tell me something that I don’t already know?”

Moondancer’s expression turned ashen. “Of course, ma’am. Well, in fact, the Governor’s been donating quite a number of books about historical and legendary obscura in the recent past. And maybe the most interesting thing about them is that some of them must’ve taken quite a path from their original sources.”

“Sources?”

“I don’t know how he acquired them,” Moondancer said. “But a few of them have inserts from other libraries that are quite a ways away. Again, I’m not complaining. It’s certainly helping us flesh out the new Archive.”

“Perhaps let’s have a look at some of those books, shall we? Silver Shill?” Sassy clopped her forehooves together. A few moments later, the pale, thin, bespectacled earth pony entered the room, balancing a short stack of books in the middle of his back. Sassy lit her horn as he approached and plucked the top book off the stack. She floated it across the short distance to her hooves, then examined its cover.

“Sonic Rainboom: Physics and Legend,” she read aloud.

Moondancer shrugged. “That’s been a recurring subject of late, but there’s been plenty of other things that were just as obscure. Biographies about old mages, treatises on Chaos magic, commentaries on the treatises. And don’t even get me started about Tartarus!”

Sassy raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, he’s going crazy for it,” Moondancer blurted. “I mean… if you don’t mind my saying. But he is. I’m sure you know it wasn’t always like it is now? How it used to just be a kind of prison, before the flames and the Guardian came to it?”

“Until recently, I bore the Mistress’ Key-That-Is-Not-A-Key. Suffice it to say, I’ve had reason enough to do my own research into Tartarus, and to understand the differences between now and before.”

“Of course, ma’am; I apologize. But it’s like he’s fixated on it, as well as the things that were imprisoned in it, and what little’s known for sure about the changes. I’ve seen some really old books about it come through, alongside books that ponies tried to put together… more recently.”

“After the crackdowns.” Sassy furrowed her brows. “He’s seeking out books that should’ve been caught up in the purges on dissent?”

“Y… yes, ma’am. Which, speaking strictly as a scholar, has been absolutely wonderful.”

Sassy nodded, though inwardly it vexed her that none of her informants had breathed a word about such movements of obscure and banned materials. “Well then, it seems you have been faithful to your duties at the Archive, if a bit slow to report what you’ve observed to the authorities. But fear not; your service is appreciated, as is your candor. This meeting has proven far more fruitful than I could’ve imagined.”

Moondancer gave her a nervous smile. “Thank you, ma’am. Now, if you don’t mind, may I go? They’ll be expecting me back at the Archives with the Governor’s latest donation.”

“Perhaps…” Sassy eyed the stack of books, then Silver Shill, who was still holding them. Beads of sweat on his brow suggested he might not be able to keep holding them for much longer. “You’re free to go, of course, but perhaps you could leave a few of the books with me for a time? Some of these might make for interesting reading.”
> Chapter 16: Evasion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the cart above Rarity jostled to a halt, the sudden change in momentum gave her a cold bite from the tough straps securing her barrel and legs to its underside. The pain brought her fully out of an uncomfortable half-sleep of idle tension that she’d lapsed into at some point during the journey. She waited in silence as hoofsteps moved around nearby, making small echoes. Then they moved nearer, and came right up behind her, at the side of the cart.

Four knocks came in a swift, rhythmic pattern. Rarity’s heart fluttered, then she sucked in a large breath.

“If you’ll pardon my reach, ma’am, I’ll get your hind legs and barrel first. Then you can just slip out of the front one at your leisure.” The cart stallion’s voice was rough and low, but it filled Rarity with relief.

“Please, proceed. I take it that we’re close?”

“Aye,” he said, undoing the clasp at her hind legs, which dropped the short distance from the underside of the cart to the cobbled ground. “Just turn right at the junction and head out the alley.” He crawled underneath the cart, moved up beside her, then undid the clasp on her barrel. Most of her weight hit the ground, and she easily slipped her forelegs out from there. The stallion nodded briefly, then finished crawling back out to the other side. “It’s just a block straight down, ma’am, and you’ll come up on its side. Discreet enough?”

Rarity frowned and grunted as she wriggled her way out into the open. She gladly accepted the stallion’s hoof to help her get back upright. Then she lit her horn, picked up a new, embroidered grey cloak off the cart-bed, and threw it around herself.

That done, she took a moment to examine her surroundings. The alley they’d stopped in was quiet and dark, and opened out into a T-junction between taller buildings. Here and there a few windows were set in the sides of the buildings above, but not many lights were on, and there were no obvious silhouettes in them.

“You’ve done well,” she said, reaching into her cloak and producing her billfold.

“Now milady, there’s no need for that…”

“Nonsense. You’ve no idea how much this has eased my mind.”

He blinked at the proffered bits, but then took them, and inclined his head. “Much obliged. Have a good night, ma’am.”

“And you as well.” She trotted slowly to the junction and looked right. The alley there looked empty as well, save for a great deal more trash than might be typical for the Upper City. All at once, something rustled in the breeze, and she startled.… and a series of unwanted memories assailed her: of watching a would-be mugger approach herself and the mysterious cloaked stallion; of seeing a knife flash out, faster than lightning; and then blood, desperation, and the light fading from a pony’s eyes.

Rarity blinked, trying to dispel it all, but her mind’s eye couldn’t look away, no matter how desperately she wanted it to.

“You all right, ma’am?” the cart-pony said from behind her.

She shivered as his words broke her out of the spell. “Yes, of course. Just having a look at things. Good evening.” And with that she forced herself to take one stiff step after another down the dark alley, heedless of the heavy feeling in her heart. Under her breath she cursed the vision of the horrifying pink mare in the window at Filthy’s home, as a night spent in comfort and relative safety would’ve been vastly preferable.

She pulled the cloak tighter as she reached the end of the alley and stepped out onto the sidewalk proper. A finely dressed couple scoffed and turned their noses up as they passed her, but Rarity cared only that the imperious cast to their muzzles looked nothing like what she’d glimpsed in the shadowy stallion’s cloak.

Other passersby took less obvious notice of Rarity, though she studied each of them with nervous tension. In between watching ponies, Rarity’s mind wandered back to the words that Bon Bon had breathed to her: Upper City. Starswirl Fountain. Loose stone. Leave a note—he’s back. The implications of those words, and of the stallion’s house on fire quip, still chilled her even more than the sunless, omnipresent cold.

Rarity continued to force her slow, mechanical steps as she approached the tall, wrought iron gates surrounding the hotel. Within their perimeter lay the dead remains of a once-manicured lawn, as well as a few stands of barren trees. In contrast, the building proper was opulence itself, with a shining white marble exterior visible between thick, gray stone pillars.

Yet Rarity hesitated, and a feeling of unease crept over her, as the mysterious stallion’s exhortations to do something unexpected played back through her mind. She cursed in a quiet but unladylike fashion as she realized she’d been so rattled earlier that she’d failed to make an important connection: assuming that he wanted to keep an eye on her, and assuming that she’d succeeded at giving him the slip, he might instead try looking for her by waiting somewhere she’d be likely to turn up. And the hotel was a logical first place to look, given that both Sassy and their luggage should be waiting for her.

Rarity crossed the street but continued walking parallel to the hotel. She kept moving until she reached the first store whose lights were on. She entered quickly, and found herself enveloped by a lilac-scented showroom filled with fine silks draped upon new-looking ponnequins.

“My goodness,” said a sharp, female voice from next to the door. “Excuse me, but we do not serve vagabonds. You’ll have to… oh! Oh, forgive me, Lady Rar—”

“Hssst!” Rarity raised a hoof to her lips, already regretting her choice of establishment. The eyes of the angularly-faced gray mare before her were positively shining with potential intrigue, and Rarity knew there’d be no way to undo things now. So she gestured to the mare, then stepped back between two racks of fine clothes, hiding herself from view. “Nopony must know that I am here,” she whispered, doing her utmost to play up whatever theatrical element of secrecy that the mare might infer from Rarity’s presence. “I am here in town for a… liaison.”

“Oooh!” The mare drew herself up and winked broadly. “But of course, Lady… ah, madam. Rest assured, you’ve come to the right place. It would be my privilege to show you our more intimate collection in the back…”

“Perhaps. But first, there is a matter that is still more pressing.” Rarity took out her billfold again, this time fetching out a princely sum. “I need somepony to check in at the hotel, to see if my paramour has arrived.” A startled look crossed the mare’s eyes, so Rarity continued: “It would hardly do for me to make this journey in adventurous secrecy only to end up standing around in the lobby while our room’s being prepared, now would it?”

“Of course, madam.” The mare grinned and leaned closer, taking the bits. “If you’d only be so good as to tell me whose name I should ask for?”

Rarity swallowed, again doing her best to make her hesitation look convincing. “S… Sassy Saddles.”

The mare’s jaw veritably dropped. She composed herself a moment later, but it gave Rarity a small thrill to know that she’d succeeded at sowing the seeds of drama. There had been a time during her youth when few things would have given her greater pleasure, though those days were long past.

“Yes, of course, madam! I’ll just lock up; feel free to have a look around the store while I ask after her.”

Rarity held her place as the mare stepped out. The door closed with a jingle from the small bell overhead, followed by the scraping of a key in the lock. Then there was silence, save for Rarity’s own breathing.

Despite her nerves, Rarity found her eyes drawn toward the sleeve of a red dress hanging on a nearby rack. She slid the other dresses on the rack aside, giving herself a clear view of the ruby silk garment and its deep crimson beading. Its neck and sleeves were trimmed with black lace, completing its look as a dress fit for a brash and dangerous mare. Or at least one who might be considered dangerous among hangers-on at court.

She raised a hoof to the dress, touching its bodice, feeling the soft abrasiveness of the beads. The thought occurred to her that it wasn’t of a style that she might’ve made herself, had she continued sewing; and yet, were her circumstances different, she might also hesitate to leave it languishing on the rack.

Her eyes continued roving, and soon found another dress of fine silk with an even more daring cut—this one blue and trimmed in green. She studied it closely before moving onto the next: cream-colored with deep brown accents. A smile crept across her features as she moved farther and farther down the rack, eventually becoming absorbed by the pleasurable array of colors and styles, even as small criticisms of the hoofwork bubbled in the back of her mind.

Rarity had quite lost track of time before she startled at the sound of a key entering the door’s lock again. Her breath caught, and she stepped behind another rack and eyed the entrance as, once more, the bell jingled.

Her breath returned to her as she recognized that it was the gray mare again, looking oddly perturbed as she cast her gaze around the store. “Madam,” she called quietly. “Madam, I fear there’s been some kind of mistake.”

Slowly, nervously, Rarity stepped out from behind the rack. “And what would that be?”

The mare moved closer. “Evidently the hotel had Lady Saddles in a different room than you. And to make things more complicated, it seems your things have already arrived and been unloaded into your room, but hers weren’t left at all, and her reservation's been canceled.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed. “You mean… she hasn’t been here?”

“No madam. I believe there was a note for you, which they refused to release to me, but the gist of what I could get out of them was that the Lady Saddles has gone up to the Governor’s mansion.”

“I don’t know what to say… I’ve never known Sassy to lie to anypony. She wouldn’t lie…”

“You have my sympathies,” the mare said, raising a hoof toward Rarity before stopping herself. “Have no fear, of course I’ll treat this with the utmost discretion; I wouldn’t dream of breathing any word of this to anypony.”

“Of course,” Rarity said mechanically. “I…” She glanced through the window, out at the street, and felt a pang of doubt about her attempt to evade the cloaked stallion. Surely he’d learn about the shopkeeper eventually, and she had little doubt that her new ‘friend’ would be only too happy to gossip. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to follow her and ask why she’s changed our plans, no?”

The mare nodded, then smiled. “I know, my lady; I’ll call a cart for you!”

“That sounds delightful.” Rarity punctuated her words with an ingratiating smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just have a look around in the back while you do that?”

They parted with what Rarity felt must be false grins. She headed toward the back of the store and pushed through a curtain of beads. Beyond them was a smaller room that was noticeably darker, and lit only with red-tinged light. And as promised, the shelves and racks seemed lined with garments intended more to tantalize than to cover. Modesty had come back into fashion in the ever-present chill of night, but there were still times when ponies wanted to accentuate the contours of their shape, or draw the eye toward one place or another on the body.

A brief pang of interest and thoughts about Filthy overcame her as she regarded a lacy purple negligee on a hanger at the end of a rack, but Rarity didn’t let her eyes linger for long. Instead, she focused on the door at the side of the room—an emergency exit. By appearances, it didn’t have an obvious alarm rigged up to it. But when Rarity lit her horn and delved for any magical residue that might indicate an alarming spell, she felt a vague tingle intrude on her mind, manifesting physically as an itch in her scalp. There had to be something.

She paused a moment while her horn was lit, then changed her spell, instead trying to see if she could unravel the magical alarm. Though it involved a level of magical skill that went beyond what she usually practiced, Rarity found parallels between the knot of magic before her, and the knotty tangles that she’d sometimes found—or caused—when sewing in her earlier days.

Rarity had lived for detangling in those days. And so, soon enough, she let out a sigh of contentment as the magical alarm untangled into nothingness. Then she took a deep breath, undid the door’s bolt, and pushed it open. She stepped through and closed it behind her as silently as she could.

With barely a moment’s hesitation about the luggage she might be abandoning at the hotel, Rarity set off trotting quietly down the alley, heading away from the hotel and deeper into the Upper City.

A nearby sound of breaking glass made her jump with panic. She paused briefly, looking for its source; her eyes moved upward toward an open, lighted window, and to the silhouette of a pony who had bent out over the alley. Her breath caught as she waited for the figure to act again. But soon enough, it simply turned back and slid the window closed. Rarity looked down, seeing faint glimmers of starlight reflect off the broken remains of a bottle.

Her pulse slowed a little, and she quickened her hoofsteps onward. Starswirl Fountain was still a ways away, but with the alleys generally cleaner and safer in the Upper City than those in the Lower City, she allowed herself to be a bit less cautious about moving silently, preferring instead to simply get there as swiftly as was practical.
> Chapter 17: Night Terrors
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I should only need a minute,” Redheart said, pushing open the creaky door to her room in the servants’ wing of the castle. “I kept all of Zecora’s stuff together in the bag that Rarity gave me, so I’ve just gotta remember where I hid it.”

Rainbow Dash craned her neck, trying to see around Redheart and into the room. She squinted, letting her natural—or unnatural—thestral senses kick in. All vestiges of color dropped away as monochrome outlines of furniture and clutter jumped into sharp relief. And upon seeing the piled-up books, overturned trash can, and a cheap cot that looked like it’d barely been slept in, Dash marveled at the thought that Redheart was almost as much of a slob as she herself was.

Redheart turned back and met her eyes with a frown. “Before you ask: yes, I live this way, no I didn’t ask you to come in, and no I’m not gonna light a lamp to show it off, so if you’ve got something to say—”

“I was just gonna say it must be nice to have your own place.” Dash gave her a small grin. “All us guards have to make do in the barracks. Can’t get a moment to yourself unless you book one of the doin’-it rooms.”

For a long moment, Redheart kept her gaze fixed on Dash, letting disgust mix in with her frown. Then she shook her head and got back to picking through the detritus.

“C’mon, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Well, I’d appreciate if—ah, here it is.” Redheart hefted a thick, fibrous-looking satchel out from the midst of a pile of old medical uniforms. “All right then; let’s get this done so I can go take a look at a couple of ponies back up in the infirmary.”

Dash furrowed her brow. “I thought you wanted to get back to the force as fast as possible.”

“Yeah, well… I’m here, aren’t I? I have to at least check in up there, and see if we might have a chance not to lose anypony. But first, let’s get the little patient taken care of.”

The two mares walked side-by-side through the castle. Occasionally, Dash would stop Redheart and pull her into the shadows to avoid being spotted by various staff members going about their duties. It wasn’t the same as actual stealth, but Dash felt it might be good enough to keep too many ponies from having a reason to ask the wrong kind of questions.

In time, and after moving several floors up into the castle’s better quarters, they reached the door to Rarity’s chamber. Dash grumbled as she fumbled with the keys again, and grumbled even louder as Redheart gave her a significant look from behind.

But eventually Dash unlocked the door, and she was greeted by ample warmth and dim light.

“Can you stoke the fire?” Redheart asked on her way toward Rarity’s bedchamber. Dash obliged after closing and re-locking the door, then joined Redheart by Scootaloo’s bedside.

The sight of Scootaloo lying there, breathing softly, but looking peaceful, was enough to make Dash sigh loudly with relief. “Thank Cel—” Dash bit her tongue, and panicked as she looked at Redheart, whose eyebrows suddenly climbed.

“It’s death to speak that name,” Redheart said with a quiet intensity.

“I…” Dash swallowed. “It just slipped out. Because of the kid.”

“She does look pretty good, doesn’t she,” Redheart said, giving Dash a sidelong glance. “Why don’t you clear that bedstand and start setting these things out while I examine her? Carefully, though; I only know what half or less of this stuff even is.”

Dash nodded and took the bag from Redheart. Rarity’s bedstand was relatively free of clutter anyway, and it took only a few moments to transfer the candelabra and hoofful of knick-knacks to her vanity. Then Dash began hoofing out small glittering vials, a mortar and pestle, and other sundries from the bag. A book also lay toward the bottom, though it was faded, stained, and careworn. Dash opened it after setting the bag down on the floor, and glanced at the spidery writing within.

“Is this a journal?” Dash asked.

“Ah… yeah,” Redheart said, looking up from Scootaloo with a frown. “Zecora was a really interesting zebra.” She paused, eyeing up Dash for a moment. “Very private, though. Probably wouldn’t want some random pony leafing through her inmost thoughts.”

Dash furrowed her brow and thought back on Zecora from the brief time they’d huddled in the Everfree after the Nightmare came. “I guess you’re right. I always got the sense that she didn’t like me very much, anyway.”

Redheart’s stance tensed for a moment. It was subtle, but Dash felt sure she wasn’t imagining it. Yet Redheart turned back to examining Scootaloo’s pupils without saying anything.

Curiosity soon overcame Dash as she glanced at the bottom edge of the book and spotted a ragged cloth bookmark sticking out. After a glance at Redheart to make sure she was otherwise occupied, Dash turned the journal open to that page, and read. Her brow knit even tighter as she absorbed the words.

“This world is an anomaly,” Dash read quietly. “The Rainbow that will never be…”

“Hey!” Redheart shouted. Dash looked up, seeing Redheart giving her a look of exasperation while being in the midst of giving a closer examination to Scootaloo’s forelegs and barrel. “Didn’t I tell you to leave her journal alone?”

“Well… yeah… but how am I supposed to know what any of Zecora’s stuff is for unless I read the manual?”

Redheart scoffed. “Why don’t you leave that to me? I thought you just wanted to know how the kid’s doing.”

“I… I do. How is she?”

“Not bad. Really, when you think about whatever she might’ve been through down there, she looks fantastic.”

“But what about the seizure?” Dash chewed her lip and set the book down. “Does it mean she’s… hurt?”

Redheart shrugged. “I don’t know. I never treated her for seizures back in Ponyville. It’s never good seeing something like that develop. But like I said, the thing with seizures is that the first one’s gonna come out of nowhere. She might never have another again, or if it might be a recurring thing. It’s really hard to say unless it starts happening again.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“Yeah, well, neither is life right now, y’know? But look, the whole reason for getting Zecora’s stuff is because I know she’s got dried ingredients and a recipe for an anti-seizure treatment that you can give her if she has a bad one.”

Dash’s muzzle crinkled. “What kind of treatment?”

“The kind that absorbs fast but isn’t glamorous. Now you can sit here worrying about it, or you can keep an eye on Scootaloo while I get to work.”

“Sure.” Dash turned her eyes toward the bed, still feeling powerless as she watched the little filly’s chest rise and fall.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Dash whispered.

“What…” Scootaloo said faintly, shifting in the bed.

Dash’s eyes went wide, and she turned excitedly back to Redheart. “Hey! Hey, did you hear that? She said something!”

“R… Rainbow?”

Next to her, Redheart moved back to Dash’s side, leaning over Scootaloo and checking her pulse. Tears sprang to Dash’s eyes as she leaned closer as well. “Yeah, Scoots?”

Scootaloo shivered. “What… time is it?”

Dash swallowed; her mouth suddenly felt very dry indeed. “It’s… it doesn’t matter. How do you feel?”

“I… I don’t know.” Scootaloo began to shake. Dash’s heart dropped at the thought that Scootaloo might be having another seizure, but then Scootaloo pulled the blankets tighter around her, and the shaking stopped. “S… so cold…”

“Okay, well, l’ve got the fire going, and… you oughtta be warm in those blankets. I can probably find more if I need to…”

Scootaloo shifted. “It’s okay, but feels like… I’ve been dreaming. Bad dreams…”

Redheart met Dash’s eyes. Dash swallowed, hard. “Uh, yeah. S… sorry kid… uh…” She could scarcely say the words, but she wetted her dry lips and forced them to utter: “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright. Why don’t you just get some sleep for now, okay?”

“Okay,” Scootaloo said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Aunt Holiday… always said troubles look better… in the morning.” Her breathing slowed again, becoming deep and steady.

And it was Dash’s turn to shiver. She sniffled and turned away from Redheart as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“Hey,” Redheart said, setting a hoof on her shoulder.

Dash shrugged the hoof off. “Don’t you have something you’re working on?”

“Yeah, I do: helping my ponies.” The words made Dash glance back. The corners of Redheart’s lips were upturned, despite the semi-permanent glower that otherwise dominated her expression. “I’m glad I came back with you.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I am,” Dash said, still trying to keep her voice from catching with tears. “How am I supposed to tell Scoots that the morning’s never gonna come again? And what’s she supposed to do with her life when I do?! I don’t have a plan here!” She raised her forehooves futilely. “Why would the Guardian send her back now?”

Behind her, Redheart chuckled. “Same reason why I’m glad I came back: this is where ponies need healing, here and now.”

Dash turned on her, heedless of how obvious the streaks down her muzzle must look. “You get sentimental? Seriously?”

“Only about Ponyville.” Redheart looked back at her work and sighed. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you get some rest too while I work on this. It’s gonna be a while.”

“All right,” Dash said. “Not too long, though. Just ’til you’re done.”

“Sure,” Redheart answered, turning away. “Just ’til I’m done helping my ponies.”





The fire had burned low, and the dark room had grown cold and quiet, when a small, frightened voice jarred Rainbow Dash awake from her resting place along the foot of the bed: “Isn’t it morning yet?”

Dash sat up slowly. Her sleep-blurred eyes could make out the outline of Scootaloo sitting up as well, huddling and clutching the blankets around her. Dash furrowed her brow as she glanced around, not seeing Redheart anywhere.

“Who’s there?” Scootaloo asked, sounding frantic.

“Don’t worry kid, it’s just… your friendly neighborhood Rainbow Dash.” She added a smirk, which reflected confidence that she didn’t feel, and that Scootaloo likely couldn’t see.

“R… Rainbow?” Scootaloo relaxed her death-grip on the sheets. “Is it really you?”

“Sure is, kid.” Dash saw the faint glint of firelight reflect in Scootaloo’s eyes, which were fixed on hers. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold. And like… my skin is two sizes too big.” The filly turned her ears down. “And I’m here. It feels… weird, touching the sheets, and… and feeling them.”

“Uh… yeah, you’ve been gone—” She closed her eyes, cursing herself for blundering into that subject so soon. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Scootaloo shivered. “Where’s ‘here,’ Rainbow? And why is it still dark out?”

Dash shuddered. “Uh… don’t worry about that yet. Can you tell me what you remember from the last… well, whatever you can remember?”

Scootaloo went quiet, and stayed quiet. Dash leaned a little closer, wondering if the filly had gone back to sleep.

“Not… much,” Scootaloo said jerkily. “Fire. Pain. So… so much fire. Scared, alone, until…” Her muzzle crinkled. “They’re… all dead, aren’t they? Everypony at the celebration?”

“Not everypony.”

“But… my aunts, right?”

“I… kid, please…”

“Tell me!”

Dash jerked backwards at Scootaloo’s sudden outburst. Tears sprang to the corners of Dash’s eyes. “I didn’t see if they got out or not. All I know is that they’re not here now.”

Dash saw Scootaloo nod and heard her take a long breath. “Rainbow? If… they all died… if Ponyville is gone… then how are you here?”

“I… well…” She looked down at her side and frowned. “I made… a deal. The Nightmare… Nightmare Moon, she’s in charge these days… she gave us pegasi a choice. I was one of the first to make it, though. Maybe even the first.”

“What choice?”

“To become her ‘True Child’… a thestral, a bat pony… or die.”

“A bat pony? Can I… feel your wings?”

“I don’t…” Dash bit her lip. “Okay, I guess, if you really want to.” She stood and walked around to the side of the bed, plopped down next to Scootaloo, then extended a wing over her. Dim firelight glinted in her eyes, which flicked from Dash’s face, to her wing, and back again. She watched as Scootaloo’s hoof reached out toward her, and eventually settled on the leathery bat-wing.

“What happened?” Scootaloo asked.

“I let a lot of ponies down that day,” Dash said, sweat beading on her brow.

Scootaloo shook her head slowly. “I remember a little. The dark mare coming, and the Princess…” She shuddered. “I don’t think anypony could’ve faced that.”

“It’s no excuse, kid.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I did have a choice. I could’ve… done what the others who were with me did. Y’know, kept fighting. But I chose this instead.”

“What would’ve happened if you’d have stuck with them?” Scootaloo asked, her voice clear and steady.

“I… they… at least died with some self-respect,” Dash all but whispered.

“Then what could you have really done?”

“I didn’t have to make myself part of the problem.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Why would you want to?" Dash blinked in the darkness, but then said: “All right.”

It felt kind of weird sharing a gentle touch with somepony again, notwithstanding that Scootaloo’s forelegs threatened to crush her like a vise. But the gesture was also very warm. After a few moments she settled into the hug, and briefly even lost her fear about what the filly would say when morning didn’t turn out to be much of a morning after all.

“I want to see it,” Scootaloo said after a moment.

“See what?”

“Ponyville.” 

Dash’s eyes widened. “What? No, we can’t go back. There’s nothing there.”

“I want to.” Scootaloo didn’t meet her eyes. “Whatever’s there, or… not there, I just need to see it for myself.”

“I…” Dash gritted her teeth, thinking back on the expeditionary force, and on how likely Wind Rider was to send somepony back for them if Redheart wasn’t around when he needed her. “I don’t know. You don’t really want to go back there, do you? Nothing but… broken buildings, and old memories that you’re better off forgetting.”

“I need to go.”

Thoughts of Redheart popped into Dash’s mind. First came the imagined protests that Dash knew she’d raise about dragging Scootaloo away from bed rest given her fragile condition. But it also dawned on her that Redheart would need to be flown back in an air-chariot, and if she had to grab one anyway, it might not be much worse to just get a two-seater for Scoots’ sake and stop by Ponyville on the same trip.

“Okay, look… maybe we can go out there, but we need to go get Redheart and make sure you’re fit to travel. Got it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be fit to travel?”

“…Don’t worry about it. She said you’re looking good. It’s just hard not to worry, you know? It’s kinda nice, having somepony to worry about again.”

“Sure, I guess,” Scootaloo said, smiling. “Sounds pretty lame, though, wanting to worry.”

Dash gritted her teeth. “Yeah, well… that reminds me, let’s put a cloak on you, too. I don’t want to draw any more attention to you than I already have. It’s not exactly safe these days to be an actual intact pegasus.”

Dash’s heart felt hollow as she watched Scootaloo’s smile fade.
> Chapter 18: Good News, Bad News
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sassy awoke with discomfort that soon manifested as a groggy sense of regret about not taking off her armor before settling in to read. She pushed herself up from where she’d slumped over at her office desk, and felt the dull pain of leather straps that had dug into her barrel, numbing it in places. She shivered as the new rush of blood restored pinpricks of feeling.

Pangs of hunger soon followed. Sassy frowned at the books she’d been leafing through, silently blaming titles such as A Brief History of Tartarus and Perspectives on the Zebraic Tribes for putting her to sleep. She rifled through a few more in the hopes of finding something less dry and historical, and was less than thrilled to find Tirek the Devourer and Discord Unchained, before discovering 250 Ways to Pleasure Mares and Stallions: An Illustrated Guide.

Sassy held the latter up in her magic, and crinkled her muzzle, reflecting that perhaps the Governor’s interests hadn’t entirely changed. She then moved the book toward the trash can… before pausing, bringing it back closer, and taking a small peek.

How scandalous, she thought, before sliding it into one of her own bags. After all, if he wanted to get rid of it…

Sassy glanced up at the clock and frowned as she noted the time. She stood up slowly from her chair, crossed to the chamber door, and opened it. A slender figure with closed eyes stood propped up against the wall, next to one of the guards flanking her door.

“Silver Shill?”

The stallion jerked awake, but quickly composed himself. “Yes, Overseer?”

“Seneschal Rarity should’ve joined us quite some time ago. Has she?”

Silver Shill frowned. “I don’t think so, ma’am; at least not unless she’s just arrived. I haven’t heard any news about her, either way.”

Sassy’s muzzle pulled tight. “Very well. I suppose I shall return to my work. In the meanwhile, though, I am ready for my supper.”

“Oh, of course!” Silver Shill bent to the ground and picked up a covered tray. “Seneschal Fashion Plate had supper sent up for you a bit ago, but I thought it best to let you… rest your eyes at the time.”

Sassy lit her horn and took the tray in her magic. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, as is Plate’s. But I grow concerned about Rarity’s failure to join us. Ask around for any news, and see if she might’ve turned up.”

Silver Shill bowed, then retreated quickly. It made Sassy smile to see such eager service, and it made her wonder if it might be possible to poach him from the Governor. But with hunger to be sated, Sassy returned to the room, raising the lid off the tray—

Her breath caught as she regarded a veritable cornucopia of fresh, crisp-looking, sliced vegetables on one side, with an agreeable selection of crackers and cheese on the other. It was heavily stocked with peppers, tomatoes, and daisies—all personal favorites of hers from before. She drew back from the tray, looking at it with widened eyes. “I might’ve thought nothing of such a spread before this investigation began,” she whispered. “Oh Plate, don’t tell me you’re caught up in this as well…”

But as moments passed, Sassy’s eyes were drawn to a particularly tempting-looking slice of yellow bell pepper, whose bumpy inner membrane caught the light of Sassy’s horn in a way that accentuated the promise of flavorful delight.

In the end, temptation won; Sassy popped the slice into her mouth, allowing the pepper’s dazzlingly sweet but slightly bitter flavor to overwhelm her thoughts with sheer sensation. Then, as the moment passed, she moved onto eating a wedge of pale cheese whose savory smokiness made her tremble.

Several minutes into Sassy’s meal, she noticed something thin and white that had been hidden underneath a delectable daisy. She frowned, gripped it in her magic, and slowly teased it out from below the rest of the food.

It was a piece of paper. “I'm ready to talk,” she read aloud. The note wasn’t signed, but she recognized the writing.

Sassy ate her fill before cracking the door and peering out into the hall. The guards on either side raised their eyebrows at her

“One of you shall lead me to the office of the Governor’s Seneschal,” she ordered.

“Of course, ma’am,” one said. “It’s down near the kitchens.”

“Not one for subtlety, are you, Plate,” she muttered.

Together with her escort, Sassy traversed what felt like half the length and breadth of the mansion. They passed by the ballroom, which still seemed to be keeping a small army of ponies busy with cleaning, organizing, or decorating. They continued down the long, grand halls, eventually reaching a large metal door that led to the kitchen. Ponies ducked past them with hushed apologies before pushing through the door. The sounds of clinking dishes and shouting voices further reinforced the inevitability of the ball that Blueblood was planning in “honor” of Sassy and Rarity.

But a ways down from the kitchen door was another that had been intricately carved from red wood, with a silver circle hanging at eye level. As Sassy approached it, she saw it was actually a small image of a plate.

She raised a hoof and knocked.

After a few moments of near-silence, the door swung inward, and Fashion Plate burst outward with a broad grin. “Sassy! Fillyfriend! What’s the word?”

“Do you have company?” she asked, craning her neck to look past him into the room.

“Psssh, no.” He glanced at the guard. It was quick, but Sassy noticed it. “So hey, you got some time? How ’bout we go knock off and see if a couple of busy ponies can score a three-martini lunch somewhere?”

Sassy furrowed her brow, but eventually nodded. “All right, maybe just some water though.” Then she waved a hoof at the guard. “Go on, back to my office. I’m sure I won’t be long.”

Fashion Plate slung a foreleg around Sassy’s neck and pulled her into a slow walk that he managed on three legs, leading her back down the main hall. “What took you so long?” he asked in hushed tones, devoid of his usual flamboyance. “I have been freaking out down here ever since I found out what you were doing in town!”

Sassy frowned. “From the moment I saw you earlier, I’ve been hoping that you wouldn’t have any connections to this mess.”

“I know. And that’s why I wanted to step forward right away.” He placed his hoof back down on the floor, helping him walk; Sassy’s frown deepened at the loss of its pressure against her coat. “I don’t want either me or the Governor to lose our heads for this. I may as well have died after the Mistress changed our world, for how little I got to create until I got this job.”

Sassy leaned closer. “Lord Rich is your supplier, isn’t he? I’ve known for years that he has illicit connections… everypony seems to. But what I haven’t had is proof. Every time I’ve gotten close to finding something solid, it’s like what I’m looking for just disappears!”

Plate glanced around them, eventually appearing satisfied with the distance between them and any of the nearest servants. “I don’t know for sure. I’m not into the details, you understand? I just inherited some contacts from the last guy doing this, and I… I like to have nice meals. Is that so wrong? Just because I can live on mosses and mushrooms doesn’t mean I can make culinary art with them.”

“Who was the ‘last guy?’”

Sweat beaded at Fashion Plate’s brow. “When I say that, I mean Blueblood himself used to keep track of most of the transactions. From what I heard, it was only in the last year or so that he started, ah… shifting focus. Actually, your little helper Silver Shill was picking up most of the slack until Blueblood decided to bring me on full-time.”

“I take it he was focused on his research into Tartarus and suchlike?” Sassy raised an eyebrow. “Do you know anything about those interests, as well?”

“Not much, though I do know that it’s been a long time since he’s had a proper debauch.” He glanced at her, coughed, and cleared his throat. “I mean, y’know. Silver Shill used to tell me about having to shoo whole herds of working-fillies out of here, or helping hold off some jealous husband or wife.”

“Prince Blueblood has become celibate?” Sassy failed to keep the incredulity from her voice.

“Oh no, nonono. His idea of a quiet evening in still makes my old party days look like a footnote. I’m just saying he’s a far cry from the one-pony whorehouse that he used to be.”

“As if he’s not himself…” Sassy looked down, meeting Plate’s eyes. “Do you think he’s being pressured or controlled by some outside party? He’s mentioned having some kind of ‘lady-in-waiting.’”

Plate shrugged. “Not that he’s told me. Not that I’d know, one way or the other. But I know you from way back, Sassy; I know you’re not going to stop until you’ve put a pin in every detail. I just figured it was better to put one in myself before you ended up doing it for me.”

“I will. I have to. Things have changed, Plate; I need to know if everything I’ve worked for these last few years still makes sense or not.”

His eyebrows climbed. “Hold on, when you say everything, do you mean everything-everything?”

“I mean…” Sassy felt a jolt of panic at having possibly gone too far.

“You mean you’re finally gonna let yourself get knocked-up so you can quit your job and chase foals around?”

She snorted, then turned and slugged his shoulder hard enough to make him say: “Ow! You bitch!”

“You had that coming,” she said with a smile.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Well, that’s what you get for going all serious on me when I’m already trying to do the big confession thing. But since you started…?”

Sassy’s ears turned down, and her head slumped a little lower. “I shouldn’t say more if you’re already connected to this, however tangentially. I fear this is mine to bear, and mine alone.”

“Well what’s the point of having friends, or even a good job, if you don’t have somepony you can talk to? I know we kinda lost touch for a while there, but it’s not… it wasn’t you. I wasn’t in a good place before this job happened. Truth is, most days I find it easier to organize and put events together than to pick up a pen and write. But back when I couldn’t do the one thing, it took more will than I had to do the other, too.”

“I understand.” She nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “You will, of course, not repeat any of this to anypony else?”

“My lips are sealed!”

Sassy glanced into a room where a chambermaid was standing on her hind legs and flipping a comforter out onto a bed. Other than her, nopony else was nearby. “Recently I’ve had a few surprises, and a few disappointments, and they’ve left me feeling shaky, for lack of a better word.”

“So it’s not just your biological clock ticking?” Plate gave Sassy a broad wink. “Because I seriously do know some guys who might be willing to help, but for the most part they’re not gonna be your type.”

She smiled at him. “Plate, that’s something that I’ve always admired about you: you’re just… out there. You’re yourself. What you see is what you get.”

“Well, what’s the point of being anything else?”

“No, I agree. It just seems like other ponies don’t do that. A surprising amount of ponies, and in all kinds of positions.”

He looked at her intently for a moment. “Someone close to you?”

She nodded silently.

He touched a hoof to her shoulder, gently nudging her to stop. “You don’t need me to come beat them up, do you?!” With that, he rose on his hind legs and flexed his forelegs in a parody of a muscle-bound display.

Sassy snickered, then reached out and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Whoa, whoa! Inappropriate touching!”

She burst into laughter again, and hugged him tighter.

“Oh, come on!” he added. “As if I had any idea back in the day that helping you get on your hooves again after running a couple of boutiques into the ground would lead me to this kind of end!”

Sassy grimaced, and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It just… feels good, seeing an old friend right now.”

“No, Sassy, it’s fine. What were you saying about this pony you need to have beat up?”

“I don’t think there’s a pony in Equestria who could… beat up the one who disappointed me recently. I don’t even know how to talk about it without betraying my own standards… and yet, I know not talking about it puts me on the wrong end of those anyway. It’s a quandary, Plate, and I don’t know how to face it.”

“Listen. Sassy. How many things are you good at in life? I’m thinking the number’s pretty small—”

“Oh, definitely, thank you.”

“—but right there, at the top of the list, is facing things that suck, and not sugarcoating the fact that they suck. Then you crack the whip and figure out how to use the ponies you’ve got to make ’em suck less. Because that’s you!”

“I’m glad for the vote of confidence. I can use it right now. I just… I hate the thought that all this might not be worth it. Ponies have kept doing what they wanted without regard to the Mistress’ laws, or without thinking about the consequences of provoking her wrath. Ponies like Lord Rich sow disorder, chaos… and there’s nothing I hate more.”

Fashion Plate tsked. “Well, I’ll tell you what: if you really want bring order to something, you might want to start with a big box full of old receipts and shipping manifests that I found stuffed in a corner of Blueblood’s office a while back. There’s bound to be something useful for your investigation in there. As for me, I don’t have any clue who’s fulfilling our food orders; I’m just using what was here before I started, and to my unending amazement, it works.”

Sassy nodded. “I suppose the temptation to ignorance would be hard to resist, but as I said, I’m taking this as far as it goes. Of course, if you can help me find some truly damning evidence about either Lord Rich or his associates, there’s no reason why we couldn’t discuss clemency—”

Loud hoofsteps approached them from behind. Sassy turned, and gave Silver Shill a slight bow. “Ah, just the pony I should like to talk to. What news? Has Seneschal Rarity turned up?”

“No, ma’am, I’m afraid she hasn’t. And while it sounds like things are generally quiet outside the mansion tonight, I did hear something about a fire down in the Lower City that might interest you. It was arson, by the sound of it.”

Sassy paused. “What of it? Awful as it may be, it surely falls within somepony else’s jurisdiction to investigate.”

“Yes, ma’am, but this was in the area where you told me Lady Rarity was headed.”

“It… what?” Sassy’s eyes widened. “Tell me its exact location.”

He did. And Sassy’s eyes continued widening as he did. She raised a hoof to her mouth, fighting back tears.

“That traitorous whore,” Sassy spat. “I gave her one simple task to help demonstrate her loyalty, and she twists it into murdering one of my oldest and most helpful friends?! Such overt defiance of myself, my trust, and ultimately the Mistress, cannot be allowed to stand. Plate, Silver Shill, do either of you know where the Governor is now?”

“Ah, ma’am, ponies usually have to get on his schedule,” Silver Shill said, glancing at Fashion Plate.

“Schedule, schmedule!” Fashion Plate declared. “Do you think I’m gonna make my homefilly wait to get on Big B’s schedule when this kind of badness is going on?”

“Thank you, Plate,” Sassy said, smiling at him… but as she thought once more of Rarity, the warmth drained out of her smile, leaving a much more predatory aspect. “Gentlecolts, if it’s fire that Rarity wants, then we shall see her cast into eternal flame!”
> Chapter 19: Even Worse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunger gnawed at Rarity’s gut as she trotted into the small, empty, out-of-the-way square housing Starswirl Fountain. She fought to suppress the feeling, instead focusing on the fountain itself, which gave the appearance of an oversized stone pointy wizard hat, of all things. Water cascaded down from its tip to its brim, and flowed over a set of stone bells hanging above the surface of the circular brick-lined pool surrounding it.

Rarity moved closer, then circled it, seeing that no other decorations adorned it, save for a tarnished bronze plaque set in one side. She looked up at the nearby buildings and didn’t see many lights on, so she turned back to the fountain, touching her hoof along its bricks, trying to feel for a loose one.

She contemplated lighting her horn and trying to delve for any kind of magical residue, but she didn’t want to risk drawing more attention to herself from unseen viewers. Instead she moved back to the plaque, and pressed at it with her hoof. As expected, it didn’t budge. But as she regarded it for several moments, she noticed that a bit of the mortar along its bottom edge had flaked away. She nudged the brick directly underneath the plaque and felt a small thrill as the thing moved.

Yet tugging it out with just her hoof seemed like it would take forever. Rarity raised her head and glanced around, confirming there was nopony in plain sight. Then she lit her horn, levered the brick out swiftly with her magic, and bent down to inspect the small space she’d revealed. Seeing that it couldn’t accommodate much, she glanced down at the brick itself, and saw how a long notch had been ground away in its middle, which let the brick sit flush while leaving room for something small to be left within.

The note would only need to say, “He’s back.” But after feeling about herself, she frowned; she hadn’t thought to bring any paper.

Her hoof touched her billfold, and a grin worked its way across her face. She took it out, then riffled through it and brought out the smallest denomination of paper currency she had on her. The smile deepened as she found a pen tucked in the billfold as well. She lit her horn again, drew up the pen to write, and—

Hesitated. Writing the note would commit her to a course of action that the mysterious stallion had absolutely forbidden. The prospect of making a true enemy of him filled her stomach with butterflies, in part because of her revulsion at the methods that she’d seen him use.

Doubt assailed her as she pondered whether the vision she’d seen back at Filthy’s had been real, and what it might mean if it was—and what it might mean if it was but a figment of her nervous imagination. In that vein, she wracked her brain in pursuit of any but the most obvious explanation for the sudden inferno that had engulfed Bon Bon’s sweet shop.

“He said that he could kill the Nightmare,” she whispered. “He wants to save his wife, and other innocents like Scootaloo and poor Diamond Tiara, from Tartarus. But why resort to such egregious violence against a mere informant of Sassy’s?”

