> Earth Without Us
>  by Starscribe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Episode 1: Archive
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archive didn't have long to wait for her assassination.

It came that very night, as a little vibration on her hoof jarring her awake, yet she forced herself not to struggle. In her silence she could gain a few moments to think, without the watchers knowing she had awoken.

Archive did not wake slowly, not when she was already so tense. A single moment was all she needed to collect her bearings and be ready. She did not hear Athena's voice in her ear. The vibration was the effect of a dead-man's-switch, connected to the same signal Athena used to watch her with cameras. Cutting Athena off from the sensors in Alex's room had also tripped the vibrator, silently alerting her of danger.

Archive kept her eyes closed, and opened another sense. There wasn't anything supernatural about it really, the connection she sensed to all beings. There were those in the HPI who thought her ability to sense their nature made her divine. She exploited that belief, but that didn't mean she deluded herself.

Archive found the thin cords that bound her to the assassins. No drones here — Athena's drones could not kill humans. Through the magic of her nature, Archive read their names, their history, and their intentions. There were three, each wearing active-camouflage and wielding only blades. She didn't hold on long enough to look and see why that would be. Why not just shoot her and be done with it? Why not roll an explosive through the doorway and run?

She saw their memories. Cutting the lights, a powerful jamming signal and a hacker to keep Athena's influence at bay for the few minutes the assassination would take. These men had come for blood.

Archive opened one eye in the gloom. The console set into the wall was the only light, its status indicator flashing red to indicate no uplink with the central core. Not that it would matter if there had been more light. Her assassins were almost invisible. One crouched behind the open doorway, one was creeping in along the floor to the left, another stood in the exit doorway with sword upraised.

Alex's sensitive ears could pick up the faint sound of their suit ventilators, but that wasn't how she found them. Instead, she kept her feeble connection to these men in mind, drawing on them as she never had before. She couldn't use such weak sympathy to influence their minds, not as she had done with the miners back in Motherlode. She didn't need sympathy to read their intentions, though.

“Stop where you are!” Archive jerked upright, throwing off the covers. Her motion came in a blur, almost too fast for human eyes to fully register. Thus was the second power of her new tribe, the only one that was of any use to her indoors. With no weather to control, Archive had only her speed.

That, and the knowledge of her entire species. “Gabe, Asriel, Zachary!” She shouted their first names, her whole body tense. She was a coiled spring, soon to snap. “I know why you've come. Leave now, and we can forget this. If you fight, you die!”

They stopped, and as one considered her offer. One, Gabe by the door, seemed almost on the verge of accepting her offer. She dared to hope for a second — but no. Another moment and he readied his sword, determined. Three humans would die tonight.

Her shouted declarations had done something, though: it revealed to her enemies that she knew they were here. Archive felt the change in Asriel before he even rose from his crouch — he intended to charge and cut her down. It was a good strategy, ending the fight before she could draw on her magic. Up here in the pony levels they were all wearing anti-magic suits. Even so, they were too well-informed to think those suits would protect them long from a pony with Archive's magic.

He lunged, moving with the lightning-quickness of a trained warrior. A sword of black metal was all she could see, if only by the blur passing through the air. Another second and he brought it down violently towards her, curved blade slicing the air with a harsh whine.

Archive couldn't see him, but she could see his thoughts. She knew where he was going to swing, and so she dodged out of the way at the last second, calling on the speed of her race. His short sword slammed down into her bed, slicing through sheets and pillows.

She jumped under one of his arms, aiming straight for the side of of a knee. The fabric of the suit was feather-light, and it offered no protection. Bone broke under the force of her hoof, and he screamed, dropping to the other knee and clutching at the injury.

The HPI could train scientists and technicians in martial arts and swordsmanship if they wanted. They could not give them the determination that came only from battle experience. Archive rolled, jumping back onto the bed. She dodged the human's head, braced the fallen sword against one leg, then shoved hard against the grip with her other forehoof. It shot forward, right into Asriel's gut.

Sparks exploded from the armor where she pierced it. The camouflage flickered and died, and she could see an agonized face through the faceplate. Archive twisted violently upward, slicing through most of his organs, then snapped her hoof down sharply on the flat of the blade. She chose the weakest point, and moved with all the speed of her tribe. Metal snapped, breaking most of the blade in Asriel's chest.

He slid sideways, gurgling as he died.

Archive took up the now-pony-sized blade in her teeth, ignoring the bitter tang of blood and the stench of ruptured guts. These people want to enslave what's left of humanity, she told herself. Their deaths save a million lives. Athena was better at using logic like that. Still, Archive was good for her word. Two of the assassins still lived.

The second assassin still crouched just outside the open doorway. Impressive restraint; maybe it would've been enough to kill a regular pony. Not Archive.

Instead of charging through blindly, Archive galloped to the very edge, then twisted her head sharply to the right. Her broken sword flew straight — straight into the second assassin's skull. Zachary didn't even flinch as he died, just dropped like a puppet with no strings.

She didn't take her weapon back. “Gabe, I know you didn't want to do this.” Archive glared straight at him, invisibility notwithstanding. “Drop that sword and I will break his chains.” She wiped the blood from her face with the back of one leg. “The Ancestors were noble; their backs were proud. I can show you why.”

“No.” His voice was muffled by the suit — stealth armor had no exterior speakers — but she could still make out his words. His hands shook, and the sword drifted down. He nearly dropped it. “I can't.” He took a step towards her.

“You can, Gabriel.” His sympathetic connection was still there, a little stronger after she had spoken. Archive tugged on it, pouring in all the magic she could. Magic alone wasn’t enough, and he kept advancing. “Your parents would be ashamed of you, Gabriel. They wouldn’t have sold themselves to Charybdis. They wouldn’t have given up the dreams of ten thousand years for the promise of an easy way out.”

He slowed, the sword no longer shaking in his hands. “I have no parents. I—"

“An artificial womb, I know.” Archive stepped towards him, spreading her wings. She had no armor, not even any clothes. “Your embryo was frozen before the collapse. Your parents sacrificed fantastic wealth to give their family a chance to survive into the world to come.” The connection was much stronger now. Archive reached back, finding the face she wanted. The face of Gabriel’s father.

Archive knew nothing of him, of course, but she didn’t need to. Gabriel would see the resemblance. Stern, wide features. Hooked nose, light scruff of facial hair. “Your father.”

He stopped advancing, the sword dropping nearly a foot. He didn’t let go.

“You didn’t know them, but your parents loved you. You were their future.”

He advanced again, though the step came even more slowly. He walked as though fighting his way through molasses. “I—”

She didn’t give him time to think. “Your mother has already returned. A dark red earth pony. She’s living in the city they’re building in Seattle, just a few miles from where she first returned. You have no idea how rare an opportunity you have! Almost nobody separated from their family gets to see them again.” Archive could not show her face; she could only count on the simple truth of her words.

“I can’t — they’ll kill me. I have to…” He raised the sword over his head. “Too late for me.”

Archive let him advance, unmoving. “The Order wants to make you a slave, but they can’t if you won’t let them.”

He stopped only a few feet away, sword high above his head. This close to him, the fur of her coat stood on end, drawn by the strange static the active-camouflage produced. Not that she needed it to find him. “He won’t let—” His voice was twisted and distorted, as though each word cost a great effort.

“I don’t care what it wants to let you do.” She pulled on the connection to humanity within him, however feeble. She spread her legs a little, bracing for the effort, then tugged. Her wings flared out as wide as they would go, and for a single instant light flashed. Wind rose around her despite the lack of connection to the sky, whipping up the papers from the nearby table, taking her pencils and drawing tools and tearing them away.

Gabriel was no slave to Charybdis, that would’ve violated the treaty. Yet his presence was still there, willingly invited. Whispering, encouraging, demanding. The other assassins hadn’t had even a flicker of regret or hesitation at killing her. This man, though… maybe he didn’t have to die.

He’s mine, Archive. You cannot take the power my servant chose to give me.

She did not respond, didn’t waste her energy. Instead she advanced, drawing in the strength of her every connection. The high priests of the Ancestors, refugees rebuilding in the world above, the ponies in Alexandria’s university. Motherlode’s miners. All of them. She anchored each thread to herself, then took Gabriel in her grip and tore.

He screamed, the sword tumbling from his hands. It fell beside Alex, hitting the metal and cracking along the blade. The man dropped to his knees, shaking all over. His suit flickered, then came into being; mostly transparent fabric with patches of circuitry, hugging tight to his body. Through the faceplate, Archive saw tears. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Archive stepped forward, embracing the strange soldier, one wing around his shoulder. “Because we need you. You cannot be replaced.”

It took him a moment to form words, wiping vainly at his face with one gloved hand. Tears smeared onto the faceplate. “Y-you don’t… don’t understand…”

“I do.” Archive stepped back. “I’ll call High Priestess Arinee. We’ll make you disappear. Smuggle you into Bountiful. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No!” He shivered. “That’s not what I mean!” He leaned forward, spitting out the rebreather in his mouth so he could speak more clearly. “Archive, we weren’t the only ones! We were—” he shivered, clutching at his head again and retching in his suit. She waited, letting him finish. “Your friends, the ones across the hall—”

In her chest, something froze. All this time she had been fighting, and she hadn’t even thought about her daughter! Archive kicked his sword away, towards the door. “My priestess will help you!” she shouted back. “Don’t stay here for them to find you!”