Her mind’s eye grew crowded with visions from her recent past, which changed each time she blinked. Sometimes it was a glimpse of the hellishly grinning mare in Filthy’s window; sometimes it would be the cloaked stallion holding a knife; and other times she’d see Zecora, either in the moment of her condemnation to Tartarus, or in the long torment that she’d suffered in the Mistress’ dungeons. Rarity touched a hoof to her head, wishing that she could banish the visions, but finding only that her body would respond by coursing with still more adrenaline. The sheer nervous energy was enough to make her forelegs twitch and her teeth chatter.

“I can’t trust him. I can’t. If he truly knows of such a threat to the Nightmare, why wouldn’t he share more?”

A sound asserted itself above the clacking of her own teeth, and Rarity shook herself out of the long reverie she’d fallen into, standing there holding the brick. Her ear twitched as she tried to discern it more clearly.

It was rhythmic, and creaking, and had elements of wood and iron in it.

Rarity cursed herself for waiting too long. She hastily pushed the brick back into place, then bolted for the mouth of the nearest alley.

From her hiding place behind a broken crate, she kept her eyes fixed on the fountain across the way, and shivered in the vain hope of dispelling the chill of both her own cold sweat and the city by night. But soon a pony entered the square pulling a small cart that was hitched around her midsection. The newcomer had a mare’s build and a yellow coat covered largely by a long black garment. She wore glasses below a unicorn horn and a mane of purple-streaked red.

She slowed to a halt in front of the fountain.

Rarity counted moments in beats of her hammering heart as she watched the mare simply stand there, seemingly waiting. The pause gave Rarity a chance to examine the mare’s open-topped cart from a distance, and to note the four or five books lying on its bed. It was hardly what she would’ve imagined for some sort of shadowy agent, though she also considered that deceptive appearances might be rather the point.

The mare glanced around a few times, but evidently missed seeing Rarity. Eventually she lit her horn, cast a brief spell… but then let her hornglow fade and set off again, resuming her path across and out of the square.

A long rush of breath drew up into Rarity’s lungs. She couldn’t rationalize what she’d just seen as a coincidence; it struck her that this must’ve been Bon Bon’s next connection, and one perhaps worth following.

Rarity pursued the mare slowly but decisively, letting herself keep to the sidewalk proper but using the natural cover afforded by doorways and pillars as they presented themselves. Passersby noticed her more when she did, but Rarity kept her hood over her head and moved to blend in with other ponies when cover was unavailable.

Their brief journey took them through one of Canterlot’s best remaining residential districts, bordering the ruins of its judicial buildings. Rarity’s brow furrowed as she tried to think of what they had been turned into since the Longest Night had fallen. Much of the apparatus of government had been rendered unnecessary in the face of a stronger and more violent military presence, and of the fell Mistress who wielded her forces as a blunt instrument without care for those who couldn’t care for themselves.

Rarity’s heart sunk at the reminder that her service might’ve enabled the Nightmare to do these things. Seeing Canterlot with her own eyes always made her question what good she’d truly done by caring for those survivors of Ponyville who ended up near the castle.

She shook her head at the thought, and glanced now and again at the well-maintained mansions bordered with tall, pointed gates. Many of their once-beautiful lawns were in varying states of conversion to rock gardens; some even looked as if they’d been converted to food production, with long beds of tilled earth presided over by gardeners working to try to raise mushrooms or hardier succulents. A few of the mansions had obvious guardspony contingents stationed at them, though they didn’t pay Rarity much heed.

And yet there were a few mansions here and there that had fared less well since the Longest Night began. Such devastating signs as twisted gates, collapsed roofs, or dark edifices with all windows shattered had been left as a lasting reminder that those who defied the Nightmare did so at risk of paying the ultimate price. And at intervals among the devastation of the homes themselves, Rarity saw the skeletal remains of ponies next to, or sometimes still hanging from, the poles that they had been impaled on.

Death had become a more popular punishment after the Guardian came to hold sway over the gates of Tartarus.

Up ahead, the mare turned another corner, placing her on a side street that ran past the old four-storey grey stone courthouse that had been converted into a new Royal Archive. When Rarity took the corner as well, she caught a glimpse of the mare pulling the cart into a small parking area behind it. Rarity stayed close to a wall and moved to a better vantage point by the next corner, then watched surreptitiously as the mare unhitched herself, gathered the small bunch of books together in her magic, and headed up a short set of steps to the Archive’s side entrance.

Rarity set her jaw and trotted across the distance to the Archive, keeping her eyes on the side entrance—but nopony came back out. She debated whether she should follow through that entrance or simply head up the broad set of stone steps to its front. Not wanting to risk looking out of place inside the Archive, she decided on a direct approach.

The steps were of the same smooth grey stone as the rest of the edifice. The doorway was of ornate brass, though it bore a scratched-out inscription above the lintel. Rarity eyed it as she passed through the propped-open door, but it was too defaced to discern more than that one of its words had been “justice.”

Warmth flooded her as she passed into the front lobby, and in an instant her nervous shivering had been replaced by nascent sweat beading on the inside of her clothes. She thought the sensation was more than just heat, though; a tingle at the base of her skull buzzed with intuition that the building might be magically warded. Against what, she couldn’t say; thought it helped in that moment for her to explain away the apparent absence of guardsponies from what would surely be a valuable asset.

She looked around, briefly studying the lobby’s austere dark-wood walls, brass mage-light fixtures, and dark green carpet. A few rows of small benches still remained from the days when this would’ve been a waiting room at the courthouse, and now stood empty, serving neither those who might seek restitution, nor those simply seeking a comfortable place to read.

In a corner at the far side was what would have served as a check-in spot for those awaiting court cases. Part of the wall there had been knocked out, leaving a wider opening with a broader working surface that now seemed to serve as the Archive’s front desk. Behind it, Rarity saw a white-coated, dark-maned stallion gathering a few things off the desk and into a saddlebag. She also saw the same yellow-coated, sweater-wearing mare that she’d followed to the Archive—and had to fight down thrills of both fear at the prospect of discovery, and joy at the successful pursuit of her quarry. The mare and the stallion spoke in quiet voices as the latter seemed to be making ready to depart.

The stallion moved out of Rarity’s sight, but then emerged from a door next to the desk area. He paused, eyes wide with surprise, as he spotted Rarity still in the doorway. “Oh, madam, my apologies.” He turned to the side and whispered loudly: “Moonie! Customer!”

“Hm? Oh!” The mare lit her horn and raised the books that had been strewn out before her, which Rarity felt sure might be the same books she’d seen her transporting earlier. That done, she pushed her glasses higher on her muzzle, cleared her throat, and set her features into a tight-lipped, clearly forced smile. “How may I help you, ma’am?”

“Pardon me there; things to see, ponies to do,” the stallion said, dipping his head and moving past Rarity to the door.

The mare squinted and leaned a bit closer. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind my saying, you seem a bit familiar?”

With a sigh, Rarity lit her horn and lowered her hood. The mare’s eyes widened, and she pointed with a shaky hoof. “Seneschal Rarity! My goodness, you must be here in town with Overseer Saddles. How may I help you?”

Rarity wondered how much the mare might’ve heard about their mission, and decided to take a slow and cautious approach. “Thank you, Miss…?”

“Moondancer.”

“Thank you, Miss Moondancer. Yes, I’m here on business with the Overseer, as part of our joint efforts in the city.”

Moondancer nodded. “I hope what I gave her was helpful. Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting her to follow-up so soon… did she have questions about the books?”

“N… not yet,” Rarity said, furrowing her brow at the unexpected connection. She decided to reach for another lie in the hopes of learning more: “Though neither did she have time to brief me about them in much detail.”

“I’ll tell you what…” Moondancer turned away, then ducked around through to the lobby door. “If you’d like to come inside. I can take you to the section on historical legends that we’ve started from the Governor’s donations.”

Rarity followed her through the door and into a similarly decorated hallway lined with doors, presumably leading to courtrooms and the like. “While we’re on the subject…” Rarity said, flicking an ear. She weighed her options quickly, and decided to see how far she could push the mare’s fortuitous connection to Sassy. “In fact, the Overseer did ask me to continue pressing on the questions that she’d discussed with you.”

Moondancer stopped in front of a door like many others. “Seneschal, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I also don’t know what else to say. I already told her that I don’t know where he’s getting them from, and that’s the honest truth. But if you want to have a look for yourself, feel free; a lot of the more ‘interesting’ ones are in here.”

“Of course.” Rarity gave Moondancer a warm, if artificial, smile. “Sorry to interrupt your work.”

Moondancer returned a nervous grin, then headed back toward the lobby.

Rarity turned the doorknob in her hoof. Indeed, what she found beyond looked to have been converted from a rather large courtroom. Gone were the expected benches for the gallery and jury, as well as the judge’s bench; in their place were rows and rows of ceiling-height bookshelves. The ones nearest the door were full; those a bit further down were closer to half-full; while toward the end of the room there were a few empty shelves.

Rarity focused on the bookshelves nearest the door. Among them was one lined in red velvet. She rose up on her hind legs to reach it and studied it closer. The few books on the shelf ran the gamut from tall to short, broad to thick. And while most appeared to be rather old based on their broken spines and fraying edges, a few seemed almost brand new, with unblemished, glossy covers of the style that had been in common use before the coming of the Nightmare. Unsure where to start, Rarity lit her horn and plucked one of the oldest and most battered volumes from the shelf: a thick red tome with two bronze clasps running perpendicular to the spine.

She brought it down into view, noting the stylized bronze horse-head logo embossed onto the front. Wordlessly she flipped it open, scanning briefly for anything that—

Rarity paused and flipped the pages backward again. There, in the middle of a page, was a diagram illustrating five stone orbs. Something about them tickled at the edges of her recollection, and long moments passed as she wracked her brain trying to think of where she might’ve seen or known them from before.

As the memory continued to elude her, she flipped back to the inside cover of the book and checked its title: The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.

She sucked a large breath as the recollection hit her. Not only had she seen them before, but they’d caught her attention the last time she’d been in the Mistress’ treasure room. She marveled at the realization that she’d been standing in the presence of the most powerful weapons the world had ever conceived, and which were now under the Nightmare’s control.

Rarity closed the book and fought to suppress the chill that overtook her at the thought of the Nightmare’s power being even further amplified by such things. She levitated the book down to the floor, planning to read more later if she had time. She craned her neck while also cocking her head to the side, studying the books’ spines and trying to make out what she could of their titles. Eventually she gave up and settled for pulling a few more of the oldest and most worn-looking ones down with her magic.

The first one she opened purported to be a reference guide to Tartarus—though Rarity noted from its age that it had been written long before the Nightmare’s return, and she questioned its value given the onset of fire, madness, and the Guardian who had subsequently overtaken it. The next book was also about Tartarus, and also likely outdated, but this one was heavily dog-eared. Rarity flipped through its pages and gathered from it the impressions of a curious bestiary. She glanced back at its title page: Prisoners of Tartarus. She then examined a few of the deeper dog-ears, but found little similarity between the beings caged within… unless the prison itself had been the reader’s focus.

Rarity rubbed her eyes, trying to banish a mild hornache and eye strain caused by her rapid perusal of the books. She then looked back up at the shelf and focused on the books that appeared to be newer; helpfully, these tended to have clearly printed titles on their spines.

Among them, Rarity located a slim volume titled Returned From Tartarus, which bore clear signs of wear along its edges and spine despite its otherwise newish sheen. She opened it and checked the title page—and noted the absence of information such as a publication date, author name, or the publishing house. It struck her as likely that she was holding a book printed after the Nightmare’s return, and the crackdowns that followed.

She scanned the first few pages. It seemed to be laid out as an interview with an eyewitness of Tartarus itself, though prefaced with a warning that the interviewee was close to catatonic and had needed chemical intervention to be brought into a state where they could speak. Once past the introduction, Rarity felt that fire and confusion seemed to be the prevailing themes of their account, which spoke of ponies being tortured, transformed, or immolated, seemingly according to unseen and inexplicable whims. The Guardian itself—or here, referred to as she—was described as a frightening force that would descend on ponies seemingly at random and pluck them up out of the bedlam, taking them nopony-knew-where.

“Her grasp was painful, terrifying,” Rarity read aloud quietly. “Her countenance razor-toothed, and not quite equine, as she snatched me up into some kind of sleep…”

Rarity closed the book. Her brow furrowed. It was beyond strange to think of Blueblood reading such things, much less to consider that there was an entire roomful of more, and presumably with additional books coming with some regularity.

Thoughts about Moondancer and the note reasserted themselves. A taut feeling spread through her muscles as she grappled with the question of whether to continue looking through the trove of information that she’d stumbled upon, or whether she should remain vigilant and seek some other kind of lead from Moondancer.

Deciding to split the difference, Rarity again levitated The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide, as well as Returned From Tartarus, and carried them back out into the hallway, heading toward the lobby. As she approached it, she saw Moondancer standing by the desk, writing in a large tome and shifting the new books around.

“Excuse me,” Rarity called. “Would you mind if I sat out here and read a while? The atmosphere in there is rather solitary.”

Moondancer turned, smiling broadly at Rarity; but the expression immediately caused Rarity’s hackles to rise. The smile was deep and artificial; indulgent was the word that sprang to mind. Seeing such an expression on a pony who didn’t seem predisposed to many social graces gave Rarity the feeling that something was out of place.

“Oh, sure! Anywhere you like, it’s no problem,” Moondancer said—again, too cheerfully.

Rarity looked past Moondancer through the opening to the lobby proper and spotted a few figures sitting idly. They weren’t uniformed or armored, but they were generally square-jawed and muscular—precisely the sort she’d expect to see as guards. Or, quite possibly, as toughs.

One stallion in a heavy cloak glanced up and met her eyes, then quickly looked away.

She swallowed. “Well, I suppose there must be reading rooms down here as well? It’s no trouble, I can choose one myself.”

“You don’t have to do that, ma’am. I’d be happy to show you to one!”

“Really, it’s no trouble.” Rarity applied a false smile of her own, then turned away, swallowing hard, and looking from door to door for any clues about what might constitute a safe space… presuming that she was now in danger, and that her nerves weren’t simply getting the better of her.

An immediate problem was the lack of apparent difference in several of the doors. The distances at which they were set apart suggested that they led to fairly large former courtrooms, but she didn’t know if there might be other paths or exits that she could take advantage of.

But as her mind raced through myriad possibilities, Rarity realized that something else was out of place. Sassy had referred her to Bon Bon, then Bon Bon sent her to the fountain, and finally Moondancer led her from the fountain to the Archive. If each link in the chain had been loyal to the Mistress, she should have nothing to fear. But she did feel fear. Neither Sassy nor the Nightmare were the kinds of ponies to prefer lying in wait when there were doors to be kicked-in.

No, these ponies couldn’t be loyal to Sassy or the Nightmare at all.

Rarity felt her pulse quicken even faster at the thought. She turned a corner, striving to make mental connections as she headed down another hall full of doors. She considered that Nightmare Moon might take an interest in locating and confiscating information about how to stop her, and that the same might go for details about how her influence had reshaped Tartarus, but there was no reason for her to funnel such information through the Governor and allow it to be placed in the publicly accessible Royal Archive. The only ponies who’d have an interest in making such information available would be those who’d want to use it against her, or who didn’t see its value… which the Governor must’ve, given the sheer effort it would take to assemble such a grand collection of obscure or banned tomes.

She stopped in place, eyes widening at the realization that Governor Blueblood might have aligned himself with the Resistance.

Her next thought was of Sassy, who might very well be in danger by virtue of being under the Governor’s “protection.” Her mind then followed the chain of recent events backwards, re-framing the trail she’d followed from Bon Bon as one of ponies loyal to the Resistance, not to the Nightmare… all the way back to Filthy.

The image of Filthy’s reaction to Bon Bon played through her head again. She cursed under her breath; it should’ve been clear that he’d recognized her. But then her blood ran cold as she considered that she’d come close to delivering the Resistance a warning about the cloaked stallion, which was the one thing he’d insisted she not do.

Part of her wished very much that she had, though. She could never trust him again, given what he’d done with the information about Bon Bon that she’d let slip.

A muffled thumping noise from one of the nearby doors broke her out of her thoughts. She eyed it cautiously. It was a simple door, smaller than many of the others, and it bore a bronze plaque labeled: SUPPLIES. Rarity furrowed her brow, then lit her horn and cast a minor spell to tell her if anypony was behind the door.

Immediately, her horn sparked with feedback from something repelling her spell; she jumped with a mix of pain, surprise, and confusion. But when the pain cleared, she realized that the spell had picked up on something more subtle but insidious surrounding her. It left her with a dull, throbbing ache in her horn; one that she recognized would be consistent with detecting a generalized monitoring field. One that might, for instance, tell when ponies came and went, and that might even be able to discern who they were.

She recalled the warm buzzing sensation she’d felt when she first stepped into the Archive, and chided herself mentally for brushing off that feeling.

Rarity was about to step away from the door when the thumping noise repeated. Feeling sure that she’d rather not leave some unknown danger behind her, she reached out with a trembling hoof, turning the doorknob—

The door jerked open, and she saw an all-too familiar hooded, grinning stallion in the shadows.

“Supplies!” he shouted as he reached out, gripped her barrel, and pulled her bodily into the pitch-black room beyond.


END OF BOOK 2: BY THE PALE MOONLIGHT

> Book 3: No Dreams May Come
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Fire, screams, and death all around made a mockery of Princess Celestia’s concentration as she flew through a fusillade of purple energy that scoured the upper balcony of Ponyville’s City Hall. Behind her trailed the Elements of Harmony, secure in her magical grip, yet unyielding in their silence.

Despite the growing darkness of thick, stinging smoke, Celestia spotted a brief opening in the night-black Alicorn’s glittering force shield. She took careful aim and once again drew upon the lone source of power that still seemed willing to heed her call, conjuring a bar of molten sunshine that came blazing out of her horn. Her eyes squeezed shut on instinct, though the blast was so bright that she could see it clearly even through her closed eyelids, and so hot that it singed the fur on her muzzle.

All she heard in its wake was more screaming.

The Nightmare laughed. “I’m afraid that’s another miss, dear Sister. Is this truly the best you can do?”

Celestia opened her tear-streaked eyes. Her heart sank, and her muzzle twisted into a horrified grimace, as she saw that yet another blast had been deflected into the terrified and burning mass of ponies trying to flee. In their midst lay the distended, sparking portal that she’d conjured in the vain hope of imprisoning the Nightmare in Tartarus; but its magical weaves had been distorted by a heat they weren’t meant to bear.

Her sorrow fueled a wordless, choking cry. She cursed herself for losing Sunset, who she felt would’ve stood by her valiantly if she’d been a better mentor. She cursed herself for letting fear and disharmony poison her heart from the company of friends, in defiance of the Elements. But most of all, she cursed herself for turning to the awe-inspiring power of the sun in her desperation to stop Nightmare Moon. Not since the rampage of Lord Tirek had she seen a living weapon of such terrible and uncontrollable potency turned against her ponies, nor with such damning consequences.

But amid her lamentations, Celestia failed to see another bolt of power that shot out, struck her wing, and caused her to spin out of control. In an instant, she lost her grasp upon the Elements, which went tumbling out into the air…


> Chapter 20: Obsession
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

What Dash found after pushing through the door to Redheart’s quarters resembled, at first glance, a murder scene that had been inexpertly mopped-up. Two or three badly bloodied towels lay in a pile by the door to Redheart’s washroom, accenting both the ocean of detritus that was Redheart’s normal state of disorganization, as well as her sprawled figure lying facedown on the cot.

Dash’s eyes widened as she took in the scene, and adrenaline kicked her heart faster. Soon, though, she noticed Redheart’s barrel rising and falling with deep breaths, and the tension in her shoulders lessened.

Then Dash cursed quietly at the prospect of having to do what she’d come to do with Redheart in the room. She looked down at Scootaloo with what she hoped would come off as a genuine smile. “Don’t worry, kid, we can still surprise her with those snow caps. We’re just gonna have to be real quiet while we do it.”

“I still don’t think this is a good treat to surprise a friend with,” Scootaloo said, looking askance at the small basket of white mushrooms in her hoof. “Those oats you grabbed for me weren’t very flavorful, but at least they were better than these.”

“Yeah, well, things have been hard these last couple of years.” Courtesy of her thestral vision, Dash spotted her true prize lying on the small stand next to the cot. “Better start getting used to mushrooms now, cuz they’re the main thing anypony can get their hooves on these days, unless you know someone.” She took a few tentative steps into the dark, quiet room, carefully avoiding the assortment of books and knick-knacks on the floor. 

Scootaloo stayed silent for a moment before she spoke up again: “We're not really here to leave these for her, are we?”

Dash misstepped and nearly lost her balance. “Okay, look… have you ever needed to do something, and you know you're gonna get a ‘no’ if you ask, so you figure it's better to just do it and hope that ponies will forgive you afterwards?”

“Sounds like that's becoming a habit with you lately,” Redheart said, voice muffled by the cot. “What exactly do you need to be forgiven for this time?”

Dash grimaced. “Uh, hey there, Doc. Came to thank you for looking at Scoots, and to see if you’re ready to head back out to the force.”

Redheart pushed up on her forehooves and rolled over, squinting in the darkness. “Like Tartarus you were. Ah, Scootaloo. You should probably be resting.”

Dash shot a glance at Scootaloo. “Uh… yeah, we’ll try to take it easy. We were just going to, uh…”

“Do something I wouldn’t approve of,” Redheart added.

“Well, I mean… I don’t know. I wanted to ask you about—”

“Thank you,” Redheart interrupted.

“…What?”

Redheart sat up, then began rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “The two patients I was worried about when I had to ship out? I was right to worry. My orderlies are good, but they were a mess.”

Dash nodded. “Cool, cool… so you… saved them?”

“I did what I could.”

The breath caught in Dash’s throat. “Oh. Doc, I’m sorry… I should have gotten you here faster… or taken you to see them first?”

“No, I figured that I lost them when those damn guards made me leave the castle in the first place. At least now I won't have to wonder if I could’ve done more. I know; it doesn’t sound like much, but it is to me. So thank you.”

“N… no problem, Doc. So look, if you’re done here, we need to talk about getting you back to the force.”

“Do I need to worry about anything before I go check out Ponyville?” Scootaloo asked. Dash glanced back at Scootaloo, and saw a surprising amount of intensity in the filly’s expression.

Redheart chuckled. “More than you know, kid. But no, the one big unknown is your seizure. There’s no way I can know if it was just a one-time thing, or if you’ll have more. But you look pretty good, and even if you do have more, it’d only be a big deal if it lasted longer than a few minutes. And Dash has something she can give you that should make it stop it that happens.”

“So look, can we get going?” Dash asked quickly, blushing at the thought of the suppository Redheart had made with Zecora’s ingredients. “I lined up a sky chariot that I can use to fly you guys out. And we're gonna go past Ponyville so Scoots can have a look around.”

“Maybe let's talk about the real reason you came barging in here? I mean, you didn't know I was here, did you?”

The heat in Dash’s cheeks intensified. “Well, the first time we went looking for you, you were busy fixing up those guards, so we figured we’d go take a rest. Then when we went back, your staff said you were out taking a walk in the west wing somewhere, so we swung by the kitchens…”

“Of course. I tell them that sometimes so I can be alone. Sometimes I get tired of having to be the one pony around there who still has her horseapples together, you know?”

Then she turned to the stand next to the cot, picked up Zecora’s journal, and fixed Dash with a frown. “I guess I should’ve known I’d only make you more interested in this by trying to put you off from it earlier.”

“I dunno, it seemed like there was more to it than just recipes,” Dash said.

Redheart shook her head. “Rainbow, there’s some weird stuff in here, and some of the weirdest is about you.”

Sighing, Rainbow shook her head. “I guess I'm not surprised. It always seemed like Zecora hated my guts.”

“Hated you? No, Rainbow… Zecora was obsessed with you. It started right after she moved to the Everfree. She’d written all sorts of bizarre things about rainbows before then, but it’s like she hyper-focused everything on you after she saw you flying around.”

Dash was taken aback. Her eyes widened, and her brows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean?”

Redheart shrugged. “Like I said, it was weird. Sometimes she’d talk about the world wanting to give birth to something, and ‘screaming out in labor pains.’ And apparently this was connected to her watching you fly somehow? She’d spend whole pages at a time criticizing your technique, but I don’t think… it wasn't hatred. More like being perversely analytical, and bizarrely spiritual, all at the same time.”

“I barely knew her,” Dash said quietly, struggling to voice the innumerable questions that budded in her mind. “What did Rarity make of all this?”

“Rarity didn’t know.” Redheart got up from the cot and gave the journal to Dash. “She ended up with Zecora’s stuff after the Nightmare sentenced her to die in that cell, and Rarity figured I could put the herbs and tools in it to good use. But once I started actually digging into the journal, I didn’t want to burden her with a bunch of nonsense about birth pains, and Sonic Rainbooms, and whatever else.”

Dash glanced down at the journal and hefted it in her hoof. “I’ve heard of Sonic Rainbooms. I mean, any pegasus would’ve. I don’t know what they’re supposed to have to do with me, though.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to look through it after I’m gone. I’ve even got one bit of good news: I might have a halfway decent lie that we can use on Wind Rider if we need it.”

“Nice,” Dash said, tucking the journal into her armor. “I hadn’t come up with anything.”

“Yeah, one of the orderlies who joined us a couple months back dropped a tray on himself when the guards came to get me for the force. It cracked his hoof pretty bad, and everypony else told him it needed to be looked at, but he didn’t listen. Numbskull didn't stop at all until I noticed him hobbling and made him get it looked at.”

“I guess that's better than nothing…”

“So can we get going?” Scootaloo asked. “I need to get out there.” 

Redheart frowned. “I don’t see any harm per se if you want to get out of the castle, but it could invite some unwanted attention if you ride along with us all the way out to the force.”

“Fine, then I’ll hang by myself in Ponyville while Rainbow takes you the rest of the way,” Scootaloo said with a scowl.

“I don’t know if you’d really want to be alone out in the ruins,” Dash said.

“Probably better off waiting here,” Redheart said. “In fact, if you can manage to lie low until Rarity gets back, I bet she could find somepony who’d get you in touch with a pegasus enclave.”

“I'm going, and that’s final,” Scootaloo said.

“Yeah, she’s pretty bent on doing it,” Dash said, pre-empting Redheart. “So are you ready?”

“I guess. At least I got a shower, and fifteen minutes of sleep is better than no sleep.”

Dash smirked at her. “You should try being a bat. We just need to rest the body.”

Redheart's expression hardened. She glanced at Scootaloo, who returned a nervous frown. “Yeah, no, I think we're good with sleeping if we get to keep our souls.”

“I… I didn’t mean it seriously,” Dash said, her mouth suddenly dry as ash.
> Chapter 21: Off the Deep End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity kicked and writhed as strong hooves clamped down on her muzzle and pulled tight around her barrel. She felt the warmth of the pony behind her, pulling her to him. Then he reached out with a hind leg and kicked the door, closing it, plunging their struggle into pitch blackness.

She lit her horn. But moments after the cramped room leapt into deep, shadowy outlines, she felt the forehoof on her barrel let up on its hold. It shot up past her face—and then, all at once, her magic died.

The sudden feeling of absence came as a cold shock in her brain, and for an instant she was too surprised to struggle. In that instant, though, her attacker pressed his advantage: the hoof around her muzzle tightened, and his other hoof scooped up her forelegs in an iron grip. She planted her hind legs and pushed back on him as hard as she could, but he swayed backwards with her, merely chuckling.

“You’re welcome to keep fighting, but this here’s one of the good things about being an earth pony,” he hissed in her ear. “Now would you cut it out and let me turn the light on?”

Sweat bloomed on Rarity’s brow as Bon Bon’s message echoed in her mind. Adrenaline shot through her muscles, and her hind legs veritably pulsed with a visceral and barely contained need to flee. But as she pumped her legs against his powerful grip, she began to doubt she’d be able to fight her way to freedom. Her mind instead turned to the question of whether she could talk her way out of peril.

Rarity’s first step was to make a mental note of the fact that her attacker had admitted to being an earth pony. While that didn’t explain his abilities to seemingly appear and disappear at will, it gave her a hoofhold back into the conscious, thinking part of her mind. Her breathing slowed from sharp, panicky gasps down to something resembling normalcy. She struggled to stay focused on the sounds of her own blood pulsing in her ears, and on the mixed sounds of her breathing and his. Slowly she managed to relax her neck and forelegs, letting off on the pressure that she was applying to his restraining hooves.

“That’s better. Now, are we good to talk? And I mean talk, not scream for help from some ponies who are definitely not here to help? I had to turn off my silence charm to get your attention, and if they get wise to what’s going on in here before I can turn it back on, we might end up having a very different kind of conversation. Got it?”

A shudder passed through Rarity’s body. But then, slowly, she nodded.

In an instant, his hooves and body were off hers. The change was so sudden that she ended up stumbling backwards into space, overbalancing for the few moments it took to plant her hind legs firmly and get her forehooves to the floor. Only, one of them didn’t touch the floor, but something softer and more pliable.

“All right, got my charm back on; scream all you want. Now where’s the blasted pull-chain…”

There was a click. Then light from an overhead bulb flooded the supply room, glinting off the sundry items of metal and glass sitting on the rows of shelves that lined its walls. But the first thing that Rarity properly noticed was the corpse she’d stepped on: a light blue stallion with a blond mane, glasses that had been shattered, and a dark cloak covering most of his body.

Rarity stifled a scream, not wanting to lose what little composure she could muster in the presence of the pony’s killer.

“You done got yourself into a mess here, filly,” the mysterious stallion said. “There’s more layers of detection spells on this joint than a big fat tracking tiramisu. Good thing I’ve got a pretty darn strong charm of ward disruption, or they’d be just as thick on me as this mook was on you.” He shook his head. “I’ll be honest, though; I’m impressed that you managed to shake me so hard. Took me quite a while to realize you were giving me the slip, much less to figure out where you’d run off to. Course, the question that that leaves me with is… why? Aren’t you happy with our working relationship?” He squatted down next to the corpse and turned his face toward its. “I don’t think she’s happy with me,” he stage-whispered.

“Who… was that?” Rarity asked, fighting a tremor in her voice.

He sighed. “Irrelevant, that’s who. Just the guy watching the back door. Which, by the way, was covered, so you can forget thinking that you would’ve made it out of here. Want to meet him properly? Rarity, Irrelevant. Irrelevant, Rarity. Say hi, Irrelevant!” Rarity’s breath froze in horror as the stallion propped up the head of the dead pony with one hoof and worked their jaw with the other. "’Ello, Seneschal! Nice to meet you!"

Rarity’s stomach churned with the feeling of heat and the reminder of voiding itself the last time she’d seen the stallion. But even as she despaired over the unlikelihood of escaping with her life, she took a deep breath and fixed him with a glare. “Yes, I did indeed attempt to lose you. And if you want to know why, you need only look at the blood on your own hooves! You’re a madpony, and…” She hesitated, pulse pounding as she steeled herself to press onward. “And even if you kill me here as you’ve killed so many others, I would have you know that I will not be a party to the kind of wanton bloodshed that you seem so eager to commit!”

The stallion lowered the corpse’s head back to the floor. Then he stood, brushed himself off, and focused back on Rarity. “All right, what is it? What’d I do that set you off like this?”

“I should hardly know where to begin,” Rarity said, shivering. “But let us start with your sick joke about the candy maker! You said that you and I would get on like a house on fire, and practically a heartbeat later, the poor mare’s shop burns, leaving no survivors!” She felt a tingling thrill at voicing the lie, and a thick knot of fear that he would somehow know that she was lying.

He didn’t call her on it, though. Instead he snorted and shook his head. “Eh, don't give yourself too much credit for inspiring that one. It was kind of this old joke that she and I used to have with each other. She always said that she hoped I would die in a fire, and I always thought it’d be funnier if she did first.”

Rarity’s jaw fell. “Y… you are horrible beyond all possible imagining! Thus far you’ve fed me nothing more than honeyed promises of a better world, while your actions...” She pointed at the corpse. “Tell me: did this stallion have a family? Will there be somepony waiting up for him whose vigil will end in tears? You claim to have lost a wife, yet you have no compassion for those ponies whose greatest crime seems to be having the misfortune of standing anywhere near you!” She’d worked herself up to shouting, and she took a hoofful of deep breaths before finishing in a more even tone: “Honestly, it is no wonder why you needed somepony to reach out to the Resistance on your behalf, if you even care about working with them!”

He looked down at the floor, pursing his lips, fixating on a single point, breathing silently. He shuddered, then pressed a hoof to his eyes. “You’re right,” he croaked. “No, you’re… I mean, the only thing that I can say in my defense that it’s hard to do much of anything out there without racking up some kind of body count these days. You know what I mean?”

“Somehow I’ve managed,” Rarity said, trembling.

The stallion snorted. “No you haven’t. You might not’ve seen the ponies who died for you to be where you are. Maybe you tell yourself that you’re making ponies’ lives better in the Nightmare’s castle. But rest assured, you’re doing that on the backs of those who suffer silently to make it happen. I mean, do you think that all the deals your coltfriend Richy Filth does go smoothly all the time? How much blood do you think feeds the roots of his produce?”

“If you think you shall win me over by drawing a moral equivalency between what I have done and all the gleeful violence that you perpetrate—”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, before sitting on his haunches. “I can’t. You mentioned my wife… and honestly, anything you say about me now would pale in comparison to what she’d say about me, and about some of the things I’ve done, since I lost her. I just… I don’t know how to live without her. It’s like something’s broken on my insides.”

The stallion looked down at his forehooves, raising them slightly. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of just… just…” He lowered them again. “But every time I see a vision of her, it reminds me what I’m fighting for. And even if I get her back again… and if she can’t see the pony I was anymore because of the pony I’ve become… I’d accept that, if it meant she could be free. I’d sell my very soul to have another chance to give her a real smile.”

Rarity eyed him warily. Her glance flicked to a heavy paperweight on a nearby shelf. She considered trying to grab it and strike him while his gaze was fixed elsewhere.

And yet something about what he said stuck out in her mind: the recollection of dead eyes and a spectral grin in the window of Filthy’s home. It was the one piece that didn’t fit. And as she watched him hunching low and looking contrite, he suddenly seemed much less like a coiled weapon, and much more like a pony.

“I…” Rarity hesitated. She flicked her tongue across her lips, took a steadying breath, and decided to press forward. “I wonder… if I may have seen such a vision as well.”

He looked up at her with a hard expression and piercing green eyes that shone through the darkness of his hood. “If that was intended as some kind of joke,” he spoke slowly, lacing each word with the tension of implied violence, “then it wasn’t funny.”

“I… I would never think to joke about such a thing. In truth, I don’t know quite what I saw—”

“Her eyes,” he interjected. “Did you see the look of death within them?!”

Rarity held a hoof to her muzzle, nearly biting it. But she nodded.

“Her mane, hung limp and greasy?”

“I… yes…”

“Her smile?”

She shuddered, closing her eyes. She kept them shut, barely even managing to breathe, fearing what he’d do or say.

Some moments later, she heard the quiet movements, understated moans, and sudden sharp breaths of a pony crying. Rarity opened her eyes, seeing that the stallion had collapsed to his hind knees, had pressed his forehooves to his face, and was rocking back and forth, shaking with quiet weeping.

“I’m so sorry,” Rarity said weakly.

“No, don’t be,” he groaned. “You don’t know what this means to me. I thought… I didn’t know if I was going mad. But you’ve seen her!” He lowered his hooves and raised his head again, showing the outline of a muzzle torn between a smile and a grimace, dimly streaked with snot and tears. “I don’t know why you’d see her too, but I don’t care. Now you know that what I’m saying is true. She’s down there… and she can't be the only pony trapped like that. And if we manage to save her, we’ll probably save a lot of other ponies too, right?”

Rarity knit her brow. “It doesn’t make any sense, though; even if the Nightmare wanted to send visions of her to torment you, why would she do the same for me? I can’t think that I’d have known her as you did…”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. It hardly matters, does it? Maybe she thinks it's funny.”

“I wonder if there’s any other precedent for this.” Rarity’s eyes darted to where the pair of books lay discarded on the floor. She made to light her horn and pick up Returned From Tartarus, but the magic didn’t come. She cursed herself for forgetting that he’d slipped something over her horn, then raised a hoof and removed a metallic, rune-inscribed ring from it.

“For the mare who has everything,” he said, giggling.

She held it, studying the intricacy of the symbols that wound across its surface, as well as the hinge and clasp that could let it be clamped around a horn even in close quarters. “This is very fine craftsponyship, quite apart from its effects. Where did you get this?”

“Let’s just say I have a friend who takes a professional interest in evening the odds between ponies who have power, and ponies who don’t. Earth pony though I be, I've got charms for anti-magic, anti-detection… even anti-perspirant. It’s strong enough for a mare, yet pH-balanced for a stallion. But that ain’t the real hardware.” He bent down, flipped through her other book, then held it open. “Tell me what you make of these babies.”

Rarity examined the page, noting the same diagram of six stone orbs that she’d seen before. “I believe they’re the physical forms of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Ding-ding-ding. But that’s not all. You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

She hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I believe the Mistress is keeping them in her private vault.”

“Yes and no. Take a closer look.”

Rarity lit her horn, feeling a sense of reassurance at the simple fact that she could do so again. She used her magic to pull the book closer, then scanned the page. The word “six” teased the edges of her recollection. She pictured the display case in the Nightmare’s vault again—

“Five of the six,” Rarity said. “The Nightmare only has five of the Elements. But where is the sixth?”

He reached out, snapping the book shut, startling her. “Where do ya think, ladycakes? Tartarus!”

“But… how?”

“Me and the fam had front row seats when things went down at Ponyville. First, ol’ Sunbutt opened up a gaping portal to the lowest reaches of Tartarus right in front of us; that’s when I lost my wife. Then she started channeling huge jets of fire to try to knock the Nightmare in; that’s when I lost the rest of them.”

“I’m… so sorry you had to witness that. But that still doesn’t answer—”

“Honestly, if there’s one thing I can respect about Nightmare Moon, it’s how she turned a ‘superior’ opponent’s strength against her! A deflection spell here, a bit of dodging and weaving there, and pretty soon she had Celestia doing more damage to herself and her own ponies than anything else!” He paused, panting loudly. “So anyway, the Nightmare picked her moment, popped Celestia but good, and down came the Elements. Nightmare Moon grabbed most of ’em, but one rolled straight through the portal and into a cage on the other side. Took me a while to find out what the thing had been, and that what I’d seen of Tartarus was its lowest reaches. But the images… have never left me.”

Rarity furrowed her brow. “I wonder, then, if it could be possible to harness the power of the Elements against the Nightmare… if we could get into Tartarus and retrieve the missing one?”

“It’s more than possible,” he said with a wide, almost disturbing grin. “I’ve kinda taken an interest in reading-up on things that seem like they could stop the Nightmare, and the Elements are in my personal top two.”

“But how do we use them? And what about the Guardian of Tartarus?”

“I’ve got some things that can deal with the Guardian,” he said nonchalantly. “Beyond that, do a little more reading and you’ll see that one of the tricky things with the Elements is that they need some kind of spark to activate. I have it on good authority that the Resistance doesn’t have a buckin’ clue what that means, but I just might. I’d tell them what it is, but.... well.” He sighed. “Y’know. I kinda burned some bridges, candy shops, et cetera, that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, I should think they would tire of ponies like Bon Bon falling prey to misadventure—”

“Sweetie Drops.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anything that anypony ever told you about her is a carefully crafted lie. The truth is that she used to be a special agent in Celestia’s service, back before the sun went down. And she was there, too, when everything happened at Ponyville. Even saved my life… if you can call this a life.”

“And you’ve repaid her by burning her to death?”

“Yeah, well, we crossed paths a few times since then. I watched her turn from a mare you could trust, into a backstabbing jerk who lived to shove her muzzle anyplace it didn’t belong. And I know, I know, you’re thinkin’ it—sounds kinda like me, right?” He stuck his tongue out at her. “But trust me, she was way far gone. It would’ve made things much more complicated if she’d caught wind of what was happening.”

Rarity bit her tongue, not wanting to reveal either Bon Bon’s—Sweetie Drops’— survival, or what she’d seen of the mare’s cutie mark rubbing away and leaving an equals sign. But that thought led her to another point of curiosity: “Speaking of hidden identities, I fear you have me at a disadvantage; we still haven’t been properly introduced.”

He shook his head. “Not yet, sweetheart. If you like what you’re hearing, then you’re gonna have to get yourself an ‘in’ with the Resistance so we can make the magic happen. Left on their own, they’ll never be more than a bunch of overglorified farmers cursing the darkness. But their moment’s comin,’ and I need you to wake them up so they don’t miss it.”

Rarity’s pulse pounded again as she thought of what he’d said about other ponies coming to look for her. “Perhaps I should go, then, if it’s become too dangerous here. Do you know who the stallions in the lobby are?”

All humor vanished from the stallion’s countenance. “Let’s just say they’re not the Resistance you’re looking for. Let ’em take you, and all bets are off. You want my advice? Slip out the back, go say hi to your Sassy friend up at Blueblood’s, then throw her to the wolves, like we talked about.”

Rarity swallowed hard at the prospect.

He smiled and winked. “Ah, but you’ll do it your way, and that’s fine by me. Tell you what; let me pop out first and make sure the back door’s still clear. Which brings me to good old Irrelevant here…”

He bent down, took a small metal disc out of his cloak, and held it up, turning it back and forth in the light. “This, my dear, is just about the highest-level teleportation charm you’ll ever lay eyes on. Got its own internal power matrix, so it won’t leave a traceable teleport signature if you’ve taken the proper precautions. Just another one of those wonderful toys that a friend of mine makes in her spare time.” He bent down and set it on the corpse, then tapped it. “Only problem is, this one’s been damaged… and a damaged teleportation charm ain’t gonna get you where you wanna go. Say goodnight, Irrelevant!”

A quiet whirring sound like small gears grinding against each other came out of the disc, followed by what looked like bubbles of black energy that were accompanied by streaks of purple. The bubbling effect spread swiftly until it overtook the whole corpse, which faded into nothingness.

“Goodnight, Irrelevant,” the stallion said quietly. He reached up for the pull-chain on the light above, then paused and grinned at Rarity. “Hey, that reminds me of a joke: how do you keep a dummy in suspense all night?”

There was a loud click, and Rarity startled as the room plunged into pitch darkness again. She waited, counting her own breaths, for the stallion to turn the light on again, or at least to make some kind of sound.

None came.

At length, Rarity lit her horn. But all she saw was an empty storeroom.
> Chapter 22: Undeterred
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sassy sighed as she paced the length of the mansion’s entryway for what felt like the thousandth time. Fashion Plate stood near the great central staircase, tip-hoofing anxiously and casting occasional glances upward. Silver Shill had vanished at some point during their wait, though Sassy hadn’t noticed his departure.

“This is ridiculous,” Sassy barked at last. “Plate, you told me he’d be down as soon as he finished some kind of meeting? That was at least an hour ago!”

Plate held up his forehooves defensively. “I… I know, Sassy! And every time I go back and check, he keeps saying he’ll be down in a minute!”

“Well, go check again!”

For a moment Plate said nothing, but Sassy spotted tension in his jaw, as if he was suppressing a frown. “What is it, Plate?”

“N… nothing. I’m sure he’s just got a lot of responsibilities, like you and me both do.”

Sassy scoffed and stalked up close to him. “You expect me to believe that Blueblood of all ponies is busying himself with responsibilities? Plate, I hate to say this… truly I do… but it seems like all I’m hearing from you are excuses, and they just keep getting thinner.”

“No, but—”

“There’s not much point in waiting around to hear more of the same. Either the Governor has chosen to deliberately snub me, or he’s forgotten whose representative he’s dealing with… or maybe you have.” She then took off heading for the staircase. “Either way, it’s time to work myself into his precious schedule!”

Fashion Plate brimmed with sweat as he pumped his legs to keep up with her. “Sassy, look… we’re friends, right?”

Sassy stopped and stared at him. “I hope so, Plate; but you said you could help me out, and then you didn’t. What happened?”

“He’s just… he usually—”

“Plate…” She shook her head. “Forgive me; I’m close to saying something I might regret. I understand if you can’t exert your own influence on him without risking your position. I, however, have no such concern.”

“Sassy, look, it’s not my place to question you—”

“It’s really not,” Sassy said, stopping and glaring at him. “At least not when it comes to this investigation.”

Fashion Plate tightened his lips, but bowed his head and turned away. Sassy watched him go, before turning and setting off for the long upstairs hall that housed the Governor’s private apartments.

The guards beside the outer doors eyed her warily as she approached, though they made no moves to stop her after she bared her teeth at them. She raised her hoof to knock, but paused, noticing that she could hear a bit of Blueblood’s voice through the door. Curiosity piqued, she leaned closer and perked up her ears, heedless of the guards standing right next to her.

“...oh, no no no, that’s fine by me… I’m as tired of waiting as you are...”

A frown worked its way across Sassy’s lips. She wondered who he might be talking to.

“Do you need something, ma’am?” asked one of the guards.

“Yes… for you to hold your tongue.”

“…Ugh, don’t get me started. The poor dear doesn’t seem to know anything! …Yes, I suppose we’ll have to brace for impact when she hears about the fire.”

Sassy’s eyes widened. The implication was plain enough that Blueblood was talking not only about herself, but also Bon Bon.

“Ma’am—”

This time she hissed at the impertinent guard, causing him to blanch and step backwards.

“…You don’t suppose we could have… ah… fine. I guess my guy can keep up the act for a while longer. I think he wants more compensation for putting up with her, though… No, don’t worry, he’s got some fun bits of drama that should keep her busy for a while—”

Sassy had heard enough. With a grimace, she planted her hooves on the door, lit her horn, and unleashed a burst of magic that blew it open on its hinges. The guards next to her ducked back in surprise, hastily brandishing their spears. Inside the opulent anteroom full of ivory and furs, Governor Blueblood startled, turning away from a mirror on the side of a chest of drawers. His hornglow faded, and Sassy caught a fleeting glimpse of a wide-eyed, lilac-colored face in the mirror before the image faded as well.

Blueblood looked her up and down with a smile. “You know, my dear, I’ve had fantasies that start this way.”

“You will tell me who you were talking to. Immediately.”

He smacked his lips. “Yeah… no.”

Both guards laid hooves on her withers. Sassy snarled, lit her horn, and discharged a powerful telekinetic blast that sent them flying into walls opposite each other. The blast pushed her magic to its limits, though, and it left her panting from the pain of a raging hornache. “I am… the Overseer… of Mistress Nightmare Moon, and you will—”

“Be paying for that, yes?” Blueblood interrupted. “That trim is Saddle Arabian, and Fashion Plate is going to plotz when he sees what you just did to it.”

Sassy scowled at him. “Governor, I think the Mistress would be very interested in what you know about this evening’s fire in the Lower City, as well as the truth about what Lord Rich was doing here earlier!”

“Would she? Or do you think she’d tell you that you were wasting her time? I mean, if you were eavesdropping just now—which, by the way,” he said, addressing the moaning guards on the floor, “thank you for a job well done—then most of what you heard was nothing more than a mare and a stallion planning an unforgettable weekend.”

“With your ‘lady-in-waiting?’” Sassy focused on the mirror, but nothing about its metal frame or glass surface looked out of the ordinary. “What is that, anyway?”

Blueblood waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, you know, just your garden-variety enchanted two-way communication mirror. All the cool kids have one.”

Sassy continued to regard it from a distance, shaking her head. “I’ve not heard of such things outside of fairy stories.”

“Well, we really only use it when we’re in ‘the mood’ and just can’t wait, if you take my meaning. Uses a metric buckload of power to keep both sides running in sync. I guess that’s what we get for being early adopters! Anyway, Ms. Saddles, if you’d be so good as to scoot yourself out of here, I’d like to finish what we were starting before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Governor, the way you’re avoiding my questions is not the behavior of an innocent pony.”

Blueblood guffawed. “Innocent? Sassy, who can say they’re truly innocent? You? No. I was happy to give you protection, a place to stay, and a set of strong hooves and other parts to help you through the night if you want them. But I’ll be honest… it's starting to seem like all you want to do is mope around my home and chase dead-ends. How boring!”

Sassy planted her hooves and tilted her chin up imperiously. “Do you know who you’re—”

“Yep, sure do.” Blueblood turned and beckoned with a hoof. “Guys?”

A set of six fresh guards filed into the room through side doors and formed a wall between Sassy and Blueblood. Their speartips were raised as they advanced on her, and the intense look in their eyes made her step backwards and out of the room. All six followed her, then took up positions by the door. Beyond them, she saw Blueblood’s horn light up again, and the door slammed shut.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the Governor’s quarters now, ma’am,” one said.

“Do you know who I am?!”

The guards exchanged nervous looks between each other and their fallen comrades, but didn’t budge. “Sorry, ma’am. We mean no disrespect. Just acting under orders, you understand.”

Sassy felt a powerful and growing wish to vent her anger at them. Six was more than she could handle on her own, though, so she spun on her hooves and stomped away down the corridor.

“Perhaps I should see how the Governor responds to some real guards,” Sassy muttered, trying to recall the nearest station where she might find a coterie of armored thestrals. Still, there was a chance that Blueblood had ejected her out of mere obstinacy, rather than genuine treason. Bringing the Mistress’ army down on him without adequate cause would certainly draw her anger.

Yet Sassy felt something needed to be done. With Bon Bon lost in a fire, and the revelation of a rift between herself and Fashion Plate, she feared that all the power, position, and friendships she’d worked hard to establish might be sliding into chaos. It would’ve helped to at least have Silver Shill there to bounce ideas off, had he not also vanished.

“But I am a survivor,” she said under her breath. And it occurred to her that there was still one lead that she could follow.
> Chapter 23: Fire in the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash flew northwest, soaring high above the moonlit remnants of the Everfree. She banked slightly to catch a favorable breeze, and grunted at the drag created by the large air-chariot that she was pulling. Spotting the outskirts of Ponyville up ahead, Dash turned her head and shouted back at her passengers: “How are you guys holding up?”

“It feels wonderful to fly again,” Scootaloo said, her grin wide and infectious.

In contrast, Redheart held onto the chariot’s metal frame with a death-drip. “It’s definitely something.”

Dash grinned. “Heh, glad you’re enjoying it! Let’s have a little fun…” She dipped down, angling both herself and the chariot toward the ground. Behind her, she heard Scootaloo giggle, and Redheart give a muffled scream.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Redheart shouted. Dash glanced at her, saw that her face had turned almost green, and decided it’d be best to level out.

“Aw, c’mon,” Scootaloo shouted. “Why not open ’er up and see how fast we can go, like you used to?”

“How ’bout we don’t!”

“Sorry kid, I don’t think the Doc’s into it. But check it out: we’re coming up on Ponyville.”

As they cleared what was left of the forest, Dash heard Scootaloo gasp. She looked back, seeing the filly’s wide-eyed expression.

“Something wrong?” Dash asked.

Redheart touched Scootaloo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you were really looking forward to this. But I also know it’s not an easy thing to see.”

The trio flew on in silence, and soon made landfall next to a deep fissure representing the edge of Ponyville. Dash began unhitching herself immediately, and Redheart hopped down to help her. But Scootaloo stood staring slack-jawed at the town’s shattered terrain and its blackened, empty remnants of buildings.

“Kid?” Dash asked. “Hey, do you still want to check this out?”

“This was my home,” Scootaloo said quietly. Then she pointed a shaky hoof towards a nearby ruin, whose collapsed entryway was flanked by two weathered, but still visibly striped, poles. “That’s… that was Sugarcube Corner, wasn’t it?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah. And that huge crater there used to be City Hall. And that’s what’s left of Golden Oaks Library.”

“Hospital was over there,” Redheart added, pointing.

Scootaloo began to shake. Dash and Redheart exchanged worried glances, and both stepped closer to her.

Without any warning, Scootaloo took off at a full gallop.

Dash flexed her wings to take off in pursuit, but felt painful twinges in them, probably from pulling the heavy chariot. Instead, she pulled them back against her sides, muttered a curse, and set off galloping after the filly. Redheart did the same, but her cursing was much louder.

“Scoots!” Dash shouted. “Where are you going?!”

The filly didn’t slow as she ran through the debris-choked streets. Dash’s longer legs should’ve given her a speed advantage, and Redheart had earth pony strength to propel her onward, but Scootaloo moved as if she was possessed. Sweat beaded on Dash’s brow as she struggled to keep pace, and eventually she noticed Redheart had fallen quite a bit behind.

As the chase continued, the ruins began to increase in density. Remains of taller residential buildings heralded the transition to a lower-cost neighborhood.

Dash swore again as she realized where Scootaloo was heading. “Scoots, they aren’t here!”

“I have to see it!” Scootaloo shouted, not looking back. “I have to know!”

But as Scootaloo approached the edge of the neighborhood, she skidded to a halt and collapsed onto her knees. Dash heard the soft sound of weeping as she finally closed the distance between them. Scootaloo raised a shaky hoof in the direction of one of the many ruined houses.

“I’m sorry,” Dash said quietly.

Scootaloo shook her head and continued sobbing bitterly.

Dash reached out with a wing and hugged Scootaloo. The filly recoiled from her touch at first, but then met Dash’s eyes with hers full of tears, and threw herself against Dash’s barrel.

“I don’t know for sure what happened to them,” Dash said, feeling the threat of tears as well.

“Either way, they’re gone. We’ll probably never… never know…” Scootaloo’s words became lost in weeping.

“Maybe Rarity knows somepony who can help us find out for sure,” Dash whispered. “But I get it. I’ve only been out here once or twice, and it’s… hard. It’s a lot easier not to go out. Not to think about who we lost.”

“How can you not?”

Dash turned her head toward a path that had once led to a cottage on the far outskirts of town, near what remained of the Everfree. For a moment she was wracked by memories of a smiling, beautiful, wonderfully kind friend, who’d been there for her at her lowest. Or at least, what had been her lowest at the time…

But Dash shook her head, dispelling the yellow-and-pink vision. “Because, honestly, sometimes I worry that if I stop to really think about it… of what I lost, or who I lost… I don’t know if I could go on.”

“How do you go on?” Scootaloo pulled away and looked up at Dash with glistening eyes. “How am I supposed to go on, now that…”

Dash pulled her close again. “I… I don’t know. I’m the last pony who should be giving advice about that. When the chips were down… I failed the ponies who trusted me. I decided that living was worth giving up who I am, or who I was.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think I made the wrong decision.”

Silence. Then: “I’m glad you’re still here.”

A smile worked its way across Dash’s face. “I guess… being with you here, now…” She shuddered at the thought of Scootaloo’s descent into, and ejection from, Tartarus, and pulled her a little tighter into the hug.

Redheart staggered to a halt next to them, panting. “Scootaloo… you guys don’t… oof.”

Dash turned her smile on Redheart. “I didn’t really know how to keep going on, either. But to be honest, spending time with you two has me feeling better than I’ve felt about things... in a long time.”

“What,” Redheart said, still catching her breath. “You mean… running around… dead cities… worrying about ponies… like Wind Rider?”

Dash shrugged. “I dunno. At least it’s—” A sound from nearby caught her attention. She turned and studied the line of houses near Scootaloo’s former residence.

“What is it?” Redheart asked.

Another sound brought Dash’s eyes around to focus on one structure in particular that seemed to be in a little better repair than the others. As Dash squinted and studied it longer, she could see an almost patchwork quality about its burnt, wood-sided exterior, which gave the appearance that a pony might’ve fixed some of the damage it had suffered during Ponyville’s fall.

“Hold on, kid,” Dash said, setting off toward the house.

“What’s wrong?” Redheart fell in next to her with a furrowed brow.

Dash bobbed her head in the direction of the house. “Does that look weird to you?”

Redheart gave her a frown. “Day-vision, not night-vision. What are you seeing?”

“I don’t know…”

They approached the house slowly. It was an unremarkable two-story structure like many in Ponyville, though part of the top floor had been shattered by a large fallen tree that still lay near its side. Yet somepony had clearly boarded up the gaps that this had left, and it looked like an exposed part of the building’s frame had been reinforced with metal braces.

A sudden flicker of movement at one of the windows made Dash drop into a defensive crouch. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

There was nothing but silence.

“What’s going on, Rainbow?” Redheart asked next to her, nervousness creeping into her tone.

“There’s a pony in there,” Dash said, gritting her teeth. “Go keep an eye on Scootaloo in case there’s more and they try to flank us.” With that, she leapt up into the air, circling the building a couple of times to try to see anything more. “All right, listen up in there! I don’t know who you are, but I’m a sergeant in Nightmare Moon’s army. Come out now, or I’m coming in!”

There were a number of soft sounds from the building, as though something inside was shifting around.

And then, in the span of a heartbeat, Dash felt the fur on her coat begin to prickle, spotted a sudden brightness from within the building, and acted on instinct, throwing herself into sideways roll. In doing so, she only just missed being clipped by a thick, blazing bolt of turquoise-colored magic.

“Take cover!” Dash shouted, making good on her own advice. She darted into one of the ruined tenements nearby, but soon gritted her teeth again as three more bright bolts each tore head-sized holes in the brick wall she was hiding behind.

Cursing profusely and flying back out into the air, Dash circled the building in a fast but irregular trajectory, using the time to assess a few weaker-looking spots where she might be able to crash through the exterior. Bolts continued to fly past her; sometimes above, sometimes below or in front, but never quite hitting their mark.

At last, Dash spotted a place that looked like a thin board had been put up over a rather larger hole in the siding. Dash gave a great beat of her wings and dive-bombed it without hesitation.

She didn’t have time to fully absorb what she saw after crashing through it. There might have been one pony, or several… everything happened too quickly. There were more bright bursts of turquoise light, and sudden loud crackling sounds, and then—

Silence, save for a faint metallic ticking.

Dash furrowed her brow, feeling certain that what she’d heard was a teleportation spell. She glanced about the room, seeing the expected cracked walls, overturned furniture, and overall disrepair. But as she continued looking, she saw that not everything was quite in such a state. Rows of tables along one wall were covered with an assortment of small crystals, several glass phials and tubes full of liquids, as well as all manner of half-assembled machinery. Along another wall, there were clean-looking chairs and a small table that featured a chess game, apparently abandoned in progress.

But in the center of the room was a large table with a hoof-drawn map stretched across it. Dash approached it, taking in the sight of various colored pins stuck into its surface. She recognized the outline of Canterlot mountain on one side, with a number of black pins placed inside it, along with a few yellow pins concentrated mostly where the Lower City would be, and the odd lilac pin here and there. Her eyes then traced their way down toward Ponyville’s ruins, where she saw more lilac pins. Then she glanced at Nightmare Moon’s castle, seeing one yellow pin, one lilac pin, and a large number of black pins. At last she glanced across the plains where the expeditionary force had gone, and her eyebrows climbed as she noted a thick knot of black pins surrounded by lilac ones.

The ticking distracted Dash again, and she glanced around, trying to see if it had an obvious source. One thing she noticed was a pony-sized cage of wrought iron with a hinged door that was cocked open.

“What’s going on?!” Redheart called from outside.

“I’m not sure,” Dash said, taking one last look at the map before turning and approaching the cage.

Redheart soon pushed through the hole that Dash had used to enter, and peered around. “What's that sound?”

“I don’t know… go take a look, I’ll help you in a sec.” But Dash remained focused on the cage, as she’d noticed that something appeared to be curled up on its floor. She approached it slowly, checking for movement as she bent down and entered. Seeing the thing continue to lie motionless, Dash used her forehooves to flip it over.

It was a pony’s corpse, with sallow and unnaturally gaunt features below a unicorn horn.

“What’s that?” Scootaloo asked from somewhere close behind.

Dash’s jaw worked as she tried to find an explanation. “Scoots, stay back! Doc, you gotta check this out. Whoever this was, it’s like they were… drained, or something.”

“Rainbow! Scootaloo!” Redheart bolted over to the cage, eyes wide and frantic. “I think we gotta go! Now!”

Dash glanced in the direction she was pointing: toward the workbench full of devices, and at one large cylinder in particular, bristling with wires that connected to a clock face…

“RAINBOW!”

And she reacted in an instant, grabbing Scootaloo in both forehooves as she flew out through the hole in the wall, across into the next block of ruined buildings, depositing the filly behind a heavy, overturned table. Another instant, and she was back across the street, grabbing Redheart by the barrel as she emerged from the building. Dash hauled with all her might, finally pulling Redheart free, and then pushed her from behind as Redheart tried to build up speed—

They were buffeted by a huge pressure wave. Sound and heat washed over them as the exploding building blasted both of them off their hooves, sending them tumbling end-over-end down the road.

Dash rolled to a halt by the door to a building, and felt a dull fuzziness in her brain as she gazed at the fireball blooming up into the night from the building they'd just fled.

Redheart crawled up next to her and started a prodding examination of Dash with trembling hooves and wide eyes. Moments later, Scootaloo joined her; she was weeping openly, but didn’t appear to be hurt beyond having a few minor cuts and scrapes.

“Well that didn’t go as I expected,” Dash said, though her voice sounded tinny and distant to her own ears.

“…gotta get out of here,” Redheart appeared to be saying.

Dash nodded slowly, thinking about the map she’d just seen, and venturing a guess about its meaning: the black pins were clearly the Nightmare’s forces, and the lilac ones must be whoever was drawing them away from the castle. But the yellow ones… “I don’t think I can get away from the Mistress while I still have her keys, but maybe we can get you out of here.”

“What are you saying?”

“Help me up,” Dash said, raising a hoof. “We’re not gonna have a lot of time to move before the word gets out, but there might be one place we can trust to keep you guys safe.”
> Chapter 24: Taken by Force
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her shaking, Rarity had the presence of mind to cast a delving spell for signs of life on the other side of the supply room door before opening it and stepping out into the hall again. Her movements were shaky and her hoofsteps stumbling, as though she had been out galloping past the point of exhaustion.

Drained and frazzled as she was, the danger of her predicament was slow to sink in: not only had she walked into a trap set by some new power that the green-eyed stallion had warned her about, but she’d come desperately close to outing his presence to the ‘real’ Resistance, whom she’d still need to convince to work with him if they were to recover the Elements. She shivered as she thought of the unsavory methods he’d used to deal with those who got in his way, and blanched at the question of what specifically he must’ve done to alienate his former allies.

“This world was never meant to be,” she whispered. “Such acts should not be countenanced…” Yet her mind was drawn to the question of what Filthy might’ve been willing to do if he’d known Diamond Tiara was still alive down in Tartarus, or what she herself might consider doing if she could yet save her parents, or Sweetie Belle.

She pressed her eyes closed and tried to drown the nascent memories of those she’d lost. Of all the love they’d shared, and all the petty squabbles that came hoof-in-hoof with their connection. But inevitably, Rarity’s thoughts drifted to the day their bond had been shattered. To watching them cry out to her, and hold out hooves to her, screaming, as long jets of molten sunshine scoured the ground and cooked the very air between them. The fear in Sweetie Belle’s eyes as she’d been blasted clear from where their parents met a swifter fate, only to trip and slide into a fissure that had been cut into the ground…

“Lady Rarity?”

She jerked. Moondancer stood before her, with nervous tension writ across her features. “Lady Rarity, I need your help,” Moondancer whispered.

“I… I’m very sorry. Just reflecting on some things that I’ve been reading.” She furrowed her brow as she absorbed the sight of Moondancer’s fear-filled countenance. “Darling, what is the matter?”

A grimace stole across Moondancer’s muzzle. “You saw the stallions out in the lobby, right? Well, I don’t think they’re here to read anything. The way they move, and talk… I think they’re here to kill somepony. I think they almost went after me when I stepped away from the desk to come find you!”

Rarity bit her lip. “How many of them are there?”

“At least five inside. There might be more outside, though.”

“The back door should be clear,” Rarity said, pulling her into a trot down the the long hall. A door with an exit sign hanging above it awaited them.

“What? Ma’am, with all due respect, how can you be sure?”

Before Rarity could think up an explanation, she felt herself pass through another field of something that crackled like unseen electricity. Her eyes went wide, and she looked back toward the lobby, unsure whether she should press onward or try to hide.

“We’ve got movement!” somepony shouted.

A pair of stallions came galloping into the hallway. “There she is!” one shouted. “Are we doing this?”

Rarity felt a fresh surge of panic. She gripped Moondancer’s withers and tried to pull her toward the door, but Moondancer stood motionless, mouth agape, eyes wide, seeming almost frozen. “We must run!” Rarity shouted. “This isn’t the time to let nerves get the better of you!”

But then as still more ponies came surging up behind the pair already headed her way, she found herself facing the very real possibility that she might not be able to escape with Moondancer. Rarity cuffed her, shook her, and pulled harder, but still Moondancer stared transfixed by the attackers.

It was with a feeling of deep shame that Rarity broke away and galloped down the remaining hallway with all speed. Behind her came the heavy hooffalls of the stallions in hot pursuit. Moondancer gave a muffled shout—likely from being overtaken and subdued, though Rarity kept her eyes fixed on the door.

Moments later, Rarity felt a sensation like something clamping down around her right hind leg. She jerked to a sudden stop, tugging at the magic bond and letting out an involuntary scream at the sight of two muscular earth ponies and a unicorn with a lit horn bounding closer. On instinct, Rarity lit her own horn and flung the heaviest object that she had available as swiftly as she could toward the unicorn: the bag of bits hanging from the middle of her uniform. It lanced across the distance between them and struck him squarely in the face.

The unicorn dropped, his hornglow went out, and Rarity confirmed her leg was free. But she didn’t dare try running just yet; the pair of earth ponies were too close. Instead, she dropped into a crouch, gripped their barrels with her magic, and pushed the two of them towards one other. The force was small, yet it was great enough to make them stumble and careen into each other. Both went down in a heap.

“Lady Rarity, stop,” another stallion shouted. “We’re just here to put you in touch with somepony who’d like to talk with you!”

With a sense of dread about whom the stallions might be working for, Rarity took off again, putting on a burst of speed in spite of the burning feeling in her legs and lungs. She flared her horn and worked the doorknob before slamming into the door at a full gallop, blasting her out onto the landing where she’d seen Moondancer arrive earlier. She skidded to a halt, then turned and took the stairs down to the alley running alongside the building three at a time.

“Hey!” a nearby voice called. “Everypony, she’s here! Lady Rarity, hold on! We just want to ask you some questions!”

Rarity’s heart sank at the sight of more stallions rushing toward her from one end of the alley. She looked to and fro, checking the street and the landing again, but she couldn’t see a better escape route than to flee deeper into the alley.

Her hooffalls echoed loudly as she galloped, and her lungs all but screamed at her with un-gasped-for breaths that were now starting to assert themselves. Amid her desperation, she was drawn to the thought that it would be a delightful time for a mysterious stranger with a penchant for violence to swoop in and save the proverbial day. And she grunted with frustration at his ambiguous promise to keep the back way clear—evidently he’d meant just the door, and not the alley beyond? But despite her efforts, she could tell she was losing speed, and her pursuers were closing quickly.

A sound from behind drew her attention back toward the Archive. Rarity gasped involuntarily as she saw Moondancer come screaming down the stairs as well, with a dozen more stallions hot on her hooves.

Rarity wished she’d have been able to help Moondancer escape, but her thoughts came slowly between loud gasps for air.

It struck her that neither of them was likely to escape. And yet she knew that her aims—and her life—would be in danger if she was taken now, and by Celestia-knew-whom. She felt sure that these ponies weren’t with the Resistance; they seemed too comfortable acting in the open, and the faces of those who spoke were almost unnaturally cheerful. She had to keep running, buying time—

But time had run out.

Just before one of the stallions collided with her, Rarity flared her horn and sent a brief, bright column of light up into the sky, hoping against hope that somepony might see it. She was thrown to the cobbled ground before she could take any satisfaction from it, though. And the stallion who knocked her down was soon joined by others. They grabbed at her, twisting her forelegs painfully as they sought to hold her in place. And for her part, she was still too drained to put up a proper fight.

All she could hope, as they began to bind her legs, was that the real Resistance might take notice of what was happening.

Rarity’s face was forced down to the ground as the stallions continued trussing her up. Hope faded with the little light that she could still see as her left cheek dug painfully into the alley floor.

Then a bright flash of purple lit the alley. The stallions around her shouted and roared. Rarity tried to shift her gaze to look at the source of the commotion, but a pair of heavy hooves on her made it impossible.

“There they are,” shouted a gruff-voiced mare from nearby. “Force authorized—so make it count!”

A series of magical blasts came streaming down the alley. One of them knocked the stallion off Rarity. At last able to roll over and look properly, Rarity’s eyes went wide as she saw more than a dozen earth ponies, and several unicorns, come surging toward the Archive, shouting wordless battle cries. The unicorns laid down covering fire with great sizzling blasts of magic, and the earth ponies rushed to meet their foes head-on.

Rarity struggled against her bonds, before lighting her horn and starting to cut them. She let her breaths come loudly as she worked, sucking in as much air as her body wanted, slaking its desperate craving. The jangling feeling of adrenaline waned as she managed to get her front legs free.

Just then, there was another flash of bright purple—and a unicorn with a lit horn appeared next to her. 

“It’s going to be all right,” said the unicorn. Rarity furrowed her brow and reflected on the mare’s slightly peevish voice being familiar from somewhere. “Try to hold still, please. The Cutie Un-Marking spell can be uncomfortable, but we need it so you can’t be traced when we teleport out of here.”

Rarity gasped as recollection finally came to her. One hoof flew up to cover her mouth; the other pointed at the purple-coated and -maned unicorn standing above her. “You! The Mistress has been looking for you!” But then she looked down at the unicorn’s sides and felt an even greater shock. “How is it that you aren’t an Alicorn?!”

The unicorn fixed her with a look that was all knit brows and crinkled muzzle. “Nightmare Moon wants me? But I’m not an Alicorn… according to legend, the world only makes as many Alicorns as it thinks it needs…”

“What’s the delay?” asked a solid-looking bluish-grey earth pony—the one with the gruff voice—who came trotting up next to them.

“Who are you?” Rarity demanded, meeting the hard expression in the mare’s light green eyes.

“Wait!” shouted a voice from within the nearby melee. Rarity craned her head and frowned. It was Moondancer, now galloping towards them. “Wait, you’re with the Resistance, aren’t you! I’ve helped out a little bit! Picked up messages for you! You have to—” She shrieked as somepony grabbed her.

“I got you!” The earth pony batted her unevenly-cut light-grey mane away from her face, then took off galloping in Moondancer’s direction. But she only made it a short distance before her legs became ensnared in the unicorn’s magic. She turned her head back, snarling wordlessly.

“No heroics,” the unicorn shouted. “Stick to the mission—we need to get home from this!”

“Let me go, Twi—”

“No names!” The unicorn added a band of force over the earth pony’s muzzle.

“But you… were an Alicorn,” Rarity said, still overwhelmed by the thought.

“I wish! Now hold still…” The unicorn flared her horn even brighter and began to weave a spell that defied Rarity’s ability to follow it. Rarity glanced back toward the Archive and saw both sides still engaged in a strenuous battle. The grey earth mare stared daggers back at the unicorn… and after a moment, Rarity caught a brief glimpse of Moondancer, who was still screaming piteously in the midst of the fight.

Sudden pain wracked Rarity’s body as the spell settled over her. She arched her back, gasping, as a hammer-blow of disorientation rendered her unsure of what was happening. Her tongue felt dry; her lips felt drier.

As she tried to focus, Rarity heard the sound of metal scraping on glass. She looked up in time to see the unicorn finish screwing a jar closed tightly. A light-blue glow emanated from within, but the unicorn’s hooves blocked her ability to see more.

The unicorn quickly placed the jar into her satchel and brought out a peculiar metallic device in her hoof. Faint recollections of recently seeing a similar device in action teased Rarity’s mind, but she was simply too overcome to recall them with any level of clarity.

Just before the purple unicorn depressed a button on its surface with her other forehoof, Rarity’s eyes were drawn down toward her own flanks by a new and insistent feeling of discomfort.

The sight that greeted her was not three blue diamonds, but two grey bars.
> Chapter 25: Tortured Logic
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A faint sound of shuffling papers greeted Sassy as she paused outside the door to Blueblood’s office. She glanced around to confirm that there were neither guards nor servants passing by, then lit her horn and opened the door just a crack. Tilting her head, she studied what she could see of the room.

One thing she spotted in the bright firelight was a pony huddled close to the ground at the far end of the room. She pushed the door gently, giving her a better view of the almost-white stallion hunched over a large basket of papers by Blueblood’s desk.

“Well, well, well,” Sassy said slowly, making the stallion jerk bolt upright and turn toward her with shock. “Silver Shill. I should’ve known you’d turn against me, too.”

“No, ma’am,” Silver Shill said, bowing deep. “I just… I figured you’d come up here after what Fashion Plate said, and I wanted to make sure you’d… find the documents.”

She narrowed her eyes and stalked closer to him, using her height advantage to its full. Keeping her horn lit, she pushed the office door closed behind her. “Nopony with half a brain would believe that lie. Fashion Plate said I’d find more detailed information about the Governor’s dealings up here… but you’re in the midst of sanitizing those records, aren’t you?”

“No, ma’am! I brought them back up from where Fashion Plate had hidden them in his quarters, along with his own set of documents!”

Sassy’s tongue flicked across her lips, and she bent down, taking a closer look at the basket. “No. Plate’s too smart. I’ll bet this is a ruse; you’re just here to plant false records to create a sense of… what, accomplishment for me?”

Silver Shill tensed visibly, but shook his head. “Ma’am, I swear… I’m loyal. I’ve done things in the Governor’s service that I shouldn’t have… and he’s pulled me in a hundred different directions since he brought that damn thing inside—” Silver Shill pointed an accusing hoof at the grotesque stone head on Blueblood’s desk “—but I never meant to go against the Mistress. I never, ever wanted to join what they were doing!”

“What do you know?” Sassy pressed close to him.

He flinched. “Filthy Rich doesn’t lead the Resistance, but he does supply most of the mansion’s produce, and roughly half the books we get.”

Sassy raised an eyebrow at him, then picked up several of the papers with her magic and began riffling through them. Some gave the appearance of fairly old invoices, with thin paper that had yellowed even after just a couple years of being in a box. Others looked like notes, though, in writing that she didn’t recognize. “Who wrote these?”

“It was Kibitz, the former master of the castle,” Silver Shill said, words coming out quickly, spurred by fear. “I don’t know for sure, but I think he might actually be—”

A gentle knock came from the door. Sassy used her magic to stop Silver Shill’s mouth. “Call them in,” she whispered, speaking quietly as she snuck behind the door.

“C… come in,” Silver Shill stammered, after she released him.

The door pushed open, and Fashion Plate strode into the room.

Sassy reached out with her magic, forming bonds that closed tight around Fashion Plate’s legs and barrel. He squeaked in shock and protest, then danced in place precariously, trying to keep from falling over.

“Watch the door, Silver Shill,” Sassy said. “And not a word of this to Blueblood. My old ‘friend’ and I need to have a talk.”

She slammed the door shut behind Silver Shill and locked it before stepping around to look Fashion Plate in the eyes.

“Sassy! What are you doing?!”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Sassy said, trembling. “Did you come back to check for anything you might have left when you cleared out the Governor’s office?”

He swallowed, and his smile cracked. “Sassy… wh… I don’t know what you think this looks like, but—”

“What I think it looks like?! What kind of idiot do you think I am, Plate?” She paused, frowning deeper. “Evidently you do think I’m an idiot, though, with your plan to lead me on a wild parasprite chase for evidence that you’d hidden in your own quarters.” She pointed at the basket. “I thought… after all the times we spent commiserating over the insanity of Fashion Week… or even that time you bailed-out one of the boutiques I was working for… I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends, honey.”

“Don’t give me that pack of lies!” Sassy’s jaw clenched hard enough to make her teeth hurt. “I trusted you! I respected you for being so… so open with yourself! And now I find out that’s a lie, too? All this hiding of evidence? The Governor meeting in secret, talking about how he’s paying you to distract me from the fire that… that killed Bon Bon? The fire Rarity started?!”

“Wait, Rarity…” Fashion Plate gasped. “Oh, oh yes, of course! It was Rarity all along! She’s had her hooves in deep, manipulating—”

“Stop.” Sassy planted her hooves and narrowed her eyes. “I think I’ve heard quite enough of your lies, Plate. If you still want to play coy with me, then it’s time for you to face the Mistress’ justice.”

He lit his horn, causing Sassy to tense… but then only used his magic to take his sunglasses off, revealing wide, plaintive eyes. “Sassy… what justice? You were telling me about how disappointed you were in somepony… how you were calling everything into question… but you didn’t want to say more. It’s clear enough that you weren’t talking about Rarity; your view of her is pretty obvious. Honestly, how many other ponies does that leave for you to be talking about?”

Sassy’s fur bristled. “You mean to say that I’m not well-connected?”

“No, Sassy… I mean to say that you’re alone. Whatever you may think of me now, the fact is that we were friends once. I respected you as a fellow businesspony and a competitor. But now?” He shook his head. “I pity you, Sassy. You’ve sold your soul for power… but what kind of power? The power to be ordered around on a leash as the Nightmare wills? If you’re gonna sell out, wouldn’t you want the price to at least be worth your while?”

“It isn’t me who needs to be concerned about standards or power,” Sassy snapped… though on the inside, the words resonated. “So then: what power did you sell out for?”

Fashion Plate shook his head, frowning at her. “Sassy, what if you could be free again? Free not just from the Nightmare, but—”

“We can’t be free from her!” Sassy shouted, throttling him with her magic.

The outburst startled them both. Sassy stood in shock at what had just escaped her lips, and released her magical grip on his throat. Fashion Plate gasped for breath and looked at her with wide, frightened eyes.

“I mean…” Sassy reached for anything that could possibly explain herself. “I just… I’ve never, ever thought that we could run from her, or hide from her, or fight her. She’s made this world her own, and the simple truth is that opposing her only gets more ponies killed! Far better to bring about an order that pleases her, than to goad her into lashing out.”

“I just can’t live that way anymore,” he said, his voice thick. “Whether it’s true or not, I’d rather believe that some kind of change is possible.”

She shook her head and fought to hold back tears. “You’re just saying that to try to rationalize your betrayal.”

He swallowed. “That’s not true, Sassy.”

Her lips curled into a snarl. “All these lies disgust me.” She turned away, seeing the mocking countenance of the gnarled stone head on the desk— and spat on it, then flared more power into her horn. “You’re going to tell me about the evidence you were hiding. All of it. And how thoroughly you tell the truth might make a difference in whether you end up seeing the Mistress after all.”

Fashion Plate blanched. “No, Sassy. No no… you don’t understand. They’ll kill me! Kill both of us!”

She bared her gritted teeth at him, then cocked her head to one side, loosening some tightness in her neck. “Ah, good; that means we’re getting somewhere…”





Sassy tried not to let her eyes linger on the trembling, moaning figure who stood trussed up in her magic. Instead, she focused on one question that she kept coming back to, and that she still hadn’t heard a good answer for: “Who was the pony in the Governor’s mirror, Plate?”

A whimper was the only reply.

She squeezed her eyes shut and lashed out with her magic.

He made a sound that was indistinct, but pained.

It was far from the first iteration of that exchange.

Sassy sighed. “I need answers, Plate. Whatever you’ve gotten yourself caught up in seems like a matter of security to the kingdom as a whole. Right now all I know for sure is that one of my oldest friends is dead, and another of my oldest friends… isn’t actually my friend after all. But I will not stand idle in the face of some conspiracy to sow chaos—”

Hearing a commotion at the door, Sassy turned her head just in time to see the burst of golden magic that blasted its lock asunder. Governor Blueblood pushed into the room with a lit horn and narrowed eyes. Behind him were a number of guards, and several chamber-staff who seemed to have been pulled along in his wake. It wasn’t clear if Silver Shill was with them or not.

The Governor stood looking between Sassy and Fashion Plate in turn for several moments before loosing a deep, heavy sigh. “All right, show’s over, everypony. Looks like I’m just in time to join Lady Sassy’s little pain-party, now that my Seneschal has got her all warmed up.” He turned, meeting the crowd’s incredulous eyes. “Well, go on! Back to work! You can look forward to cleaning up after us later!”

The staff departed with murmurs of apology. Blueblood closed the door, cast a small spell to lock it despite its mechanism now being broken, then cast a sound-damping field over the room as a whole.

“Governor—”

He raised a hoof, and she went quiet. “Overseer, why are you torturing my Seneschal?”

“I am interrogating him.”

“Oh, so now you want to shelter in tiny little semantic differences? Be my guest. But I happen to like that pony, and right now you’re breaking him. And what’s more, you’ve gone and made my lady-in-waiting all nervous about having you around.” He tsked and shook his head. “What’s gotten into you, Overseer?”

“What’s gotten into me?” Sassy sneered. “He was withholding a considerable amount of evidence, and pointing me away from it. I wonder, though… did he do it on his own initiative, or did you put him up to it?”

Blueblood nodded. “I see. And that’s it?”

Sassy’s eyes went wide. “That’s it?! Governor… this is damning by anypony’s standards. And now, hearing about this fire in the Lower City, I have to wonder if you might even be working with Rarity to—”

“Oh, Overseer.” He smiled, shaking his head. “You know, I can’t imagine how you get on inside the tiny little box you seem to think the world fits into. You think Lady Rarity is such a threat? You honestly think she stands half a chance of… what? Inciting something that could overthrow my lovely new auntie?” He leaned closer. “Or is it that you fear how it would change things if you lost your position of power?”

“How DARE you—”

“I dare often, and with several mares at once,” he snipped. “But let’s think about whether my dear Seneschal Fashion Plate here might be colluding with somepony else who has designs on overthrowing auntie Nightmare.” He shook his head. “Sassy, all of us have thought about getting rid of her from time to time. Haven’t you as well?”

Sassy felt a hot blush work its way over her cheeks. She looked away from him.

“Ah, there it is. And haven’t you ever talked to somepony about it?”

“It’s treason,” Sassy said, her voice somewhat muted.

“Of course. But be honest with yourself: isn’t there a tiny little voice inside that would love nothing more than for it to happen?”

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “Are you admitting collusion yourself?”

He sighed again. “Well, now you’re just being obtuse. And if all you’re good for is looking… severe, commanding… and hurling half-formed accusations every which way, then the least you could do is wear the dress I’ve picked out for you while you do it.”

“At the ball, Governor? And what, pray tell, is the point of such frivolity at a time like this?”

“What isn’t the point of it? Sassy, I don’t have the advantage of being made of ice like you are. See, I have feelings, and friendships, and an ever-growing list of ex-lovers. Things you don’t have. Things that might help you understand…”

Sassy glared at him. “I have feelings and friendships.”

“Do ya, though? Do you really? Because it looks like one of your ‘friends’ there wasn’t ever much of a friend anyway… aaaand he just passed out.”

She turned back to Fashion Plate, eyeing the unconscious pony for anything that might need to be mended as part of his captivity. But he was simply out cold.

“Tell me,” Blueblood continued, “what bothers you more: that your friend is a traitor, or that the one friend you thought you still had wasn’t really your friend after all?”

Sassy looked away again. She felt sick, like her whole being had been hollowed out. “I know what should bother me more,” she said.

“Yes, but that’s not the—”

Sassy slammed a hoof down with a satisfying crack. “That is the only answer I can give now! I just… some things are more difficult to think on.”

Blueblood smirked. “I bet some ponies find it hard to think on your insistence that you wear that leather armor.”

The roiling in Sassy’s gut intensified.

“I’m not overly bothered by it, of course,” Blueblood said, looking at a hoof with nonchalance. “I think it’s poetic that you’ve covered yourself with the cured skin of some other creature to hide what you’ve let yourself become. I think you’re hiding from yourself, though, more than protecting yourself from the world—because, deep down, I think you know that you’ve succumbed to your own pettiness and worst instincts. It’s hard to face the better ones that are still in there fighting, even as they’re starved for oxygen and screaming to get out.” He looked up. “I mean, the rest of us can see it. All the ponies who’d actually dare to look at you, anyway.”

“I think it’s easy for you to lean on your position of power to heap criticism on others,” Sassy said through her teeth.

“Oh, far be it from me to criticize,” he said, holding his forehooves up. “I’m not the one torturing a friend.”

“I’m not…” Sassy paused, looking over at the tear-streaked, bloodied face of Fashion Plate.

She let her hornlight fade. Fashion Plate collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“See, that’s the thing,” Blueblood said. “I think you’ve still got the remains of a good pony in there, even if they're in danger of choking to death on a daily basis. Maybe if you actually confront the fact that you’re not living up to what you believe in, you can save that pony… bring her back from the edge.”

“What do you mean, that I should turn over a new leaf?”

Blueblood laughed. “Not at all, my dear! I think you should let it all go and let me help you get more in touch with your freaky side. But short of giving in, I think you have a struggle ahead of you. But maybe you’re taking a good first step by taking an honest look at what you’ve become.”

Sassy shook her head. “It’s… you asked which hurt me more.” She looked up, trying to stanch the tears that welled in her eyes. “All these years, even going way, way back… I thought he was my friend.”

“Of course that’s what bothers you more! Well, good for you. Now, of course, you truly have done me a service by finding out that my poor misguided Seneschal has been up to some naughty things. Truth be told, I very well could just hand him off to somepony to torture the details out of him. But hey there, long and tall, that doesn’t have to be you.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Sassy said quietly.

“No? Well, look at you; there’s a heart in there after all. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you let me help you out of that armor, and—”

She looked up at him with bared teeth and flaring nostrils.

“Okay! Okay, never mind. But seriously, why don’t you relax a little… take a load off? Get a little time to sit and think about all this heavy stuff you’re going through?”

“I… I don’t think I can rest now,” Sassy croaked. “I just lost my two oldest friends. I don’t think I could fake feeling better than I do.”

“Then don’t fake it! Sassy, what I have in mind is really pretty simple: you, me, dungeon. Well… minus me. Not that I couldn’t, just… my lady might get the wrong idea, y’know?”