The door was before her, stubbornly closed. She fumbled with the console beside it for a second, prying off the shield. A few seconds of tinkering, and one of the lights flickered on. It slid open an inch. She braced one shoulder against it and shoved; her strength was enough to lift the door a few inches, but that was all. “Gabriel, help me! I don’t have time to fight with this!”

The man turned, then rose. He made his way over, bracing himself against the other half of the automatic door. “You’re already too late.”

“SHOVE!” He did. The door gave another few inches, gas whining from its mechanisms as it opened. Archive didn’t step out into the hall, or completely take her eyes from the man beside her. She might’ve banished the spirit from his mind, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still decide to attack. He didn’t though, and the hallway was empty.

Jackie and Ezri’s door was open. Alex took up the sword and slipped through the opening in her door, practically gliding across the hall into her daughter’s home. The place had been ransacked, photos torn, books off the shelves, glass table shattered. What she didn’t see was any blood, or the shells from any weapons. The lights hadn’t even been shut off.

She made her way back into the bedroom, but she already knew what she would find. An empty room, signs of struggle everywhere, but no friends. What she didn’t expect was that one of the consoles would be on. It displayed a face, sitting comfortably in her desk.

“Director Salazar.” Archive stepped up to the camera, not bothering with the formalities. “What did you do with my friends?”

The elderly woman leered at her through the camera. “Ah, Alex. Your friends are with me; safe.” She gestured to one side, and the camera panned. A pair of armored Centurions held them in their metal grip, too tight for them to struggle. 

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

The woman’s smile widened. “Of course not. We found the ones we were looking for.” She gestured again to the side, at the armored figures holding her friends.“They’re waiting for you. Why don’t you come down here, and we can talk.”

“Your office?”

“No.” She rose to her feet. “Lower Engineering, central reactor. The sunlight is good for my complexion.” She leaned close to the camera, her expression hard. “You have ten minutes, Alex. If you’re not naked and unarmed when you get there, they die. If you’re late, they die.” Her image vanished, the signal cut.

Archive turned to leave before she had even finished. She didn’t think, didn’t consider, just moved. Yet she couldn’t ignore the voice.

“Wait!” That was Athena’s voice, as loud as she had ever heard it. Archive searched, and found a fallen gauntlet on the ground in one corner. The screen was cracked, but she could still see the AI’s image reflected there. “Don’t go!”

Alex slipped the gauntlet on and galloped out the door. “Transfer my credentials to this gauntlet, Athena.”

“You need to turn back, Archive. If you proceed further, I will be unable to assist you.”

“I know.” Alex practically flew through the halls, or at least as close as she could with no magic and no ability to fly. She was completely unprepared: no weapons, no armor, no spells. Not that the last of those would do her much good. Where she was going was as close as it was possible to be to the CPNFG. As she dodged down the halls and lept whole flights of stairs, she felt her magical reserves fading.

By the time she reached the engineering section, she was completely submerged in the field and had no magic left at all. The unpolished metal of the unfinished sections above gave way to smooth, white plates, sweeping in elegant vaulted ceilings. An even light radiated from them all, filling the entire entryway with sourceless brilliance.

“I cannot see within the reactor chamber. I cannot send drones within, or access the security cameras. If you go in, you’re on your own.”

“I know.” Alex had to jump to reach the scanner, waving her gauntlet in front of it. A light set into the wall went green, and the huge bulkhead began to retract. As it did, the vibrating hum of the central reactor rattled through her body. “I won’t let them kill my friends. I brought them here. I’m responsible if anything happens to them.”

“Your vision clouds, Archive.” Athena’s voice from her wrist had no more emotion than ever, yet she still managed to sound judgmental. “Their deaths, however likely, would have no significant impact. If something happens to you, on the other hand... you will not have completed our mission. If this cult survives, they might kill millions.”

“Or they might not.” The bulkhead had been half-retracted now, foot-thick steel rotating slowly away into the floor. A few more moments, and she would be able to get inside. “I can’t exchange a possible danger in the future for my friends in danger now.”

“The logic is simple, Archive. Your present pain and theirs is significantly outweighed—”

“It’s not about the logic, Athena. I understand your logic. I just...” She shrugged. “I can’t give life a value. Or... I can. Infinite value.”

“I do not understand.”

The door finished retracting, and a smooth white plate slid over it, completing the walkway. Far brighter light shone out from within. “When you do, you’ll have found your soul.” 

As she passed into the reactor room, she watched Athena’s face vanish from her gauntlet. Ordinarily, the AI would still have access to this room through its cameras and screens, even if no wireless transmission was possible so close to the reactor.

She could sense the reactor even without looking at it, but she turned her attention on it anyway. The containment chamber was two-hundred feet across, a twisting donut pierced by supports and plasma injectors. Numerous little windows broke the metal, radiating artificial sunlight out into the room.

Even as her limbs shook with worry for her friends, even as she raged against the Order of Endurance and their audacity, she could not help but marvel at what she saw. Even before the Event her kind had struggled to master the stars’ great secret. Seeing the reactor was like feeling magic, but it was a kind of magic that no CPNFG could intercept. For an instant, she felt almost as though something from within were calling her. But how was that possible?

Archive continued past the reactor, ignoring the implacable impression. She kept the fusion chamber always close beside her as she moved, going slowly now. With every step, she scanned the area around her for signs of danger, watching for ambush. There was less than a foot of clearance under the containment area, not enough for a human to be hiding in the open area underneath.

The main reactor didn’t need human intervention, at least in theory. Yet she had never seen less than twenty technicians down here, swarming over their consoles on the outside wall, watching always for the first sign of danger. The fire that burned in the bones of stars needed to be carefully tended, lest it rage out of control. Yet tonight, she didn’t see a single person. No engineers, no technicians, not even any drones. The room was deserted.

Again something tugged at Archive’s mind, more insistent this time. It glowed from the magic of the reactor, demanding her attention. She stumbled, and time seemed to slow.

She was in the library, on the very top floor. The sky, ordinarily bright and glowing with light, raged with a storm that did not quite reach into the garden. The doorway leading further into the Dreamlands was closed: only a thestral could open it. Archive stood on two legs, wearing the body of a Valkyrie. Even so, the figure beside her seemed towering by comparison, his body hard and worn by great hardship. She turned to face him, taking in his features.

The man was not so young as he had been, and his hair had thinned on the top of his face. His body was covered with armor lined with gold, and a laurel of worked metal rested upon his head. For all the harshness to his muscles, for all the scars on his arms, the face she saw was neither condescending nor judgemental. Even so, he did not smile.

Archive rested one hand on her book, and inclined her head to the stranger. “Ave Imperator.” Though she had never seen him, Archive knew this man.

“Si vales bene est, ego valeo.” His response came in Latin also. It was fortunate she had taken the time to learn it. “But I know you are not.” He rested one hand on her shoulder, so large she felt herself a child again, though of course she was nearly twenty by now. “I see the pain in your eyes.”

She flinched, but didn’t look away. His eyes were dark, so dark they were almost black, yet she thought she saw love there. “I have no choice, shade.” Well, that sounded more polite than “hallucination.” She paused, glancing around the garden. She expected some soldiers up here, or at least a few senators. There were none, nor any other figures besides the two of them. “How are we speaking without magic?”

The man released her shoulder. “If men needed magic to do great deeds, our history would be a sore one indeed. No Hector, no Aeneas, no Theseus.”

That wasn’t much of an answer. Archive searched her mind, but could find no help there. Of course, nothing she saw indicated that magic was necessarily required to speak with this phantom. Perhaps seeing him here was evidence that it was all in her head. There was one thing in common, at least with all her previous visions: they seemed to take almost no time in the real world. Thank God for that, or else she would probably have been shot while she stood stupidly in place.

“Why you, then?” These things usually happened for a reason, right? Maybe if she figured out what the reason was, it could end and she could go back to saving her friends. “Aren’t you the emperor?”

He nodded. “I found Rome a city of bricks, and left it a city of marble. I labored all my life for that which reviled and hated me unjustly, and I was murdered in the house of my friends.” She could no longer look into his face anymore, not when it brimmed with such sadness. “If my life does not seem familiar to you, perhaps another reason. We have a vested interest in you, Archive. The shadow you cast into the future is a long one. These cowards have sold their souls to barbarian gods. In their hands are the last of our great bloodline, and they cast ruin and shame upon our name.” He reached down, resting one of his hands on the hilt of a golden sword. “Someone must ensure you survive. I am he.”

“You can’t do anything for me.” Archive didn’t sound dismissive or derogatory. Even so, she winced as she spoke. This was not the sort of man you wanted to disappoint. “Noble Emperor, we may have built our society in the shadow of yours, but you had already been dead for thousands of years. Unless you’ve made some contract with Pluto and you intend to return to help me here...” She shrugged. “You are but a memory, shade. They can’t see you, can’t hear you... and my time here isn’t unlimited.”

“I arrive as a reminder.” He took a step forward, narrowing the gap between them. “Your condition is not unique, and neither are your enemies. Neither my proclaimed divinity nor the greater gods I served protected me. For the sake of our species, you must survive — when you do, it will be because of your own strength. No artifice, no matter how sophisticated, can undo the truth of who you are.”