“D… dungeon?”

“Yeah. Oh! I forgot.” He dropped the sound-muffling field and clopped his forehooves together. “Boy I should’ve thought to put one of those babies up earlier when I was talking to my lady. Hindsight! Anyway, guys? Can you come in and show miss Sassy-pants here downstairs?”

Sassy stepped back, eyes widening in shock. “You can’t.”

“I can!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

He shrugged. “I might? I mean, let’s face it, you’re kinda just being a pain now.”

Four guards entered the room. Though unarmed, they were large and muscular enough that Sassy doubted she could take them in a straight fight.

The only option was to flare her magic at them, dodge between them, and run.

And so she did, neither hesitating nor looking back as she made good on her escape.
> Chapter 26: Hell Bent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The mare-marked moon shone bright in Rainbow Dash’s eyes as she stood waiting on a battlement, keeping her gaze fixed to the northwest. Behind her stood a small group of fellow guards who hadn’t been ordered to join her, but who’d drifted her way gradually as she’d kept watch. Their presence was silent but unnerving, and Dash tried not to think of the million things that could yet go wrong with her haphazard plan, or that had already gone wrong in the short time since formulating it—lives depended on her playing it cool with whomever came back from the expeditionary force.

“There, ma’am,” said one of the guards, gesturing toward the horizon. “I think that’s Sergeant Wind Rider.”

Dash straightened the front of her armor and tried to keep her breathing steady as Wind Rider approached, descended, and came in for a landing next to the group. He shook his wings out, then furled them back against his side and ran a hoof through his windblown gray hair.

“Sir,” the guards said.

“At ease,” he said. “Sergeant Dash, I’m glad you’re here. You’re just the pony I wanted to talk to. I heard from a scout that you were out in the ruins when that building went up, and that you might’ve brought some others with you?”

“Uh… how ’bout if we take a walk,” Dash said, pointing back toward one of the doors to the inside.

Wind Rider nodded, and the two set off together, leaving the other guards behind. “Did you see something out there that would be sensitive information?”

“Yeah, it was super weird, I ran into something like a workshop, or some kind of lab. And whoever set it up went to a lot of trouble to make sure you'd hardly notice the thing unless you were right on top of it.”

“I see. So then why, if I might ask, did you happen to end up on top of it?”

Dash swallowed. “All right, I guess I oughtta come clean: I stole Redheart back to look at the kid, even though you told me not to. And we ended up out there while I was trying to bring her back.”

He smiled at her. “Good. I mean, I figured. Of course it doesn’t reflect well on you that you’d do that in the first place, but it does mean something that you’re willing to come clean without hesitation.”

“Heh, yeah.” She tried to mask her fear with a look of grief. “So we were heading back, but then I saw something suspicious out in Ponyville, and before I knew what was happening… BANG. Redheart was right there in the middle of it… and there wasn’t much of her left to bring back.”

Wind Rider shook his head. “That’s a pity. She was good at what she did, and we could’ve used her to deal with the injuries we’re facing out in the expeditionary force.”

Dash’s thoughts returned to the map she’d seen in the mysterious building. She’d already formed an idea of what the answer to her question might be, but she couldn’t resist voicing it: “Yeah, how's that all going?”

He frowned. “We still don’t have a solid lead on the Alicorn and dragon, but the ambushes I told you about are getting more elaborate, and their unicorns are using higher-level destruction magic. The Mistress is working overtime trying to ferret them out, but even she’s getting frustrated. Weird thing is, we’re not having much luck recovering bodies… whoever’s out there isn’t getting picked up by detection spells, and they never stick around long enough for us to capture them. The Mistress keeps threatening to conjure shadow-forms of herself to hunt them down… and even though I’d follow her into Tartarus, I don’t want it to come to that. You’ve seen how indiscriminate those things are.”

The mention of Nightmare Moon’s shadow-forms brought unwelcome memories of the Longest Night’s beginning. Of aimless, panic-fueled galloping through the Everfree, striving vainly to keep her group of ponies safe from the horrible, clawed specters that struck from everywhere and nowhere in the darkness. Of Zecora, many times their savior, holding the creatures at bay with her strange alchemies… until they became separated—

Dash shook herself, fighting her hammering heartbeat and trying to stay in the moment. “So, uh, there must be something out there after all?” She felt a jolt of satisfaction at guessing that what she’d blundered into was an outpost of whomever was leading the Mistress’ forces off-track. It didn’t answer why, of course; just that somepony else was out there, making moves.

“Yeah, seems like it. Though if it wasn’t for the scale they’re doing it on, I’d still be worried that what we’re dealing with isn’t the real Resistance trying to capture the Alicorn and dragon before we can, but the work of somepony just trying to lead us away from the castle. Almost like a distraction…” He gave her a tight-lipped, inquisitive glance. “Do you need us to send some ponies back to support you? Hopefully you haven’t been too preoccupied by your little pet to stay sharp. Where is she, anyway?”

“No, I think we’re good,” Dash said quickly. Adrenaline pumped through her as she leaned into her mix of lies and truth. “And uh, she’s resting. She’s been through a lot. And yeah, I’m kinda partial to her… there’s not much point in hiding that. But, y’know…” She flexed a wing, catching Wind Rider’s attention with it. “I know where my loyalties really lie.”

“Very good,” he said, nodding. “I suppose we’ll have to talk with the Mistress about her ultimate fate eventually. But that can wait, at least until we figure out what’s going on with these attacks.”

“Heh.” Dash pinned a smile to her lips, but felt only a chill in her heart.

Their walk brought them to a door that led into a guard tower. Dash opened it and held it for him. “Well, if you want to head over and check out what’s left of the town, we can—”

“Hold on,” he said, looking down over the battlement.

Dash’s heart skipped a beat.

She stepped up next to him, following his gaze down at a burly stallion heading out of the castle gates, pulling a mid-sized covered cart.

“What’s that?” Wind Rider asked.

“Supplies,” Dash said. “Er, I mean… trade. You know, trading supplies. Castle business stuff. Do you have any idea how much stuff Rarity—”

“Let’s just take a look,” Wind Rider said, hopping up and over the battlement.

Panic welled in Dash’s chest as she watched him open his wings and begin gliding down. She leapt after him, struggling to keep her heart rate even.

He alit in front of the cart. The pony pulling it stopped short.

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” the pony said.

“Easy,” Wind Rider said, holding up a hoof and smiling. “What have you got in the cart, there?”

Dash landed between them as the cart-pony opened his mouth.

“Look, we kinda needed to get this stuff out of here right away,” Dash said.

Wind Rider’s smile deepened. “Well, far be it from me to hold up important business.” He reached into a small bag hanging at his side and pulled out a few bits, which he tossed at the cart-pony’s hooves. “Tell you what, though; you look like you’ve been grabbed without a lot of notice, and you could surely use your strength before you take this wherever it’s going. Why don’t you go give those to one of the maids inside? I have it on good authority that they can dig up a bit of food and drink if properly persuaded.”

The cart-pony met Dash’s eyes, then Wind Rider’s. “Yes sir,” he said, unhitching himself, scooping up the bits, and turning to walk off.

“Wait, Wind Rider—”

He held a hoof up to silence her, then placed that hoof on the side of the cart. “I don’t really need to look in here, do I? We both know what I’m going to find.”

Dash swallowed. “Look, you don’t understand—”

“Oh, but I do. Come on, fly with me.” He smirked, then jumped up and started flapping, gaining altitude quickly.

Dash ascended after him, but found herself glancing back toward the cart again and again—knowing that Scootaloo and Redheart would be watching from within. Her stomach felt hollow as she wondered what they’d think about her flying off with Wind Rider.

“You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger,” Wind Rider said as Dash flew up next to him, matching his speed. “Maybe not even that long ago. Did you know that I was one of the last of the Wonderbolts to make my decision? Maybe the last, to make it freely.”

Dash furrowed her brow and worked to even out her flight path. From their vantage she could see the whole castle easily, as well as most of Ponyville. “Oh yeah? I didn’t know that.”

He nodded, banking gently through the sky. “I thought I’d be a traitor if I switched sides. I believed—I honestly, truly needed to believe—that I could make a difference by helping, and fighting, and resisting the Mistress with tooth and hoof.” He went quiet for a moment. “You remember the early strikes that the Wonderbolts scored against her forces? That was me calling most of the shots.”

“I remember,” Dash said, flapping to keep up. “I was scared to death that I would end up getting assigned to fight you guys. You were murder!”

He laughed. “Of course we were! The Wonderbolts were the best of the best. I might’ve been close to retirement, but I was proud to go out at the top of my game. Then when the call came to oppose the Mistress, I fought with pride, and I felt like anypony who switched sides was a damn traitor.”

Dash flew right up alongside him. “So what changed?”

“Reality.” He gestured toward Ponyville with a hoof. “Look at it, Dash. You think that anything ponies tried to do to stop her mattered? It didn’t. And it took me losing a lot of ponies I cared about before I figured out the truth.”

“…Yeah?”

His eyes hardened as he looked at her. “The truth… the real truth… is that she set us free when she turned us into her True Children. The sun, the clouds, the rutting weather… it all bound us to Celestia.” He grinned. “Yeah, I said her name. ‘Celestia.’ I don’t care; my Mistress knows where my loyalties lie. But now none of us need to care about that. We don’t need sunshine; we can move freely in darkness. We don’t need to preen; our wings are good to go anytime. And we’re not slaves to nature, the wind, or anypony but the Mistress whose image we’re wrought in. We are masters of ponykind.”

Dash felt a chill as she took in both his words and the depth of the smile on his face.

“I know it isn’t easy to accept that,” he said, looking down at the cart as they passed over the castle again. “It wasn’t easy when I realized what I had to do, or when I saw it done. Truth be told, I took no satisfaction from leading the rest of them into the Mistress’ clutches. It’s a hard thing, and a cruel thing, to face your demons, and to master them by taking on their strength. But I found it was the only way that I had strength enough to survive in this new world. Now it’s your turn to do the same thing, if you still want to have a place in it.”

“What do you mean?” Dash looked at him with trepidation.

He slowed, and came to a hover. Dash did as well. They flapped slowly above a clearing in the dead Everfree, and Dash felt sweat beading at her brow as she studied the hardness in Wind Rider’s expression.

“Take out the keys you’ve been entrusted with,” he said at length. Get a really good look at them.”

Dash complied. The ensorcelled keyring felt even heavier than she remembered. The runes carved in them seemed to dance and glimmer in the moonlight.

“I figured out at some point that you were one of the first True Children, Dash… maybe even the first. You couldn’t fully know what you were signing up for when you chose to convert.” Wind Rider licked his lips. “Maybe you thought you’d be saving lives by doing it. Maybe you just wanted to save your own skin. Either way… the time’s come decide if you’re loyal enough to be worthy of the gifts you’ve been given. Put down these last remnants of your former life, and take up your power in a way that you’ve never quite managed all these years. Become what you can be—what the Mistress’ gifts can let you be. And do it now, so you can show her that the trust she’s placed in you with the Seneschal’s keys is well-founded.”

Dash gulped and pressed the keys to her chest. “Wind Rider, I…”

“Do it,” he said softly. “Do it now.”

“I…” Her grip tightened, and her eyes hardened, though tears sprung up at their corners. “No,” she said at last—quietly, but firmly. She looked up at him. “No, Wind Rider, I can’t. I won’t. These… they…” She fought down the rising panic in her throat, and groped feebly for words she'd heard Redheart say before: “They are my ponies. They trust me, and I won’t betray them.”

A cruel smile crept over his features. “Well then, that might be a problem.” He licked his lips again—then suddenly jerked forward, reaching for the keys.

Dash jolted backward. “What are you doing?!”

He jabbed at her with one hoof, then came around with the other, grabbing at her again. “You’re unworthy of the trust that those keys represent! I’d be happy to take them from you even if they weren’t enchanted to alert the Mistress when they leave their bearer!”

“Let go of me!” Dash shouted, beating his hooves away from her. She drew back several pony-lengths into the air, trying to put distance between them.

Wind Rider’s grin turned predatory. “I’m sorry, are you trying to fly away? From me? The fastest Wonderbolt flyer of all time?” He barked a humorless laugh. “End this, Dash. I’ll chase you if I have to… truth be told, it might be good exercise. But it’s pointless. I’m gonna get those keys, and I’m gonna bring the fury of the Mistress Nightmare Moon down on you and your friends. You just get to choose if you die tired.”

He darted closer to her, and she pulled away, turning and flapping off. “We’ll see about that!” she called back, putting on a burst of speed and angling herself toward Ponyville.

She heard laughter from behind and pumped her wings furiously, pelting through the sky with all the haste she could muster. But she could tell, both by sound and by the occasional graze of a hoof against her hind legs, that Wind Rider was still right behind her.

As they flew nearer to Ponyville, she threw herself into a dive, spinning down toward the skeletal remains of the Everfree Forest. Though much was either burned or dead, it still had no shortage of branches reaching out into space. Dash figured they might at least make it harder for Wind Rider to keep up with her.

Dash wove through the upper layer of branches at a speed that made her eyes water. She grinned, though, at the sound of a branch snapping behind her, followed by a muffled curse. She flapped harder, putting on as much speed as she dared while darting to and fro through branches and fallen trees alike.

“Give it up,” Wind Rider shouted—from slightly farther back this time. “You know you can’t out-fly me!”

“We’ll see about that…” Dash corkscrewed down around the trunk of a tall, relatively branchless tree, glancing behind her and spotting Wind Rider following in her path. She grinned and pulled up out of the corkscrew, hoping that he—

Suddenly Dash’s vision whited-out with pain. She felt herself falling, fast, and only just managed to put on a bit of lift with her wings before she felt her hind legs slam into the ground. Dash roared with agony from both her forehead and her legs.

“What is this, amateur hour?” asked the blurry shape of Wind Rider in front of her, shaking one of his forehooves rapidly—in all likelihood, the one that’d clocked her. “You wouldn’t have lasted a day at the Academy with that kind of flashy but obvious move.”

Dash smacked the side of her head a couple times, trying to rattle her vision clear again, despite how her head and hooves ached. “This isn’t over,” she slurred.

He laughed. “Come on, that’s gotta be a solid concussion there. I was always the fastest, and I still work out harder than you ever did… come to think of it, do you even work out anymore? Or have you gone soft, pawning off all your actual work on other ponies?”

Dash felt a stab of guilt as she absorbed his words. He wasn’t wrong, and she feared that the ones who’d suffer because of it were Scootaloo and Redheart.

But I’m not gonna let that happen!

She hopped up, flapping again, glad to be off her aching hind hooves.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” he said. “Aren’t you going to give up yet?”

“Kid this,” Dash said, taking off at speed, and angling herself upwards and high.

She flapped hard, but this time kept Scootaloo and Redheart fixed at the forefront of her mind as she focused on gaining as much altitude as possible. Not for the first time, she wished her guard uniform had come complete with goggles, because the wind resistance grew nigh-unbearable on her open eyes. But she continued to hold onto their images as she squeezed her eyes shut and flapped harder, harder, propelling herself faster than she could remember flying for years.

Dash opened her eyes, suddenly quite aware of something in the air around her as she flew. Her coat prickled with a feeling that defied her ability to name. It was akin to the steady buzz of static electricity, yet it was unlike anything she’d felt while working with thunderclouds during her time in the Cloudsdale Weather Institute. Dash rose ever higher as she tried to place the feeling, with her speed growing ever faster—and she glanced downward, seeing Wind Rider fume below as he tried futilely to match her altitude and velocity.

Still, the something eluded her, even as the air around her grew noticeably thinner due to her ascent.

She strove to catch it. Her hooftips tingled as she reached out with her senses, hungry to know what it could be. Soon she felt that she was no longer trying to evade Wind Rider, as much she was trying to catch the something.

Her eyes went wide as little sparks of color shot back from her wings. The something was almost within reach.

But then she looked down, and saw that Wind Rider had changed course. Rather than continuing the chase, he’d set off back toward the castle.

Dash swung herself around in an arc and beat her wings, working in tandem with gravity to rocket herself toward him. The distance between them narrowed rapidly, and the curious sparking effect grew more pronounced. Wind Rider glanced back at her, and for the first time she could remember, the expression on his face was one of fear.

She knew she should slow down, and knew that he’d expect her to—she was going too fast to fight him effectively. An impact at that speed would likely cause them both serious harm, and he probably didn’t believe she was willing to take that risk. 

But she didn’t slow down. The something was close now—growing more physical, somehow, and almost close enough to touch. Rainbow Dash squeezed her eyes shut, brought her hoof forward, reached for it—

—and struck Wind Rider, connecting with a blow that sent a blazing lance of pain all the way down her foreleg and into her spine.

She gasped in anguish and spun completely out of control. Her wings had burned with exhaustion before, but now her forehoof felt like a raging inferno. The something she had reached for was completely gone, and she found herself sobbing, but not from the pain—it was from the loss of whatever she’d been so close to catching.

But I won the race with Wind Rider…

Dash forced her eyes open and tried to correct her spin into something even slightly controlled. One of her wings slapped an outstretching tree branch, though, and she shouted a loud curse as it erupted in agony.

Wind Rider went plummeting past her.

She caught only a brief glance at him, but recognized he was in free-fall. He’d die if she didn’t do something. But on the flip-side, she realized that they were miles away from the castle, and deep within the Everfree. All she would have to do to be rid of him was… nothing.

Dash bit her lip, watching him fall, thinking again of Redheart and Scootaloo—but this time she was unable to suppress the thought of the kind of pony she wanted to be for them.

She cursed under her breath before throwing herself into a dive, pumping her wings to try to catch up to him. Her injured wing burned like fire, but she powered through it on adrenaline.

Saving him was stupid. She’d have to find somewhere to stick him where he couldn’t cause trouble. She’d have to drag him back herself with a bum leg—maybe three bum legs— and a busted wing. And Redheart was going to freak out about all of that when she got back…

…But the thoughts of the ponies she cared about returned, and this time they were accompanied by thoughts about herself as well. She’d killed because she’d had to in the Mistress’ service, but she’d never wanted to become a killer. Even her laziness was, in some ways, just an attempt to keep herself from having to do that.

Dash caught up to Wind Rider, gripped him hard with the foreleg that didn’t hurt as much, and flapped for all she was worth. It seemed to be enough, too; after a few more moments of perilous descent, they came to an effective midair halt. The pain from her injured wing seemed to be growing more insistent, though, and so she began a landing approach that was equal parts swift and graceless.

“Well, so much for sending them up to Filthy Rich to get them out of harm’s way,” she said through gritted teeth.
> Chapter 27: Severed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Consciousness intruded into Rarity’s groggy reverie.

As time stretched on, she began to remember bits and pieces from her run-in with the group of ponies who’d set upon her at the Archive. Considering the battle that had played out around her, as well as the presumed loss of poor Moondancer, it struck her as a pleasant surprise that she was still alive to feel anything at all.

“W… Where am I?” Rarity croaked. She tried to raise a hoof to touch her mouth, but neither of her forelegs would move.

A sensation of pain seemed to focus on those forelegs. Her head lolled down, and her stinging eyes regarded an elaborate combination of chains, shackles, and ropes that held her in place on a chair.

She reached for her magic instinctively, but it was gone. She furrowed and raised her eyebrows, trying—eventually succeeding—at feeling another anti-magic ring clasped against the base of her horn. She continued tilting her head back, and squinted as she looked directly up into what appeared to be a single mage-light bulb in a fixture overhead. The surrounding room was black, though; the light revealed little save for Rarity herself and the bonds that held her.

“Seneschal Rarity,” said a mare’s voice from somewhere, in tones that were strong and gruff. Rarity recognized it as belonging to the grey earth pony with green eyes who’d been present when she was taken. “I’m sorry about the precautions. Some couldn’t be avoided. Others… well, not everypony’s sure whose side you’re on.”

Rarity grimaced. Beyond the discomfort and danger of her circumstances, she felt drained. It was more than simply from her attempted escape from the Archive, or from whatever specific means had been used to subdue her; about that, she had little recollection. It was a deeper weariness, and one that defied her ability to name.

“I’m tired,” she said, mentally cursing her own simplistic speech.

“I bet,” Gruff Voice said. “You came pretty close to fighting your way free of the gang that was moving in on the Archive. Not everypony who came out to get you was so lucky.”

“I’m… sorry for your loss,” Rarity drawled. “But who are you, and why did you send ponies to capture me in the first place?”

“Why don’t we start with what brought you to the Archive?”

A shot of adrenaline rekindled Rarity’s awareness. She thought back on her evasion of the shadowy stallion, and her pursuit of Moondancer, which ultimately led to encountering him again. She cringed once more at the thought of her botched attempt to flee with Moondancer. But then her memory arrived at the strange spell that had changed her cutie mark, and at the Alicorn—no, the unicorn who had been the Alicorn—who cast it.

“Before I answer, I wish to know more about the mare who changed my cutie mark.”

“Yeah, she said you were pretty taken with her. If you want a chance to meet her again, your best bet’s opening up about your trip to the Archive.”

“But what about the mark itself?”

Gruff Voice sighed. “The spell is just a precaution. It keeps you from leaving a traceable teleport signature, and it keeps the Nightmare from finding you through your dreams by severing you from your talents.”

Rarity’s brow knit. “What do you mean?”

There was a pause before Gruff Voice answered: “I’m told that you used to be big into fashion a long time ago. Look at your clothing now. Tell me how it makes you feel.”

Rarity shifted as much as she could in her chair, and examined what she could see of her uniform. The rips and streaks of grime upon it were evidence of all the struggles that had brought her to this place. But she felt that if the garment had been whole, it would’ve looked… okay. Neither fashionable nor abominable. She felt no emotional investment whatsoever.

It was only as she dwelt within that feeling of indifference, probing it, that she began to realize that it masked another feeling. Something deeper.

It was loss. And as she felt it in full, her vision blurred with tears.

“Don’t worry, we can give you your cutie mark back,” Gruff Voice said from the darkness. “But first we have some questions.”

“Oh Celestia!” Rarity sobbed heavily, thinking of the risks of saying that name only as an afterthought, and letting her breathing be subservient to the tears that wracked her barrel. She shook and groaned freely. The visions of her family meeting their ends returned to her as she cried, and they added fresh peals of misery to her lengthy expression of grief.

“Do you want me to get her attention?” asked another voice from the darkness, this one higher—but also quite familiar.

“No,” Gruff Voice answered. “Everypony faces this their own way. And weren’t you just supposed to be here to listen?”

“Wait a moment,” Rarity said, sniffling. “You’re here as well, aren’t you? The… unicorn who cast this spell on me?”

There was a pause. Rarity thought she heard quick whispering.

“I’ve seen this kind of cutie mark before,” Rarity said, trying to press whatever tiny advantage she felt she’d established. “It looks no more natural now on myself than it did on… her. Tell me: did it have a similar effect on her? Removing… who she was?”

The unicorn scoffed. “All right, yes, I’m here. But the Cutie Un-Marking spell doesn’t take away who you are. It just hides your special talent—”

“Among its other effects,” Gruff Voice said. “But all that’s beside the point. Right now, we need answers.”

Rarity swallowed hard. She felt a tremor of fear at the prospect of opening up about what she knew. She couldn’t be sure if these ponies were with the Resistance, or if they might be working for somepony else entirely. She didn’t have a sense of how she could play on her interrogators’ interests and emotions, except that there seemed to be some amount of personal tension between Gruff Voice and the Unseen Unicorn. And so she gradually settled on a course of action that only heightened her unease: twisting the truth to make a more convincing lie.

“I think it’s possible to stop the Nightmare once and for all,” she said.

Silence reigned. Rarity heard nothing for long moments but her own pulse and breathing.

Eventually there was a creak of a pony shifting against the floor. “There are very few things that could do that,” Unseen Unicorn said.

“Y… Yes.” Rarity said. “But I believe we have a good chance of obtaining one, and using it.”

“Then why didn’t you come forward if you wanted to bring us information like that?” Unseen Unicorn asked. “Surely you could’ve just worked through Lord Rich—”

Gruff Voice grunted with annoyance. “Whatever happened to ‘no names,’ Twilight?”

Rarity swallowed again. “I might’ve chosen to come forward soon enough, but I couldn’t be sure who I was dealing with. In fact, I’m still not. You mention Lord Rich… but I can’t imagine he’d be happy seeing me in chains.”

“It’s necessary,” Twilight said, her voice ringing with conviction. “I did a deep delve of the streets leading to the Archive, and I turned up indicators that you shadowed Moondancer’s path for a while. Who tipped you off to her?”

The yellow mare’s name brought a painful memory of watching her beg to be rescued. “And how is Moondancer?” Rarity asked.

“She wasn’t part of the mission parameters,” Twilight said. The ensuing moments were too cold; too quiet. “You didn’t leave us with a lot of options when you brought that gang down on the Archive. If you ask me… you’re a risk that’s not worth taking. But maybe you can prove me wrong, if you tell me what you’ve found that can stop the Nightmare.”

Rarity flicked her tongue across her lips before saying: “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. I may wish to see you succeed in your opposition of the Mistress… but judging by your unwillingness to let your companion even try to rescue poor Moondancer, it seems that our common interest is in no way a guarantee of my own personal safety. I shan’t reveal what all I’ve learned until we’re on more equal footing.”

A pause. “You should’ve let me get her, Twilight,” Gruff Voice said. “You know I could’ve.”

“You of all ponies should know not to be too optimistic, considering what we might be up against,” Twilight said. “Lady Rarity, right now I only have your word that you want to help us, and vague but sensational hints about what you might know. I’m afraid you’ll need to offer me something more solid before I’ll be willing to trust you.”

Rarity thought back on what the stallion had shared with her. A useful detail jumped out. “May I ask, then, how Special Agent Sweetie Drops’ convalescence is proceeding? I’m sure you’ve heard from Lord Rich that I helped bring her to safety from the fire that claimed her home.”

Another pause, this one longer than the last.

“How do you know that name?” Gruff Voice asked.

Rarity suppressed a smile at putting her captors off balance. Her mind struggled to make leaps and connections quickly enough to sustain the momentum that was building. But then she thought of another loose end that had been nagging at her, and she decided to weave it in with the others: Lord Rich’s possible recognition of Sweetie Drops.

“I picked it up during my time in Lord Rich’s home,” she said, trying hard to achieve a convincing balance of lies and truth. “I’m… not proud of using our personal relationship to further my own curiosity about the Resistance. But I do have occasion to visit him from time to time, and I have never been blind to the probable nature of his connections. There came a time when I… well, found myself in possession of some correspondence that I likely wasn’t meant to see.”

“So you are a spy,” Twilight said.

Rarity affected a light chuckle. “Not at all, darling; or perhaps an amateur at best. But while I’ve hesitated to commit myself to the Resistance, I’ve always found it quite admirable. I also think it remarkable that you’d seek to construct this… ‘Underground Sun,’ I believe it was called?”

Twilight gasped.

“I should like to see it someday,” Rarity continued. But her mind made another leap, and she decided to go all in: “Of course, you must know all about that, mustn’t you? After all, you must be the pair of specialists that the letter spoke about.”

“Let me put her back under,” Twilight said hastily. “She knows way too much!”

“Hold your horses,” Gruff Voice said. “Fact is, she did save Sweetie Drops. She didn’t have to do that, and I’m not the only pony who feels grateful that she did. So thank you, Seneschal Rarity; things like that go a long way around here.”

“But did anypony else see the letter?” Twilight asked.

“I… yes. Regrettably, it was sussed-out by the Overseer, and even the Nightmare herself had a chance to see it before it was destroyed.”

“The Nightmare!” shouted Twilight. “Oh, that’s it; she’s betrayed us all!”

“That’s why you’re in Canterlot, isn’t it?” asked Gruff Voice. “She sent you to find us. But you didn’t stick around and press Lord Rich for what he knew… you moved on, toward the Archive. Why?”

Rarity hesitated. The awful vision that she’d seen at Filthy’s home returned to her once more, and threatened to disrupt her ability to spin another lie. “I… couldn’t risk staying; it would’ve brought the Overseer’s attention down on Lord Rich if I’d been seen in his midst. And where Sassy has been off chasing Celestia-knows-what sort of featherbrained lead, I’ve been using this chance to seek confirmation of what I’ve learned, as well as trying to fill in the gaps of what I suspect. For instance, of Sweetie Drops’ place in the Resistance, and a few remaining details of how I believe we can put an end to the Nightmare.”

“And there it is again,” Twilight said. “I think you know that’s a good way to get our attention, but the question is whether you can back it up with anything useful. Because we’ve had our eyes on you for a long time, Seneschal; you chose to go to work for the Nightmare, and you’ve aided her, and she’s richly compensated you for your trouble. Couple that with the nature of some… recent complications… where you just happen to have turned up nearby? It’s gonna take a lot to convince me you’re on our side.”

Rarity took a deep breath as she played her final card: “Many ponies have heard of the Elements of Harmony. But I happen to know where they are, how we can get them, and when we can get them, without drawing the Nightmare’s attention.”

“Oh, of course,” Twilight said, her tone sarcastic. “Tell me another one: do you also know where the Nightmare’s locked away the ‘One Last Alicorn’ and the Crystal Heart, too?”

“I know nothing about matters of the far North.” Yet a smile flickered across Rarity’s muzzle as the rest of the picture came together in her mind. “Five of the six Elements of Harmony are locked in the Nightmare’s treasure room. I have a friend in the castle who currently holds the keys to it. And the Nightmare has pulled most of her forces away from her castle to pursue this Alicorn and dragon who visited of late. We should be able to slip in without much difficulty, given that my friend has been left in charge of a mere skeleton crew there.”

“That sounds too easy,” Gruff Voice said.

“She hasn’t told us where the sixth is,” Twilight said.

“It’s… in Tartarus.” Rarity struggled to keep her voice from wavering as she spoke the words. “In a cell, down in the lowest reaches.”

“That does us little good, then,” Twilight all but seethed.

“Yes, but another item present in the treasure room is the Hellshard.”

“You’re crazy!” shouted Twilight. “Going down there would be suicide! And that’s assuming we could even get past the Guardian.”

Another connection leapt into Rarity’s mind. “Do consider that she seems to be trying to get ponies out of Tartarus, albeit one at a time. I can’t help but think that we might find a different reception from her if we were to open a portal to Tartarus sans Nightmare for once.”

“She,” Gruff Voice repeated.

“Indeed,” Rarity said. “The account of her femininity came from some research I did. But I’ve also spoken with her myself from time to time as I’ve been present for some of the Nightmare’s banishments, and I believe that she’s benevolent. Perhaps she may have even once been a pony like us?”

“This is all too coincidental,” Twilight said slowly. “I can’t believe this much good fortune would simply fall into our laps, at the same time as other things have crawled back into the light.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’d love the challenge of corroborating her story,” Gruff Voice said. “Just you and a great big pile of books for as long as you care to spend with ’em?”

“I suppose we have some resources here, but it’ll be harder to do a proper job of verifying this without clear access to the Archive,” Twilight said. “We might have to try retaking it.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Where is ‘here,’ if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Somewhere safe,” Twilight said.

Rarity nodded. “Somewhere that you’ve clearly invested time and effort into keeping safe. And somewhere that you were careful to cover your tracks teleporting into…” Her eyebrows climbed. “Is it… here?”

“Is what?”

“The… Underground Sun.” Rarity’s face brightened. “I would truly enjoy getting to see such a thing—presuming that it’s here?”

Twilight grumbled. “I suppose actually seeing it can’t do much more harm at this point. Maybe it’ll even remind you what we’re really fighting for. Just remember, though, it’s gonna be one of the last things you see if your story doesn’t check out.”

Rarity sighed with a deep and powerful release of tension. In one fell swoop, the prospect of death at the hooves of unseen ponies had been stricken from her mind, and her mission to deliver the mysterious stallion’s information to the Resistance had succeeded—at least provisionally. “I’m not worried about that, darling. Now please release me, and let’s speak face-to-face.”

A horn glowed purple in the darkness. In an instant, Rarity’s bonds snapped, and a set of mage-light sconces along the edge of the room burst into a hearty glow. Rarity squinted at the sudden shock of brightness, and saw that the “room” was more akin to a large, empty, windowless warehouse.

She turned her eyes back toward the ponies approaching her. They were indeed the grey earth pony and the purple unicorn who had helped snatch her away from the attackers at the Archive. Rarity rose from the chair and took trembling steps toward Twilight, the purple Alicorn—no, unicorn—who returned a look of furrowed brows and tense curiosity.

“You said that you’d seen me before?” Twilight asked.

Rarity nodded. “As Celestia is my witness, I spoke with you briefly in the castle, and at the time, you had wings.”

“Were you down at the Nightmare’s castle?” asked the gruff-voiced grey earth mare.

“No, of course not,” Twilight said. “It’s hard enough finding ponies to cover for me when I’m sleeping or out on operations!”

The earth pony frowned, but then raised a hoof. “Here, let me get your inhibitor.” She reached up and removed the metal band from Rarity’s horn, and Rarity felt a small but satisfying surge of magic as she did so. “Name’s Limestone Pie. Thank you again for saving Sweetie Drops… but you’re sure it was Twilight that you saw?”

Rarity shook Limestone’s hoof. It was heavy, tough, and felt like it could break solid rock. “Pleased to meet you. Yes, I’m quite sure it was her, as well as a… dragony thing.” She shivered slightly at the thought of the small sauropod whelp trailing in Twilight’s—other Twilight’s—wake. “I only spoke to her briefly, and I fear I wasn’t at my best due to how busy I’ve been, but it was quite a singular experience to get to see another Alicorn besides the Mistress.”

“Who else saw her?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, everypony. Even the Nightmare. In fact, it was her sudden disappearance that prompted the Nightmare’s expeditionary force to find her.”

“Seeing another version of me could imply some kind of temporal or dimensional anomaly,” Twilight said, rubbing at her chin.

“‘This world is an anomaly,’” Rarity said slowly.

Instantly, both Twilight and Limestone took a step back, raising their brows.

“That’s… a Zebraic saying,” Twilight said.

Limestone nodded as well.

Rarity flicked her tongue across her lips as she studied their inquisitive gazes. “Yes… I heard it from a zebra friend not long before she… was taken. She felt convinced that our world… this world… was never supposed to exist; that something must have gone horribly wrong to create it.”

“The Nightmare,” Twilight said, her expression hardening.

“I’m not sure it was, though; my zebra friend Zecora introduced herself to my hometown years before the Nightmare came, and… admittedly, gained something of a reputation as an eccentric by asking about things being wrong. But the world simply is what it is, isn’t it? It’s not as if we get to choose the world we live in…”

Twilight turned away. “With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder you sold out. The world is nothing but what we make of it now.”

She set off toward a long metal door at an end of the warehouse-like structure. Rarity and Limestone exchanged a look before falling in several paces behind her.

“Don’t mind her,” Limestone said quietly. “Sometimes she gets… well, she’d call it ‘meticulous’ or ‘detail-oriented,’ but you and me can just call it ‘paranoid.’”

“I see. And if I may ask… what did she mean by saying that she needed to have ponies cover for her at times?”

Limestone cracked a deep smile. “She keeps the Sun running. Though before you see it, just know that I’m the one who carved the place.”

“She does indeed? And you—”

They passed through the doorway. Rarity hadn’t noticed the sheer amount of light streaming through it until that moment. But as she stepped out into a short tunnel carved from stone, Rarity was struck speechless by the sheer size of the massive cavern beyond, as well as the huge and impossibly bright orb hanging suspended over its floor. Heat washed over her face, and she was forced to cover her eyes with a hoof to keep the all-pervasive sunlight from blinding her unaccustomed eyes.

“Welcome to the Underground Sun,” Limestone said.

Rarity lowered her hoof in small distances at a time, trying to soak in any further details of the Sun-washed space. The light itself by far dominated her attention, though. There was a sustaining, perhaps even nurturing, aspect about it that Rarity struggled to grasp at anything other than the most visceral and physical level. She closed her eyes and rose on the tips of her hooves, stretching her face up infinitesimally closer to its glow, smiling as she let the white-yellow light soak through her eyelids.

“I… I can’t believe that I’ve survived without this,” Rarity half-whispered.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Twilight said. “But take a look around. See what the world can be like again if we fight for it.”

Rarity opened her eyes, studying the space near the entrance to the warehouse. Her jaw fell as she took in the sights of huge green fields of tall, healthy-looking plants.

“How…”

“Many ponies gathered seeds once they realized what was happening to the planet’s ecology,” Twilight interjected. “It’s taken work to gather even as much as we have, and we’re hopeful that more might still be out there.”

“N… no, I mean how—”

“Well, we’ve pumped in enough water from the… ah, local water sources to supply the few pegasi we still have with what they need to create a small, semi-functional weather system. Of course, some of us have data to support the idea that it’d be more efficient to just water the plants directly, but it seems to make most ponies happier to do things ‘the old-fashioned way.’”

“And we want to make sure ponies don’t lose the skills for weather management forever,” Limestone added. “Y’know, for when we stop the Nightmare, bring Celestia back… and tie up a few other loose ends.”

Rarity felt hot tears return to the corners of her eyes. “So much food,” she said quietly. “Think of all the ponies you could feed with this much food…”

“We do,” Twilight said, her tone softening ever so slightly. “And we try. Our connections take more than their fair share, but at least our proof of concept here was successful. If we can scale this up, or build more of them, we could really do some good for the world.”

Limestone grunted. “Yeah, but as Twilight loves to go on about, the problem is that maintaining something on this scale is pretty tricky for most unicorns.”

“My teacher spent a lot of time pushing my limits,” Twilight said quietly.

“We’ll deal with her once we’ve finished the Nightmare,” Limestone said, briefly resting a foreleg on Twilight’s withers.

“You seem confident,” Rarity observed.

“I have to be.” Limestone raised a hoof to shield her eyes as she glanced up at the Underground Sun itself. “I stayed at home while the ponies I loved went to their deaths at the Summer Sun Celebration… and I have to believe there was more of a reason than just spite that led me to do that. I have to. Especially considering…” She closed her eyes, and took a long, trembling breath. “A clear shot at the Elements could change a lot of things,” she said, her voice suddenly unsteady.

“That’s assuming what you’ve told us checks out,” Twilight said. “You’ll stay Un-Marked and under guard until we know for sure. But I agree; we can’t risk losing this opportunity, if it’s for real.”

“Then by all means, do your research,” Rarity said. She felt a pang of regret that Limestone had also lost loved ones at the Summer Sun Celebration. However, she couldn’t stop herself from reflecting on a recent loss of her own, and found her eyes drawn back toward her own flank. “Though on the subject of academic inquiry, I confess to being curious about the spell that you used to remove my cutie mark?”

“The details of the spell are pretty technical… and philosophical,” Twilight said. “Its original purpose was to supposedly bring greater equality to Equestria through the removal of ponies’ unique talents. But its secondary effects are what’s really valuable: severing a pony from that aspect of their selves ends up masking certain ‘markers’ or ‘tracers’ that would make it possible to track them via magical means. That’s why we Un-Mark and use teleport charms when we enter or exit here; we can’t risk either our selves, or our unicorns’ teleportation magic, giving our movements away.”

“It also keeps the Nightmare from finding us when we sleep,” Limestone said, wiping her eyes and turning a glance at the equals sign on her own flank. “Or like our old boss out East used to say: ‘You can’t have a nightmare, if you never dream.’”
> Chapter 28: A Foretaste
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sassy slunk through the shadows of a storeroom on the ground floor of the Governor’s mansion, taking pains to move silently lest she draw the attention of a pair of guards conversing outside. She’d managed to evade them by ducking inside quietly a few minutes earlier, and she wondered how long it’d be possible to hide amid its stacks of large crates and shelves full of fresh, doubtlessly ill-gotten produce.

Her first instinct had been to flee the mansion entirely, until a general alert had been called to watch for her. Given that the grounds outside had been designed to be protected by relatively few ponies, it struck her as prudent to find someplace to lie low and make a more detailed escape plan.

“What a fool I’ve been,” she whispered. “I came looking for safety, and found only corruption.” She blinked back the threat of tears as her mind drifted once again to Fashion Plate’s betrayal. “If only he’d had the decency to stab me in the back with an actual knife…”

And indeed, it struck her that death might be a greater mercy than to bear the Mistress’ displeasure for failing at her task—even though that “failure” might’ve revealed a greater threat than even the one she’d come looking for. The Governor’s alignment with forces disloyal to the Mistress might have any number of implications. Still more chilling, though, was that there’d be no telling what the Mistress might do to Canterlot as a whole once she found out.

At the back of the storeroom, Sassy spotted a smaller door that was cracked open—perhaps leading to a cellar for wine or other spirits. No light shone from within, so she ducked inside, slowly closed the door, and lowered its wooden bar into braces on either side. Now, with two doors between her and the guards, she finally felt able to catch her breath. But as she did so, she noticed that the air in the room was stale and cold, and carried a strange chemical tang that she couldn’t quite place.

She lit her horn and illuminated the mostly empty room. An assortment of metal kegs stood on end against its far edge. Closer by, however, was a wooden box that seemed out-of-place. It looked older and much more weather-beaten than the crates she’d found in the storeroom, and its size was such that a pony might be able to lie down in it. The chemical smell was stronger near the box as well. She approached it out of curiosity, seeing hinges on one side of what appeared to be its lid, and a latch with a heavy lock on the other.

“Sorry, you’ll have to get your own; that one’s taken,” came a voice from behind her.

Sassy whirled around, coat bristling with surprise. Standing in the doorway to an adjoining cellar was a stallion whose details were obscured by the shadows of his voluminous cloak. Nevertheless, she saw deep outlines on his face that made it look like he was smiling.

“Stay back or I’ll show you the Mistress’ wrath,” she called.

“Aww, sounds cute,” he taunted, giggling. “I mean, when you think about how many times I’ve gotten the jump on you already, I wonder… I just wonder… would it make a difference if you saw me coming?”

“What are you talking about?!” Sassy demanded. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

The stallion shook his head. “Oh, but irony’s a cruel mistress. Even crueler than yours, sometimes. I mean, how perfect would it be if I just…?” He heaved a sigh. “Alas. I’ll leave you with a joke, though; it’s a teensy bit off-color, but it’s a classic.”

Not wanting to see what might be coming, Sassy flared her horn and wove the quickest anti-magic spell she knew.

He cleared his throat. “Okay, here goes: what should you say to an idiot with two black eyes?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

Faster than Sassy could react, the stallion leapt forward, cocked his body to the side, and shot his back legs at her in a potent buck.

Sassy’s consciousness exploded.

Slowly, over the course of a much longer duration than she could properly track, Sassy came to the dull realization that she was no longer on her hooves, and that her head had hit the floor hard. But the feeling at the side of her head was nothing like the agony that poured from the front of her face.

Only then did she notice the legs very close to her eyes, and spot the pony squatting down next to her.

“Nothing! You already told them twice,” a voice said. Low laughter followed. It sounded distorted and distant, but Sassy could swear she felt hot breath on her ear.

There was a heavy clattering of wood next to Sassy’s head: the bar from the door. She heard it creak as it swung open. Then there were loud scraping sounds as the strange box was dragged past her.

“Before I go,” the voice called from afar, “I’ve heard you like to talk about the Nightmare as an all-consuming force of nature that can't possibly be stopped. But you're wrong! Stick around; I'll show you what a real all-consuming force of nature looks like.”

With that, there was another very distinctive sound: the storeroom door being unlatched.

“No,” Sassy said through what felt like a head full of cotton. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she struggled to shift her hooves underneath herself, but standing didn’t seem possible. Her fear of discovery came to a head, and she realized that what she faced was likely no longer a question of death at the Mistress’ hooves, or death at the Governor’s; death seemed inevitable, leaving only the question of how she would face it.

Sassy tried to feel for the pouch at the side of her armor where she kept a small amount of charcoal and parchment. Her horn wouldn’t light to make the effort easier; she reached for the magic again and again, but felt only a great wall of pain standing between her and it each time.

Slowly, painstakingly, she brought out the charcoal and parchment with her hooves, scrawled a short note, drew a crude rendition of her three-pin cutie mark in one corner, then folded it.

Once again, she struggled to get her hooves underneath herself. This time she had better success, though, and even managed to lever herself up off the floor. She leaned heavily on the wall as she stumbled the few paces it took to reach the cellar door, then staggered from crate to crate toward the door out to the hallway.

The hall was empty. The guards were gone, as was the pony who’d attacked her and dragged the box away. She didn’t hear anypony shouting or running nearby. So she called as loudly as she could despite her slurring speech: “Servant! Come here, servant!”

Her heart pounded with what seemed like a slow, irregular rhythm. She had difficulty marking time as she waited to see if somepony would come. But at length, she saw a servant approach, and her heart positively leapt when she saw who it was.

“Silver Shill!”

“Overseer, there you are… oh, but you’ve been hurt! I didn’t think the Governor had—”

“Listen.” Sassy stamped a hoof, and nearly lost her balance in the process.

“Please, ma’am. You’re bleeding…”

“I’m sure I’ll be worse than just bleeding once the Governor catches up to me. That’s why I need your help.”

Silver Shill swallowed. “Anything, ma’am.”

She held up the crude letter. “Get this to a guard. A bat-winged guard, you understand? And take this—” She fumbled around in her pouch again and produced a small signet pin “—so they know it’s genuine. And hurry!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Silver Shill said, hastening away.

Sassy found herself winded after dealing with Silver Shill. Her head still felt like agony. She knew she should flee back into the cellar and bar the door again, but it was all she could do to collapse on her haunches, lean up against the wall, and concentrate on breathing.

She heard the sounds of ponies galloping once again, and the clink of metal on stone. It was growing louder; getting closer.

“Come then, gentlecolts,” she called, her voice still sounding off. “I’ve fulfilled my obligations. Done my duty. Ready… to be finished.”


END OF BOOK 3: NO DREAMS MAY COME

> Book 4: The Price
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Claws of crackling eldritch magic clamped down on Princess Celestia’s aching throat. They hoisted her limp, battered form up from the smoldering wreckage where she’d been cast down in defeat, and high into the smoky darkness swirling above Ponyville. Lightning forked through the billowing clouds of ash, illuminating the vengeful, cackling god who hovered in dark and hazy shadows over the burning town.

At last, Nightmare Moon’s laughter abated, and her slitted eyes locked on Celestia’s own. The grasping force quite suddenly grew stronger, jerking Celestia’s neck, and sending sharp pains shooting down her spine. Celestia battered her weary hooves against the force, and worked her jaw in silent begging, as it brought her a mere hairsbreadth from her conqueror’s predatory countenance.

“What fools we were in ages past,” proclaimed the Nightmare in tones loud enough to overcome both the peals of thunder raging above, and the roaring of the flames engulfing Ponyville. “How often did we leave our foes imprisoned in some ageless purgatory, trusting that their conscience would defeat them for us if we but gave it time?”

Unable to speak, or even to gasp, Celestia continued pleading with her wide eyes and silent muzzle.

Nightmare Moon sneered, then turned her gaze downward and regarded the fearful, fleeing ponies below with equal parts amusement and disdain. “Do you, even now, think yourself wise for choosing not to kill me a millennium ago? Or was your pitiful attempt to harness the sun’s power against me a way of saying you regretted that choice? You can’t imagine all the suffering that I endured in my long exile… or how that suffering shall now be revisited manifold upon your little ponies!”

With that, the Nightmare’s horn flared, her eyes squeezed shut in painful-looking concentration, and from her sides burst two darkling forms wreathed in flickering purple fire. The pair of empty-eyed abominations were at once both equine in shape, yet savagely bestial in their clawed, unfleshed, rictus-grinned detail. Celestia tried fruitlessly to turn away in horror, but found herself powerless to shift within the Nightmare’s clutches.

“Fly forth, shadows of my vengeance,” bade Nightmare Moon. The pair gave wordless, sepulchral snarls of assent, then hurtled down upon translucent wings of black toward the ruins, and those few ponies who dared linger.

“Perhaps your conscience should be tested too,” Nightmare Moon hissed. Screams erupted from below, and Celestia yearned to save her ponies from the nascent massacre, but her face was forced back up toward the Nightmare’s. “Shall I consign your broken body to the moon for a thousand years, and let you lick your wounds while you watch, powerless, as I unmake all that you’ve labored for? And then, if you yet possess the strength to return, do it again?” She chuckled. “Even if I grant you such forbearance, I shall not spare my other enemies. Especially not those whose strength could truly rival ours in their prime. Come; there is one we faced together, you and I, not long before I realized the true power of darkness. I would see us finish what we started.”

Her horn flared again, this time weaving the telltale skeins of a teleportation spell. Celestia’s disorientation multiplied as they burst forth into the elegantly-kept greenery outside of Canterlot Castle. Nearby gardeners bellowed in shock and scattered at a gallop, while a clutch of white-coated guards shouted and charged toward the Nightmare. Tears streamed from Celestia’s eyes as she watched the Nightmare send forth sizzling blasts of violet energy that instantly scoured the lot of their bones clean.

“Ah, here we are,” Nightmare Moon said, stalking closer to one particularly tall and misshapen statue. “Consider the threat that Discord could so easily represent again, once his imprisonment wears off.” She beat her wings, flapped up to eye-level with him, and reached out to grip the sides of his head with her forehooves. “See how he mocks us even now. He knows we cannot truly kill him, for Chaos is fundamental—to destroy him would merely be to cast his essence to the wind, from whence it might return. That is, of course, unless it could be sent elsewhere…”

Nightmare Moon grunted with effort, and her hooves lit up with the channeled magic of a strength-enhancement spell. Cracks spiderwebbed along the Discord-statue’s neck, and Celestia’s eyes went wide as she watched them deepen. At last, with an almighty and sickening crack, Nightmare Moon twisted the stone head free of its body. She held it up, and threw her head back in unrestrained laughter.

“I really must thank you, dear Sister,” Nightmare Moon shouted through her mirth, before raising the Hellshard in her magic and sending a surge of power into it. Sparking electricity danced across its surface as the conjuration of a portal began. “You have gifted me with the perfect place to throw my garbage!”

She flared her horn a third time, lighting-up Discord’s body in a crawling glow of white.

It shattered.

And the Hellshard sent forth a burst of Stygian brimstone as it conjured a portal, into which the Nightmare swept Discord’s remains. Celestia had just enough time to wonder if she might end up in Tartarus as well, before the grasp around her throat clamped down with renewed savagery. Her eyes rolled back, and her thoughts grew sluggish.

There was naught that could be done to save herself, the world, or her ponies.

She could only weep as consciousness was wrested from her.


> Chapter 29: Strange Bedfellows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The streets approaching Governor Blueblood’s mansion were choked with carriages. Some had shinier metal accents; some were of deeper, richer wood; but all were joined in the singular quest of delivering their painted, preened, and sweat-slicked complement of nobles to protest the chaos unfolding in the streets around them.

And indeed, on the side-streets fanning out from the wealthiest heights of Canterlot’s Upper City, across its once-shining bridges, and into every avenue crisscrossing the Lower City, chaos ruled. New fires broke out constantly, heedless of location, rhyme, or reason. Gangs that had so recently confined themselves to the shadows struck openly against businesses, citizens, and guards alike. And rumors flew like the wind, speaking of something worse now cloaking itself in the darkness of the city’s backstreets.

Rarity stood watching the bedlam from atop the high wall at the edge of Lord Filthy Rich’s compound, and reflected on the briefing she’d received about the situation. Despite the compound’s location in the poorer and more violent Lower City, its walls and magical wards had, thus far, deterred would-be attackers. Yet there was no ward against Rarity’s unease about teleporting back to the very place where she’d seen the awful vision in the window. She clung tightly to the knowledge that their plans didn’t call for staying long.

Next to her stood Limestone. Rarity glanced at the mare’s simple black dress, and took some small amount of comfort that she could still recognize it as flattering despite not possessing her cutie mark. But when Rarity glanced down at herself, studied the elegant blue dress she’d been given, and touched a hoof to the clean, combed, bouncing coiffure that had been styled upon her, she felt nothing.

“Maybe this isn’t going to work after all,” Limestone said, frowning at the madness unfolding outside of the walls.

Kibitz stood nearby as well, muttering and fiddling with a notepad that he held in his magic. On hearing Limestone’s words, he set it down and met her eyes. “I would’ve said as much if you’d bothered to check back in these last couple of hours. Don’t get me wrong, I was on board with the idea of making a splash with fancy dresses and a carriage, but I’m afraid we may need to think smaller now. The conflict that started at the Archive keeps finding new ways to boil over.”

Limestone shook her head. “All right, keep doing what you can to get the streets contained again.” Then she beckoned toward Rarity with a hoof. “C’mon, get cozy; we’re low on the good teleport charms, so I’m gonna have to burn a one-way.”

Rarity stepped close and allowed Limestone’s strong hooves to encircle her barrel and pull her tight. Then the world lit up with a flash of purple and a loud pop, and she found herself stumbling unsteadily inside the Governor’s grand foyer.

Limestone staggered away from her and cast off a smoking metal cylinder from one of her forehooves. It clinked and hissed as it clattered to rest on the cold stone floor. Then she sat on her haunches, rubbing the forehoof which had held the device.

Somepony cleared their throat. Rarity turned to see a haggard-looking blue-green-coated stallion with a red neckerchief and a short grey mane. Faint impressions along the top of his muzzle and along the sides of his face suggested that he might’ve worn glasses, but they were gone, giving Rarity a clear view of his bloodshot, ice-blue eyes. She shivered at the haunted aspect that she saw in them, and found her gaze drawn downward to the wooden crutch tucked under the shoulder of his bandaged right foreleg.

“L… Lady Rarity,” he said, haltingly. But his eyes seemed to linger on Limestone, and he swallowed and darted his tongue to his lips before continuing: “The Governor said if somepony fitting your description turned up, I should show them right in.”

“That’s rather convenient,” Rarity said, looking askance at Limestone. But Limestone simply nodded. Rarity sighed, but then fell in with her behind the limping stallion.

At one point, their path across the mansion’s main floor took them past an open set of double-doors leading to the ballroom. Limestone glanced within, then scoffed. “What’s with the mess?”

Ahead of them, the stallion stumbled in his already stilted walk. Rarity frowned at the effect Limestone’s words seemed to have had on him, then glanced through the doors herself. Inside she could see a large ballroom with an incomplete and abandoned look about it. For a moment, Rarity slowed and forced herself to pay attention to what decor was on offer: grand statues of birds in flight, abstract artwork hung at unusual angles, and a unifying theme of red in splashes and accents throughout the room. She wondered if it might be some kind of an attempt at modernist overstatement… but she couldn’t be sure. The part of her that should be able to make such judgments was gone, leaving her with a curious absence of feeling.

She glanced down briefly at her own long blue dress. Intellectually, she knew its cut had been chosen to accentuate her curves, and its color should complement her eyes. But that knowledge still only registered with her on an intellectual level. The one actual feeling it gave her was a bit of relief, as the dress’ length would serve as one more layer of protection of her Un-Marked status from the casual observer.

“Oh, hush,” Rarity said at length, deciding that she would at least hold to the principle of defending creative output for its own sake. “This, my dear, is haute couture. Make no mistake, whoever did this has a well-developed eye for fabulosity.”

“Thank you,” she heard the stallion say quietly.

“Whatever,” Limestone said.

Rarity frowned at Limestone, but bit her tongue. Despite her outward prickliness, Limestone had been quick to accept Twilight’s indications that Rarity’s story seemed plausible. Rarity’s gut still writhed with unease over deceiving them about the source and certain details of her information, but it was easy enough to push past those feelings as she reflected on the potential benefits to ponykind that their plan might offer.

The one thing that Rarity hadn’t yet worked out was how the Governor figured into their mission. Limestone and Twilight had insisted that they needed his aid, but they’d kept mum about the details. Nevertheless, they’d both agreed that Blueblood might respond better to their overtures if Rarity helped deliver them. Rarity tried to take that as a compliment, but it was overshadowed by her feelings of disgust at the prospect of having to deal with the lecherous Governor.

Their escort eventually led them through a service entrance discreetly set next to a wood support column, and through a set of narrow, sloping corridors that allowed for serving staff to move as needed without being a bother to “important ponies.” Rarity noted that they continued to gain elevation as they went and wondered if the stallion had chosen this path so he wouldn’t have to navigate stairs with his injured foreleg.

They emerged from an entryway hidden behind a curtain. Two guards standing on either side of a fine wooden door nearby glanced at them, then nodded.

“He’s in his office, madams,” said their escort. Rarity gave him a quick bow of her head before following Limestone through the open door.

A fire crackled in the fireplace, throwing long shadows over the finely carpeted room, and casting an even more ghoulish aspect over the bizarre stone dragon-horse head on his desk. At the far end of the room stood Blueblood himself, gazing out over Canterlot through a large window. Even from a distance, Rarity could see bobbing torchlight from the disquieted nobles approaching the mansion grounds.

“Governor Blueblood,” Limestone said.

He turned a frown on them, then walked to his desk and began pouring a drink. “Well, well. Limestone Pie. So, things are truly so bad that your ‘friends’ decided to let you out without your leash? Best watch yourself around this one, Lady Rarity; she bites, and not in the fun way.”

Limestone sneered. “Put up a silence spell, Blueblood. I’d rather not waste a charm on you.”

“You and your trinkets!” Blueblood slammed back the glass of smoky liquid, then poured another. “Do you see the havoc that your ponies are causing out there in my city? I was going to have a ball, you know? But now all the nobles want to do is scurry to ground and complain about whoever’s torching buildings and firing off crazy amounts of magic in the streets!”

“We didn’t start the fires—”

Blueblood harrumphed. “Let me guess: ‘they were always burning since the world’s been turning?’”

“Stop talking gibberish and put up a silence spell!”

“Fine, be that way.” Blueblood lit his horn and took on a look of concentration. A moment later, a feeling of static passed through Rarity, making her shiver.

With a grumble, Limestone began: “Your marefriend started this, not us.”

“Marefriend? Come now, I would never let myself get tied down. I have a reputation to maintain!”

Limestone narrowed her eyes. “Preen yourself all you want, but she ordered a hit on somepony we cared about, and then another on Lady Rarity.” Rarity winced, both because of the implication that she wasn’t somepony whom the Resistance would care about, and because she knew exactly who had “hit” Sweetie Drops, though she felt reasonably certain that his allegiance was more inclined toward the Resistance’s goals than not.

“Oh, balderdash,” Blueblood scoffed. “Regardless of who started it, I’m pretty sure your ponies are keeping up their end of this street war!”

“We’ll defend our interests if we have to, but we’re in the dark about what her game is this time. We don’t even know how she’s got this many ponies in the city. She must have a base of operations nearby, but we can’t take the fight to her if we don’t know where that is.”

“Well, so what?” Blueblood swirled his drink, and took a small sip. “She’s an independent mare. Even if she was involved, she wouldn’t necessarily tell me.”

“I know what it’s like to live and work under her,” Limestone said with a quiet intensity. “I defected for a reason, and if she gets the kind of power she’s after, you’ll find out what that is firsthoof. If anything, it might be worse for you—she’s not exactly a big fan of elite social standing. So if you truly want to get what you’ve been looking for, then it’s time for you to stop ‘keeping your options open’ and make the right choice.”

Rarity’s ears perked up at the hints of intrigue Limestone had laid out.

For his part, though, Blueblood simply pursed his lips, finished his drink, and poured another. “And what, pray tell, would that be? You and your—” Rarity raised an eyebrow as he rolled the ‘r’s “—rrrrrebel frrrriends, only seem interested in stringing me along with little bits of information here and there. At least she’s been willing to procure me some really meaty reading about Tartarus and, ah… other topics.”

Limestone shook her head. “We know. And we appreciate the fact that you’ve passed along so many of her little gifts to the Archive for us to check out, too. You… knew that we were doing that, right?”

Blueblood snorted a laugh into his drink. “Of course! Say what you will about keeping one’s options open, but sometimes it pays to let those you’re in bed with know you’re still playing the field.”

“Well then, this is your lucky day. As it turns out, I need your help with something… and to get it, I’m prepared to make you an offer beyond anything that she could possibly give you.”

“Truly? What could you of all ponies give me that I couldn’t get elsewhere—especially considering how much I’m willing to pay for my desires?” He paused, cocked his head, and eyed Rarity. “But before we go there, my dear Seneschal, this is getting to be some real deep talk among the big ponies. You’re not exactly… in, if you catch my drift.”

“My allegiances have shifted of late,” Rarity said.

“Mmm.” Blueblood arched an eyebrow. “Trust but verify, though, as they say. Now, despite how terribly gauche it must seem, I think I might have to take a peek at those magnificent flanks you’ve got all covered up in silk.”

Limestone stepped forward, scowling. “Blueblood!”

“Don’t play coy; you know exactly what I’m looking for.”

Rarity lit her horn. “It’s… all right. Provided this is brief.” She took hold of the edge of her dress with her magic, and lifted it high for a moment.

“Hold on,” Blueblood said. “I’m not looking for a tease.”

“Governor—”

“You want something. The way this works is that you have to give something to get something. Understand?”

“Very well…” Rarity hitched her dress up again, slowly, heat rising in her cheeks all the while. Blueblood watched with a satisfied smile as she did it. Once her cutie mark was visible, he stood up and sauntered over to her, bending down and giving a closer examination.

“Of course there’s really only one way to be sure…”

Blueblood placed a hoof on Rarity’s rump, then lasciviously licked his other hoof and brought it around, slowly rubbing at her painted-on mark.

“There will be consequences for this later,” Limestone said, a tremor in her voice.

“Later is my favorite time for consequences. But now… ah, there we are.” Blueblood pulled his hoof away, studying the blue residue on it. “Hello, little grey bars. What kind of trouble is your mommy getting up to?”

“That’s enough!” Rarity declared, stepping back and letting his hoof slide off her. “I trust that you are satisfied with this humiliation?!”

“I suppose, if I must be.” He turned his gaze on Limestone. “So whatever this wild opportunity is that my so-called marefriend ostensibly could never touch must be pretty serious, if you’ve got her on board with it. Or have you been part of this all along, Lady Rarity? Ol’ Filthy always made it sound like you were more on the side of my lovely new aunt.”

Rarity turned her eyes downward. “I wasn’t part of this, until recently. But now I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

“Which we don’t have much of,” Limestone interjected. “Governor, I know you’re content to sit here wringing your hooves instead of going out and keeping the peace because you don’t actually care if everypony out there tears themselves apart—”

He scoffed. “Oh, give me a break. It’s an evolving situation!”

“One that you’d gladly avoid if you could.” Limestone let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing: “If, for instance, you could get safe passage into Tartarus instead of having to deal with all of this, I imagine you’d find that very attractive.”

“Attractiveness is relative. Safety, even more so. There would, of course, be consequences afterward, as you yourself so eloquently stated.”

Limestone nodded. “Yes, but she’ll never get you into Tartarus. She doesn’t have the means. But we do. In just a few hours, you can finally get the answers you’ve been seeking, firsthoof.”

“Come now. Are you saying that you’ve come into possession of the Hellshard? My dear new auntie is too smart to let that happen. Notwithstanding how that seems to be going for the lovely Lady Saddles, who certainly doesn’t have it anymore—”

“How is she?” Rarity asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Not feeling the best, I’m sorry to say? I guess she kinda had a friend just stab her in the back. Metaphorically speaking. And then some other friend actually did get stabbed, or burned… or something.” He leaned forward. “Just between you and me, I’m shocked—shocked, I say!—that she even had friends to lose! But life is full of surprises. Oh…” He frowned, swirling his drink briefly. “Also, for some reason she seems to think that you’re planning to kill her, so… y’know.” He took a sip. “It’s complicated.”

Rarity nodded. The implication that Sassy was still alive calmed her pulse slightly. She swallowed, absorbing the news and trying not to let it unduly sway her from the mission. “Regardless, I know where the Hellshard is being kept, and how we can obtain it with minimal notice.”

A smile worked its way across Blueblood’s face. “So that’s why you’re in on this. Very well; let’s assume that I believe you’re gonna bring me the Hellshard and let me have my way with it. The big question is, what do you get out of this? And why do you need me?”

“We don’t need you,” Limestone said, pointing at Blueblood’s desk. “We need him.”

Blueblood visibly struggled to suppress a smirk as he turned and ran a hoof over the mismatched horns of the unsightly statuary on his desk. “Oh, my friend, the curtain calls for you at last.”

Rarity glanced at Limestone. The misshapen head on Blueblood’s desk made little sense to her. But what she saw in Limestone’s eyes was a look of strength, determination… and with small wrinkles at the corners that belied an underlying desperation as well.

“You’ve taken a very deep interest in ancient pony lore, and in the recent changes to Tartarus,” Rarity began slowly. “You’ve also courted ties to the Resistance and enabled this… other power as well. So it’s clear that you’re willing and able to support ponies who you think will work to undermine the rule of the Nightmare. And now the opportunity has arisen for us to go further: we can stop her, once and for all.”

“How, precisely?”

Rarity held his gaze. “By going into Tartarus and obtaining the last of the Elements of Harmony.”

Blueblood’s eyebrows climbed. He raised his glass and chuckled while draining it once more. “Well, Limestone, I’ve always known you were ambitious, but this one takes the taco. You’re banking an awful lot on my stone friend here keeping this from devolving into an amusing suicide mission.”

Limestone briefly met Rarity’s eyes before turning back to Blueblood. “I may think you’re crazy, but Twilight believes you’re really talking to some little part of Discord’s essence in there. And she thinks that might be our best chance of controlling where the Hellshard opens up, since the rest of Discord is already down in Tartarus. She even thinks he might be able to help us deal with the Guardian, if we have to.”

Blueblood sat back in his chair. He touched his forehooves together in front of his lips, staring indistinctly, and stayed quiet for a long moment.

“I have one condition,” he said slowly.

“Name it,” Rarity said.

“I’ve built… something of a rapport with him. So when the time comes for whatever you’re going to do with him, you’ll let me work with him to do it.”

“Out of the question,” Limestone said. “Twilight’s deep knowledge of magic makes her the logical choice to tap into whatever’s left of him. Besides, how could we trust you not to open the portal into a lava pit, or strand us there, or do something equally vile?”

All of the customary jocularity slid from Blueblood’s face as he sat up straighter in his chair. “Do you ponies know why I’ve been so interested in all these crazy things lately? Because I don’t. Not exactly, anyway. All I know is that there’s been this… this…” He raised a hoof to his head. “Him in there, driving me to know more, telling me that he’s lost so much knowledge. So much self. And for the life of me, I can’t begin to understand what he’s whispering to me. What do you both know about the great Ocean of Fire and the source it flows from, or the Sleeping Realm from whence few ponies would escape? When the Guardian calls you, how will you answer? And what of the Lowest Reaches that you seek?” He gritted his teeth. “These things I know—if only in vague outlines. And I have to know more.”

Limestone leaned close to Rarity. “You must talk him out of this. If we entrust him with this power, he could easily exploit it—or worse, he could secure the Elements for Nightmare Moon.”

“Why, not a chance, my loud-whispering frenemy. My lady-in-waiting would never forgive me if I passed up the opportunity to stop Nightmare Moon once and for all, even if that left things unresolved afterward. Though I’m sure you’ll want a guarantee that I’d be willing to keep her in the dark about it? Rest assured…” He leaned closer, and dropped his voice. “She already doesn’t know about a couple little side flings I’ve been having.”

“I’ll have to talk with Twilight,” Limestone said. “If she doesn’t think she can maintain enough control with you leading this, the deal’s off. But if she does… I suppose I can live with that. I hope you’ll understand if I prefer not to let you out of my sight until we’re on our way with the head, though?”

Blueblood frowned. “Fine, let’s get to it, then. Tell you what: you might also need some extra backup down in Tartarus, and a cover story to get to wherever the Hellshard is. I can supply enough sympathetic troops and extra uniforms to make whatever you’re planning look totally legit.”

“Before we go,” Rarity interrupted, drawing stares from both of the others. “I feel there is one loose end that I should like a chance to tie up.”

“Rarity, we don’t have much time,” Limestone said.

“I know, Limestone; but I shall not leave another Moondancer behind me if I can avoid it. I may lack my cutie mark, but I remain the pony who possessed it not long ago. Now, I trust you have a means that I could use to talk to Twilight?”

“Yes, but—”

“And Governor, I trust that Overseer Saddles is indeed alive and reasonably well somewhere within these premises?”

“She is!”

“Very well, then.” Rarity’s stony determination cracked only a little. “I should like a chance to see her.”
> Chapter 30: A Good and Faithful Servant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting alone in the subterranean gloom of a stone-walled cell, covered in bruises, and bereft of her usual leather armor, Sassy waged a silent battle with the greatest foe she’d yet faced since the Longest Night began. It wasn’t the Governor, who’d seen her beaten and imprisoned. Neither was it some insidious Resistance, striking from the shadows before scurrying from the light. It was far more sinister, and it brought lashes of shame that struck with even greater force than the agony that lanced across her face each time she blinked.

The enemy was doubt, and it was legion.

At the forefront of her mind was continued doubt about the Mistress’ worthiness to have servants as faithful as herself, who were willing to lay down their lives—even if she ultimately hadn’t. She shuddered as well at the question of whether Silver Shill had delivered the letter she’d given him; certainly he struck her as loyal enough to follow-through on such a grand trust.

But even if he had—even if the Mistress was wreaking her vengeance upon the traitors at that very moment—Sassy knew that her faithfulness wouldn’t guarantee her a place in the conflict’s aftermath. Time and again, she found her mind drawn back to the innumerable deaths she’d seen the Mistress mete out for far lesser failures than her own. She might just as easily be left in her cell, alone and forgotten despite her faithful service, and perhaps even condemned to death by starvation, as had been intended for Zecora. For with both Bon Bon and Fashion Plate lost to her, surely nopony else would risk themselves to bring her food, as Rarity had done for the zebra.

Her tears of pain and shame had long since dried, though, and Sassy felt determined not to let her momentary losses of composure give way to deluding herself about her chances.

The sound of distant hoofsteps made her ears perk up. Sassy raised her eyes to gaze at the dimly lit hall leading to her cell, and spotted a silhouette approaching from the far-off stairs. For a moment Sassy was gripped with fear about the cloaked stallion who’d precipitated her capture. But as the shape moved closer, Sassy soon heard an all-too-familiar voice say: “Here you are. Oh my, but you’re—”

“Hurt, yes,” Sassy croaked, closing her eyes to keep from having to look at the arch-traitor who stood before her. “By friends of yours, no doubt.”

“What friends?” Rarity asked, her tone laced with a curious edge of anxiety.

Sassy laughed, and winced. “I didn’t get the pony’s name who left me a sitting duck for the Governor’s toughs. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. You managed to stop Silver Shill from delivering my note, didn’t you? Probably killed him, too? So there’ll be no help coming for me; no vengeance raining down upon you, the Governor, Fashion Plate, or any of your traitorous ilk?”

Rarity went silent for a few heartbeats before speaking slowly: “I may not have gotten his name either, you understand.”

Despite her abhorrence for showing weakness, fear, or any other such thing, Sassy failed to stop the tears that came pouring from her eyes at the thought of Silver Shill’s demise. She sniffled loudly, and held a hoof up over her face. “He was loyal,” she sobbed. “More loyal than I… I…”

She drew in a heavy breath, and loosed a groan of desperation. “I… I don’t want to die. Even though I know… I would’ve seen so much of I’ve done in the Mistress’ name as… as ethically bankrupt, before. And now I see it too, but I… I… there’s no stopping her! Even though she’s inconsistent… she…”

Sassy lost control of her own frustration, grief, and pain, as her mourning of Silver Shill’s death opened the floodgates of emotion in her heart, and left her to finally feel the depths of her own fall. She wailed in wordless torment as she even felt compassion for the innumerable masses whom she’d helped oppress during her service to the Mistress.

“Sassy…”

“No,” she choked through her sobs. “I don’t want to hear more promises and lies. Silver Shill may have died for a tainted cause, but he was honorable to the end. He didn’t break down, or fall prey to doubt and temptation, as I… I have.” She took a long, ragged breath, and forced herself to continue speaking, despite her shattered spirit. “I hate this world every bit as much as you and your Resistance must; I merely believed the Mistress to be fundamental. But I know now that she isn’t as pure as I once believed, and I… I only wish… I could’ve at least seen my oldest and best friend just once more, before you condemned her to burn—”

“Sassy.”

She opened her eyes and saw Rarity standing before her in a long, elegant, dazzling blue dress that seemed to light up the gloomy prison. She expected Rarity to be holding a weapon, or at least showing a gleeful or vindictive expression on her face, but there was none. Instead, Rarity’s eyes were much softer; her frown one of sorrow and empathy, not disgust.

“You should kill me if you’re going to,” Sassy spluttered through tears. “I doubt you’ll catch me at a lower point.”

Rarity shook her head. “I’ve asked a new friend of mine for a favor on your behalf. If you’re willing, I could let you—”

“Do what you want. I’ve seen what you and your friends have in store for me. And I have to compliment you, really I do—I had no idea that I’d been so ineffectual at rooting you out. But tell me… why toy with me this much? Why plant the letter for me to find, and tease the Mistress with it, of all ponies? And what of your damnable zebra friend—was she just collateral damage?”

“Perhaps this will be easier if I show you, first.” And with that, Rarity lit her horn, and some kind of shimmering sphere came projecting out around them.

Sassy squinted at it. “I don’t recognize that weave…”

“It’s non-detection, and quite high-level, at that. Again, courtesy of a new friend who seems gifted in such things. But Sassy… I’ll let you in on a secret if you promise not to tell anypony else.”

A dark, mirthless chuckle escaped Sassy’s muzzle. “Dead mares tell no tales.”

“No, Sassy. As much as you’re awful and vindictive sometimes, I’ve never known you to break your word once you’ve given it, at least not directly. So promise me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anypony but the Mistress, if you still insist on doing so once you’ve seen this.”

“You fool. Certainly I’ll agree to that. What do you think you could show me that—”

Rarity’s hornglow brightened all at once, and Sassy shielded her eyes with a hoof. When she looked back, she saw that Rarity was channeling her magic into a small metallic box that was, in turn, emitting a flat, broad, shimmering circle of white light in the air. It was accompanied by a sound like small bells or chimes ringing, as if they were wind-blown. Sassy found the sounds appealing, if pointless; at least until the shimmering faded, revealing a picture of a burned, battered, bandaged pony lying in a bed.

Then the picture moved. The pony was clearly breathing.

Sassy stood, albeit with some effort. She approached the bars separating herself from Rarity, and her eyes widened as she took in detail after detail that led her to the conclusion that this truly must be: “Bon Bon?! But I… I thought—”

“Without wishing to boast, I wanted you to know that I rescued your candy-making friend myself after her shop was set ablaze, and I’ve kept her survival as secret as I could to protect her. I fear she won’t be up and about anytime soon, but given time, she may recover.”

A smile worked its way across Sassy’s muzzle, as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh Bon Bon, I… I thought I’d lost you.”

Rarity reached forward with her free hoof, leading with something metallic. Sassy recoiled on instinct, eyes widening with shock that Rarity had lured her in for the kill after all. But then whatever was in her hoof made contact with the door, and turned with a squeal.

It was a key.

The door swung open by a few hoof-widths. Rarity’s hornglow faded, and the image vanished with it. Then she turned to leave.

Tremors wracked Sassy’s limbs. “W… Wait! That’s it? You’re just… going to let me go?”

Rarity halted and glanced back at her. “Sassy, I can’t say if your truest enemy is the Nightmare, or yourself—nor how you’ll face the sorrow you might feel for what you’ve done. But I was never your enemy, regardless of what you may think of me. And neither is the Resistance evil, despite their imperfections.” She shook her head and turned back toward the stairs. “Perhaps your rather… straightforward worldview had blinded you to the truth. But perhaps the greatest irony is that you were too honest of a mare to make an effective spymaster.”

Sassy stood in silent contemplation of the doubts she’d carried for so long. The weight of her uncertainty was crushing while she clung to the messages of self-assurance that were born of her station’s influence and power. But, thinking of herself as just a pony—a lonely, haunted, and defeated one at that—laid waste to the lies she’d based her last few years on.

The Nightmare wasn’t eternal; she was a newcomer, a pretender, a usurper of the rightful Princess’ throne. Neither was the Nightmare invincible; she was constantly being evaded, outwitted, and undercut by ponies like Blueblood and his allies... including Rarity. And as Sassy’s mind’s eye turned to the half-forgotten faces haunting every corner of her memory, the final lie—that of the Nightmare’s so-called purity—stood out in sharp relief. She could only scoff at her own naiveté; “purity” had no place in the Nightmare’s realm.

These were bitter truths, but Sassy felt grateful to at last be able to face reality. The realization was sweetened by Rarity’s selflessness; she was the first pony in a long time to do something for Sassy without ulterior motive. Rarity had saved Bon Bon because she was a good pony, not because she had any realistic expectation of currying Sassy’s favor.

“Wait! Please,” Sassy called after Rarity. “I think… I’d like to talk.”





Rarity stepped out behind the Governor’s mansion, and drew a long, trembling breath of cold evening air. A pair of liveried guards who were flanking the door regarded her with curiosity, but said nothing.

“Just enjoying the starlight,” Rarity said to them, not really caring if they believed her or not. Despite her need for calm, she couldn’t resist a bit of nervous prancing as her mind filled with questions about the servant to whom Sassy had mentioned giving a note. Either way, though, the guards soon nodded and returned to staring past her out into the ruined grounds that sprawled behind the former castle.

Rarity jumped at the sound of hooves on stairs behind her. She turned and saw Limestone descending to ground level, her eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

Rarity clenched her jaw in silent answer.

“Why don’t you guys take a break,” Limestone said to the guards. “The Governor might get jealous if he thought somepony else was spending too much time with his girls.”

The pair of them glanced at each other, then at Limestone and Rarity. Finally they murmured something noncommittal and retreated into the mansion.

Limestone watched them depart, then leaned in close to Rarity. “How did it go?”

“Better than I’d expected, for the most part. She seems contrite, and eager to work with us. She even offered to share what she knows about using the Hellshard.”

“Impressive,” Limestone said, cracking a hint of a smile. “Keep it up and we won’t have any trouble talking Twilight into giving your mark back. And who could’ve guessed that Sassy would’ve joined our side all along if we’d just leveled with her about how stupid she was?”

Rarity opened her mouth to protest, but she was forestalled by another sound of hooves tromping down the stairs.

Governor Blueblood sauntered out behind them, took a long sniff of the night air, exhaled loudly, then threw his forelegs around both Rarity and Limestone. “Well then? Are we ready?” He paused and regarded Rarity with narrowed eyes. “And will our Sassy little loose end be joining us… or was she right about you wanting her dead?”

“I was just telling Limestone that we have a complication,” Rarity said, scowling at him.

“What? I thought you said things went well!”

“All but one thing. Sassy mentioned giving a letter to a servant before she was apprehended. One ‘Silver Shill,’ I believe.”

With a chortle, Blueblood gazed up at the mare-marked moon. “Y’know, I love that little guy. I tell ya… he’s nervous as all get-out, and I still haven’t managed to get him laid, but he’s pretty much the best at what he does.”

Rarity bit her lip. “Yes, but this letter contained a summons for the Nightmare… and a statement regarding your treason, Governor.”

Limestone’s eyes went wide. “What?!”

Rarity nodded. “Though again, this was hours ago… just before her imprisonment. I… may have led her to believe that he’d been killed by the Resistance. But I tend to think that if he’d delivered the letter as instructed, we already would’ve seen the Nightmare descending upon Canterlot, particularly given the chaos in the streets.”

“I’ll talk to Twilight,” Limestone said, raising a hoof to Rarity, who promptly returned the communication charm she’d borrowed. “We’ll call in everypony we’ve got to work this. Wherever he is, and wherever that letter is… this has to be priority one.”

“Hmmm.” Blueblood frowned at both of them. “I’ll get everypony in the mansion looking, too. Also, the stallions I ordered for our ‘trip’ are probably about half-ready by now. Why don’t I go try to usher them along, and we’ll meet up back here in ten?”

Blueblood turned and walked back into the mansion. Limestone turned as well, speaking over her shoulder: “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

As Limestone turned to go, Rarity felt a sudden, strange sensation like hot breath on the back of her neck.

She turned, and her breathing quickened as she studied the darkness at the edge of the Governor’s torchlit cart-park. Nothing seemed particularly out of place, nor did she see what she was looking for, if she could truly be said to be looking. But she swore that she could feel somepony’s eyes upon her, even if she couldn’t see them…

“Psst!”

Her eyes snapped toward a series of small carts that were parked near the end of the grounds. A hoof waved out to her, then vanished behind the carts again.

Rarity breathed a heavy, shaking sigh. A clawing sense of trepidation made her teeth rattle as she considered seeing him again. Yet it occurred to her that if anypony might already know of their predicament with Silver Shill and have the means to deal with it, it would be him. Still though, her mind dwelled on the thought that his aid always seemed to come at a terrible price, and she was slow to descend a short set of stairs from the mansion’s outer landing to the grounds proper. She crunched with plodding hooves across the gravel loading zone to where the carts were parked. 

The feeling reasserted itself with still greater strength when she approached the edge of the cart she’d seen the hoof behind. A strange chemical odor distracted her briefly as she approached it, but she was much too preoccupied to consider its origin. Resigning herself to what she’d find on the other side, though, she sighed and stepped around it.

As she feared, a dead stallion lay sprawled there amid a patch of greatly disturbed gravel. He was light of fur and mane, and a pair of shattered glasses lay close to where he’d fallen. Yet his death appeared to have been relatively clean—certainly not the work of the expected knife.

“Y’know, I gotta compliment you,” said the shadowy stallion whom she knew she’d find there as well. He was still in his favored heavy cloak that obscured most of his features, but she took the impression that he was grinning like a cat that had caught a mouse. “I didn’t think you were quite ready to sweet-talk your way into the Resistance’s good graces, but boy did you prove me wrong! You’ve even got Limestone on your side, more or less. That’s amazing! Certainly better than I ever did with her. Remind me to buy you some candy sometime.”

“Do you truly think that’s an appropriate remark when a pony lies dead before us?”

He shrugged. “Fine; more candy for me. But hey, here’s the big thing—the main thing: you trusted me.” His grin deepened, straining both credulity and the boundaries of his own face. “C’mon, you knew I had this mook, and all you had to do was get your friends to go away so you could come collect. Here’s the note, by the way.” He held up a folded piece of paper with crude charcoal writing and bits of blood on it. He also offered a signet ring bearing Sassy’s three-pin cutie mark.

“Th… thank you,” Rarity said, turning away from what she presumed to be Silver Shill’s corpse. “I should hope this would be the last pony who’d need to… to…”

“Die? Take a dirt nap? Eat it? Buy a rock farm—”

“Yes.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Well, either way, the only thing you might still need is a cover story, seeing as how we’ve got a fresh li’l body here and you’re the one left holding the bag. Er, note.”

Rarity’s eyes went wide. “I… no. You can’t be serious. You want me to… present myself… as Silver Shill’s killer?”

“Why not? You might hate getting your hooves dirty, but what’s the real difference between telling your friends to go catch and kill him, versus killing him yourself? Doesn’t matter who takes credit; either way, he ends up pushing daisies.”

Her stomach felt hollow. “No… no, I didn’t say kill him…”

“But they would’ve, right? Or they might’ve. You don’t know! I mean, look at what’s happening out in the rest of the city; it doesn’t take much for most ponies to panic and get desperate. Sometimes all it takes is just one kick.” He punctuated the last word with a strike at Silver Shill’s head.

“Stop that! I would… I would never do that to a fallen adversary!” She met his eyes and felt a crawling, slick sensation overtake her as she pondered the facade that had been created for her.

“You might strangle one with your magic, though, if he attacked you.” The stallion cracked a wicked smile. “Say if you spotted a died-in-the-wool loyalist who’d been hiding out here since the riots started, waiting to make his move? You got to talking, and he realized you were gonna stop him from getting essential information to his Mistress. He panicked. You panicked.”

She stared at him aghast. “Is that why you didn’t use your knives?”

“Yep! I always say you’ve gotta find the way of going crazy that’s uniquely you, unless you happen to be shopping for a friend. Oh, and that reminds me…” He bent down and removed a small, coppery charm from Silver Shill’s coat. Instantly, Silver Shill’s few small cuts began to trickle with fresh blood. Rarity’s eyes widened with shock at this, and the shadowy stallion giggled in acknowledgement. “Preservation charm. It’s… ah, well, let’s just say it’s a lot cleaner than some of the old-school Zebraic methods of preserving a body.”

The macabre underpinning of his words left Rarity on the verge of tears, yet also strangely numb. “I can’t abide all of this… death.”

He shrugged. “Look, I get it if your feelings-thingy is pretty maxed out right now, but I need you to start psyching yourself for what we might find in the Lowest Reaches of Tartarus. I mean, I’ve got some stuff that oughtta help protect us, and I’ll bet Twilight’s gonna focus on getting in and out as fast as possible… but if you can’t handle things up here, how are you gonna handle what’s down there?”

Rarity shivered, turned away, and once more found her mind wracked with vivid recollections of Ponyville’s fall.

In time, a sound of crunching hooves on gravel disrupted her dark reverie. The shadowy stallion was gone. She looked out and saw Governor Blueblood all but prancing at the head of a group of two dozen or so red-liveried ponies streaming from one of the larger double-doors near the center of the mansion. All were equipped with a mix of shorter weapons and light shields, or a longer polearm, save for the Governor himself; he carried only a mid-sized cane with a brass knob at the top.

“Oh, Lady Rarity!” Governor Blueblood called. “Here there, you lads form up… somewhere over there. Lady Rarity, I’ve had word from our mutual wink-wink that a certain elbow-nudge is going to bouncy-bouncy—”

“I believe I have what we’re looking for,” she called back, holding up the note in her magic.

“Really! Ooh, I have to wonder…” Blueblood trotted over, stopping short as he came around the cart and gazed upon the dead pony at her hooves. “Oof. Couldn’t turn him from the dark side, eh?”

“I…” Rarity swallowed but still tasted hints of bile in the back of her throat. The sharp, acrid smell from the nearby cart reached her again and accentuated her discomfort. “N… No, he… attacked me.”