The vision began to fade. Archive remained where she was, wishing she could smile. “Nos morituri te salutamus.” She raised one hand in salute, touching it to her chest in the old way. The vision did not last long enough for her to see his expression in response.

Archive was a pony again, walking along the edge of the reactor. If any time had passed, there was no sign of it. She hadn’t been shot... well, nobody would dare bring any kind of projectile near the reactor. She hadn’t been stabbed, then.

As she walked around the reactor, searching for those she had come to meet, Archive tried to figure out how an apparently supernatural manifestation like seeing a dead emperor could happen so deep within the field of a CPNFG. She could remember only one clue: Sunset Shimmer hadn’t been able to visit Raven City when she built the spell that let humans become ponies. The magic of an Alicorn was so powerful it would’ve overwhelmed the field, even at its strongest. She had seen this aboard an ancient aircraft too, the night Taylor became a pony. Sunset’s power had nearly overwhelmed the CPNFG in a matter of moments.

Archive was no Alicorn. Was it possible she was starting to inherit some of the power even so? It wasn’t her pegasus nature, that was for sure. Her wings still didn’t feel like they fit. Further, she was completely underground. No path at all led through the airlocks to the upper wind, so none of that kind of magic could get to her. The other pegasus talent, supernatural speed, would probably have worked just fine down here, were it not for the field. 

“We hear you coming, Honored Memory. Please hurry... I think your little friends are getting impatient.” Though the voice spoke her title in the religion of the Initiative, she said it with far more profanity than reverence. A few more steps, and Alex could see them.

Director Emma Salazar stood in her formal uniform, a flowing black coat that obscured her sleeves and went all the way to her boots. She carried no tools, though the soldiers at her either side certainly did. Her soldiers both wore the armor of full Centurions, rising to eight feet each of metal that could stop tank-shells. Neither carried weapons beyond the armor itself. Archive had seen Centurion armor stop a charging earth pony before. As a pegasus, well... a single strike would probably break half her bones.

Instead of weapons, one soldier held her friend and the other her daughter. Their grip was not tight, but it didn’t need to be. Neither struggled. Each had a finger gently on their necks; enough to kill them with ease long before they could escape. The soldiers watched Alex, not their prisoners. The message was clear: try anything, and they die.

“There was no need to kidnap my friends to speak with me, Director.” She stopped perhaps ten paces away, bowing in the formal way. 

Salazar did not return the bow as protocol required. “I do as I will, Alex.”

For once, she wasn’t happy to hear her first name instead of the frustrating religious one they had invented for her. “Release my friends, Director. They aren’t involved in any of this, and they’re no danger to you. When they’re gone, we can talk.”

To her great surprise, Salazar complied. Or, almost complied. She gestured, and the soldiers released their grip on Ezri and Jackie. The ponies darted to her side. Neither wasted any time in running over to embrace her, Ezri with all the restraint of a child, eyes full of tears, while Jackie was more dignified. She shoved them away after a few seconds. “You two, get out of here. This is nothing to—”

She heard metal clanking behind her, though she tried to ignore it. What she couldn’t ignore were Salazar’s words. “They cannot leave, Alex. I merely permit them to reunite with you before...” She shrugged. “Well, before our unfortunate business is concluded.” She gestured, and another figure stepped up behind them. Another human, body concealed in the enfolding plates of Centurion armor. “Please, don’t run. The result would be... unfortunate.”

“There’s no way out,” Jackie whispered in her ear, as quietly as anypony could whisper. “I watched. Behind that door, she’s got a big barrel. I think she’s gonna... d-dump our—” Ezri whimpered, and clung to Jackie a little, hiding her face.

Archive forced them to meet her eyes, and did not whisper as she spoke. “They will not.” There was no sign of hesitation in her voice, no insecurity or doubt. Archive spoke as Celestia had spoken, as a pony so sure of something that no other outcome was possible. They visibly relaxed at her words, Jackie nodding a little. As their eyes met, Archive saw hope reflected in those big bat eyes. It was harder to see, but she could practically feel the emotion from the changeling. It burned in her, and for an instant it seemed something was calling her again, like another vision. She ignored it.

It had only been a few seconds. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Alex. You don’t yet know my intentions for you.”

“I can guess.” Archive took a breath, then advanced, placing herself between her friends and the Director. “You feel my political activities are out of hand. Very well; banish the lot of us to some deserted island. My friends don’t know where any of your stations are, they’re no danger to you. My word is good, Salazar. Search your records: I’ve never broken it.”

Salazar frowned. “Perhaps the animals you befriended couldn’t say where exactly this base is located... but perhaps they could. Without our secret, we are doomed. Suppose they noticed the time of sunset, or the times the constellations rise, or the composition of the soil... any number of these might provide another clue to those searching for us. However inferior the animals, they could overwhelm us if they came in numbers. No location, no matter how remote, would be suitable for abandoning any of you. Even if we sever your wings, there is a chance you will be rescued. However miniscule that chance, it is unacceptable. No...” She shook her head. “The only solution for you is the permanent solution.”

Alex shivered at the finality in her tone. Yet, Salazar was still talking to her, right? That meant there was at least some room for negotiation. Otherwise, she could've ordered her soldiers to attack. Once she did, their chances of survival were slim. Without magic, even several lifetimes worth of experience would do her little good. “Your only solution is the peaceful solution,” she argued, advancing. “Ask anyone on this base, read any record you wish, my word is my bond. I think it’s part of what I am.” She shrugged her wings. “Look, point is, you can’t kill me. Maybe you think you’re clever and you’ve got some secret cell down here to lock me away instead... but it won’t work. Ponies can’t survive in a thaumic-neutralization-field, not for long. Try and keep me down here, and I’ll just rot away and die. Or, maybe you’d like to test my immortality. Maybe you think the stories aren’t true.” 

She advanced a pace, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “They are true, Director. I have seen beyond the iridescent veil, I have glimpsed the fathomless abyss. When I return, I will do so at a place of my choosing. Make an enemy of me by harming my friends...” She trailed off. Her word was good. She could not honestly say that she would turn the ponies of the world against the HPI. Not because she thought she couldn’t, nothing like that. Archive knew she could do it, if she had wanted to. But just because their leaders had become corrupt did not mean the regular people were. If ponies stormed this compound, far more good people would die than monsters. That she would not do. “... you’re gonna have a bad time.” 

Salazar was quiet for a moment. Alex tried to read her expression, but could see little that suggested what she might really be feeling. This woman had served her whole life in politics, she was a master at hiding her feelings. Not to mention that humans were so much harder to read than ponies: their scents were much harder to judge, they had no big ears or tails. When she did speak, her words were measured. “Perhaps you have. The limits of magic have not yet been well explored, so I couldn’t discount it.”

Alex went on, emboldened. “Why does it have to be violence, Director? We have settled disagreements peacefully before. The HPI has persisted longer than so many other human organizations in part because it has remained cohesive. Even if you don’t agree with the religion, you must understand that killing me would not remove the reverence people have for their Ancestors.”

The director shrugged one shoulder. “Our Ancestors deserve some reverence, sure. They had the foresight to found the Initiative, even at great risk. They supplied us with what we would need to survive. They invented the technology that enabled us to remain self-sufficient when the rest of industry collapsed. For that they deserve our thanks, but... not our praise, and certainly not our loyalty. Holding to their vision for our morality... or even their vision of what humanity is. Charybdis has shown me what we might become if only we cut ourselves free of the anchor binding us to the past.” She gestured meaningfully at Alex. 

“You couldn’t have known the Equestrians would use you to trap us in the inferior forms nature gave us. Use you to keep us weak, vulnerable. They knew we would want revenge the next time their world got close enough. When it does, Charybdis assures we—”

Alex interrupted, shouting now. “Are you insane? Read the history, Salazar! Equestria did not know any humans had survived, they didn’t intend me to trap you as anything. I don’t... understand what they did to me, but... any resistance my survival grants you to the soul warping Charybdis wants is to your advantage! I know you think that’s Equestrian propaganda—” She huffed. “Surely you see how fucking insane that is! I’m not saying it’s wrong for you to want to change ideology, or overcome human weakness through science or magic. All that’s great, but enslaving yourselves isn’t the way!”

Tears streaked her face as she continued, yet she did not falter or look away. “Look at the footage from raids with that demon’s 'human' followers! See the way he’s twisted and defiled them! Worse — ask a pony to tell you the state of their souls. Or wait, I will. They’re fucking gone! They’re husks, and that’s exactly what you’ll be! Whatever you want, I’ll help you get it! Whatever abilities, whatever powers. I know magic better than most Equestrians! What’s better, I’m human! Or I was, anyway. I want you people to be successful! If you really think making war with Equestria is the right thing to do, then fine! Just... don’t do it as slaves! Please, God... don’t do that to yourselves! You’re so much better than that!”

For all her passionate words, Salazar did not seem convinced. “How will your magic bring you back if you die within an anti-magic field, Alex? Do you really think the spells the Equestrians made for you are stronger than Paradise Crater's core?” She gestured up at the ceiling, where Alex knew the CPNFG itself resided, consuming the vast majority of this reactor’s output. It was so powerful that the animals for miles around this base had lost their intelligence, so powerful that, when it had first been installed, they had to lower its strength, because pegasi who flew anywhere nearby would fall out of the air.

Archive did not know if her immortality could break through that much anti-magic. If she died here... what would happen? Would it really be that easy to kill an immortal? Salazar was probably wrong, of course. But Archive had never died within a field, and until now there had never even been a field like Paradise Crater. Too bad she didn’t have the time to call Sunset and ask.

Archive took a breath. “You’re better off taking your chances with that after you let my friends go. Do that... swear that they can live their natural lives in peace... and I won’t retaliate if you fail. I will still give you my word.” She heard Ezri gasp, Jackie’s teeth practically grinding together. Yet neither spoke. They understood that this negotiation was hers.

Salazar again seemed to consider. She stood still, muttering to herself in a tongue that Archive did not speak. This was itself remarkable, since so far as she knew she understood all human languages. She reached out, extending her mind to the realm of connection as Sunset had taught her to do. Evil or not, these people were human. She ought to be able to...”

Archive would’ve thought the CPNFG was somehow cancelling out the magic, except that she could sense three connections in the room quite clearly. Jackie’s bonds were the tightest, not to her as a person but to the humanity that still wasn’t that far away. Ezri, though only the child of a former human, had evidently picked up enough of the attitude that the bonds came from her, too. The third connection went to the soldier behind her, more tenaciously than Ezri's but still clearly visible to her.

Director Salazar and the soldiers at her either side were something Archive had never seen before: humans she could not sense. Strong cords bound them all right, so thick that she had been amazed she had not noticed... yet none went to her. Something had stolen her connection to her very own species. The very creatures she had been created to remember and preserve had gone unbound from her.

It would have been wonderful to have the strategic advantage, but even that was not her first thought. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger’s reflection. It was more horrible than anything Salazar could’ve said. Even so, the very sound of her words seemed to darken and dirty the air, like a stream of guttural profanity. She wore no communicator, yet she paused more than once as though she could hear responses from nowhere.

When she finally looked up, her eyes had grown darker than ever. Before she even spoke, Archive knew what she would say. No matter how generous the compromise she offered, nothing Archive had to give would be enough. It was not really the director whose will was in opposition to her. Director Salazar might have taken one of her compromises, but Charybdis never would.

So instead of waiting for her to speak, Archive spun around and looked directly at the camera in the soldier’s visor. Looked, and tugged on the connection she felt to the man inside with all the strength she had. She shouted, her voice echoing around the room. “You know the chains Salazar wishes to bind you with, Isaac! Help me break them!” The armor had no names printed on it, but she needed none. Her connection to the young man’s essence was enough.

“Kill them!” The director retreated a pace, though not towards any of the doors. The bloodlust in her eyes made it quite clear she intended to enjoy the killing in person. “The pegasus last! Let her see her friends die.”

The pair of Centurions advanced on them, shaking the earth with each step. She glanced behind, searching Isaac’s soul for any sign of what he was about to do. She need not have bothered. “Memoria Nobilis!” There was no trace of hesitation in him, no doubt or fear as there had been. Isaac burned with the zeal of any of her most loyal supporters.

Again, time slowed. Archive could not move faster, but she could think. She considered the Centurions ahead of them, a pair heavily armored and completely beyond her ability to influence. Suppose crewman Isaac was as strong as one of them, that still left one centurion and an angry but unarmed director. A director insane enough to order her killed in the main reactor room. What if the fight went badly? Even minor damage would probably kill everyone down here instantly... and anything more serious could potentially destroy the entire base. Was that what Charybdis really wanted? His treaty would not allow him to strike at the HPI, but... if it destroyed itself, he wouldn’t have to.

Centurions charged, shaking the earth with slow-motion steps. If she couldn’t damage the reactor, what could she do? Archive examined her resources: 

1. Two sets of pointy teeth, on Ezri and Jackie.
2. Her own considerable skill in physical combat.
3. Higher speed and dexterity than either of the armored humans would be able to manage in their bulky suits.
4. One loyal Centurion, currently occupied.

Was that a conflict she could win?

Archive heard the emperor’s voice in her mind, as clear as it had been ten minutes before. “You will succeed because you have no choice.”

“Under there!” Alex gestured furiously towards the reactor, shoving on Ezri with one shoulder. The gap under the containment chamber might not be large, but it was more than wide enough for a pony to wiggle under without touching any of the casing. Alex spoke with such authority that her friends did not resist, scrambling away. There were ladders that could be used to access that space, but none of them were within convenient reach of someone wearing Centurion armor.

So long as they stayed inside, her friends would be very hard to hurt. Kill her friends first, huh? Archive’s eyes locked on the retreating director, and she knew who her first target would be. Centurion Isaac charged past, intercepting one of the other armored figures and taking them straight back with a charge into the rear wall. The other slowed a moment, watching the ponies clamber under the containment chamber, then began a charge of their own.

In that moment, Archive was reminded of another important truth: though trained in unarmed combat, even the HPI’s most skilled soldiers never trained for unarmed combat in armor. Why bother, when there were assault weapons literally built into the suit? Archive leaned to one side, as though preparing to jump out of the way, but feinted to the other side at the last moment. Her attacker fell for the feint, jumping in a way that would’ve pinned her and collapsing violently to the ground.

Unfortunately for them, Archive had already charged past. She ignored Isaac and the other, and instead charged straight for Salazar’s retreating back. This woman hadn’t just ordered her friends murdered, she was also either loyal to or enslaved by a soul-devouring demon. Archive would feel no remorse in her death.

The pegasus crossed the space far faster than the soldier could follow. “Director, look out!” he shouted from behind her, his voice distorted by the suit. Archive had very little weight, particularly as a pegasus, so she used her speed instead, kicking out with all the force she had. 

Salazar’s sudden turn saved her life. Instead of taking the kick in the spine, Archive’s hoof connected with her side, right in the gut. The force of the kick sent her tumbling backward and twisting in agony, but it did not kill her. She writhed, rolling onto her back and fumbling around in one of her pockets. The Centurion closed, lunging for Archive again. Again she dodged, twisting smoothly between his arms this time. She didn’t bother striking him; the armor was too tough for even a strategic blow to make a difference. 

But the director was unarmored. Archive jumped again, right for her head. Yet as fast as Alex was, this human was apparently faster. Salazar rolled at the last moment. The blow connected with the woman’s jaw, snapping it in one place and dislocating it with a sickening crunch. Blood flowed, yet the woman did not die.

The Centurion froze a few feet away, glancing between Archive and the director. Isaac and the other Centurion hadn’t noticed, and seemed to be beating each other to a pulp alongside one of the control consoles, which their collective mass had apparently flattened. 

Salazar didn’t struggle or scream, as Archive had expected. Few humans experienced the agony she had to be feeling, particularly when they grew up as a sheltered, protected class in their secret bunkers. Yet she didn’t scream or cry out. She just kept fumbling, at least for another few seconds.

The next thing Alex heard was the sound of a gunshot. It wasn’t loud; there was no gunpowder involved in the magnetically-accelerated rounds. Even so, the bullet went right through Alex’s torso, spraying blood and tearing flesh as it went. The pain was so intense that Archive dropped almost at once, gasping. She too had long ago mastered her pain, but... that didn’t mean her body could ignore the damage.

Ezri screamed, her voice growing distant and stretched. Archive struggled to get her legs under her again, but found they refused to comply. The shock of the blow had done terrible harm to her insides, probably enough to kill her. She gasped. “Used a... gun... in the reactor... chamber...” and as much blood came from her mouth as words.

“Aiming straight up.” Salazar’s mouth barely moved as she spoke, and her voice didn’t sound much healthier than Archive’s. Even so, her wounds were minor by comparison. “Insurance. You’ll die for good now, Archive. Your friends... the traitor... all of them.”

“No!” Where Jackie had come from, Alex couldn’t see, yet the gray blur of her form soared overhead, fangs bared for Salazar's neck. The other Centurion, content to watch Alex bleed, was not so slow that he couldn’t catch her. One of her wings tore under his grip, and several little bones broke under the carelessness of it, causing her to retch with agony. Even so, her eyes were determined. She did not stop struggling.

The world grew gray. Archive’s body was soaked with her own blood, and her heartbeat came irregularly now. It wouldn’t be long after a blow that severe, from such a range. The bullet had missed her heart, but that hadn’t mattered. It was probably going to kill her. Ezri charged too, rage practically glowing from around her, and the centurion swatted her aside like an insect. She fell, and one of her chitin plates broke from the force, her wings mangled beneath her.

“I have the traitor!” shouted a female voice from somewhere distant, her voice imperious. “Give the order and he dies!” Alex realized that, indeed, the sound of struggle had stopped. She was going to die, then all who had believed in her or trusted her would die too. Her foolish attempt to repair the corruption of this organization would end, whether she returned from the grave or not. How would she ever live with herself after getting Ezri and Jackie killed?

She saw Jackie’s face, twisted with pain, yet still watching her. She no longer struggled, but neither did she look as though she had given up. Though it obviously caused her great pain, Ezri rose to her hooves again, preparing for another charge. Archive saw her eyes, and saw the Truth reflected there, the Truth she had been searching for since she had come back from Equestria. She saw her purpose there, if flickering only dimly.