Blueblood touched a hoof to his chest in clearly feigned respect. “Well then, I suppose poor Silver Shill died as he lived: hard, and with a vengeance. I mean, it looks like you’re the kind of mare who’s willing to hit a guy with glasses!”

“I… suppose,” Rarity said, glancing back down at the body with a frown.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Blueblood said, waving a hoof at Silver Shill. “I’ll have a guy take care of it. Clean it right up like it never even happened. Guess we can tell everypony else to stop looking, too…” He glanced down at his forehoof, which was bare. “And look at that: it’s just about time to go carve our way through the crowd. Viva la revolucion!” He trotted away back toward his stallions, grinning like a fool.

Rarity turned her eyes back down to the dead pony once more, unsure what she hated more about the situation: having him dead or being thought of as his killer. And the uncertainty just sat there, twisting in her gut like a knife as she continued to stare at him.

Eventually a chill came over her, and she glanced back at her flank—still covered from outside view, but still blank underneath. Its duality fueled both her feeling of unease, as well as the fear of how she could possibly face the living nightmare of Tartarus with such a squeamish heart.
> Chapter 31: Consensus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time slipped by unchecked in the firelight of Rarity’s chambers as Rainbow Dash pored over Zecora’s journal. The journal seemed to tease her with untold depths of information about pegasus legends, Zebraic mysticism, and analysis of her own flying techniques—yet Dash struggled to absorb it all through Zecora’s scratchy mouthwriting and cryptic turns of phrase. Nevertheless feeling drawn to try, Dash moved freely between the bed, the floor, and the desk, changing positions whenever the pains that twinged in her hooves and wing prompted her to. From time to time, knocks came at the door, sometimes accompanied by words that registered as updates about a worsening situation on Canterlot Mountain. But each time, Dash held her gaze on the journal, and shouted to whoever was outside that she needed time to rest.

Dash had no frame of reference for how long she’d been immersed in study when a loud, heavy, insistent series of knocks at the door all but sounded like they might break it down. She lifted herself up off the bed with a grunt, and glanced at the door. “Okay, okay! What is it? I’m busy in here.”

“Like Tartarus you’re busy,” Redheart said, the door muffling some of her volume but none of her irritation. “You want time to think about what our next move should be now that you-know-who’s locked up and Canterlot’s burning? Fine, take some time and think. But the longer you sit in there brooding and not letting me check your damn wing again, the worse off we’re all gonna be.”

Dash sighed. She flexed her wing, feeling a jolt of pain through the middle as she stretched its fine bones and skin out to their fullest extension. “It’s just a deep bruise, Redheart. I told you.”

“And I told you that you’re the last pony any of us should be taking seriously when it comes to knowing what’s good for her.”

“And yet I’m in here and you’re out there, and the door’s locked. So what are you gonna do about it?”

Redheart grunted. “I can buck it off its hinges if you want. Might piss off Rarity, but I bet she’ll believe me when I tell her I had to get inside to treat a pony suffering from severe brain damage.”

Dash rolled her eyes, but smiled, then placed a bookmark in the journal. “All right, all right, keep your stupid little hat on, I’ll let you in.”

She crossed to the door and unlocked it, then stepped back as it was pushed open by—

“Scoots?!”

The filly bounded into the room with Redheart behind her. She fixed Rainbow Dash with a misty-eyed frown. “Why did you lock us out, Rainbow?”

Dash looked away toward the journal, biting her lip. “Squirt, I… I just…” She heaved a sigh, then glared up at Redheart. “You could’ve told me she was out there, you know. I would’ve opened it for her.”

“Like I said: like Tartarus you would’ve.” Redheart entered the room fully and closed the door, then turned a frown at what Dash had been reading. “Rainbow, you’ve gone and crawled so far up your own rump with all this business about Zecora’s journal that I don’t think anypony could’ve reached you short of threatening to break and enter.”

“‘Crawled up her own rump?’” Scootaloo echoed.

Redheart cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s… forget I said that one. It means she’s hiding in herself instead of letting ponies in to help her. And right now, that’s the worst thing you could do. Yeah, keeping Wind Rider stashed away in Zecora’s former cell is bad, but we knew we’d have to deal with him eventually. And even if Canterlot’s starting to look like it’s not the best place to go either, there’s gotta be somewhere else that we can send Scootaloo to safety. But the longer you sit here, reading about the past, the less time we’re gonna have to figure that out.”

“I don’t think it’s just about the past, Redheart. I mean, all this stuff Zecora wrote about ‘the rainbow that never was…’ like, the more I go through it, the more I think she’s not just talking about the world being messed up, or me flying weird, or stuff about a Sonic Rainboom. It’s like all those things are supposed to fit together somehow.”

“And that’s why you’re hiding? Because of some crazy legend?”

Dash shook her head. “No. I guess maybe it’s just force of habit. I’ve been hiding for way too long. Hiding under… bat wings and regret. But whether I do this alone, or with you guys… I gotta figure out what happened to me while I was chasing Wind Rider.”

“You didn’t say much about what happened, earlier,” Scootaloo said. “But we saw the Everfree light up a little bit with color…”

“Everypony did,” Redheart added. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Was that… you pulling off a Sonic Rainboom?”

“Heh. Nah.” Dash tried to feign nonchalance, but the memory of chasing something unseen on the wind, as well as the electric feeling that had danced across her coat, all culminating in the sight of colored sparks shooting back off her wings… added up to more than she could easily dismiss.

“Hey,” Redheart said, jarring her back to reality. “Rainbow. Was it a Sonic Rainboom?”

Dash studied Redheart’s bright blue eyes, as well as the concerned expression that they bore. Her pulse quickened as she tried to think of something that would capture her experience in just a few words—and having Redheart’s pretty eyes and kind face pressed so close to her muzzle wasn’t helping.

“I… don’t think so,” Dash said, finally giving up and looking at the floor. “Maybe I was close, though. I saw my wings light up with sparks, and it’s like I could feel something calling to me, begging me to catch it. It just… it leaves me feeling—”

“Delusional?” Redheart offered with a grin.

“I was gonna say ‘gassy,’” Dash answered, grinning back. “Eh, you’re right, I shouldn’t try to hold this all in by myself. I guess I don’t know what to do with it, and I worry that either doing anything, or nothing, is gonna be the wrong move. I mean, I don’t exactly have the best track record, y’know?”

“Well, I don’t think that,” Redheart said. “I mean, I used to. It’s tempting to go with the argument that you betrayed me, and Scootaloo, and all the ponies who relied on you back at Ponyville. But what you did with Wind Rider… what you risked for us… made me realize I was wrong. You weren’t evil, or cowardly, back in the day; you were just a pegasus in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I don’t think that makes you any less worthy of having somepony to stand by your side now.” She paused, frowning. “Though if you want to beat yourself up for doing stupid things like not letting yourself get examined properly, be my guest, ’cause that’s just dumb.”

Dash cracked a smile once again. It faltered as she stretched her wing out, though. “Oof. Yeah… doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that something’s messed up in there.”

Redheart furrowed her brow. “Why would you get a brain surgeon to look at a bat wing?”

“Same reason as I’d ask you to look at it: lack of competent staff, otherwise.”

They both chuckled. Scootaloo eyed them nervously.

“Kid, we’re kidding,” Dash said. “This is how ponies talk when they—OW!” She roared with pain and snapped her wing away from Redheart’s hooves.

“Gimme that back, I wasn’t done with it.”

“Well maybe you could tell a pony before you start jerking around with their wing!”

“You could be paying attention!”

“Guys,” Scootaloo said. She eyed them both for a moment before breaking into a small smile. “You’re starting to remind me of my aunts. They’re, ah…”

Dash and Redheart both blinked.

“What?” Dash asked.

“…Never mind. Look, Rainbow, please let us help you. I don’t know what really happened out there with Wind Rider, but I know that we need to take care of you.”

Redheart nodded. “She’s right. You matter to us, whether you like it or not. Now c’mon; I’m here to check out your bone, not wax loquacious.”

“Heh, all right,” Dash said, offering her wing to Redheart. “Go on: bone me.”

“So much like my aunts…”

“What?”

“Nothing!”

“YEEEOOWCH!”

Dash pulled her wing back again, flexing and unflexing it several times rapidly, trying to shake loose the huge flare of pain that erupted in its middle. She glared even harder when she saw that both Redheart and Scootaloo were smiling at her.

Redheart gave Scootaloo a hoofbump. “Good distraction, kid. So the good news is, I think it’s just a sprain. Lucky you, you’ll be flying again in no time.”

“That hurt!”

“Yeah. Too bad I’m out of pain meds…”

“I’ll numb your face with my hoof!”

“Go ahead; I should get another look at that, too.”

“Raagh!” Dash turned away from her friends, trying not to show how wide she was smiling. And the pain legitimately did help to suppress a fair bit of how good she otherwise felt. Like being with the two of them was somehow more fulfilling, more complete. Like she’d awakened to something that had been not only distant, but completely nonexistent, just a short time before.

Like things were with Fluttershy, at least on the good days.

Another knock came from the door. “Yeah?” Dash called.

On the other side, a stallion shouted: “Sergeant Dash, ma’am! Reporting that there’s a group of ponies approaching the castle, ma’am!”

Dash watched as growing expressions of dread crept across the faces of Redheart and Scootaloo.

“Well… who is it, then?” Dash called.

“Ma’am! Looks like Governor Blueblood plus an escort, ma’am! There’s a platoon of ponies in the Governor’s livery, as well as a few others, ma’am!”

Dash furrowed her brow and whispered: “What’s the Governor doing here? And a platoon’s like thirty or forty ponies. Why aren’t they busy trying to get Canterlot back under control?”

Redheart shook her head. “I don’t know. Should I take Scootaloo and hide?”

Anxiety stirred in Dash’s gut as she regarded Scootaloo’s teeth-chattering trepidation, as well as the increasing frown-lines on Redheart’s muzzle. And yet, the very possibility that they might be in danger once again stoked a new feeling of confidence within her. It wasn’t the same feeling as going fast or being in charge—it struck her as deeper, more fundamental, and more powerful.

“Yeah, do that, in case the worst happens. But I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” Redheart touched a hoof to Dash’s shoulder.

“Yeah, know this: Rainbow Dash can stick her neck out for her ponies. Maybe that wasn’t always the case, but it is now.” She grinned at Redheart. “How does that sound, Nurse?”

“So much like my aunts…”

“Knock it off! Now wait for me to get out of here, and then go hide in… I dunno, maybe Sassy’s chambers? I’m pretty sure I left them unlocked after Rarity grabbed her travel bag. And I mean, it’s not like anypony else would wanna spend time in there if they had the choice, right?”

They nodded. And in that moment, Dash found a strength… bravery… she wasn’t sure what the word was. But she walked to the door, opened it, and grinned at the impatient-looking thestral guard who was waiting for her. “Come on, soldier, let’s get a move on. We don’t want to keep the Governor waiting.”

Together, at a speed limited only slightly by her sore hooves, Dash and the soldier navigated several corridors and flights of stairs before emerging onto a parapet along one of the castle walls. A group of thestral soldiers stood there, gazing out in the direction of Canterlot Mountain through spyglasses.

“Still looking pretty bad city-side?” Dash asked, approaching the group.

“There’s almost as much smoke as when the Longest Night began, ma’am,” one said, bowing and hoofing his spyglass to her.

She placed it to her eye. Much to her consternation, Canterlot itself was still a fiery mess of activity. It was far enough away that she couldn’t pick out many details, yet its level of churn and brightness were well outside the norm. Dash then swept the glass downward, seeking the main cart-path that wound through the Everfree. There she spotted a group of maybe three dozen ponies in the Governor’s livery, carrying spears. A few other ponies marched with them; some wore long, heavy cloaks, but at least one of the ponies wasn’t wearing much at all.

“Rarity?” breathed Dash.

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard next to her on the parapet said. “Overseer Saddles is with them, as well. Spotted them all coming around the curve in the trail about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Huh, I barely recognize Sassy without the stupid armor. And where’s Rarity’s uniform, and why’s her hair down?”

“Shall we open the gates, ma’am?” The guard licked his lips, perhaps nervously. “Or would you prefer that we ask Sergeant Wind Rider to deal with this?”

Dash hoofed the spyglass back to him. “Ah… no. He’s still resting. Best leave this to me.”

The guard nodded, but the hardness in the corners of his eyes made Dash question how much he truly believed her. It was possible that a few ponies had seen her and Wind Rider going at it after all.

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” Dash said, hopping into the air. Her wing still stung with pain, and in the back of her head she could imagine Redheart admonishing her to stay off it for a while, but she wasn’t willing to wait. The guard nodded again, and Dash flapped higher, clearing the wall and catching a cold breeze heading generally toward the mountain.

Again, her wing was a source of irritation. On one flap in particular it felt like it might buckle on her. She gasped, pulling it partially closed on instinct, which threw her into a roll. But with gritted teeth she fought through the pain and stabilized.

She landed somewhat roughly a few dozen paces in front of the platoon. Several liveried guards nodded at her, or touched hooves to their metal caps, but none slowed their march as the group passed around her and continued toward the castle.

“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity called from the middle of the group. She was smiling, and Dash smiled back. But then Dash spotted Sassy, and noted that the tall unicorn was missing not only her armor, but also the characteristic springy confidence in her step. Dash frowned as she also noticed heavy circles around Sassy’s eyes—which looked like bruises.

“Here she is: the assistant ‘Keeper-of-All-Keys-But-One,’” said a white unicorn stallion whose stride was so flamboyant as to make up for Sassy’s lack of bounce and then some.

“Governor Blueblood,” Dash said, bowing deep. “What brings you out here? …Uh, Sir.” She glanced at Rarity again with deepening confusion, only then noticing a brown earth pony in a heavy cloak trotting close to her. “Wait… is that Lord Rich?”

“It’s quite all right,” Rarity said—but Dash’s hackles rose as she realized Rarity was talking to the group, not to Dash. “Let me explain things to the Sergeant here. Sergeant, if you’d be so kind?”

Dash looked from side to side at the various ponies as Rarity stopped and stood before her. Most of the others seemed willing to pass them by without further comment or even notice. One hooded pony with grey legs turned and eyed her, though, and Dash couldn’t escape the impression that the pony was sizing her up for a fight.

“Sergeant,” Rarity said, smiling and reaching a hoof toward Dash.

“Rares, what’s going on here? I thought you and Sassy were supposed to be uncovering that ‘Underground Sun’ thing, not dragging the Governor down here for a surprise visit. And what’s Sassy’s deal, anyway? Is she feeling sore because she finally managed to pull the huge stick out of her rump?”

Rarity gave a small titter. “Oh, it’s much better than that, I assure you. The Overseer has had quite the change of heart about a great many things.” Her smile faded. “Including perhaps the most serious thing that two ponies might talk about amid such trying times.”

Dash blinked. “What’s really going on here?”

“We have come to retrieve the Elements of Harmony,” Rarity breathed.

“You’re… what?! What are you talking about?”

Rarity sighed, then continued speaking quietly: “Ancient artifacts of incredible power. I don’t know why Celestia failed to bring them to bear against Nightmare Moon in the first place, but the Resistance believes they can use them to defeat her.”

Dash’s eyes widened as far as they would go, and her head drew back on instinct. “You… you want to fight her? You’re talking like that… crazy pony! You know, the disappearing knife guy—”

“I’m not like him,” Rarity blurted, before quickly regaining her composure. “But I think, perhaps, that I understand him, at least in part.” She gestured at Dash’s wings. “Consider what you’ve lost; what all of us have lost. Then imagine finding the power to hide completely from the Nightmare’s sight, but at the cost of losing even more: the anchor of your very self. Now imagine living without that for years. Could you live without your soul… your cutie mark… for a day? A week? Longer? What would that do to you?”

On seeing how Rarity’s eyes became distant and downcast, Dash reached a hoof toward her.

But Rarity shook her head and plastered on a smile that Dash could see right through. “It’s no matter, darling. I’ve seen some… dreadful things of late. But I’ve also gained new understandings of the ponies who carried on the good fight after the Longest Night began, as well as the powers that we now find at our disposal. I’ve come very much to believe that the Nightmare can be stopped, and that you and I now have an essential role to play in stopping her. All I need is for you to grant us entrance to the Nightmare’s treasure room without alerting anypony to our intentions, which…” She chuckled. “I suppose I’m being so straightforward with you because I know that you abhor the Nightmare down deep, as I do. Are you aware that the Overseer held no particular love for her, either, but rather found her to be inexorable, and served her out of a simple will to survive?”

“You’re kidding. I always thought Sassy was trying to get in there with the Nightmare, if y’know what I mean.”

Rarity suppressed a laugh. “Now, let me share a bit of warning: you mustn’t under any circumstances mention the knife pony. You mustn’t do anything else that should scare or threaten the ponies accompanying us, either.” Dash saw Rarity’s eyes turning at once both hard and fearful. “The Resistance has committed everything to this. Everypony whom they think might realistically be able to wield the Elements is gathered here, now, including such luminaries as Lord Rich.”

“But why can’t I mention the knife guy? I mean, are they tired of working with a psycho—”

“Yes,” she hissed. “But a useful psycho… a knowledgeable psycho. A psycho with a vestige of a heart still buried deep below the layers of grief that drove him to psychosis. And a psycho with the deepest motivation possible to help us not only bring down Nightmare Moon, but also to recover those who might still be brought back from Tartarus.” Rarity looked away, shivering. “I wouldn’t say I trust him beyond that… nor am I certain he could have a place in a world made whole again. But I trust him to help us with our mission, and I will advocate for him, however secretly… on account of his being a psycho.”

“All right,” Dash said at length. “But I don’t like how risky this is. I mean… yeah, I hate the Nightmare. Most ponies probably do. But since you’ve been gone…” She squirmed a little. “Things have kinda… started changing for me.”

“Indeed?” Rarity’s eyebrows rose slightly but noticeably.

“Ah… yeah. I’ve been reconnecting with Scootaloo, who totally needs a good role model, y’know.” She puffed her chest out. “And I’ve, ah… well… kinda been making friends with Redheart—”

“The doctor, Redheart?”

“Nurse, technically. But yeah. We’ve sort of… hit it off.”

A smile stole its way across Rarity’s muzzle. “Indeed?”

Dash blushed, but frowned and stamped her hoof to try to distract from it. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

“It’s simply unexpected, that’s all. I was under the impression that you’ve distanced yourself from most ponies since entering the Mistress’s service.”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. I guess… not long ago, I didn’t really care about anything. I wanted to live, but more because I didn’t want to not be living, y’know?”

Rarity nodded. “I understand. But now, perhaps, you have found something to live for?”

Dash kicked at the ground. Clear images of Scootaloo’s smiles, and vague recollections of so many of Redheart’s words, played back in her head. The memory of watching Scootaloo flail against the bed during her seizure nearly brought tears to Dash’s eyes, as did the warm remembrance of Redheart’s touch on her shoulder. The agony of being unable to fully control or protect either of them stung her heart deeply. Yet it also brought to mind a fresh awareness that, as Rarity said, she had somepony to care for. Two ponies. Maybe even three, if she counted herself…

She looked up, meeting Rarity’s small smile and deep, sympathetic eyes. “I just have to ask: can you get Scoots somewhere safe before we do this?”

“Of course, darling.” Rarity threw a foreleg around Dash’s shoulders. The feeling it gave Dash was surprising, but not unwelcome. It made her glad to still be able to feel. “Several members of the Resistance leadership have come prepared with personal teleportation charms in case things should go wrong… we’d only need to talk one out of giving theirs to Scootaloo.”

“All right, maybe we can do this after all,” Dash said as much for her own sake as anything. “Come on; it’s time to kick the Nightmare’s butt.”
> Chapter 32: At Hell's Gate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sassy watched with bated breath as Rarity and Rainbow Dash carried on a heated conversation with the thestrals guarding Nightmare Moon’s artifact tower. From her vantage point in the middle of the forty-or-so ponies who’d accompanied Governor Blueblood, she could see growing unease in the body language of ponies on both sides of the exchange: each of the eight thestral guards punctuated an increasing number of their words by shaking their heavy polearms, while Dash in particular seemed given to stamping her hooves and raising her volume.

“Now listen here,” Rarity shouted over the thestrals’ protests. “Governor Blueblood has come with a powerful artifact and crucial information for the Mistress! You will not deter our entrance to the vaults, and will instead go and see guest chambers prepared for him while we await her return! Overseer Saddles, do you concur?”

Sassy glanced at Rarity, then cleared her throat and pushed her way to the front of the group. The guards met her eyes with looks of offense and uncertainty, and Sassy felt growing concern that there might be some deeper reason. Granted, Rarity was not often prone to ordering guards around, and they might not feel that she had the authority. But Rainbow Dash was their superior in the chain of command, and the fact that they seemed resistant to her orders struck Sassy as worrisome.

But she endeavored to let none of her misgivings show in the stern expression that she fixed upon the guards, nor in her words for them: “Seneschal Rarity and myself have learned much that would be of interest to Mistress Nightmare Moon during our time in Canterlot. And the Governor has indeed come bearing an artifact that may help us end the madness now plaguing our land. So carry out your orders, lest I make note of your obstinacy!”

The guards shrank back a touch from her, despite their arms and armor. Several of them turned and whispered amongst themselves. After a moment, one spoke: “But do you wish for all of us to go, ma’am? Surely one or two would suffice.”

She glared at him. “A stallion of eagerness and enterprise, are you? Perhaps you and your colleagues would enjoy applying such fervor to the efforts of our Northern Coalition? Just because the Mistress has deemed it a conflict unworthy of wasting ponies’ lives, doesn’t mean we aren’t obliged to maintain a few representatives to help keep our allies in line.”

“N… No, ma’am,” the guard stammered. He glanced at his fellows again, and the lot of them set off away from the guard post, muttering loudly.

Sassy felt a light hit on her leg, and she startled, turning a quizzical expression on the tiny orange pegasus standing next to her.

“Nailed it,” Scootaloo said with a grin.

“That was way too close, though,” Dash said, pressing through the liveried ponies around them and encircling Scootaloo in a hug. “Now do you see why we gotta get you out of here? Even if we pull this off, there’s no guarantee—”

“I know,” Scootaloo said. Then she turned an intense gaze at Redheart, who was standing next to her. Sassy couldn’t fully parse the meaning of Scootaloo’s expression, but it culminated in Scootaloo giving Redheart a big hug as well. “Take care of her, okay?”

“I will,” Redheart said, returning the hug. “I promise.”

Lord Filthy Rich cleared his throat from behind them. “Time to go, Scootaloo. Kibitz is looking forward to meeting you, and we even have somepony your age whom you… might try to play with.”

He offered her a small metallic disc with his hoof. Scootaloo turned and took it from him. After giving what surely must be her very bravest smile to both Rainbow Dash and Redheart, Scootaloo tapped the disc with her other forehoof, then vanished in a quick burst of bright blue energy.

“Thank you, Filthy darling,” Rarity said, walking to him and planting an enthusiastic kiss on muzzle.

“It’s Ri—” he managed, before becoming lost in her embrace.

Sassy shook her head, and reflected once again upon how badly she’d misjudged the pale mare. Far from being an uncultured and amateurish pretender to the responsibilities of her station, Rarity had shown herself to be a mare of both deep character and tremendous guile, seemingly orchestrating even the tiniest details of their current mission—even down to finding what it would take to secure the ever-fickle Rainbow Dash’s participation. And yet she did it with a genuineness of affection, and an unwavering sense of hope, that Sassy couldn’t help but respect, regardless of her continued distaste for deception.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that Rarity had been the one to come for her. She’d still seen worth in Sassy when everypony else had been willing to leave her to rot. It filled Sassy with an inexpressible gratitude that, even after all she’d done to make Rarity’s life difficult, Rarity had still wanted to give her a chance. And for that, she was quite literally following Rarity into Tartarus.

Sassy remained in the middle of the group as they strode up the steep spiral of stone steps leading to the top of the tower, where the vault itself awaited. Hearing of their intended destination and purpose had been a shock, yet had also stoked her eagerness to cement her defiance of the Nightmare. Yet as she now stood at the cusp of fully throwing off her former Mistress once and for all, she felt fresh pangs of sadness as she thought of all the self-deception she’d fallen prey to, as well as the lingering guilt of serving a Mistress bent purely on domination. 

Indeed, as she was now bereft of her armor, she felt not merely exposed, but naked. The three pins on her flank seemingly mocked her desire to “put a pin in” things she’d put to rights, and instead proclaimed how far she’d fallen from her path of precision and perfection in the name of mere survival. It struck her that she could’ve survived—even sought excellence—without stooping to such shameful depths. The truth of her vanity and pettiness was difficult to accept, but she felt no compunctions about facing it; it simply was.

She stopped short, suddenly finding herself behind a knot of liveried ponies who had come to a halt. Still on one of the stairs, she had to crane her neck to see up to the landing at the top, where Sergeant Dash, Rarity, Lord Rich, Governor Blueblood, and two of the hooded ponies who’d accompanied their group clustered around the door—likely Twilight and Limestone, who’d been introduced to her as the “Two Specialists” whom she’d originally been sent to Canterlot to find. Dash and Rarity seemed to exchange heated but quiet words amid a faint clinking of keys, punctuated by a few recognizable curses from Dash. Sassy couldn’t resist grinning at how a fundamentally small thing like trying to find the right key could hold up such a grand enterprise.

At last she heard the loud metallic squeal of the great vault door being opened, and everypony started moving again. Sassy idly wondered whether all of the ponies in their group would fit into the vault, but upon reaching the door, she realized that it was more than spacious enough.

“Celestia above, there they are,” said Limestone, in the midst of removing her cloak. As Sassy moved closer, she saw everypony clustering around a large display case. Within were five head-sized orbs of stone, which Sassy recognized from her studies: the Elements of Harmony.

Next to Limestone was Twilight, who gave Rarity the barest hint of a smile. “Trust is hard to come by when you cross sides as much as we do. I’ll be honest, I’ve had doubts about this whole plan from the beginning, even up to now. But finding the Elements here, now, just as you told us, speaks volumes about your trustworthiness. So before we get started with the rest of this, I have something of yours that I’d like to give back to you.”

Twilight lit her horn and brought a small, corked glass jar out from the depths of her cloak. Floating in the midst of it was an image of Rarity’s three-diamond cutie mark.

The cork lit up in her magic and popped out. Then Twilight’s horn flared, and there was a flash by Rarity’s flank, and the jar was suddenly empty.

Rarity staggered to the side. Lord Rich held out hooves to catch and steady her. “Oh, th… thank you. All of you,” Rarity said, sighing and smiling deeply. Then she bent her head around to look at the mark, and wiped at it with a hoof. Sassy watched with confusion as some kind of blue paint smeared around on Rarity’s flank, smudging her cutie mark but not fully obscuring it. Regardless of the curious ritual, Rarity sighed again, and seemed to choke up, as if she was holding back a large sob.

“Oooh!” Blueblood called from nearby. Sassy turned her head, seeing him raising the protective glass case that covered a pair of heavy brass goggles with his magic. “Hey, get a look at these babies!” He lifted them in his hoof, and angled them toward his head—

“Stop!” Twilight shouted. “These are ancient artifacts of untold power! There’s no way of knowing what those goggles might do without further study!”

“Killjoy,” Blueblood said, sticking his tongue out at her as he set them back down on their stand. “So Twiggy, when are you gonna help me get in touch with my second head so we can make the magic happen?”

“Pig,” Twilight muttered, turning away.

Limestone stepped between them, glaring at Blueblood. “You will treat her with respect, or I will ask her to connect with the head in your place. Do you understand?”

“Oh, fine.”

After holding Blueblood’s gaze for a few moments past what Sassy felt must be comfortable, Limestone turned back to Twilight. “C’mon, you’d better get started.”

Twilight nodded, planted her hooves, then lit her horn in brilliant, blazing purple. And Sassy’s jaw grew slack as she watched Twilight quickly cast a series of spells with dizzyingly complex weaves that defied anything she could map back onto her own magical experience. It was enough for Sassy to simply watch Twilight’s masterful performance, and to try to ignore the tingles of static and other, more ephemeral feelings that washed over her as spell after spell settled over the chamber.

As the series ended, Twilight staggered. Limestone was at her side in an instant, catching her before studying the gaunt, exhausted look on Twilight’s face.

“Are you all right?” Limestone asked.

Twilight nodded in reply, and waved her away, gesturing back toward the display case with the Elements. Sassy watched as Limestone stepped up to the case, reared-up on her hind hooves, and drew back with a heavy punch that shattered its glass. Then she turned to address the room: “We’ve gone too far to turn back now. Our movements have been seen by too many others. And the Nightmare will take notice of what’s happening up in Canterlot sooner, not later. We’ve talked through the couple of scenarios that would lead us to abort the mission, but with Twilight’s wards in place, there’s not much that can go wrong outside of Tartarus. So: candidate bearers, step forward; everypony else, get ready! We go down and seize the sixth Element now, or we die trying!”

The group barked their affirmation, or signified it by raising their weapons. At least, all those who must be with the Resistance did so. Sassy noted that this turned out to be all but a dozen of them, which surprised her—she’d been certain that there had been a stronger representation of the Governor’s ponies amongst their number when they started. But her mind played back what details she could recall of their descent down the mountain, and she vaguely remembered a few moments when they’d stopped and certain members of the group had broken off. She hadn’t been offered an explanation after they returned; neither had she asked for one. She’d simply assumed they were the same ponies returning as had departed, though the full-length livery and face-enclosing helmets on most of them made it impossible to be sure.

“They must’ve been swapping out the Governor’s ponies for more Resistance members,” Sassy thought aloud, letting her attention wander as the stone orbs were removed from the shattered display case and hoofed out to several of the liveried ponies. “They didn’t want the party to be too big, but there were certain ponies whom they wanted to include in it…”

Sassy continued to pick at the thought as she watched the ponies around her make various preparations for their descent into Tartarus. Rarity and Rainbow Dash moved toward the long set of smaller wall-safes keyring-first, presumably to retrieve the Hellshard. Twilight and Blueblood huddled together with lit horns over the disquieting stone head that had been brought from Blueblood’s desk. And Limestone moved through the great vault at a canter, forming-up the gathered ponies with weapons drawn, all facing one of the less-adorned side walls of the great vault. Sassy guessed that this must be where Twilight intended to open the portal.

“Lord Rich accompanied us,” Sassy said under her breath, still trying to figure out what aspect of the situation was leaving her ill at ease—beyond the very prospect of Tartarus itself. Something about Lord Rich’s presence seemed tied to the feeling, though. She paused and dwelled upon it. As she did so, Rarity returned, holding the Hellshard in her magic. The hair on the back of Sassy’s neck prickled on instinct upon seeing the slick, obsidian, coffin-shaped “key.”

Just then, Sassy realized that Rarity and Lord Rich had something in common: they weren’t wearing the Governor’s uniforms. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated how the Governor’s offer of aid had initially been one of outright military support, but in the end, his true donation to their cause was much more heavily skewed toward the uniforms themselves.

“All right, everypony,” Twilight called to the group, approaching Rarity and taking the Hellshard in her magic. “I expected the head would take a while to wake up, but it was already ready.” She turned a tight-lipped smile on Sassy, and gave her a nod. “Thanks to Sassy Saddles’ instructions, I’m about ninety percent certain that I can activate the Hellshard without suffering any adverse effects. It’s a powerful artifact, though, and it’s usually wielded by an Alicorn, so we shouldn’t dismiss the possibility that I might be overwhelmed. But even if that happens, you should continue the mission as long as my wards hold. And they’re set at a frequency that shouldn’t interfere with your teleport charms, in case we end up needing to execute the contingency plan.”

“Always prepared,” Limestone said, smiling and lightly cuffing Twilight’s shoulder.

“Whoaaaa,” Blueblood vocalized, drawing the group’s attention. He staggered about on his hind legs as if he were drunk or disoriented, and he regarded his outstretched forehooves with an expression that seemed part perplexed, and part surprised. “This feels really weird…”

After sighing loudly and rolling her eyes, Twilight flared her horn again, channeling a steady flow of magic into the Hellshard. Soon, lightning danced across its surface, arcing between it, the floor, and Twilight’s horn. Twilight jerked as the surge intensified, making her gasp and twitch. “S—Stand back, everypony!”

Twilight's back arched. There was a huge burst of electricity that made the air stink of ozone and caused much of the fur on Sassy’s body to stand up straight. Then Sassy watched with the same horrible fascination that she always felt as a crackling silver line appeared before the wall, then rotated, darkened, sank into impossible distance… and at last, the light of fire became visible behind it.

Ponies all around gasped, clearly shocked by the stony, flaming, yet unnaturally dark sight of Tartarus itself laid bare before them. Uncertain shapes writhed in the red light of the middle distance, and eruptions of lava shot forth from mountainous terrain beyond. Almost immediately, a strong wind kicked up, bringing with it the scent of brimstone.

A moment later, a floating, bestial silhouette descended into view on the other side of the portal. Sassy felt her heart flutter at the sight of the Guardian.

But a commotion near the entrance drew Sassy’s eyes away from the portal. Twilight had collapsed on the floor, her horn was no longer lit, and she seemed to be unable to rise, even with Redheart’s and Limestone’s aid.

“Is that… Blueblood, did it go to the right place?” Limestone shouted.

Blueblood took slow, uncertain steps toward the portal. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were fixed on the Guardian. The expression on his face was one of sheer awe.

“Blueblood!”

“N… No,” he said, raising a hoof and gesturing at the portal. All at once, the image behind it shifted to one of pure, raging, white-hot fire. Flames licked out at the room, and the heat gusting forth was so great that the gathered ponies—Sassy among them—all shrieked and ducked for cover.

“Sorry!” he shouted, gesturing again. In an instant, the heat faded into something uncomfortable but bearable. And the landscape shifted as well. It was no longer full of fire, but of bleak brown stone beneath an angry red sky that roiled with clouds of acrid oranges and yellows.

It was also full of cages.

They were of many shapes and sizes. Some were empty, but others held strange and otherworldly things that gibbered and barked and made Sassy’s eyes hurt to look upon them. And so she tried not to, and instead found herself focusing on the cage nearest the portal entrance. Sassy couldn’t quite make out the shape within, but it seemed small and inert.

Rarity gasped. “That must be the sixth Element!”

Limestone left Twilight’s side and walked up next to Blueblood. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Hm?” Blueblood seemed almost surprised that she’d spoken to him. “Oh, um, sorry. Right. Uhh…” He quickly turned his head back toward the group of liveried ponies. “This… I think this is it. “

The form in the cage moved.

“No, that can’t be right,” Limestone said. “Blueblood, we’re looking for the last cage that something of immense power ended up in.”

He turned wide eyes at her, then glanced back at the others again. “Um, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s it. Are we still, ah…?”

Limestone followed his gaze with a confused glare. “What are you looking for?!”

“Isn’t that just one of life’s great questions?” shouted a high, intense male voice from the back of the group. “What are any of us really looking for, in the end?”

Sassy’s eyes went wide with shock, and she gasped, as she recognized the voice of her shadowy attacker from Blueblood’s mansion. But the effect of his voice on the rest of the group was even more drastic. Multiple ponies immediately started shouting words like “Contingency!” and “Abort!” while others whirled to and fro, brandishing their weapons, seemingly seeking the voice’s source.

Amid the group, one pony hoofed out their teleport charm and activated it, disappearing in a flash of blue light.

“Wait wait wait!” shouted the voice again. Sassy turned and saw a seemingly random, helmeted guard holding up a glowing, silvery, egg-shaped charm his forehooves. “You gotta stick around and let me finish the joke! It’s… Blueblood, do your line.”

Sassy saw Limestone’s expression darken into full-on rage. Limestone whirled on Blueblood with flaring nostrils and hammered a hoof into his barrel, knocking him prone. “NO! How could you sell our chance to save the world to the likes of this monster?!” But despite the strong and angry mare bearing down on him, Blueblood merely stared with fascination at the portal, and at the starless, crimson sky beyond.

Meanwhile, other ponies in the group hoofed out their teleport charms and activated them—but this time, instead of yielding a flash of blue, the effect was more like a shower of black bubbles banded with purplish distortions that overtook their bodies.

Sassy stood aghast as the ponies attempting to teleport shrieked wordlessly, thrashed about seemingly in pain, and dissolved into nothingness.

“Blueblood?!” The attacker ducked a Resistance-pony’s spear thrust, swept their legs out from under them, grabbed the spear, then skewered another Resistance member in mid-charge. “Blueblood! C’mon, you’re killin’ me here!”

“Twilight!” Limestone left Blueblood’s side, dashed back to Twilight, and began slapping her unconscious face. “Twilight, it’s him—and whatever he’s doing is disrupting the teleporters!”

The attacker punched two more Resistance members to the ground, then shook his helmeted head. “All right, fine. I guess we don’t have to go off the joke we talked about. So much for the big dramatic moment…”

He turned his back to Sassy and began fiddling with a pouch at the side of his livery. Seeing an opportunity, Sassy took off at a gallop toward him, shouldering other ponies aside as she went. But as she was about to leap and try to tackle him, he jerked a hoof—

There was a loud bang, a bright flash, and Sassy’s momentum faltered as everything suddenly went green. Sassy felt fire in her eyes and lungs as they were filled with a stinging smoke, which poured through the not particularly well-ventilated room instantly, engulfing everypony. She coughed and held a hoof up to her muzzle as the cloying green gas crowded out the air.

But then a new series of screams started.

Ponies everywhere began to shriek and wail as though they were having the life torn from them. Sassy’s pulse raced and her skin prickled as she stumbled forward, coughing violently. Was she suffering from the same effects? Panicked though she was, the pain was manageable—

All at once, she blundered into the back of a pony who had been obscured by the smoke. They turned to face her, shaking and writhing.

Sassy recoiled.

They were melting.

The livery that they were dressed in had pulled tight around them, and it showed pockmarks like acid or some other corrosive substance all over. Beneath those marks, the decay in the livery had transferred to the pony wearing it as well. They shrieked with a muzzle ruined by their helmet, and continued to stagger and flail despite numerous dark rivulets flowing from the angry wounds that wracked their body.

“The uniforms!” Sassy tried to shout, though her voice only came ragged and raspy in the null air.

“Ohhhh, now there’s somepony I’d like to see again,” said the attacker from somewhere in the smoke. His voice seemed almost tinny, somehow, but it was still much clearer than Sassy would’ve expected from somepony stricken by the green gas. “Where’d you go, my second-favorite useful idiot?”

Sassy tried to stay wary for his coming, but another fit of coughing wracked her, and she dropped to the floor, struggling to stay conscious amid her growing lightheadedness.

She spotted a faint glow moving through the gas. It soon resolved itself into the wickedly smiling face of an orange-brown coated pony with a large, curly brown mane—but his head was lit up in some kind of glimmering bubble. And something about his gait seemed off, as if he were walking on only three legs. Sassy’s skin itched with fear; she tried to back away, but bumped up against the wall.

“How ’bout a different joke? Knock knock!” His smile widened into a dark, toothy, humorless rictus, and he held up a knife in one forehoof. Its long blade reflected the glimmering bubble that somehow must’ve been providing him breathable air. “See, now you’re supposed to say, ‘Who’s there?’”

Sassy tried to suck in a breath, but only ended up coughing more forcibly.

“All right, fine! Apparently I have to do everything myself—” He stumbled a few paces in front of her, then stopped and bent down. “Hey, whaddaya know, I’ll take that back. Just gimme a sec here.” He reached down and began working his knife against something shrouded by the thick smoke. “All right, close enough… knock knock,” he said through gritted teeth. “Who’s there? …Cheese.” He winced a bit. “Cheese who?”

He glanced back up at her with harder eyes, and his awful grin took on an evil cast. But then, to Sassy’s horror, he slowly raised a pony’s head in his forehoof. He pointed it toward her and shook it, saying:

“Cheese Sandwich!”
> Chapter 33: The Cage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity hit the floor as her coughing fit took a turn for the worse. Her lungs felt like fire, and her eyes streamed with tears.

Not all of the tears were from the green gas.

She failed to suppress a heavy sob that drew in even more of the noxious gas, causing another great series of coughs that made her feel more and more faint. The physical pain was considerable, but the jagged feelings of her crushed heart wracked her still more greatly. “I trusted you,” she half-moaned through her dry and cracking lips. “What about your poor wife—”

Somewhere in the horrible cacophony surrounding her, Rarity heard a pony cackle with unholy mirth. It was tinny and distorted, but it made her bristle.

She would know that laugh anywhere.

Once more, images of dead and dying ponies replayed through her head. This time, though, they turned hard eyes full of judgment on her even as the light drained out of them. The tightness in Rarity’s chest magnified as the unrelenting tide of memories crashed down on her again, and again, and again.

“No,” she mouthed, forcing her eyes back open. Though they stung and watered, she looked from side to side, trying to catch sight of anypony else from the group, or any clues to where the green-eyed stallion might be lurking in the gas.

Suddenly, a shape passed in front of her. It was dark and uncertain down below, but it had a kind of glimmering brightness at the top. Acting on desperation and instinct, Rarity raised a hoof and grabbed at the figure, clutching a hoofful of their cloak’s thick fabric. Then she pulled with all of her adrenaline-fueled might, bringing the acutely surprised face of a lilac-colored unicorn with a glowing horn and a sphere of magical light encircling her head down into view.

Rarity met the unicorn’s wide blue eyes, and briefly noted their tall, purplish-blue, aqua-streaked mane. She didn’t recognize the unicorn. So she made a snap decision, bringing her other forehoof up into the pony’s jaw as hard as she could, pushing up off her hind legs to add even more weight to the blow.

The pony lurched backwards, their hornglow went out, and the glimmering bubble that had encircled their head vanished. They immediately started coughing and choking, just as so many others were. But Rarity maintained her grip on the pony’s cloak and punched them again, drawing a thick stream of bloody spittle from their mouth.

Rarity’s foreleg ached even more than the rest of her body from delivering the heavy blows, so she gritted her teeth and launched horn-first into a headbutt. She saw stars; her grip faltered; her muscles screamed at her for air.

She dropped to her knees, weeping openly at the disaster unfolding around her, as well as the apparent futility of striking the pony she’d waylaid. But mere paces away, that very pony—who was also hacking and struggling under the effects of the oppressive green toxin—reached into her cloak and drew out some kind of long, strange tube.

She raised it high. There was a flash. Then the gas began to stream out of the room, and into the tube.

Rarity’s pulse continued hammering as she craned her neck on instinct, gasping for the sweetening air around her. Other ponies gasped as well, creating a loud and awful din of a different sort. After several huge breaths, the fog within her mind grew clearer—but the aching heaviness of her muscles seemed to grow immeasurably worse.

Still her tears flowed.

“Why, why, why did you turn off the bubbles?! I’m kinda in the middle of something here!”

Rarity’s breath caught. Out of the clearing haze emerged the traitor himself. Though she’d never seen him without his cloak, she knew him in an instant by the way he moved. It was as if his every muscle had been wound so tightly that the slightest touch might send him leaping for somepony’s throat. At last she could see that he had a coat of brownish-orange, and a mane that was dark-brown and curly. He was disheveled, and spattered with red, but it was the sheer ferocity in his hard green eyes and gritted teeth that made Rarity shiver.