Archive screamed. Power flooded into her, vast beyond anything she had felt. Magic crackled through the air around her, strong enough that she defied her wound and stood. The bleeding stopped, wound cauterized by the force of it. Alarm sirens blared from all around the room, flashing with ‘thaumic exposure’ warnings. Archive felt the power filling her, hot enough that she could begin to ignore the wounds. The light glowed from around her forehead so brightly that she no longer saw gray, or even the orange of the engineering lights. She saw white, and through it the place she had been longing to go. The place she had been missing.

The Centurion in front of her dropped Jackie and began to convulse, shaking in the characteristic agony of magical poisoning. The director too had dropped her gun, collapsing back to the floor as she screamed. Archive did not know how long the power would remain. She did know that she couldn’t stay here anymore, not manifesting a power like this. There were no decks lower than the reactor, so disrupting the field here would harm nobody else. Yet if she remained, the CPNFG might fail entirely, killing everyone inside.

She had to go, and she knew exactly where. Archive screamed as she slashed out at the air in front of her, tearing open a rift in the world. This wasn’t like a teleport, calculated and precise. Instead of delicately folding through the universe, she simply tore it open with the raw force of her will. Brilliant, scorching light poured through from the gap, brighter than Death Valley had ever been. Even so, it did not burn. Archive didn’t know where the tear would take her, but she knew she had to go. “Get in!” she shouted, gesturing to her injured friends. Together, Ezri and Jackie limped towards the rift, vanishing.

She didn’t leave herself, not yet. Isaac lay on the ground on the other side of the room, convulsing in his armor along with the others. Archive forced her will upon his armor and tore it off his body in a few smooth strokes, casting it aside as she might the petals from a flower. Underneath, the young man wore a skintight fluid-cooling suit over most of his body. Even so, the part she could see, the face and hands, did not bode well for his health. Thick black blisters had formed on his skin, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he had clearly lost consciousness. 

Archive lifted him too, fully conscious her magic was doing even more damage. This man had wagered his own life in her defense; he deserved better than being abandoned here to die. Wherever that light came from, he had a better chance of living than here. She lifted, then shoved him through the rift. The opening seemed reluctant to take him, as though someone were pushing back on the other side. Archive’s will was stronger. She concentrated, digging up every spell for insulating a passenger and dispelling force, and casting them at once without a second’s hesitation. The young Isaac finally slid through, though the skin on his face had been burned almost black by the time he had.

Archive moved to follow, marching purposefully towards the rift. Beyond it waited... well, the rest of her soul. Once she made it there, she would be complete at last. Even if the vast power of her awakening would fade, she would still be a powerful ally for humanity. Celestia’s vision for her would be fulfilled.

She felt the next gunshot as though it were happening to someone else. She looked down, and almost didn’t believe it. Pain swelled, and blood pooled from the wound. The edges of her rift began to fuzz as her concentration faltered. She surged against the pain, glancing to the side as she advanced another step.

She felt another gunshot, this time in the neck. It missed the spine, but sent blood gushing as it passed. Archive’s eyes widened as she saw the one holding the gun.

Director Salazar was no longer convulsing on the ground. She seemed different. Her flesh, pale from a lifetime in the dark, was already turning angry green, particularly around her neck and injured jaw. Instead of blood, brackish slime dribbled from her wounds, staining her jacket. She fired again into Alex’s torso. “Humanity must adapt,” she muttered, her voice guttural and strange. Another gunshot. “Your time is over, Archive. Humanity no longer needs you. We will be weak... no... longer!”

Powerful as the magic was, it evidently was not infinite. Around her, the CPNFG’s antimagic field crashed down again. The rift collapsed with a deafening boom, shaking her from her hooves. The magic gathered around her forehead flickered once, then vanished, taking the light with it. Archive screamed as colors fled her vision again, her heart laboring for a few last beats.

“F-forgive—” Archive’s breathing stopped. Her willpower held her for another moment, just long enough to see Salazar’s satisfied expression distort beyond anything that had ever been human. 

Then she died.
> Episode 2.1: Above it All
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackie woke in agony. Every sense she had was overwhelmed, as though her brain had been plugged into a wall-socket but somehow she couldn't die. She saw in one timeless moment the vastness of creation, pouring in one end of her brain and out the other. She touched, heard, smelled, and experienced all things, or at least it seemed that way. As insane as it seemed, Jackie was more prepared for this than any of her companions. Once, she had touched Alex's memories and seen three centuries of life in a few seconds. A few days ago, Archive had shown her a vision of all the pain of refugees all over the planet. This was, in its way, not all that different.

The secret was not trying to hold on. Sensation was a vast current, and a single obstruction could sweep her away into madness. Jackie went as limp as she could, and waited for the alien sensations to pass. There was no thought, no time, or anything else familiar to her existence. She couldn't hope to retain any of what she experienced, yet she did fight to keep her individuality separate from the maelstrom. A single hoof into the current, and she would have been overwhelmed, perhaps forever.

It ended.

Jackie moaned, suddenly able to isolate her body from the rest of her surroundings and finding it not quite as she expected. Her forelegs lay comfortably at her sides, instead of in front of her. Her joints also seemed different, though it was hard to be sure. She still had wings, but... the part of her back they covered seemed wrong. It was as though she was longer than she expected, her wings smaller than they should be. It was very strange.

One fact alone seemed clear above all others: she wasn't on Earth. There was no air in her lungs here, and yet she did not feel the need for it. There was no ground beneath her, except as a symbol, a barrier between one place and the next. Again, Jackie was well prepared for what she found. Her whole career was designing dreams, after all. There were many symbols in dreams, and even things that appeared not to be were often mere facades. Nothing in a dream was real except as it mattered to the dreamer. Likewise, nothing was impossible except that the dreamer believed it so.

She opened her eyes. A sky stretched above her, somehow larger than any sky had a right to be. Billions and billions of spheres floated there, like miniature planets of every possible composition. The land around her appeared to be in the middle of a vast city, larger and grander than anything she had ever seen. Skyscrapers of rusty iron mixed with others of unidentifiable metals, or even stranger things like plastic or wood. Every empty space that wasn't a floor, be it a bench or the space between supports, was piled high with books, cramming every last nook. There were no covers close enough, with she herself in the middle of the street, yet the image was impossible to ignore. Jackie had no context to understand much of what she saw. Somehow, she could tell that every object, every formation, and even she herself, was really just a symbol. Unfortunately, that knowledge alone was not enough to decipher what they meant.

Under a thousand glittering suns, Jackie could see that she had changed. She wasn't human, but she wasn't quite a pony. Rather, she was somewhere in-between. She had hooves on her legs, but also arms with hands. She had fur, but also a mostly human face. Her hair was in the right place, but it still felt like it was made of the same stuff her mane had been. Her wings, placed as they were, made her out like more of a fantasy depiction of a demon than an animal really meant to fly.

The form did not strike her as one she wanted to keep. Decades ago, when she had returned to Earth, she would have given away anything to get her humanity back. Perhaps she would have settled for something in-between then, but not now. Now she had Ezri, a changeling drone who had become so much more to her than just Alex's daughter. They were as close as two ponies could be, save perhaps that they couldn't ever have foals of their own. Jackie would not have taken her humanity back now, not unless Ezri could be human too. It would be better to be stuck in a body that had been alien than not to have the pony she loved.

Speaking of which, how had she gotten here? Jackie tried to remember, but found to her horror that the onslaught of experience had blasted holes in her memory. In particular, she found recent thoughts elusive. The most recent thing she could remember for sure was a talk she had with Alex in her shop. Even so, that event felt... weeks away. Did that really mean it had taken that long? Where was this? Jackie's assumption was perhaps quite a natural one for a master of oneiromancy like herself: she assumed this was a dream. Alex had shown her strange things in dream before, perhaps this was just the next natural escalation.

Jackie gestured, calling upon her magic as she might've in a dream. She pictured Ezri standing beside her, helpful and eager as always. It was a fairly simple thing, made routine by decades of practice.

Nothing happened. Not the nothing of a dream too powerful to be altered easily, or the nothing she felt when she had used up all her magic. Rather, it was what she felt when she tried to use her powers in the real world. There was a little pressure, her will commanding reality to obey, it just wasn't nearly enough to make anything happen. It was a thimble to the ocean: theoretically enough to empty the whole thing, but in practice the water cycle would bring it all back no matter how long she stayed at it.

A single glance at the sky was all Jackie needed to see to know she wasn't on Earth. But if this wasn't Earth, where was she? Where was Ezri? She'd feel much better about wherever this was once she had her mate back.

She found Ezri after not much searching, only a handful of feet away from her. Jackie had to crawl over; she wasn't really sure how to move in this new body and learning was less important than making sure her mate was okay. Unfortunately, her haste alone did not ensure the changeling would be alright.

Ezri should not have been alive. A single glance filled her with horror, yet instead of revulsion she felt only compassion, pity for her lover. Changelings had holes in their legs that sometimes extended to their manes and tails, this much was to be expected. Ezri, however... she hadn't become halfway human upon arrival, as Jackie had. Instead, those ordinary holes had extended to pierce the rest of her body. They weren't natural either, but gaping, agonizing voids through which greenish fluids seeped and organs were visible. Yet she did not die. Instead she curled upon herself, writhing with constant agony.

"Ezri!" She reached out to comfort her mate, resting one hand on her shoulder. Agony came when she touched, filling her body and mind and making Jackie shiver and convulse with it. It was... well, though Jackie had never actually felt it before, it was a mental contact the likes of which Ezri had told her changelings used. She knew how to recognize it, even if... hadn't Ezri said some spell stopped her from using it too? Through that link, she could sense no sanity, only pain. The wounds visible in Ezri's body were not real, they were the evidence of something deeper. Jackie could no more heal them than she could stop the rivers in their course or bid the sun not to rise.

Yet even so, she held her, clutching at her friend in her agony and not caring how much of the pain spread to her, or how soiled her clothing got from the contact. Perhaps she could shelter her, somehow. Perhaps, with great effort, she could take some of the injuries instead, and so let Ezri survive.

She was conscious of something else, another shape beside them, but she did not move to investigate. She couldn't think straight when overwhelmed with Ezri's pain, could not consider anything at all except the reality before her. It was terrible agony, missing parts, void. The longer she felt it, the more nuanced her understanding became. Ezri hurt because she didn't belong. Just as Jackie's relationship with her let her find her dreams no matter where she slept, the changeling was bound to something, something that couldn't exist here. So those parts of her simply hadn't come, and she had gaping wounds instead.

Where were they? How had they come here?

Jackie didn't know how much time passed. She didn't feel tired, didn't feel the need to eat or sleep. She simply existed, sharing Ezri's pain and trying to will some of her strength in return. The changeling never seemed to reach consciousness, no matter how many times she tried talking to her. There was too much pain for that, no matter how strong her will.

Eventually though, she heard something else, a voice. It was so distinct that she could not help but sit up, searching for the speaker. There was no weather here, nothing besides the clear sky, so she couldn't mistake it for the wind. She had missed however the voice had started, yet as she forced herself away from the pain, she began to recognize what she heard.

"Not the one we expected."

"Could she have been separated?"

"Into these three? Impossible. None called for us. Look at the one; she's barely alive. The male should never have come here, not so soon. That only leaves the one with any coherence."

"She has no power."

Jackie opened her eyes, shaking away the pain and forcing herself to set Ezri back down where she had found her. Being with her in solidarity had been the right thing to do, maybe. But if there were others here, perhaps they could help. She saw, and was utterly stupefied at what she observed.

There were three of them, three radiant figures of different colors. Their bodies were perhaps eight feet tall, and each of entirely human yet entirely inhuman features. Each seemed to share features from both sexes, though it was hard to say for certain. Their skin glowed with an internal radiance, as though they were made of glass and merely gave a glimpse at the truth within. The three wore white robes of a similar caste, like something a vedic might've worn, though the specific designs upon them looked... almost out of an HPI tailor's shop.

One seemed too kind, condescendingly so. Another's expression seemed fierce and judgemental as it looked down upon her, as though it wanted to tear her apart. She settled on the center figure instead, the most tolerable mix of the three. Its body seemed cast of blue stormclouds, swollen with rain. In its four arms it carried four objects, though of the lot she recognized only a mace as anything familiar. There was some kind of flower, and... two other things even more unfamiliar. Symbols glowed on the being's forehead, and she recognized them at once for runes, even though she could not read them. Pity Alex wasn't around.

Though, she supposed if Alex had been here, she would've known where they were just by looking around, maybe even how to get them home. She surely wouldn't have just laid there with Ezri and tried to make her feel better. Whatever; Jackie might not be some divinely-invested Archive, might not have humans coming to her for advice like she was some kind of prophet, but that didn't matter. Just now, someone she cared about was in pain, and she wanted to help. If that wasn't divine, well... it would have to do as a substitute.

Jackie alone would probably have been too afraid of these imperious figures, multi-limbed and frightening, familiar yet alien. This place had a power to it, a power these beings seemed to share. It felt like many of the strong dreams she had sensed, back when she had worked primarily to stop nightmares. Strong dreams had strong figments, spirits of the dreamworld that played roles in many dreams from night to night. They had specific power within their dreams, and couldn't be easily ousted. These beings felt much the same, only... this wasn't a dream. What did it mean to have that kind of power over reality? 

Was this what a human alicorn looked like?

The center figure suddenly met her eyes, and it smiled at her. "No, child. We are nothing like that. Though, for you to be here, you ought to already know what we are, yes? Didn't you create us to test you?"

The fierce, angry figure glowered at the first. "She did not. No seeker could hide power from us here."

The third figure shrugged, as if ambivalent. "It would be the first time we have ever seen a seeker."

Jackie didn't care about what they were talking about. She didn't care about who they were, or even where they were, so long as she could get Ezri back to normal. As she looked, forcing herself to see her friend again, she saw something else. Or rather, someone else, the sort of person she didn't see too often (at least not up close). The figure was human, that much was unmistakable. His hair was bright red, his eyes emerald, and his skin was covered with burns. He was in his mid-twenties, curled up into fitful sleep.

Yet she couldn't worry about the stranger, not now. Ezri was bleeding all over the ground, her insides were exposed and her soul was ripped apart. Jackie rose. It helped, though thanks to the massive height of these beings it only helped about as much as standing around humans usually did. She kept one hoof protectively close to Ezri, though not actually touching her. Despite how much her mate was leaking, there wasn't actually any blood pooling beneath her. Like everything else here, the blood was just a symbol. It was no more real than the humanoid form Jackie now stood in.

"Excuse me." Jackie cleared her throat. The figures all stopped talking, turning as one to face her. It was a frightening thing to see, as though they weren't three separate individuals at all, but one being occupying many bodies. Like a changeling queen, but also more than one. A queen only controlled more bodies. This being was more... three aspects of the same thing. How did Jackie know that? "My friend is hurt." She gestured down at Ezri. "You look... like you know things. Please tell me how to help her."

The figures regarded her impassively for some moments, and their glances at one another spoke more than any words could have. Jackie did her best to figure out what they meant, but... she couldn't get much. Eventually, the middle figure spoke up, its eyes lingering on Ezri at her feet. "Your friend does not belong here, Jacqueline Kessler. Neither do you. How did you get here?" Its tone was hard to judge; loving, yes, but also stern. It wasn't upset with her, but it also wasn't overly merciful.

Jackie frowned in response. Being interrogated wouldn't help Ezri. Yet, she got the feeling that resisting would help far less. She swallowed. "I don't remember."

"Do you know where you are?" That was the kinder of the three, its voice almost like a mother. No mother she had ever had, but... not as frightening, either. Patronizing, though. Jackie wasn't fond of that part.

"I don't. But I know my friend is hurt." She gestured again. "Please, help her. Or if not, help me so I can. It isn't fair that she should suffer like this."

"Suffering is never fair," said the tallest, sternest of the figures. Jackie wilted at its words, avoiding the strange flashes in its hands. The symbols there, though unfamiliar to her, were clear enough in their meaning. Destruction. If the patronizing figure was the kind mother, than this one was the avenging father, ready to break her into pieces. "Yet it is necessary, or stagnation is the result. Humans have always been afraid to destroy old things and replace them with new, yet still they do it."

"Not her." Jackie bent down, onto her knees. "Whatever else, take. I'll give you anything I have... It isn't much, I know. If I'd known I was coming to..." She trailed off. "Whatever. I'll do anything you ask if you help her."

"But not the other one?" This was the middle voice, the average of the other two. "Is his suffering inconsequential to you?"

Jackie swallowed, then shook her head. "Not that. I don't want him to hurt either, but I don't know him. He seems..." She almost had it, where she recognized him from. Then the image faded, and she was as confused as before. "I figured it had to be expensive. If I... If I can only help one, then it's going to be Ezri. My-my mate."

The blue figure nodded sagely. "Humans always imagine themselves undeserving of good things. Look at us; created to judge, condemn, and proclaim the worthiness of the one we waited for. Yet she need not suffer any judgement at all; merely reaching here was enough. As for you — this place would have destroyed you were it not for the intervention of others."

"You're saving us?" Jackie's eyes narrowed on the strangers, one hand clenching into a fist. Of course, she knew no possible violence could succeed against these creatures, whatever they were. Yet even so, she could not help but grow defensive. Any talk of hurting them sounded like some kind of threat.

"No, another. She's coming as quickly as she can."

The destroyer chuckled. "She will be as surprised as we were to find these wanderers here instead of the seeker we were waiting for. I would like to see her face."

Jackie shook her head. She felt as though she were getting lost, with the talk of creatures vastly beyond her experience. This was worse than hearing unicorns talk about their magic, in its way. At least what unicorns said had a kind of sense to it. These beings, and this place, well... Jackie had no clue what most of what they said meant, even though they used no special vocabulary to say it.

She gritted her teeth. "My friend needs help," she repeated, as loudly as she could, silencing their conversation again. "Please help her. I'll do anything."

They shared another look, and it seemed for a moment a silent argument was passing between them. Eventually the argument resolved, and the figure in their center stepped forward. "You need only decide, child." The figure gestured at her companions. "Decide for them and know the consequences last forever."

"Or do nothing and watch them die," said the destroyer, leering at her. "I could even do it for you. Make it swift and painless, not extend their agony as—"

"Yes." She advanced one step, past the weakly moaning Ezri. "They accept. Or... I accept for them."