The pony holding the tube aloft rubbed at her bloodied muzzle with her free hoof. “Well, Cheese, you can thank your little friend here for ruining my concentration. Maybe thank her real quick with your knife so we can get this show on the road?”

He turned and looked at Rarity with eyes that were hard as stone.

Then he threw his head back, laughing.

“Isn’t she—Starlight, didn’t I tell you she was magnificent?! Look how well she sold it! She dragged the ponies you wanted revenge on out of their hidey-hole! She set us up to grab the Hellshard with practically no notice! I mean, I know we had to scramble when the whole ‘Alicorn and dragon’ thing popped up, but look how much she managed to get done in practically no time! And even now—choked half to death, confused as can be, and fighting a head full of demons—she’s still trying to do the right thing. Isn’t that so, ‘darling?!’”

“Your wife,” Rarity croaked, her voice deep, scratchy, and horrendously unladylike.

“Ah. Well. I suppose there’s that, isn’t there.” He turned to Starlight with an expression that seemed almost contrite. “I know you’re itching to get on with phase two, but let’s face it: we couldn’t have pulled this off without her. She at least deserves an explanation.” 

“Make it fast,” Starlight said, continuing to rub her muzzle as she put the tube away. Then she turned to a few ponies who still had intact livery, and who were forming up around her; evidently Starlight had been supplying more than just herself and Cheese with bubbles of air. “Drag the unicorns over to me so we can get the feeder process started. Finish off the rest. Blueblood, get back on your hooves! Start reeling in the Guardian, but make sure it doesn’t interfere!”

Cheese trotted up to Rarity, then plopped down on his haunches and lowered his head to her level. Rarity fought revulsion at having his blood-flecked face so close to her own, but feared what he might do if she tried to pull away. His tongue flicked across his lips, and his brows knit in what appeared to be contemplation.

“I didn’t lie about everything,” he said, looking at his hooves. “I lied about a lot, though. Our setup at the Archive was a big risk… but I knew you’d stopped trusting me by that point, and I figured it’d only get worse if I gave you enough time to think everything through. I mean, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have made that joke about Sweetie Drops… who, by the way, was almost a bigger risk. If she’d talked, this whole thing would’ve gone poof. But I had faith that I got her just close enough to death’s door to keep her quiet for a good, long time… oh, and believe me: if I didn’t want you to find her alive, you wouldn’t have. But I just knew that Limestone would go wild for the story of you saving her! Others, too. They sure do like to think that they’re heroes!”

“Whoa, got her attention,” Blueblood said from behind them. Tension crept into his voice as he raised his hooves toward the portal again. “Starlight, the Guardian’s comin’ in fast, and she is really, really peeved!”

“But… but…” Rarity’s head swam with shocking revelation after shocking revelation. Yet one still lay shrouded in mystery: “Your wife?  The… the vision I saw of her?”

“Yeah…” He took a breath. “I told you that I lost my family at Ponyville, and that was mostly true; the only other one who made it was my sourpuss-sister-in-law Limestone, who opted to stay home and tend the rock farm.” He took another, longer, much more ragged breath. “The truth is, I really did lose my wife that day—except she didn’t end up in Tartarus, and I… I didn’t… quite… lose all of her. And I never could let go of what was left.”

Rarity’s jaw worked open as she processed the horror he’d laid out before her.

“A dead mare came into the house,” Diamond Tiara had told them…

Rarity battled to keep her stomach from voiding itself, and forced her eyes back up to meet Cheese’s. His nightmarish countenance was almost physically painful to behold, given the spattering of blood and thick sweat that matted his coat. And yet, as Rarity’s gaze lingered on the corners of his tense, bloodshot eyes, she spotted something that she’d not yet seen from him before—or perhaps only in vague hints.

It was vulnerability.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said quietly, turning his eyes downward again. “Not even Starlight truly understands me.” He chuckled, though the sound was bitter. “She just puts up with me ’cause she needs a lot of work done, and I put up with her ’cause she’s a lot more open to the way I like to do things than the Resistance was.” He shrugged, and shook his head. “She’s pretty naive, though; naive enough to try to strike a deal with Filthy Rich to build the Underground Sun using two of her best and brightest. I never thought it’d end in partnership between her and the Resistance—my money was always on Limestone and Twilight double-crossing her and defecting. And when they did, I was only too happy to help sniff out his backer, and put Starlight in direct touch with Blueblood.”

“But… but what about the sixth Element?” Rarity asked, still sounding husky.

He gave her a half-smile. “I wasn’t lying when I said that Celestia dropped the Elements, or that—from what I’ve read—they need some kind of spark to activate them. But I did lie about how many she had with her. I only saw five, not six.”

“B… But, the Nightmare—”

“Is still gonna die.” His features slowly twisted into a deep, cruel-looking grin. “And it’s still gonna be real soon. See, if there’s one thing that nature abhors, it’s a vacuum… so when some of Blueblood’s ‘supplementary reading’ turned up an all-too-real legend about the biggest and nastiest vacuum that the world’s ever seen, I thought it’d be fun to get one of my own. He’s been called a ‘living weapon,’ ’cause the more he eats, the more his sanity gives way to greater hunger. That is, unless you channel what he sucks in elsewhere…” He turned back toward Starlight, shouting: “Yo, GlimGlam, what gives? I thought you would’ve grabbed him by now!”

Starlight grunted with annoyance but kept her focus on weaving a spell that was directed at the portal. “Dammit—don’t let the Guardian through yet, Blueblood! I just have to work through this interference…” And Blueblood stood stock-still next to Starlight, with his forehooves upraised toward the portal, and an expression of tense, sweat-beading concentration on his face.

“Please don’t do this,” Rarity rasped at Cheese. “You gave me… hope…” She choked up, and her eyes welled with tears once more.

“I know, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry it was all just a bad joke in the end.” He patted her shoulder with a bloodstained hoof. She tried to recoil, but he clutched her in a grip like iron. “Then again, the biggest problem with humor in general is that it’s subjective. It doesn’t matter if I’m laughing, if I’m trying to make somepony else laugh—or even smile—and it isn’t working.” He dropped his voice to the faintest of whispers. “And the only way I’d solve that problem is if nopony else was left...”

A loud crackle and bang heralded the resolution of a teleport spell. Rarity’s eyes flicked toward Starlight, who was bending to open a pony-sized, rusted, wrought-iron cage that had recently been in Tartarus. Next to her, Blueblood was grunting as he kept his shaking forehooves pointed at the portal—and Rarity could see the Guardian’s silhouette pressed close against it from the other side.

Rarity glanced at the cage itself, and felt revulsion at the hunched and desperately emaciated figure within. “What… is that?!” she asked.

Cheese followed her gaze, then smiled and gestured with a hoof. “That would be our little vacuum cleaner.”

“He’s an entity of extreme power who’s older than Equestria, not a vacuum cleaner,” Starlight retorted.

Rarity let her eyes linger on the creature. She recognized it as some kind of centaur, though it looked weak and twisted. It offered minimal resistance as Starlight pulled it bodily from the cage and clasped a long, silvery shackle around its neck.

“Maybe you read about him in some of those books we put in front of ya to make this all look on the level. Or did you miss those ones?” Cheese giggled. “Lady Rarity, say hello to Lord Tirek. Or what’s left of him, anyway.”

The creature turned his sallow eyes toward Cheese. He raised his lip in a sneer, but then was jerked back toward Starlight by the shackle.

“All right, Twilight,” said Starlight. “Time to see how much your power’s grown since you abandoned me.” She pointed at Twilight’s prone figure with a forehoof—and Rarity realized that it also bore a shackle that was connected to the one on Tirek’s neck. Starlight shook the chain, and Tirek opened his mouth. A purple essence flowed up out of the now-screaming form of Twilight, through Tirek’s mouth, into the chain around his neck, and up into Starlight’s body.

There was a thick shout from elsewhere in the room. Rarity turned her head to see Redheart backed against a wall a few dozen paces away, unsteady but snarling at the pair of liveried stallions who approached her. Behind her, on the floor, unconscious, was—

“Rainbow Dash,” Rarity said. She turned her eyes back on Cheese, and raised her hooves to his shoulders. “Please, Mr. Cheese… whatever you’ve done, whatever this Starlight has promised you… we still have the five Elements. We can find the other one and use them! Please, do not let it end this way!”

He turned wide eyes on her hooves, but then composed himself and snickered. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t. I just need a few more things to happen first…”

Directly in front of the portal, Blueblood kept his hooves upraised and quivering, and began shouting in an alien tongue that might just as easily be nonsense as language.

“I do have a little bit of bad news for you, though…”

A little further away, Redheart bellowed again.

“Things are definitely going to get worse before they get better.”





Rainbow Dash felt pressure. So much pressure. Hammering in her head, burning in her lungs, pounding on her chest…

There was—it was an actual pounding, she realized groggily. Her eyes eased open, and she saw the wide-eyed, fast-talking, hard-breathing face of Redheart looking down on her.

She blinked.

Redheart was terrified.

A huge kick of adrenaline shot through Dash, and she hopped up from the floor with a great burst from her wings. She whirled about, finding a wall on one side, a room full of fallen ponies on another, and two guards rushing—

Rainbow Dash reacted. Faster than thought, she hurled herself forehooves-first into the stallion closest to Redheart. She didn’t know why she was slugging one of their allies in the gut again and again, but she figured that if Redheart looked like that, she’d hit first and ask questions later.

She heard the other guard draw a sharp breath behind her. Dash leapt to the side, flared her wings, and used the momentum to spin her hind leg around in a powerful kick. There was a resounding crack as it connected with the pony’s skull.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” called a voice from across the room. “Hey Rain-bone-head! Remember what I said about the next time I had to do this?!”

Rainbow Dash whirled, looking for the pony—

Then a knife hit her square in the chest, punching through a seam in her armor.

She dropped.

Dash’s vision swam with pain and sudden weakness. She gasped for breath, just as she had when the gas struck. This time, though, it came even harder. And wetter. And…

He got… my lung? She couldn’t say it, though. Not as she lay there on the ground, not as Redheart moved into her vision, saying… something. The pain grew worse as Redheart hoofed at Dash’s chest armor, but Dash kept her eyes fixed on Redheart’s muzzle. She was mouthing something. Dash watched, as if she were half in a dream, trying to make out what it could be.

Don’t—

Don’t leave me?

Redheart’s hooves scrabbled over Dash’s face, drawing her focus to the tears streaming down from her eyes. And Dash raised a hoof to touch Redheart’s cheek as well, but felt a pang of regret as it left a stain of bloody crimson on the clean white of her coat.

“Run,” Dash gurgled.

Redheart protested. Vigorously. Dash could see it, though she couldn’t make sense of the words.

“Lost,” she managed, sighing and coughing blood. It was the only word her lips could form, but it barely covered any of her sorrow at having been conned into fighting the Mistress for the benefit of a bunch of evil, crazy ponies. She wanted the chance to see Scootaloo grow up, and to figure out whatever had started going on with Redheart after saving her from Wind Rider. The comfort Dash felt at knowing Scootaloo was out of immediate danger wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the fact that Redheart, Rarity, and all the other brave and decent ponies with them seemed likely to die.

Unless…

There was one option left.  It was desperate, and stupid, and it relied on the good graces of Nightmare Moon herself—which were few and far between. But even if it didn’t work, it still struck Dash that the Mistress’ wrath might not be much worse than what the newcomers were doing anyway; fresh memories of their dissolving allies, and the purple unicorn screaming in agony, steeled her resolve. Still, tears welled in her eyes as she reached down into her armor, working around the knife to find the heavy ring of keys stored safely within.

Dash held the keys up. Redheart’s eyes went even wider. Then her muzzle made it clear that she was shouting “NO!” as she grappled Dash’s hooves.

“I love you,” Dash mouthed, closing her eyes, and throwing the keys.





Sassy groaned. She was on the floor again, her head rang, and her mouth tasted like blood. But she was alive. The last thing she remembered clearly was seeing the attacker standing over her suddenly lose the glowing bubble around his head and become wracked with the effects of the green gas.

She pushed herself up off the ground with as much haste as she could muster… which wasn’t very much, given how her muscles still screamed in protest from the lack of oxygen she’d endured just minutes before. But it was fast enough to let her see a couple things that happened all together very, very quickly.

A guard came at her with an upraised sword.

A large and heavy set of keys hit the floor with a great clatter and racket.

A lilac-colored unicorn standing near the portal, with a strange centaur-creature chained from his neck to her forehoof, screamed.

Then behind them all, the portal twisted, and a huge, dingy yellow figure shot through, trailing an unfathomable streak of pink-orange-plaid energy behind it.

“Rainbow Dash, what have you done?!” shouted the Guardian.
> Chapter 34: Unleashed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity and Cheese both turned their attention toward Starlight, who was screaming and recoiling from the portal, seeming almost to hide behind the weak, impassive Tirek. Then the portal’s surface churned like a pool of water that suddenly had a bucketload of stones dropped into it. 

The Guardian’s barely-equine form came shooting through, trailing a visual cacophony of multi-color-patterned energy. Rarity gasped, both from the shock of seeing it cross the veil, and at its myriad unsettling details that she could finally see as more than just a silhouette. It had a heavy, leathern, yellow hide, and it propelled itself on wings that were thestral-like, but much more ragged, fleshy, and tattered. The sinews flowing down its limbs were gnarled and fearsome, and its claws were long and sickle-like.

“Rainbow Dash, what have you done?!” it bellowed, flying straight toward Dash.

But Starlight recovered quickly, turning her shackled hoof to point at the Guardian—who had landed next to the prone figure of Dash, and seemed to be conjuring a strange pattern of energy over her claws and Dash’s barrel, to the apparent horror of Redheart. “Come on, come on,” Starlight said, alternately striking and adjusting the shackle with her free hoof. “Damn it Blueblood, I told you the feeder process would take a while!”

Cheese’s whole face slid into a tremendous grimace. Rarity followed his gaze to a spot on the ground, and saw the keys—her keys, the Mistress’ keys—lying there.

“Rainbow Dash… has summoned Nightmare Moon,” Rarity said slowly.

Cheese’s eyebrows climbed. “Starliiiiiiight! Looks like we’re gonna get to phase three—”

A lengthy and spectacular stream of many-colored, strangely-patterned energy blazed across the space between the Guardian and Starlight, via Tirek. The Guardian shrieked in otherworldly tones that shook the whole room, and fell onto its back, convulsing in apparent agony. The sound rattled Rarity’s teeth and threatened her eardrums, at least at first—but in time the tones of the Guardian’s shrieking became gradually less soul-shattering, less omnipresent, and more like that of a pony. An oversized and freakish pony whose screams were deep and ragged, but a pony nevertheless.

Soon it was nothing more than a great and twisted pony who lay unconscious and half-sprawled upon Rainbow Dash.

“Did it work?!” Cheese shouted over the din, galloping toward Starlight. “Hey! Are we good to call phase two done, or do you need more? Because it kinda looks like we’re about to get to phase three pretty darn quick!”

Amid the room’s dead and dying, an ill wind stirred…

“Oh yes… I feel his Power,” Starlight said, laughing at the sight of kaleidoscopic lightning dancing over her coat. “We were right all along, Cheese: the Guardian was the embodiment of Discord’s power! All but what was left in the head…” She flexed her shackled foreleg, creating a small globe of bright white sunlight rimmed with more of the strange, unpredictable patterns and hues. Then she laughed at it. “Yes Cheese, bring on Nightmare Moon. I can stop her. I can rule! I—”

Without warning, Cheese lurched toward Starlight. She gave a pained but choking vocalization. Then huge arcs of power began flowing off her body as she stumbled back from him, rolling her eyes, and raising her hooves to paw instinctively at her throat.

A knife hilt protruded from it.

“What did you do?!” Blueblood hollered at him. “Cheese, that was never part of the arrangement! Now who’s gonna wield Discord’s power against the Nightmare—me?! I’m a lover, not a fighter!”

“I’ll answer your question via the dielectric method,” Cheese said, dashing back over to Rarity. “Lady Rarity, do you remember the mugger that we dealt with that one time in the alley?”

The would-be mugger’s fear-filled death throes sprang to mind all too readily. She nodded.

“What choice did I tell you to make as he lay there bleeding out? And why did I tell you to make it?”

Rarity shivered. “P… Pull the knife out,” she whispered. “Because there was… no saving him…”

“Bingo!” Cheese vaulted back across the distance between himself and Starlight, gripped the knife, and—

Rarity looked away, unable to watch it happen. While doing so, she noticed that a stronger wind had kicked-up in the room.

“Say, big guy, can you eat fast? We’re expecting company.”

Rarity glanced back up at Cheese. She found that he’d removed the shackles from both Starlight and Tirek, and was now switching the two ends. 

Tirek raised an eyebrow.

“Take a look around,” Cheese shouted—and Rarity obliged, noticing that Blueblood had retreated from the scene and was in the midst of rounding-up a few of his surviving minions. “In the end, it doesn’t matter who’s running the show these days; not Starlight, not Nightmare Moon, not anypony!” Next to him, Tirek turned his opened jaws toward Starlight, and a thick stream of many-colored energy flowed up into his mouth. “Our sun is gone! Ponies only know lives of suffering! This world is dead! Don't you think it's past time to quit dancing around that fact?!”

“But… your wife,” Rarity said, her pulse pounding. “Even if she is… gone… surely she would’ve disapproved of such madness! Think of all the lives you might snuff out by pitting the Nightmare against such powers as the Guardian had held?”

“I didn’t do this!” Cheese shouted. Rarity could see veins standing out from his neck, and the light of madness in his eyes. “I didn’t kill it! I didn’t take the world’s light away! I didn’t take your family away, or mine, or…she did! I can’t stand to live this way anymore! To see other ponies living like this! We all know it’s broken beyond repair, so why doesn’t somepony just go and finish the job!”

The wind whipped around them, faster and faster.

“Governor Blueblood!”

It was Sassy’s voice. Rarity’s heart leapt as she saw Sassy staggering toward Blueblood. “Order your stallions to gather the Elements and help us save who we can,” Sassy commanded. “We must flee before Nightmare Moon arrives. She'll kill everypony here!”

“Speak for yourself, little miss traitor-pants,” Blueblood said. “I don’t know about you, but I plan to end up looking like I'm trying to stop all this nonsense.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Unless you’ve had a very sudden, very sexy change of heart?”

There was a bestial roar from next to the portal, drawing everypony’s eyes. Tirek, still drinking deep from Starlight's fading power, was growing. He snarled like an animal while new musculature rippled over his frame. His stature swelled manifold, and his teeth and fingernails grew into menacing, scythe-like fangs and claws. Soon he grew large enough to find himself pushing into the space where his cage had been deposited, so he gripped it, hurled it aside—

Only for it to land upon Limestone’s unconscious figure, crushing her.

Fresh sobs wracked Rarity. But not far away, she heard Cheese cackle like a maniac.

And still the wind whipped harder all around them.

“Nightmare Moon’s not all we have to worry about!” Sassy shouted, gripping Blueblood’s shoulders. “Order your stallions to help us, or my last deed on this earth will be to cave your skull in!”

Blueblood bit his lip and regarded Tirek and Cheese. “Alright guys, change of plans! You two, go and gather up the Elements! Fat guy and short guy—yeah, you heard me!—go get the helllloooooo nurse and her colorful friend. Everypony else, give us some cover from the literal monsters over there!”

Rarity froze.

Or, perhaps at that moment she realized that she had been frozen for some time—just like she’d been when Ponyville fell… and just like she’d been when faced with the choice to pull a knife out of a mugger’s throat.

A feeling of impotent terror overtook her gut as she glanced over at Redheart, who was trying to disentangle Dash from the Guardian. Things began to move in slow-motion for Rarity’s adrenaline-saturated mind, creating the illusion of dilated time. She watched as Redheart bristled at two of Blueblood’s stallions who had trotted over to her. Rarity wanted to rush forward and assist, but couldn’t; her mind was dull and icy, and her hooves seemed unwiling to follow her commands.

She wanted desperately to do something, but held motionless until a gasp from Sassy drew her eyes. “We’re too late!” Sassy shouted, pointing towards the portal. “Everypony, GO!”

Rarity turned her gaze and followed where Sassy was pointing, only to see a second portal forming next to the one leading to Tartarus. The new one manifested as a twisted, warping haze floating in midair. And from it, moments later, there emerged a night-swathed form that seemed to suck the vault’s already dim light into black—a large, powerful, terror-inspiring figure with eyes of blazing power, and razor-sharp, bared teeth: Nightmare Moon.

Before her, still devouring a tide of energy from the ever-diminishing remains of Starlight, hunched the crimson, hulking, now impossibly muscular figure of Tirek, whose body had grown perilously close to room-height.

“What is this treachery?” intoned the Nightmare. “Overseer Saddles? Seneschal Rarity?! What in the name of all that—”

Tirek glanced up from his repast with glowing yellow eyes, then howled and leapt at Nightmare Moon claws-first. The dark Mistress gave an earsplitting scream as the pair slammed into the room’s side wall hard enough to shake the structure and send stones showering down from the ceiling above them.

“Rarity! Dammit Rarity, move!”

A slap across Rarity’s muzzle drew her attention to Sassy, who was trying to pull her towards the door. Several liveried stallions ran past them, alternately carrying or dragging ponies whom her overwhelmed senses refused to identify.

But Cheese moved to block Blueblood and his stallions from rushing to exit the room. He easily parried several panicked sword thrusts before cutting two of Blueblood’s minions down with his already blood-stained knife. Then he advanced slowly, driving everypony away from the exit. “Oh, no, you can’t leave yet; you’ll miss the best part!” He raised the knife, as if to throw it. “You ever hear the joke about the balloon that goes pop?”

Before anypony could answer, Tirek’s cage came hurtling across the room and landed on Cheese, driving him to the floor.

“I have,” Limestone said, limping towards the group. One of her eyes was swollen almost shut, and she was covered with numerous small abrasions and cuts, but she bore a look of absolute determination on her muzzle. “When you told it to our family, it kinda fell flat.”

The floor shook again amid the loud, stone-crushing conflict taking place mere paces away. Rarity turned dull eyes on the spectacle of Nightmare Moon dodging through the confined space near the portals, trying to evade the immense, pony-sized fists of Tirek, who had to squat to prevent his horns from scraping the ceiling while he moved about the room. The Nightmare fired a potent-looking blast of darkling energy, but Tirek merely opened his jaws, sucked it up, then laughed at her.

“Get out of here,” Limestone said to the others as she watched the cage begin to rise from the floor. “That cage is lighter than it looks. You go; I’ll hold him here.”

“Filthy,” Rarity uttered, half in a daze, as Sassy heaved her into motion. “D… Do you have Filthy?”

Sassy looked ahead to Blueblood and company, who were making a quick exit around the now-rocking cage. “I don’t know! Blueblood, did you get the Elements?”

“We’ve got two out of three—er, four out of six,” Blueblood shouted from the doorway. “And that ain’t bad!”

Something heavy pushed against Rarity’s side. After recovering her footing, she turned and saw that Redheart had stumbled in her struggle to carry… the Guardian to the door. Redheart met Rarity’s gaze with something like a nervous grin. “Rarity, you won’t believe who the Guardian—”

The cage lifted shakily into the air. “Hey, Limey, I know you’ve got a crush on me, but I’m taken… so here’s the dowry… back!” He grunted, then hurled the cage at Limestone. She tried to dodge it, but was clipped on her hind legs, and she ended up being knocked through the remains of a display case.

Just then, Tirek grasped one of Nightmare Moon’s hind legs and swung her through a pillar and into the cage, obliterating it with a loud crash.

“Hey!” Cheese shouted at Tirek, who completely ignored him and pounced at Nightmare Moon again. “I was using that!”

Limestone rose to her hooves, seemingly ignoring the glass shards and blood that bespeckled her hide. She pointed a hoof at Cheese. “Let’s end this.”

“You want to end it, sister?” He flipped the bloodied knife in his hoof. “Or are you gonna help your friends escape? Not that it’ll matter once the big guy’s done with ’em,” he said, gesturing to the ever-growing Tirek.

Rarity was dragged around Cheese’s back side by Sassy. But Limestone made no effort to follow them, instead turning her gaze back towards Cheese. “I’m right where I want to be. I’m doing what I want to do. And right now, I’m gonna make you pay for what you did to Pinkie, you miserable son of a bitch!” She launched herself at Cheese with a look of death in her eyes.

“Fly, my shadows!” keened the Nightmare from behind them.

Rarity’s gait faltered mere hoofsteps from the door as Limestone tackled Cheese across her path, separating her from Sassy. Then Rarity glanced back with horror at the darkly crackling forms bursting from Nightmare Moon’s sides.

No, not again…

Her blood turned to ice. She expected to see them carve a bloody swath through Tirek, followed by the survivors, and ultimately herself.

She did not expect to see Tirek thrust powerful, tree-trunk-width arms toward them, grasp them by their throats, then pull their sparking, yet somehow still night-dark, figures toward his waiting jaws. He bit down on each in turn, tearing great gouges in the shadowy essence comprising their necks, and sending twin effusions of dark energy gushing down over his teeth and claws.

Nightmare Moon fell to her knees, screaming incoherently and clutching at her head.

Rarity froze amid the panic that eclipsed her senses. Time seemed to stretch itself out into infinity, while all ambient noise was drowned out by the sound of her own frenzied heartbeat. She could see everything, if only in a daze.

The Nightmare thrashed about on the ground.

The shadowforms flailed in Tirek’s grasp as he drained the very essence from them.

Limestone landed a blow of rock-shattering force on Cheese’s face.

The dust falling from the ceiling seemed almost to be suspended in the air.

Even a large chunk of masonry that was descending from the ceiling did so with a casual, even lethargic slowness.

But then, everything happened at once.

There was a flash of movement from Cheese, and Limestone ceased her pummeling. She reached a forehoof to clumsily paw at the knife hilt that protruded from her chest…

Tirek drank deep of the shadow-forms’ energy, and roared, and grew. His frame bulked-up amid a rush of darkling shadows to the point where the room could only just contain it. Stones ground to dust beneath his immense hooves, and the whole floor trembled from his growing mass. He cast the drained shadows aside, leaving them to dwindle into nothingness—and reached for Nightmare Moon herself, who was now powerless to stop him from grasping her whole barrel tightly in one of his huge claws.

He raised the Nightmare high, and smashed her down onto the ground with a force that shook the room again. Then he dragged her toward the portal to Tartarus, and shoved her partway through it, letting her head and neck rest upon the cracked brimstone.

Tirek laughed, raised his other fist high, then smashed not only the Hellshard, but the stone floor underneath it. And the hell-portal winked out in an instant… with Nightmare Moon’s head still on the other side.

Rarity averted her eyes from the grisly aftermath. In looking down, though, she spotted an all-too familiar figure lying amid a cluster of shattered display cases.

“F—Filthy?!”

Rarity’s jaw hung slack as she surveyed the awful lacerations on his barrel, and the large piece of collapsed stone lying across his back legs. It looked like he’d fallen through several of the display cases, and then had part of the ceiling cave in on him.

His bloodshot eyes fluttered open, meeting with hers. “R… Rarity,” he choked, blood trickling from his mouth. He reached up toward her with something in his outstretched forehoof.

It was a stone orb—no, an Element of Harmony.

Filthy’s eyes took on a glassy sheen as he raised the Element higher again. “Please, my love—” He coughed blood onto the ground, and his strength gave out, dropping both the orb and his head to the cold stone floor. And with another long exhale, Filthy Rich’s barrel ceased to move. His pleading eyes remained locked on her, death having made him a monument to his own last request.

Rarity found herself not only unable to move, but also deadlocked by the complete inability of her mind to continue processing what she beheld. She’d already been gripped with frozen shock mere moments before; now she found herself unable to manifest any more tears, nor indeed any more feeling than she’d already expressed. It was as if a piece of her died as Filthy Rich did, and she left it behind with his body as she felt herself being pulled again, this time much more forcefully, by two of Blueblood’s stallions.

They crossed the threshold of the vault, then the landing, and were beginning down the lengthy spiral staircase, before Rarity’s mind caught back up with her. She’d borne witness to the cruel and unnecessary passing of the one stallion who’d brought her comfort in this night-beshadowed world... and the full shock of it hit her, along with the gravity of his dying wish.

She gasped, and lit her horn, reaching out desperately, hoping to pluck the Element from the debris that it had fallen in.

All at once, she could feel it with her magic. She tried to lift it, and found it was far heavier than she expected. Yet Rarity managed to levitate it out from the vault just before the door swung closed, and brought it down toward herself.

“What the—that’s the fifth Element!” Sassy shouted from lower on the stairs. Rarity glanced down, seeing strain on Sassy’s face, and realized that Sassy was supporting both Rainbow Dash and the four other Elements in her magic.

“I… I can help somepony,” Rarity said, her mind at last seemingly able to set its frozenness aside and sync-up with the events unfolding around her. Still, her sense of numbness remained.

“Help Redheart!” Sassy called.

Rarity shrugged off the stallions who’d been supporting her, and cantered down the stone steps, seeking Redheart. Soon she caught up with her. Despite possessing earth pony strength, Redheart seemed to be struggling under the Guardian’s considerable weight.

“Do you need a hoof?” Rarity asked.

“Wouldn’t say no,” Redheart grunted.

Rarity shuffled under the Guardian’s other foreleg, taking care to avoid its long, low-hanging claws, even though that brought her into contact with the creature’s patchy coat of yellow fur and thin, dirtied, but distinctly pink vestige of a mane. She strained to be of much help carrying the Guardian, but together she and Redheart did make faster progress down the stairs.

A massive tremor wracked the building, causing Rarity and Redheart both to stumble. Small bits of dust shook loose from the stonework around them.

“We aren’t gonna make it, are we?” Redheart asked quietly. “Tirek’s getting too big for the tower to hold him… the whole damn place is gonna come down, isn’t it?”

Rarity’s eyes flicked to the Element that she held in her magic. “Everypony,” she shouted. Heads turned towards her. “Everypony, Doctor Redheart has just made an excellent point… Tirek continues to grow, and we’re not moving fast enough to escape the tower. If we could use the Elements to stop him, there may yet be a chance!”

“But we’re missing one!” shouted Sassy from below.

The cold dose of reality made Rarity’s stomach sink. “Yes, but… Cheese told me that the sixth was hidden, that it needed some kind of spark to activate it… or perhaps, I wonder… to make it appear?”

“Wait a minute,” Redheart said. “What kind of spark?”

“I’ve no idea… do you know?”

“Sounds like something I read about recently,” Sassy shouted, interrupting them. “Like the Elements are dormant unless exposed to some kind of unique and powerful magic that helps bind them together.” Rarity saw her glance over the edge briefly, down toward where Blueblood led a pair of stallions who were carrying the unconscious figure of Twilight. “I figured that Twilight would be the pony with the knowledge and power to make that happen, though!”

“There must be something else that we can use in her stead,” Rarity said. “We mustn’t let them fail us as they failed Celestia, when their power surely could’ve kept the world from ending up as this… this… light-forsaken anomaly!”

Redheart’s mouth worked open in a look of sudden realization. “Zecora’s journal! Rarity… that’s it! She wrote about the world being wrong somehow… about ‘The Rainbow that will never be!’ And Rainbow Dash, she…” Redheart choked up and wailed: “Oh Celestia! Rainbow Dash, you stupid, beautiful idiot, you must’ve come so close—”

Once again, a tremor reverberated through the stairs, this time accompanied by much, much louder sounds of crushing rock and metal under tension.

Redheart misstepped and lost her balance. Rarity grunted and stumbled, trying to keep both herself and the Guardian upright while Redheart recovered. “Do you mean to say that Rainbow Dash knows how to activate them?”

“She wouldn’t know how,” Redheart choked through tears. “But the spark… I think… it might be a Sonic Rainboom!”

“That’s just a legend!” Sassy shouted from below, glancing briefly at her burden before shaking her head. “Besides, with all the blood she’s lost, I don’t think she’ll be doing any normal aerial maneuvers anytime soon, much less impossible ones! And that’s if she even lives!”

“Maybe, but I think the spell that Fl—”

Suddenly, Rarity’s whole world bucked and thundered amid a torrent of shattering stone. Her magic blinked out from her sheer surprise at its suddenness and magnitude, and she took what little cover she could by pressing against the tower’s wall.

Then she heard Sassy scream, and Rarity peered over the edge just in time to see four of the Elements falling into space.

Despite her uncertainty about where the Element that Filthy had given her was, Rarity hastily re-lit her horn and reached with desperation for the four that she could see. She caught them, but they pulled heavily enough in her magical grasp that she ended up skidding right up to the stair’s edge before stopping.

Rarity caught sight of the fifth Element tumbling down the stairs, and shouted: “Sassy! Catch it!”

Sassy turned her head, lit her horn, and caught it. But then she staggered backwards a few steps, straining to keep her hooves planted. “Rarity?!” she shouted, her voice thick with trepidation. “Rarity, what’s it doing?!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Sassy’s teeth clenched with concentration. “I’m not catching it… I’m holding it back! It’s like it’s trying to get closer to me!”

A humongous roar reached them from above, but Rarity focused her attention on the four orbs in her grasp. Buried deep beneath the feeling of heaviness in her magic, Rarity could detect a faint pull coming from each of them, as if they were not merely succumbing to gravity, but trying to bring her closer.

There was a rending sound like an explosion from above, and the rumbling unsteadiness in the stone stairs grew harder to ignore. Dust rained down seemingly from everywhere.

“Look, Elements or no Elements, the tower’s collapsing!” Sassy shouted. “Can anypony teleport us out of here?!”

“I can’t,” Rarity said.

“Blueblood?”

“I think Discord might be able to, but he’s too busy freakin’ out right now!”

“All right then, everypony cluster together! Unicorns, combine our magic—form a protective shield!”

“That’s your plan?!” Redheart shouted.

“Best I can do on short notice! Now, MOVE!”

Rarity heard Blueblood grumble as he and his stallions turned and made their way back up the shaking and unsteady stairs. Rarity and Redheart descended to where Sassy was waiting with Dash. All of the survivors soon met, and the conscious unicorns put their horns together. Sassy started the spell despite still keeping the Element at bay, Blueblood and one of his unicorn minions joined it, then Rarity poured everything she had into it. Soon a glowing, scintillating sphere formed up around them.

In a heartbeat, the shaking grew so intense that the lot of them fell from their hooves, landing in a tangle of conscious and unconscious ponies alike. The magical sphere held fast around them, though, and moved with them as they began to roll—

The stone stairs shattered underneath the sphere. Ponies screamed. They plummeted down to the next level in the spiral, which the sphere bounced off with a heavy and almost metallic clang. All the while, Rarity knocked about the sphere’s insides, being flung into other ponies, rolling with them, being hit by tumbling bodies and chaotically flying stone Elements alike, and losing track of which way was up as the sphere continued rolling.

The sphere dropped sharply again, tumbling down through huge sheets of collapsing stone. Hollering and curses echoed all around the sphere, and something hit the side of Rarity’s head, lighting up her consciousness with pain. And just when she thought that the sphere might be slowing, it bucked violently again, further agitating the great mass of equine flesh. Rarity caught only a fleeting glimpse of their surroundings as she continued tumbling, but it struck her that they seemed to be somewhere approaching ground level—

The sphere finally slammed to a halt, and everypony jostled into each other. Blueblood’s head hit the ground, hard. His hornglow faded in an instant. Both Rarity and Sassy followed suit, allowing the sphere to dissipate. But without it holding them in, the group all spilled out onto the ground in a great, groaning heap.

Something else knocked against Rarity’s horn. She let her eyes flutter open and saw one of the stone orbs floating—she blinked, confirming it was floating—a short distance above her muzzle. It glowed in a faint but visible hue of white energy.

She reached her hoof up to touch it, and it dissipated in a burst of light.

Rarity inhaled sharply. A new feeling of vitality flooded her barrel, and she blinked out the grogginess and disorientation of her ordeal. She sat up and looked around at the others. Nopony seemed unduly worse for wear, though Twilight, Blueblood, and several of his minions all seemed to be out cold.

Then she turned and felt her jaw go slack as she regarded the huge section of collapsed tower that they’d recently been in. The stairs and walls and ramparts and ceiling just a few dozen paces away had all caved in and lay in great, scattered mounds of stone. Dust and smoke hung heavy in the air.

Sassy and Redheart sat up as well, each appearing much more bright-eyed than Rarity would’ve expected.

“Was that—” Sassy started.

“—an Element?” Redheart finished.

Rarity studied the twin expressions of wide-eyed awe on their faces. Bruised and battered though they were, they both seemed remarkably alert.

“I didn’t think they’d activate without the Rainboom,” Redheart said, furrowing her brow.

“Perhaps they haven’t,” Rarity said. “Perhaps… they’re merely awakening. Whatever they might do… I have to think would be grander than merely reviving us?”

“That makes sense,” Sassy said, touching a hoof to her chest and frowning. “I don’t understand why one would choose me, though. I think it’s… Honesty?”

“I think that I’ve got Loyalty…” Redheart winced. “Agh, it feels weird, though! It’s like it doesn’t… like I shouldn’t…”

“What, dear?” Rarity asked.

Redheart shook her head, then bent down and started trying to disentangle the other survivors from Rainbow Dash. “I… I don’t know how to put it into words. It’s like… this feeling that I shouldn’t have it. Like it’s supposed to be—”

“Somepony else’s,” Sassy said, pressing her hoof even more strongly into her chest. “I feel it too, but I don’t know what it means. What about you, Rarity?”

Rarity closed her eyes, relaxed her breathing, and let herself concentrate on a new and comforting feeling of warmth that seemed to radiate from within her. It was peace, Harmony—

“Generosity,” Rarity whispered, before meeting their eyes again. “I can’t say how I know, nor why it would choose me, but it is surely Generosity. Though, I’m sorry… I believe it feels… fine?”

There was a stirring from within the pile of ponies next to them. The Guardian pushed up on her foreclaws, raising a face with twisted features toward Rarity, who recoiled on instinct at seeing its great wound-like maw so close to her own. But then the Guardian made a small choking sound and hid her face behind heavy, scabby, razor-clawed forelegs. Rarity felt it was incredibly out-of-place to behold such a creature experiencing fear, rather than causing it.

“Don’t look at me!” howled the Guardian. Though still deep and distorted, her voice was much more equine than before.

“There wasn’t time earlier,” Redheart said, touching Rarity’s shoulder. “But I was trying to tell you that the Guardian… is Fluttershy.”

Rarity’s jaw fell, and she raised a hoof to cover her open mouth. The twisted resemblance was clear now that she knew to look for it. The Guardian—Fluttershy—still had yellow hair, and a pink mane and tail. Clusters of pink hair hung from her haunches, showing where her cutie mark must be. And her limbs were still quite long, though they’d been bulked-up with thick muscle as well.

Fluttershy wrapped her great, tattered wings around herself. “Please, don’t look at me… I didn’t want you to have to see me like this. I just couldn’t let Rainbow Dash do what she did without trying to save her! Oh, Rarity… what that centaur did is awful. I can’t feel Discord anymore! And now this Element of Kindness… did he… is he… oh, goodness—”

Rainbow Dash coughed.

Rarity immediately tore her eyes away from Fluttershy. Yet Redheart moved quicker, shoving aside a couple of Blueblood’s minions who had fallen upon Dash. Once she was clear, Redheart began running her hooves over what remained of Dash’s bloodied armor, looking for its clasps. Rarity watched Redheart remove the armor’s chestpiece, then hoof the bloody fabric below it aside, seeking a knife-wound that was no longer there.

In its place was a mass of furless scar tissue; the skin was whole, but puckered in appearance.

“H… Hey there,” Redheart said, running a hoof through Dash’s mane and barely stifling a sob. “Rainbow! Rainbow, can you hear me?”

“Uuuughh,” Dash groaned. “What happened?”

Fluttershy’s face twisted into misshapen smile. “Rainbow Dash! Oh, thank Celestia, the spell worked! Chaos magic’s not the best at healing…” She lunged toward Dash, who recoiled at the sight of a monster closing in on her.

“Gaaah! Redheart! Rarity! What is that thing?!”

“Not what,” Rarity said, “but whom. It’s Fluttershy, dear.”

Fluttershy turned turned away from Dash, hunching her shoulders. Dash simply gaped.

“It…” Dash wetted her lips. “No.”

Fluttershy nodded, covering her face with her claws.

Dash studied the figure with barely contained horror. “Shy… what happened to you?

“Discord.” Fluttershy said the word softly, but with finality. “Nightmare Moon tried to destroy him when she returned, but I don’t think that’s even possible. She sent most of his essence to Tartarus, though. He was lost, confused…” She took a long breath. “Insane with anger. And still very, very powerful.”

“What did he do to you?!” Dash flared her bat wings and made to hop up into the air, but was stopped by Redheart, who gave her a plaintive look.

“It wasn’t like that,” Fluttershy continued. “I saw that he was hurt, and I tried to reach out to him. He was a soul without a mind, or body, and I… we… made a deal.”

Dash swallowed. “What kind of deal?”

“He let me put ponies into stasis sometimes, and thought it was funny to make Nightmare Moon let me send back as many ponies as she would send in. But after we joined, he changed… me, sometimes. And I never could stop him from ‘redecorating’ Tartarus.”

“Oh, Shy…” Dash’s eyes welled with tears, and Redheart hugged her.

Fluttershy gestured at the pair. “It looks like we’ve both made sacrifices to survive… and maybe found somepony we didn’t expect along the way.”

Before Dash could respond, a gargantuan, near-deafening roar sounded from the nearby ruins of the tower. All present and conscious turned and gaped at the titanic figure drawing himself up slowly to a height that stretched well above the castle walls. Then he struck with unstoppable force, muscling his way through what remained of the adjoining wall that had recently supported the tower. Where his red and black claws swept, it left only shattered masonry in its wake. Below, Rarity could see dark, cracked hooves as wide as castle doors stomping down, shaking the earth around them. And above, Rarity saw black static crackling all around his eyes and jaws, accompanied by ever-changing patterns of writhing shadows dancing across his hide.

“Tirek has consumed the powers of Twilight, Starlight, Discord… and Nightmare Moon,” Rarity said, near-breathless from the weight of each name pressing down on her.

“Ohmigosh…” Dash said. “What are we gonna do—we can’t fight that, it’ll squash us like bugs!”

Rarity and Redheart met eyes, and Redheart nodded. “Darling,” Rarity said, “we all were talking just now about… a spark. A rainbow of immense power. Something that might fully activate the Elements?”

“A Sonic Rainboom,” Redheart added, touching a hoof to Dash’s cheek. “I know you can do it.”

But Dash recoiled, and her eyes went wide. “You’re crazy! Yeah, I might’ve felt something like that when I was fighting Wind Rider, but this…” She turned a grimace toward Tirek. “There’s no way I can stop something like that by flying fast! It’s impossible!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Fluttershy shouted, raising a clawed appendage to point at her. “Did you think it was impossible that you’d see Scootaloo again? Or me? If there was ever a time to try the impossible, this is it! Scootaloo would believe in you, Nurse Redheart surely believes in you, and I do too. Please!”