The motherly figure turned her back on them, as did the destroyer. That left only the middle figure, considering her. It reached down, offering her what was to its scale only a teacup. To her, though, it was almost the size of a bucket, and she could only hold it with both hands. It was full to the brim with glowing white liquid, as bright as the figure who had given it to her. "Very well, Jacqueline Kessler. Be preserved." Did it sound pleased with her choice? "Your companions cannot drink it. Pour some into one of the openings on the parasite. Any will do, they all lead to the same place.

Jackie didn't hesitate, bending down a little and tilting the wooden cup. As the liquid fell, it began to shudder, boiling under an unseen flame. No heat emerged from the bubbles, though they did produce a smell like mildew. Jackie poured anyway, right into the hole in Ezri's chest. 

It didn't take any experience with dreams to recognize magic when she saw it. It was healing on a scale Jackie had never seen, not under the hooves of any doctor or medical unicorn anywhere on the planet. Even the HPI, with their advanced robotic surgeries and regrowing organs, could offer only a pale imitation of what she saw. Ezri's dozen holes began to grow closed. Missing organs healed first, knitting themselves together even as her internal support structure (not a skeleton, since that was on the outside) began to repair itself. Eventually the holes themselves sealed shut. Ezri stopped moaning, and the tortured expression on her face became content. "What did you... do?"

"What did you do?" the towering creature corrected. "Mended what was not broken; given back what was never missing. You are not finished." The creature watched closely, his eyes falling on the tormented human. Jackie expected resentment as she looked at him, yet for some reason she could not explain she could feel only gratitude. Maybe he had been kind to her in a past life? Either way, she no longer questioned the need to help him. "His malady is different. The other was fighting to rise against a stone about her ankles; he cannot even swim. To save him, we must drown him."

"What?" Jackie glanced down at the bucket. "Drown..."

"Indeed." The strange figure tilted its head to one side. "He cannot move or speak here, for him the torture is too great. Yet submerge him, and he will wake."

Jackie set the bucket down beside his head, lowering herself to her knees. The fur helped a little with the discomfort, but not much. Being on her knees on concrete was every bit as uncomfortable as she remembered. Before she actually moved, though, she remembered something, and removed her hands from the boy's head. "Excuse me... uh... whoever you are."

"The name imagined for me was Hari. My role is guardian, yet neither are true today. The first will do."

"Hari." The name was vaguely familiar to Jackie. Just not familiar enough to actually connect it with anything. "This one is human, isn't he?"

"So far as becoming partly alien has not tempered your desire to have dominion over all things through names, yes."

"Isn't this place filled with magic?" Another nod. "And humans can't tolerate magic, can they?"

This time, the figure seemed troubled by the answer. It scratched its chin with one now-empty hand, then eventually shrugged one shoulder. "Humans exist, do they not?"

Jackie glowered, but she didn't dare question the answer. Instead, she just went on. "How is he still alive in a place filled with magic? Why wasn't he turned into a monster?"

This time, the figure seemed less troubled by the question. As it spoke, Jackie realized its companions had gone. She hadn't seen them walk away, or the flash of a teleport... they just weren't here anymore. Hari seemed not to notice either. "A grain of rice in the mouth of a starving man is not enough to sustain him. Yet a thousand bowls of rice will explode his belly. Is it not so?" It was her turn to nod, looking between the cup full of strange potion and the closed eyes of her new companion. "This..." he repeated the word uncomfortably, as though he didn't care for it but could find none better "'place,' untempered, is such to all but those who seek for it." The towering being narrowed its eyes. "You delay. Preserve the other."

Had Hari asked her to do this first, she would certainly have refused to take its help with Ezri, fearing what else it might intend. Yet after what she had seen, it was abundantly clear it did have the power to heal. Wherever this was... maybe she could ask that next. Jackie took the human's head in both hands, lowering him down into the water. His flesh was so weak from the burns that it sloughed off at her touch, revealing charred muscle and bone beneath. Yet even still, he struggled once his head was in the water, coughing and spluttering reflexively.

She made to let go, yet she heard an imperious voice in her ear as she did. "Stop! If he escapes, he'll be torn apart! Hold him down!"

She obeyed, pressing a knee to his back instead of the pavement. Had she actually been thinking about what was going on, she never could've done it. As it was, Jackie still couldn't help but see everything around her as a dream. A strange dream that never seemed to end, perhaps. But a dream nonetheless. She held the human's head under the liquid until he stopped struggling and went limp. The instant he stopped moving, Jackie withdrew in horror, retreating a pace from his limp form. "You just... made me—"

"I did not. Remove him and see."

She did, darting back down and drawing out the human by his shoulders, laying him on his back. She was astonished to see flesh on his face again, with no sign of the charred ruin that had been there before. No sooner did she release him than he started to cough and splutter, hacking out mouthfulls of glowing fluid that boiled away the instant they touched the ground. After a few seconds his movement stilled, and he too seemed to sleep peacefully.

"Your work is not done." He gestured at the cup, sitting on the ground. "Drink the rest."

Jackie did not obey reflexively. She did pick the cup back up in both arms... or tried. To her shock, its size seemed to shift as she went for it, and was only the size of a teacup by the time she picked it up. It was like a disorienting optical illusion, one of the best she had ever seen. It was still full to the brim, though that too might only be a trick of perspective. "Why? I'm not hurting like they are."

Hari shrugged one shoulder again. "You have changed them, Jackie, and taken away their ability to choose. If you return to the Phenomenal Origin, do you intend to do so without having also changed yourself? Will you be able to live with yourself when you realize the consequences of what you have done to her, if you do not suffer along with her?"

Jackie tilted back the glass and downed its contents in a single deep swig. Unlike Alex, she wouldn't subject someone she cared about to difficulty without being willing to share it. Alex had abandoned them in the face of greater priorities: Jackie would not abandon her mate.

The liquid had no taste, like swallowing mineral oil. Yet where its apparent boil had produced no heat outside, it burned where it touched her flesh. She dropped immediately to the ground, losing her grip on the glass and staggering as it shot through her body. It was like fire, burning at her insides, spreading from its point of origin and stealing away her strength. She shook under the pressure, nearly falling to one side.

Just as with Ezri and the human, the pain did not last long. Only, it didn't put her to sleep. She could feel the sleep trying to take her, yet she resisted. It was a futile fight. A few moments more, and she could maintain her concentration no longer. Jackie slipped into unconsciousness, and the strange otherworld faded.
> Episode 2.2: Survivor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackie woke screaming, her whole body shaking with painful spasms. Little knives pierced her flesh in a thousand places, constricting her with waves of agony. As she shook, Jackie realized it was actually cold she was feeling, not wounds. With each moment, her sensations came into greater focus. Cold wasn't even quite the word, though it felt that way. It was more like leaving a hot tub after spending an hour relaxing inside: even a comfortable night could seem freezing by contrast. The cold she felt wasn't missing thermal energy, it was a lack of something else. 

Magic.

Jackie's existence had been all but consumed by magic once. Her memories of that place no longer made logical sense, though she tried to interpret them anyway. A place without space where symbols governed all. Alien-looking gods with strange gifts whom she had disappointed by not being someone else. Her mate with holes in her soul.

That last image brought Jackie the strength to sit up, opening her eyes and casting about for Ezri. Jackie was in a small room, with rough wooden walls and only a tiny window set high in the wall. The bed had an old-fashioned look to it, and come to think of it, felt like it was probably filled with straw instead of anything more comfortable.

There was very little light in the room, no electric lights in sight. Yet even so, Jackie found herself transfixed by the glow of the sheet beneath her. Where it neared her body, the white of the bed sheets seemed to fracture into a thousand prismatic shades, so bright her eyes started to water and she had to look away. What the hell was that?

Of course, some sights were more mundane and yet no less distracting. Whatever strange body her memories of the recent past led her to expect, that body appeared to have faded. One glance down at herself told her she was an ordinary bat pony, without any strange mixture of human and pony traits. Probably for the best.

But where was Ezri? There was only one bed in the small room, along with a low table. There was an oil lamp on the table, wick trimmed and not currently burning. It still felt like Jackie was freezing for lack of magic, but it didn't hurt quite so much anymore. She tested her legs and found them sore but functional. There was no trace of her uniform or the gauntlet she should've been wearing near the end of one hoof. Hopefully it wasn't too far away; she would have a hard time getting around Paradise Crater if she lost that.

The door wasn't one of Paradise Crater's usual airlocks, nor were any of the surfaces made of the unidentifiable metal alloys the HPI used for their construction. It was instead an apparently healthy hardwood, sanded and sturdy. Like the ceiling and the bed, it was also built at pony proportions, meaning the handle was slightly above her eye level instead of requiring her to stand on her hind-legs just to open it. Jackie half-expected the door to be locked, and in this she was disappointed. A little pressure and it swung outward, into a plain wooden hallway. Whatever strange trick her eyes had been playing on her with the sheet didn't repeat when she neared the wood, thankfully. That meant it was something strange with the bed and not with her, right? Some kind of healing spell?

Instead of oil lanterns, she found glowing crystals set into brackets on the walls of the hallway beyond, casting a uniform blue glow onto the hardwood floor. There were no guards, nor any ponies she could see. That there wouldn't be humans here she could assume with some confidence: the ceiling would’ve required any to stoop. Besides, just because she felt deprived of magic didn't mean there was none around her. It was still there, such as she could sense it without being a unicorn. Compared to where she had been though, her body felt like it might shrivel up.