“It’s ‘Doctor,’” Redheart interjected. “Otherwise, yeah absolutely.”

“But I…” Dash turned a plaintive expression at Rarity. “I mean, what’s even the plan? I do the Rainboom, and then… what?”

Rarity glanced down, spotting one remaining Element lying in the tangle of Blueblood and his minions: Laughter. “The Elements are awakening,” she said. “But we have no hope to wield them unless we can bring forth the sixth. If the Rainboom might give us the spark needed to do so, then perhaps the Elements themselves will show us what to do afterward?”

“That sounds plausible,” Sassy said, nodding. “At least, based on what I read…”

Dash bit her lip again and glanced back at Redheart. Then she slowly turned her gaze toward Fluttershy, and took a few steps toward her.

The two embraced.

“Ohmigosh, Fluttershy! Take it easy, you’re gonna break something!”

“I’m sorry… I just can’t tell you how good it feels to be with you again.”

Tirek roared once more, and the ground thundered with his hoofsteps as he set off from the wrecked section of the castle, heading toward the vestiges of Everfree still situated between it and Canterlot Mountain.

“Wait a minute,” Redheart croaked. Where did Scootaloo get teleported to?”

Rarity gasped with horror. “To Filthy’s compound, up in—”

“Canterlot,” Dash said quietly. “Ohmigosh, that’s even worse. It’s not just Scootaloo—imagine what Tirek could do to a whole city full of ponies!” She took a few sharp breaths, and shook her head, likely trying to psych herself up for the task at hoof. “All right… I guess I’d better make this work, then. One Sonic Rainboom… comin’ right up…” And with that, Rainbow Dash squatted low, unfurled her wings, and shot up into the sky.

Something bumped against Rarity’s hoof. She looked down to see the remaining Element had rolled free from Blueblood and the others, and was now caught between her hooves and a few larger stones. She lit her horn, lifting it up and examining it, trying to confirm that it, too, was pulling somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Sassy asked, by Rarity’s side.

Rarity raised her head, trying to follow the direction that the Element seemed to be pulling: toward the great mass of ruins from the tower.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Sassy, please see to any guards who might think to come investigate what’s happened here,” Rarity said, deep uncertainty in her tone.

“I’d better triage Twilight and the others,” Redheart said.

“Excellent. Now Fluttershy dear… would you be so good as to lend me your physical strength—”

Sassy gripped her shoulder and spun her around. “What’s going on, Rarity?! I’m tired of being kept in the dark!”

Rarity glanced back toward the ruins. “I’m confirming a particularly awful suspicion.”
> Chapter 35: A Rainbow in the Dark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash arced up into the cold night air with heavy beats of her leathery wings. From high above the castle, she could at last see the full extent of Tirek’s damage to it: the wing where the vault tower had stood was now little more than an ocean of obliterated masonry, and the adjoining wing’s outer wall lay sheared-off and cracked in twain beside it.

Dash’s eyes turned toward the beast himself. She gaped at the heavy furrows he carved through the land as he walked, as if he wasn’t quite picking up his gigantic hooves high enough to keep their tips from dragging below. She stared with horror at the livid patterns of blackness that played across his crimson and highly muscled body. And she noted how his silvery-grey mane flowed behind him, billowing on a wind that didn’t seem entirely of the world.

There’s no way I can do this…

She gritted her teeth and flapped harder, desperately hoping that the feeling she’d experienced while fighting Wind Rider would return. She focused on her breathing, and on her flying technique… and on the mire of self-doubt that she’d spent years failing to escape.

Come on, we need to win!

Dash pumped her wings, and reached for the elusive feeling.

She muttered curses at the unnervingly still air.





Rarity trudged across the shattered stonework of the collapsed tower. Thick dust hung heavy in the air, and took on an almost ghostly glow from the light of her horn. She held the Element before her in her magic, and let it guide her deeper into the wreckage.

A faint sound reached her ears. She stopped, perked them up, and fixated on it for a few heartbeats. It was steady enough to capture her attention, yet too indistinct to give her full confidence about its source. “There,” she said, glancing back at Fluttershy before pointing toward a larger pile of rubble. “Do you hear that?”

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said, hanging her head. “I’m afraid my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“It’s alright, dear. Regardless, would you be so kind as to help clear some of that pile away?”

With a grunt, Fluttershy knelt down on her dubiously equine hind legs and reached out with her heavy foreclaws, scooping up a great armful of large, broken stones, then tossing them behind her. She turned and scooped, load after load, until Rarity held up a hoof to stop her.

“Just there… quiet a moment, please.”

Fluttershy nodded at Rarity, and Rarity stepped closer. From below, she heard something like ragged, heavy breathing—almost like stymied laughter. It was incredibly faint, but it was there.

Rarity glanced at the orb still held in her magic. It pulled toward the source of the laughter, and she had to plant her hooves to keep it in place.

“Just a little further, darling. And be careful… I don’t know what condition he might be in.”

“There’s a pony alive in there?!” Fluttershy asked, her misshapen eyes going wider.

“Please…”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Fluttershy leaned in and started clawing more stones out of the way. Not half a leg-length down, she uncovered a much larger slab resting at an angle. “Rarity, I—”

“Do you think you can pry the slab up from the corner there where it’s resting, without risking it cracking or breaking?”

“I can try.”

Fluttershy moved carefully over to the side of the slab, scrabbling over the ruined stones and trying to maintain purchase with her heavy hind legs. She sunk her claws under the edge of the slab, took a large breath, and heaved upward slowly, almost gingerly. There was a terrible grinding of stone on stone at the opposite end, but soon she’d lifted it high enough for Rarity to get a glimpse underneath it.

She knew exactly whom she’d find there.

Cheese’s body was twisted, bloodied, and broken—almost beyond recognition. His face was a ruin, with one side a mass of horrific lacerations that no longer included an eye. But his muzzle was still pulled tight with a smile. And to the best of Rarity’s ability to tell, he was still laughing.

“Ohmigosh, Rarity, let me go get Doctor Redheart!”

“No, Fluttershy. Not yet. Please, remove the slab fully.”

He fixed his eye on her and smiled even deeper as Fluttershy worked. His lips quirked open and he tried to mouth something, but little sound emerged.

Rarity felt a tug within her magic. She glanced at the orb. It was still trying to get to him.

“Why you?” she whispered.

His breathing grew sharper. It seemed like it was from deeper laughter, but it came much more stilted, likely due to the extent of his injuries.

“I…” he said, eye widening from presumed pain as he forced the word out: “…Win.”

“No you don’t!” Rarity shouted, drawing her hoof back amid a sudden urge to strike him—though she didn’t. “How can you call this a victory in any way when you’ve unleashed an even larger and more dangerous threat upon Equestria than even the Nightmare herself?!”

Cheese blinked, or maybe it would’ve been intended as a wink if he still had a second eye to show the difference. “Told you… I’d kill her…”

“NO! This isn’t better! Can you look at me and honestly say that this is what your wife would’ve wanted?! That this would’ve made her smile, as you said that you cared so much about? Or did you lie to me about that too?!”

“Rarity,” Fluttershy interjected, now finished with the slab. “I know you’re angry, but he’s… so close to death. Please, let me get Redheart. Maybe she can find some way to make him comfortable…”

Rarity turned a glare on Fluttershy and raised a hoof to point out toward Tirek. “After all he’s done, and all the havoc that that creature is likely to wreak upon others, you would honestly still think about this awful pony’s comfort?!”

“I would,” Fluttershy said, standing firmly. “Especially after all that I’ve seen. Sometimes all that you can do is try to bring the dying a little bit more comfort, no matter how much you may want to do more—it’s simply their time. But you can still help them in that way, even when things are at their worst.”

“Should… listen…” Cheese said, drawing their attention back to him. “Could use… deep tissue massage…” His grin pulled tighter again, and his half-choking, half-laughing returned.

Rarity turned her eyes upon the Element again, and felt a chill subsume the anger that had roiled in her heart mere moments before. “Though you’ve bent what must once have been a well-meaning desire in awful and disgusting ways, perhaps there truly is a part of you that would’ve wanted to make your wife smile? Even though you… you were right, the time you told me that she would’ve seen you as a monster.”

She paused, and took a steadying breath. “You are a monster. For not letting your wife’s body rest, and for all the willful destruction you’ve propagated, you deserve the fate you’ve brought upon yourself—and Fluttershy, I will not be told otherwise! But this world…” She hung her head in solemn silence. “This world is an anomaly. Perhaps the Elements know it, just as Zecora did, but perhaps they may yet be willing to give it one more chance, regardless.”

“Do you think…” Fluttershy said slowly. “Maybe he could’ve made her smile? If whatever sense of wrongness in the world wasn’t there?”

Cheese’s features twisted into a frown, bordering on an angry grimace. “I… I couldn’t. She insisted… something was missing. Said…” He squeezed his eye shut. “Wasn’t… my fault…”

Rarity studied the orb, then shook her head. “I can’t understand why the Element of Laughter would be willing to work with your ghastly sense of humor. Perhaps it sees an earnestness in how your path began, or perhaps its willingness somehow stems from your wife herself? But the need at hoof is not about me, or you, or even your wife; it’s about the world she should’ve had. With Nightmare Moon gone, there may yet be a chance to make it whole again, if we can but stop Tirek from devouring it.”

“No.” Cheese’s expression hardened. “This world… me…” He gasped sharply. “Pull… the knife out!”

The words struck Rarity as cruel, if not entirely surprising.

They did, however, raise the specter of a dreadful possibility. Merely envisioning it sent shards of ice jabbing at her stomach. And yet, as Rarity considered how the deaths she’d witnessed might be multiplied beyond reckoning if she could not secure Cheese’s aid, she found herself grappling with the question of how much more she might be willing to give up if it would gain the world’s salvation.

“Fluttershy, dear…” Rarity wetted her lips. “Would you please go see how Sassy is doing for a moment? I need to speak to Cheese privately.”

Fluttershy blinked. “Rarity… if you won’t get Redheart to help him, I will.”

“No, dear… I… I will. I promise. But first, there is something we need to discuss.”

At their hooves, Cheese slowly grinned again. Fluttershy gave Rarity an uncertain glance, but eventually nodded and trudged off.

“So,” he said, eye shining.

“My Element is that of Generosity,” Rarity said. “Perhaps it was ‘generous’ of me to use my connections and persuasiveness to propagate your lies to those you couldn’t reach yourself—those who already knew of your brokenness, your evil… and who’d rightly cast you out. Even now, holding off on fetching help for you is… galling. It sickens me to my core. And yet, if there was ever a pony who deserved their fate, it is you. What you did by deceiving me… deceiving everypony—leading all of us, and my poor, sweet darling to destruction… it’s unforgivable.”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning wider.

“I gave you every chance… trusted everything in the vision of hope that you inspired in me. But now I see that mentioning the loss of he whom I held most dear cannot elicit even the slightest bit of sympathy from you, despite your own wife’s loss. Truly there seem to be no ‘better angels’ left in your nature, to whom I might appeal.”

She paused, and waited for as many heartbeats as she could bear, clinging to the desperate hope that he’d say something—anything—to refute her assessment of him, or to offer any other way to bargain for his aid.

Yet hope was ever-fleeting, and Cheese lay silent.

“But perhaps there are worse angels who may yet hold sway,” Rarity said, shivering. “And it is now to them that I come with an offer: From time to time you have entreated me to… do things… that I could not bring myself to do. But however much I may be unable to abide these things, I think… perhaps… there is one in particular that I would be willing to do, if you’d agree to wield the Element of Laughter with us first.”

He smiled deeper, and turned his head slightly. “I’m all ear.”

“You must wield the Element if I’m to consider this, do you understand? If you renege on this in any way, I will not maintain my end of this bargain!”

“Of course,” he said. “Now… the good part?”

Rarity took a long breath and shuddered as she exhaled. “If it would mean the salvation of all that remains… I would, at last, be willing to get my hooves dirty.”





“I told you to stay back!” Sassy shouted at the knot of armored thestrals trying to press through the half-collapsed entrance to what remained of the castle. One made to advance on her anyway, and she pressed right up against his helmeted face, looming over him with all of her superior height.

“No,” said one of them, moving up toward the front of the group. He was stripped of his armor and had a mop of graying brown mane, as well as a look of pure indignation on his face. “Something terrible has happened to our Mistress; all of us True Children can feel it. I don’t care if you’re her Overseer or just a filly in the wrong place at the wrong time—if you stand in the way of us finding out what that is, you will not end up in one piece!”

“Sergeant Wind Rider,” Sassy said, narrowing her eyes. “I heard from Sergeant Dash that you were recently paying a visit to our dungeons.”

He scoffed. “That traitorous whore stopped me from reporting back about her misappropriation of key medical resources for her little pet pegasus. But she wasn’t very careful… other True Children saw what she was up to, and figured out what she did with me.”

The other guards murmured their assent.

Sassy stood her ground before them, and felt more than ever that the truth was her ally in choosing her words: “The Mistress is dead, Sergeant. The thing that just destroyed the castle is responsible in large part for that. So what do you think we should do about that now? Squabble and fight amongst ourselves, or focus on the true enemy?”

Tears—Sassy was shocked to see actual tears—sprung to the corners of Wind Rider’s eyes as he absorbed her words. He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment before looking back up at her with an even stronger set to his jaw. “I thought you were a faithful servant, but now all I see is you blocking the most direct way to our Mistress’ remains. It makes me think the only ponies left who I can trust are bats.”

“Look at yourselves.” Sassy sneered at them. “Do you still want to be her slaves, even though she’s gone? Don’t any of you want to aspire to something better than pushing other ponies around in her name?”

“It’s something I can live with doing,” Wind Rider said, baring his fangs. “Maybe starting with you?”

Sassy heard heavy hooffalls behind her. She turned and saw Fluttershy trudging toward them, flexing her talons and jerking her ragged, leathery wings as she moved.

“Is everything all right?” Fluttershy asked. The voice was rumbling and distorted, but it also contained an element of softness.

Wind Rider recoiled, wide-eyed. “What is that?!” Behind him, the rest of his thestrals dropped into defensive crouches.

“My name is—”

“That, you fools, is the Guardian of Tartarus,” Sassy said. “She’s going to help us stop the giant rampaging thing out there that killed your Mistress. That is, unless you’ve got your own plan to deal with him?”

The group of thestrals exchanged glances and quiet comments with each other. Wind Rider joined in their deliberation, casting a number of long looks at Fluttershy in the interim.

At length, he cleared his throat and stepped out from the group again.

“All right, so maybe we’re better off joining forces. Don’t think that makes us friends. And don’t think that we’ve forgotten about Rainbow Dash’s treason, either. You can make up whatever excuses you want about her, but when this is over, I will see her burn for what she’s done.”

“Later is later,” Sassy said, extending a hoof. “Right now we could use a distraction. Get Tirek’s attention turned back toward the castle; I’m not sure what the range is going to be on what we’re planning to use against him.”

Wind Rider narrowed his eyes, but then raised his hoof and shook Sassy’s. “You’re sure that if we lead him back, he won’t just finish what he started here?”

Sassy grimaced. “I suppose if this doesn’t work, we probably won’t live long enough to regret having tried.”





Rainbow Dash’s flight path brought her low across what remained of Ponyville. Ruins jutted up from the ground like tombstones, and she spun and whirled, dancing between them, trying to remember what it had felt like to buzz so low over the town in better days.

It could be like that again, if I can just… just push!

She pulled up, carrying herself higher over the town. Then she banked around and came in for another pass. Her eyes darted between former landmarks as she flew:

City Hall….

Her mind replayed the flaming horror that she’d helped her group of ponies flee.

Scoots’ house…

Her teeth chattered with the fear of what might happen not only to Scootaloo, but to all of Canterlot as well, if she should fail.

Fluttershy’s cabin…

Her heart ached as she dwelled upon the deformed frame of her once-beautiful and ever-supportive friend.

Yet Dash also reflected on the good that had come from those sources of pain. She could at least look Redheart in the eye and say she tried to lead ponies to safety when Ponyville fell, even if she’d failed miserably in the end. She could cling to the joy of at last being able to take Scootaloo out flying again, even if that had to be tempered with the heartbreak of knowing that Scootaloo could be stricken by seizures. And she could even look at Fluttershy’s sacrifices in Tartarus with deep respect, knowing that Scootaloo and others might’ve been lost forever without them.

She reached out in kindness to a mad, half-dead god, because that’s just the kind of pony she is…

Dash clenched her teeth and flapped harder. But then, spotting movement to one side, she turned her head—

A group of thestrals passed her closely before swinging around and dive-bombing Tirek from above. He swatted at them, and Dash’s eyes went wide as she beheld their death-defying audacity—they clearly couldn’t do him any harm, and they had to know that a single lucky claw-strike would squash them to paste. But they kept him busy, and slowed his inexorable march toward Canterlot, if only for a few moments.

Look at them… they don’t stand a chance, but they’re doing their part. They’re distracting him so I…

She swallowed.

I failed Fluttershy and Scootaloo the first time they trusted me.

Dash flapped harder still, concentrating on their images. And there—at last—she felt something. It was ineffably large, though still hidden from view.

I will not fail them again!

Onward she flapped, building more and more speed, pushing past the racing in her heart and threats of exhaustion in her wings. 

Because…

She held the images of Redheart, Scootaloo, and Fluttershy at the forefront of her mind, and watched Ponyville slip past her again in the blink of an eye.

They are…

She rocketed across the distance toward Tirek, and the sheer amount of wind resistance grew so great that she couldn’t resist pressing her eyes shut.

My ponies!

With one last almighty wing beat, Rainbow Dash felt the barrier break loose, and an overwhelming surge of power crashed upon her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and sending tingling bursts of light shooting through her body. She didn’t need to flap her wings to maintain speed, because she was speed. She could barely maneuver and couldn’t breathe, but could only lose herself in the ineffable sensation of having a huge corona of light streaming all around her, projecting itself out into the world as a massive bow-wave of rainbow-colored force—

The Sonic Rainboom.

Dash passed over Tirek and banked upward. Tears of awe streaked her muzzle as she ascended hooves-first into the sky, her pose like that of a supplicant presenting themselves to the cosmos.

A crawling sensation of heat crept into her wings and forehead. It intensified quickly, and Dash screamed at how it burned. She brought her head around to check her wings, but all she could see was that they were bathed in fields of light that rivaled the brightness of the Rainboom itself.

She panicked, and tried in vain to bat at them, but it didn’t slow her down—she was fully in the clutches of the unrelenting force that she’d awakened.

It was angling her back around, toward the castle…





Rarity saw the flash of light reflect in Cheese’s half-glazed eye. She only had enough time to turn and gape at the astounding burst of rainbow light above Tirek before the sound and wind it generated came in like a hurricane, hurling huge chunks of stone all around, and nearly blowing her off her hooves. Thinking quickly, she lit her horn and put up a shield over herself and Cheese.

He screamed regardless, and his features contorted into the purest expression of horror and fear that his ruined visage could muster—which was considerable.

Rarity’s heart pounded as she studied him and tried to see if he’d been struck before she put up the shield. Considering how greatly he’d already been injured, it was difficult to be sure, but she didn’t see anything obvious.

As the wind died down to manageable levels, she dropped the shield, and gently set her hooves on his shoulders. “Cheese! Cheese, were you hit? Cheese, you must tell me what’s wrong!”

“That’s it!” he screamed hoarsely. “That’s it! I know it is, it’s… it’s…” He looked at Rarity with a gaping mouth. “Do it now. Do it now!”

Rarity flushed at his words. “I… don’t understand…”

He reached up with a bloody forehoof to paw at one of hers. “She always said she'd missed something… oh, what have I done?! Pinkie! Pinkie… I’m so sorry! Limestone… oh…”

Tears flowed freely from his good eye, and he sobbed as hard as his ravaged body would allow.

“Oh Pinkie,” he choked, his lips twisting into a grimace. “Please… please, find my cart at Blueblood’s… promise me you’ll burn it…”

“Cheese… it’s all right…”

“No it isn’t!” he snapped, body quivering with rage. “Don’t you realize?! I could’ve… I… I sold my soul for nothing. For nothing! What I needed… what she needed…”

“Celestia above, that’s it!” shouted Sassy from out of sight.

Fluttershy came tromping up behind Rarity, gazing in wonder at the sky. Then Redheart clambered over the stones next to them, tears streaming from her eyes. “I knew it! I knew she could do it! If anypony had it in them—” Redheart’s voice faltered as she caught sight of Cheese. Her eyes went wide, and her muzzle crinkled. “Oh, Celestia. He’s still alive?!”

With a heavy sigh, Rarity turned back to Cheese. He met her eyes with his one eye, and he continued sobbing.

“We had a deal,” Rarity said.

“I can’t laugh now,” he said. “What kind of monster would I be if I laughed now?”

“You’d be the kind of monster who might save the world regardless.” Rarity frowned at the stone orb still held in her magic. “And it would not be too late to change the deal, either.”

“No. You promised me.” Cheese grimaced at her. “There’s no going back from what I’ve done. If you don’t keep up your end of the deal… I’ll make you wish you had.”

Though she hated everything about the thoughts that his words brought to her mind, Rarity resolved herself to seize the moment. She raised the Element in her magic, brought it over to Cheese’s trembling form, then released it.

It fell down upon him and dissipated into nothingness.

He chuckled bitterly. “Well that was underwhelming.”

Rarity furrowed her brow. “Is it… not working?”

He gave her a bemused expression. “Maybe I should try a joke? How ’bout a new spin on an old classic: why did the chicken cross the road?”

Redheart scoffed. “For real? That’s all you’ve got?”

Cheese held her gaze for a moment before saying: “Because it was hit by a passing cart.”

“Oh my,” Fluttershy said, covering her mouth with her claws. “That’s in very poor taste, don’t you think?”

But Cheese began to snicker. “I know, it’s terrible,” he said, his laughter growing stronger.

His body started glowing.

“Rarity?!” Fluttershy stretched her claws out before her, and Rarity turned, seeing they were wreathed in light.

“It’s happening!” Redheart proclaimed, looking down at the faint glow permeating herself as well.

Rarity raised a hoof. It was glowing, too.

“Whoa, whoa… what’s going on?” Sassy shouted as she came dashing over, also glowing. She froze as she caught sight of Cheese amongst the rubble. “Wait… NO! Rarity, not him! You can’t be serious!”

“Look,” Redheart said, pointing to the sky. “Here she comes!”

Rarity beheld a figure like a speeding comet flying toward them, trailing rainbow light. It passed over them with a boom nearly as loud as before. Only this time, the buffeting wind picked the five of them up—including the broken but visibly re-knitting form of Cheese—and carried them along in its wake. Rarity gasped with shock at the sensation of being pulled up into the sky at rapid speed, and she wasn’t alone.

“What’s it doing, what’s it doing—” shouted Sassy, flailing her hooves.

“It’s bringing us along with her,” Fluttershy added, flapping her wings in vain.

“I get it now!” Redheart shouted, both grinning and weeping. “This is why they love to fly together!”

Rarity struggled to keep her stomach settled as the group soared higher. For his part, she saw Cheese simply continue laughing. He studied the raw wounds on his body that were healing before their eyes, and laughed. He touched a hoof to his head as the blazing light pieced his face back together, even causing a new eye to form out of the brightness.

On they soared. Though at first trailing far behind Rainbow Dash, the five of them soon found themselves flying alongside her. And Rarity noticed—

“Your wings!”

Dash glanced back over her fully restored, fully feathered pegasus wings, giving Rarity a wink. Her face bore a huge grin, and she tapped a hoof to her head. “That’s not all!”

Rarity looked up.

She blinked, slowly taking in the fact that Rainbow Dash had grown a horn as well.

“What the…” Sassy said, clearly noticing it as well.

“Ohmigosh, Rainbow Dash?” Fluttershy said, covering her great maw with her talons.

“Of course,” Redheart shouted. “All the pent-up magic that Zecora’s journal talked about… it’s finally found an outlet! A conduit to the world! It should’ve been unleashed years ago, from what she wrote!”

“Alicorns,” Rarity said, drawing everypony’s attention. “The world… some legends say that it creates as many as it needs. It needs you, Sergeant!” She paused, blinking. “Or should I say, Princess!”

“Don’t crown me yet,” Dash said, turning her focus back on the giant beast that they were rapidly approaching. “We’ve still gotta figure out how to actually use the Elements!”

Cheese laughed. The group all turned their eyes on him. He gave them a big grin, followed by a conspiratorial wink at Rarity. “Don’t worry, ladies; I’m sure it’ll all be over soon.”

Rarity felt a thrill of panic, and set her mind in rapid motion. “I… I think… it will be. We’ve come through so many trials to be here, at this moment. We’ve all lost pieces of ourselves along the way. But the Nightmare who brought us together is already defeated, and I find myself grateful for the connections we came to share, even in the darkness.” She smiled at Sassy. “Even with you; though I know we’ve had our differences, I’ve come to know that you have many good qualities as well.” She turned a less certain smile on Cheese. “And even with you. I know better than most that nopony is perfect, and I believe… I don’t believe that it’s too late for any of us. If nothing else, I still find hope in that.”

“She’s right,” Dash said, looking back at Redheart. “It’s never too late to do the right thing. The ponies I’m fighting for taught me that.”

“Rarity taught me that,” Sassy said, blushing.

Redheart winked at Dash. “Scootaloo is gonna be so proud.”

“I’m glad for all the ponies we can save together,” Fluttershy said.

Cheese’s lips tightened as if he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent.

They swooped down close to Tirek. Rarity watched as Rainbow Dash’s eyes began to glow with blazing bright light. Soon Redheart, Fluttershy, and Sassy all had eyes that did the same. She glanced over at Cheese, whose eyes looked… tired. Deathly tired.

“Please… do it for Pinkie,” Rarity said. But then her vision whited out as well, and an all-consuming feeling of power overtook her.

At length, she heard words that she hoped—prayed—would finally come:

“All right. For Pinkie, and the world she should’ve had.”

And then the power burst like a dam, surging over all of them with deafening force. Rarity gasped at the sheer beauty and intensity of it. Her vision cleared long enough to see immense bolts of rainbow light arcing between all six of them, blasting down at Tirek, and lighting up the sky with such profundity that it seemed almost to be a return of sunlight. The sight brought tears to her eyes, and she tried shouting with both joy and triumph, but her mortal voice was overpowered by the thunder all around her.

Rarity watched as Tirek flailed and writhed under the magical onslaught, and started shrinking. The six of them floated lower as he shrank, smaller and smaller, losing muscle mass and even his black, nightmarish markings along with his height.

The surge continued until all six of them had touched down on the ground again, surrounding the once-more-emaciated form of Tirek. He lay breathing raggedly, but was still conscious.

“Please, don’t hurt me!” he said weakly, raising a hand in meager defense.

Light still blazed in all their eyes as they gazed down upon him.

Then, one set of lights flickered.

Cheese blinked, and his eyes looked normal again. Normal, but soon menacing. He strode right up to Tirek, looming down upon the little creature. “What, so we should all hold hooves instead, and smile, and celebrate how everything’s worked out for the best in the end?”

“What’s he doing?” Sassy asked.

“Giving one last punchline,” Cheese said, his expression hardening like stone. “Hey jabroni, tell me: what’s black and white and red all over?”

Tirek blinked, and glanced at the others. “I… I don’t know, what is—”

In a flash, Cheese brought his hoof up, driving a knife through the underside of Tirek’s skull.

“Your face!”

Rarity should have been shocked. She wanted to be shocked. But the feeling that suffused her was… numbness.

Everything had slowed again.

All the ponies roared and shouted protests. Those with horns lit them, seeking to restrain him.

All but Rarity.

He turned his eyes to meet hers, showing nothing but hardness and fatigue in them despite their miraculous healing.

“We had a deal,” he said, his voice cutting through the protests of the others, who were still actively engaged in variations on binding him.

Rarity’s heart hammered. Her stomach churned. Faces of so many fallen friends and loved ones flashed through her mind again, crying for her to save them, blaming her for failing.

One more face sprang up in the darkness of her mind—this one laughing.

The others were dragging Cheese back, away from Tirek.

But unlike in the past, Rarity found herself able to move in this strange, snail-paced version of reality.

Rarity took a step closer to Tirek.

She reached down and pulled the knife free from his head.

Cheese’s lips quirked up into a smile.

Her pulse pounded harder, her blood feeling like fire from the adrenaline shooting through it.

Nopony was paying attention to her.

Nopony but Cheese.

He smiled.

Rarity brought the knife up in her hoof.

He started laughing.

Her stomach sank hard, caving in deep, feeling as though there could be no bottom, not ever again.

His eyes reflected her; the determination, the pain, the knowledge that this abhorrent price was what she had agreed to pay for the life of the world—this, and the integrity of her convictions. For as she breathed her last as a mare with clean hooves, it struck her that in an awful, horrid way, she was even showing him a twisted side of Generosity by giving him something he’d wanted for so long, and that he’d been willing to destroy the world to obtain:

An end to suffering—

His suffering.

And so she slashed the knife up before anypony could react, cutting Cheese’s throat.


END OF BOOK 4: THE PRICE

> Epilogue: To Rule In Heaven
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash strode out into the cool darkness of her bedroom’s balcony. She lit her horn—still such an alien sensation, even a month after she’d gained it—and reached. Though distant, if she closed her eyes and concentrated she could feel the echoes of a source of power that seemed to rival even the unthinkable energies of the Sonic Rainboom, or the Elements of Harmony. Indeed, as she let her eyes close and her breathing slow, she reached farther, settling her magic over it like the gentle hooves of a parent around their newborn babe.

Then she lifted.

The hints of brightness on her eyelids told her that she was doing it correctly this time. From below, there were sounds of “ooh”ing and “aah”ing from the ponies gathered in the streets. She smiled as they started clapping.

She had to shield her eyes with a hoof before she could open them, though, because there, rising from the depths of the horizon, was the morning sun.

Dash startled as a pair of hooves encircled her barrel from behind, but then she calmed, smiling deeper, feeling a pony’s warmth press against her side.

“I’ll never get tired of watching you do that,” Scootaloo mumbled into her feathers.

Dash looked down at her, not quite managing a cocky grin. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of doing it, either. Not even if… well, Twilight finally figures out how we can get Celestia back.”

Scootaloo looked up at her with both determination and a smile. “You’ll get her back. I don’t know how, but you will.” She chuckled. “And then you and her can hoof-wrestle over who gets to raise what every day. Just remember when it gets that far, she wasn’t the pony who saved the world from Nightmare Moon.”

“Technically, that was more of a group thing, but whatever. Hey, you hungry? The gardener said she had some wheat start sprouting, and she thinks there might be flour for things like pancakes pretty soon.” She licked her lips and felt how much her tongue was watering.

“You and your stomach,” Redheart said from the doorway, rolling her eyes as she entered the sunlit bedroom. “C’mon Scoots, we gotta get you over to your school group early today.”

“Oh, that’s today?” Dash gaped. “Ohmigosh, I totally forgot!”

Redheart shook her head, but grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ve got Princess stuff, right? Go save the world like you do every day; I’ll get the kid where she needs to go.”

“And she needs us to pick up some—”

“Picked it up.”

“Okay, but they wanted her to—”

“Rainbow.” Redheart pursed her lips.

Dash blushed and looked down at her hooves. “Okay! I’m sorry. I guess… I’ll catch you guys at dinner?”

“Of course. Oh, and Kibitz was looking for you, but I told him if he spoiled your day before you even got the sun up I’d buck him and his stupid moustache into next Tuesday.”

“Oh yeah? What’d he want?”

“He wouldn’t tell me, if you can believe it. Just told me to tell you that Sassy came back on the overnight coach.”

Dash frowned. If Sassy had returned from Hollow Shades already, that probably meant things were either going really well or really badly…

But then Redheart gave her a flirtatious wink, and Dash decided there was plenty of time to worry about serious stuff later. “Hey, so that reminds me, what would you think if I started calling myself, ‘Rainbow Dash, Princess of Awesomeness?’”

Redheart facehoofed.

“Radicalness?”

Redheart shook her head from side to side, suppressing a smirk.

“Red-hot smoochin’?”

“Bye,” Redheart said, laughing as she shooed Scootaloo out into the hallway.





Rainbow Dash tried her best to absorb the bombardment of information from Kibitz, her chief advisor, as they walked the long corridors of what had recently been styled as Blueblood’s mansion. However, she found herself distracted at almost every turn by the countless ponies who seemed united in their determination to restore the building to its former glory as Canterlot Castle. Most of Kibitz’s words bounced off of her as she watched ponies bustle to and fro, cleaning and maintaining things. And it still gave Dash a feeling of shock when some would stop and bow to her.

“Princess Dash!” Kibitz stepped in front of her suddenly, forcing her to stop. “Have you heard a word that I’ve been saying?”

She nodded. “Sure I have. Lots of thestrals in Hollow Shades. Wind Rider wants my head on a pike. Did I miss anything?”

He blew his great, bushy moustache out with a huff. “Yes, Princess! We certainly have our work cut out for us here. Wind Rider still holds considerable influence over many who served under the Nightmare, and his outright declaration of Hollow Shades’ independence will have wide-ranging implications for the kingdom’s security. His callous disregard for diplomatic protocol is particularly shocking—Ambassador Saddles said that she felt fortunate to escape with her life!”

“Right… so maybe we shouldn’t risk sending anypony else to negotiate with him until he agrees not to threaten our… ah, what’s the word?”

“Envoys.” Kibitz shook his head. “Princess, with all due respect, I do not think we can sit idle and hope for the best. The consequences of mismanaging this crisis could be dire, and Hollow Shades’ independence isn’t even the worst possibility—what if they should ally themselves with any remnants of Starlight’s forces that might be lurking? Or, more realistically, what if our allies to the north begin to see us as weak, and Wind Rider manages to turn the Coalition against us? That is why we must reach out and negotiate a lasting peace with him, and soon.”

“Well…” Dash wracked her brains, trying to think of who all was at her disposal now that she was a Princess. “Is Sweetie Drops still laid up?”

“Princess, the situation calls for negotiation, not infiltration. I agree that we should choose somepony whom Wind Rider would have strong reasons to respect, though. Ambassador Saddles and I were discussing possibilities earlier, and…” He cleared his throat. “You know who we could really use for this.”

“No, absolutely not,” Dash said, stepping around Kibitz and continuing down the corridor. “Redheart said she needed time to heal, and I am going to respect that!”

“Don’t you think she’d do it if you asked?” Kibitz called after her.

“That’s exactly why I’m not going to ask!”





Rainbow Dash opened the doors to her office, only to find Blueblood lounging in her—formerly his—chair, with his hooves up on her—formerly his—desk. He startled, then turned his head from regarding several sheaves of paper held in his magic to give her a toothy grin.

“You’ve got mail!” he chirped.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then lit her horn, gripped his barrel in her magic, lifted him up over the desk, and deposited him unceremoniously on the other side.

“This must be what it feels like to get spam-filtered,” he said quietly, lowering the papers from his magic onto the great stack on her desk.

Dash stepped around the desk and sat down in her chair. “What do you want, Blueblood? I’m not exactly in a good mood, what with all the crap I’m hearing out of Hollow Shades this morning.”

“I heard a bit about that pile of guano, too. Sounds like a sticky situation… but ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown,’ or that gets crapped on… something like that?”

Dash stared at him, unfazed. “If you’re back again to try to talk me out of sending you to Tartarus, forget it. You’re going down there, and that’s final.”

He fixed the smile back onto his muzzle. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s an honor to be called to serve in… whatever we’re calling Tartarus these days. It’s a good cause, lots of needy ponies, think of the children, et cetera. I just think…” He bit his lip. “Well, to be honest, I’ve always thought of myself as more the sort of guy who gets on well at things like fancy dinner parties, or a higher class of brothel… or a lower class of brothel, if it’s all that I can find—”

Dash groaned and rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this already! If Discord’s essence had come back to Fluttershy after we blasted Tirek, we wouldn’t have to count on you for anything. But Shy and Twilight can only do so much down there without somepony who can kinda control what Discord did to the place. You’ve got the last piece of him that anypony can find right now, and Twilight thinks it might be enough to help save a lot of lives.”

Blueblood shook his head. “If I’d had any idea that letting Discord come inside me in the first place would lead to this, I would’ve insisted that we find me some kind of protection. I mean, this assignment is literally the worst! Don’t get me wrong… the purple one’s pretty darn cute when she gets mad, and the yellow one’s got that whole maternal-and-nurturing thing going on, even if she’s not much of a looker—”

“Ugh, is it even possible for you to think with the head on the top-side of your barrel?”

He stamped his hoof and turned toward the door. “Well I, for one, hope we never find out!” He paused and glanced back before he reached it. “You really do have mail, though. Take a look; you’re being sued.”

“I’m… what?!”

“Well, not you technically; more like ‘the crown.’ Sounds like the matron of the Manehattan Orange family has some kind of claim to the land where you’re building New Ponyville.”

Dash grabbed at the top few sheets of paper on the tall stack. She scanned them quickly, trying to absorb what she could. Eventually her eyes settled on the signature line.

“What the heck kind of name is ‘Applejack Orange?’”

“I dunno, sounds anomalous to me,” Bluebloood said, shrugging. “I’ll tell you what, though: this is something I can help with. Wining, dining, and reclining the rich-and-or-famous is—”

“GO!”

Blueblood tromped out, grumbling. At last alone, Dash stared at the notice for a few more moments, then tossed it back onto the pile. She felt an urge to vent her frustration, and satisfied it by lowering her head to the desk and bonking her horn against it gently.

The pile shifted, then tumbled over, birthing a new ocean of paper that lapped across the desk’s whole surface before spilling over its edges.

Dash groaned loudly, then rose from her seat and walked over to the window, using it as something to keep her eyes busy while she thought about Kibitz’s report. Relations with their Yak allies to the North truly had been strained since she’d stepped-in as Equestria’s de facto ruler, although the Changelings seemed eager to be dealing with somepony who was more approachable than Nightmare Moon had been. But keeping Sombra’s Empire in check was still a key strategic necessity, and the last thing any member of the Coalition needed was to have half or more of Equestria’s army secede and gather against the rest of them at Hollow Shades.

The feelings of Scootaloo’s warmth, and Redheart’s wink, came to mind again. Dash let herself glance aimlessly at the various activities of ponies rebuilding their lives in the Upper City as she reflected on those feelings.

Becoming a Princess had never been part of her plan. The responsibilities it brought her were sometimes overwhelming, and rarely what she expected. Yet they truly represented a second chance; ponies now trusted her for their protection, including some who were closer to her heart than she’d ever thought possible. And Dash was determined not to betray that trust, nor to fail the ponies who looked up to her again.

She sighed as she realized that keeping one trust might mean breaking another.





The blue-green-coated pony who met Rainbow Dash at the gates of what had once been Lord Filthy Rich’s compound walked with a noticeable limp.  He greeted her with a deep bow, a cordial grin, and a charming manner, though Dash thought she detected a hint of nervousness behind it, as though his shining silver sunglasses were not merely chosen to accentuate his style, but also to hide whatever pain he’d suffered during the Longest Night.

“She’s just up there, Princess,” he said, pointing toward one of the compound’s walls.

“Thank you,” Dash said, letting her gaze follow his hoof.

A white-coated mare stood at the top of the wall, looking out over the city.

Dash unfurled her wings and leapt, flapping, effortlessly propelling herself over the building and onto the wall. She approached the mare slowly, watching for movement, or recognition—but there was none. Dash stopped just behind her and waited for a few moments before clearing her throat. Seeing no reply, she cleared it again—louder this time. At last she followed it with: “Rarity?”

The mare startled and turned to face her. Dash’s heart sank as she saw the distant look in, and dark heavy circles around, Rarity’s otherwise bright blue eyes. Her mane was clean and still flowing, but it simply hung around her, rather than being styled in any particular way.

“Rarity…”

“Princess Dash,” Rarity said, inclining her head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Uh… Rarity, it’s me. You don’t have to call me ‘Princess.’ Not now, not ever. Got it?”

“Of course, darling.” Rarity affected a small smile. “Where are my manners. Would you care to join me for tea?”

“Eh, tea’s okay, I guess. But listen… I know you’ve kinda… got a lot going on, with everything that happened, and taking care of Diamond Tiara, and everything else that Filthy… left behind.”

“Rich,” Rarity said automatically. “He preferred to be called ‘Rich.’”

“R… right. Sorry.” Dash nodded, but then turned away. “Look, I’m sorry. I promised you I wouldn't—”

“It’s about the situation with Hollow Shades and Wind Rider, isn’t it?”

Dash turned back, furrowing her brow. “How… have you been keeping up with what’s been going on?”

“I hear things, sometimes,” Rarity said, turning her gaze back out over the Lower City. “Lord Rich was rather well-connected.”

Hearing pangs of regret in Rarity’s voice, Dash frowned, and reached a hoof out toward her. “Rarity, I’m so sorry.”

“But we’re not here to discuss the past, are we?” Rarity asked, turning back toward Dash. “Am I to understand the kingdom needs my services?”

“Well… yeah. I mean, Kibitz thinks that you could—”

“I accept, of course. I can be packed directly, though I shall need a day or two to put things in order for Diamond Tiara, if you can spare them. Less, if you’d be willing to lend me Kibitz to help look after her. I regret not trying to establish more of a rapport with her when I… I could’ve had the opportunity to share that with both her and Rich together.”

“Rarity, stop,” Dash said. “I don’t want to push you into some big crazy diplomatic mission if you’re not ready. What you did… I mean, you saved us. I don’t know if I could’ve made the deal you did if I was in your place, or if I could’ve followed through with it. But you saved us, and I just want you to know… I respect you, and what you did. I may be the Princess, but it’s you who really earned it.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Rarity said in hushed tones. “I simply won a higher price for my soul than most ponies who would look to sell theirs. But I think… at least… with Diamond Tiara, I’ve found my penance, or a form of it. The poor thing might never be able to live independently, with all that’s happened to her.”

They met eyes again. “It’s really good of you to take care of her,” Dash said. “I think… he would’ve been happy knowing you were still… with him, in a way. Happy and honored.”

Rarity inclined her head again. “What use is life, if not to heed the call of service in the darkest places? Which brings us back to your request.”

“Uhh… sure, I can probably have Kibitz down here as soon as somepony can hitch up a cart and get him in it. Him and Sassy are probably just sitting up at the mansion as it is, grousing about what they’re gonna do if Wind Rider starts getting frisky.”

“Very well, then.” Rarity gave Dash a smile that didn’t seem to touch her eyes.

Dash studied the lines and wear on Rarity’s face, most of which she swore hadn’t been there a month ago. Eventually Dash swallowed. “Rarity… you know… we won, right? We saved the world, banished the darkness, and all that good stuff. I mean, yeah, things to the north still aren’t great, but it doesn’t have to be everypony’s job to deal with that… we just have this one loose end to tie up with Hollow Shades, and then that situation oughtta get back on track. There’s no reason why most ponies can’t just enjoy the sun and live their lives they way they used to, under Celestia—who you know we’re gonna get back someday soon, right?”

Rarity’s smile turned genuinely sad.

“Yes, darling… of course you’re right.”


THE END