"Alright Ezri, where'd you get off to?" Jackie froze as she heard the sound of her own voice. Though the tone was familiar, there was something melodious to her speech that had never been there before. It was as though she had become her own harmony, pitch-perfect even in a few words she had only been whispering to herself.

"What—" The effect didn't fade, no matter how quietly she whispered. Whatever, she couldn't get distracted. Even so, she wondered. She had drunk from the chalice of strange beings, and known doing so would change her. Was this what their potion had done?

Jackie frowned, picking a direction and moving as quietly as she could. After living in Motherlode and then with the HPI she felt more than a little self-conscious to be walking around naked, but she tried to banish the thought. The magical deprivation and her missing mate were both worse. Clothes could wait until then. Did thinking like that mean she was just a regular pony after all?

Jackie could've shouted, and maybe she would've been able to get somepony's attention. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure yet whether she was somewhere friendly or not. She hadn't been locked up, and apparently she hadn't been mistreated, but it was impossible to be sure. The primitive look of the place reminded her of Motherlode, and the comparison did not do any favors for her opinion of the place. When she left, the mine had supposedly been put under new management. That couldn't erase her memories of the abuse she had seen there.

At the end of one hallway, Jackie found a door covered in alien markings. Well... maybe not completely alien. One couldn't spend any amount of time around Alex and not at least learn to recognize the Equestrian alphabet. Jackie couldn't read it, yet it didn't seem like it was being used for any arcane purpose. Rather, it was a line of text on a placard near the center of the door, as any other label might be used. It didn't seem like there was anything arcane on the door. As before, it wasn't locked, and a little pressure made it swing outward.

The door led into a stairwell, lit by more glowing crystal brackets set into the wall. Jackie had seen brackets just like these in Alex's saddlebag, complete with similar glowing crystals. That, combined with the writing made her reflect: could she be in Equestria? Alex had said it was more primitive than Earth, and everything was the right size. Of course, Jackie hadn't seen anywhere besides Motherlode and Paradise Crater, so she didn't have many comparisons to what the outside world looked like anymore. She found that she didn't care, so long as she found Ezri. Everything else could wait.

There was more sunlight from the stairs going up. Eventually she would find a window large enough to climb to freedom, right? The stairs led her to a ground floor even more primitive than the rest of the building she had seen, like the interior of a medieval castle. The walls and floors were thick stone, with thin windows of stained glass. Crystals still provided the light, though they were placed far more regularly here. Instead of the quiet glow of evening, the interior glowed with a pale white light reflected from thick glass windows.

Jackie glared at nothing in particular, searching for a sign of another stairwell. The doors would probably be guarded, but few guarded windows even in a world where so many could fly. It just wasn't practical. However, she found no easy stairs, just a long hallway with flaring buttresses in a Gothic style. Frequent carpets and tapestries broke the dull monotony of plain stone, displaying the obvious wealth of whoever owned the castle.

That probably meant they had been taken to Europe, right? How the hell had she slept through the entire sea-voyage?

Jackie picked the darker direction down the hallway and started walking, ignoring the maze of side doors and passages that branched from it. Such wandering would only get her lost; at least if she stuck to the main open area there would be enough room to fly and maybe get away. What Jackie could really use was someone to give her directions. Alex, she was the one she needed. That confusing pony probably had the floorplan of every medieval castle in the world buried in that library of hers.

Almost as she thought it, Jackie felt a strange weakness all over her body, powerful enough that she nearly collapsed. She stopped, swaying on her hooves, whimpering with the sudden effort it took to stay awake. She searched for whatever trap she had stepped into, or perhaps a unicorn with a glowing horn who had just cast a sleeping spell.

She found neither; the hallway remained as deserted as ever. Jackie started to walk, trundling forward even if she had to beat her wings and drag her hooves to do it. Maybe she could find a side-passage after all, hide in a closet... sleep off whatever was happening to her. She had allies she could find along the Skein, ask for help. Maybe one of them would know what had happened to her.

Jackie made her way to the first door she could find, and was pleasantly surprised to find she wouldn't have to struggle with it. Just as the rest of the lower floors, it had been designed for pony use, with a far lower lever-style handle instead of the twisting knobs that humans favored. "Please God, let it be a broom closet." 

The room beyond was some kind of closet. Unfortunately for Jackie, a pony stepped out the door even as she tried to open it, spoiling any attempt she might've made at secrecy. "Hello there!" The stranger was so close Jackie fell onto her rump, and she very nearly screamed. Only her last few years as a batpony in the HPI were able to keep her from crying out.

Her shock didn't last long. If anything, it was an invigorating slap back into wakefulness. The pony stopped a few feet away, looking concerned. "Are you alright?" That voice was familiar — damn familiar. Where had she heard it before?

In spite of herself, Jackie blushed. Living with the HPI hadn't ever let her get used to being naked, not like Alex and most natural-born ponies were used to it. This mare didn't wear or carry anything, and didn't seem even a little embarrassed about it. "Fine, fine." Jackie's wings folded against her side, and she took a little comfort in their familiar touch on her coat.

"Very good, Jackie." The pony nodded respectfully. "Can you tell me where we are? I don't think my creator ever intended for me to leave the library." She walked right past her, in the same direction Jackie had been going. She didn’t move like somepony who knew where they were going. The mare's steps clattered oddly, as though she wore horseshoes made of glass. 

Jackie took a few seconds to learn her look: soft pink coat with a pastel blue mane, and a cutie mark of — her eyes almost lost focus as she saw it; an incredibly intricate rune the likes of which she had only ever seen in dreams. The pony had a strange reflectiveness about her coat too, as though her shampoo contained a few drops of metallic paint. She almost glittered in the light from the crystals, though the effect didn't seem to happen in the sunlight coming through the windows.

Jackie felt a little better, awake enough that she could follow. So she did, hurrying to catch up. "Who are you?" The familiarity of the voice still nagged at her, though she still couldn't place it. Her strange tiredness seemed to be fading as she walked — a mystery for another day.

"My creator named me Mercy, after my mission."

"You kidnapped me?" She was still too weak to sound angry.

The pony shook her head as they neared the end of the spacious hall. "I suspect I was kidnapped also. I know I don't belong here." She inspected the massive wooden doors, seemingly as surprised by them as Jackie herself. These weren't just big doors, they were positively massive: reinforced by thick metal straps. These were true castle doors, the sort that could take a battering ram and keep standing. Mercy pushed on one of the massive doors and it started to swing, opening with a blast of cool air and unusually soft light. That, and a view Jackie took to be another universe.

A village waited outside the door, unlike anything she had ever seen. It wasn't a modern marvel like Paradise Crater, nor was it haphazard construction in human ruins. Were it not for her powers telling her she wasn't, she probably would've checked if she were dreaming, because what she saw just didn't make sense. Outside the door was a courtyard, though not a very large one. It overlooked a town of thatched roofs and cobbled streets, yet she could also see the glitter of whole buildings made from crystal. Beyond the village were rolling fields, well cultivated with all sorts of crops waving in the wind. 

Jackie's mouth hung open as she looked further still, as far to the horizon as she could. Nearly at the edge of her vision, the pastoral land changed in a single brilliant instant to a frozen wasteland. Flat ice, blowing snow, distant mountains of bare black rock. The division wasn't natural; the demarcation was so abrupt that Jackie knew magic must be involved, even without seeing the towering crystal spires jutting from the ground just before the break.

"Where are we? How did we get here? Where's Ezri?" Jackie could pick up hundreds of voices in the village below, voices raised in happy conversation and song. Cookfires rose from a dozen chimneys, and Jackie's stomach rumbled at the scents. Those were the smells of well-fed ponies, of hearty stews and vegetables, not the grass that ponies in failing settlements ate.

"I can only provide information I was given. Perhaps if you were to explain the answers to those questions I could repeat them in the future."

Jackie sighed. It could've been worse: the pony could've raised an alarm. At least she was only being unhelpful. "What do you know?" Jackie took in the castle, its empty parapets and glowing guard-stations. None seemed staffed. Could the guards be down in the village with the doctors? She supposed the village wouldn't have much to worry about from bandits, with arctic wasteland surrounding it on all sides.

"Everything my creator knew or suspected about the Biblio Universalis. Seeing to its creation is my entire purpose."

Jackie walked a little ways up the cobblestone path in the courtyard, towards the outer wall. The term was not familiar to her, though it did remind her of something. "That's Latin for..." Thank goodness for cognates. "A universal book?" She grinned. "Did Alex send you then? She told me about a project like that!"

Now it was the pony following her, not the other way around. "Send me, no. Alex was one of my creator's names, though it was not the one I used. I still don't know how I found my way outside the library. When she created me, Archive said she exploited the weak laws of the conscious realm, imagining me into being as she could never have created in the world she called the Phenomenal. I must infer that we are in some other realm yet without the conscious — another dream, as she might explain. Perhaps yours?"

"We aren't dreaming." Jackie didn't hesitate with her answer, though she didn't expect an earth pony to understand it. She opened her wings a little, as if to illustrate she was a thestral. Not that it wouldn't be abundantly clear from a hundred other details of her body. "I know a dream when I feel one, Mercy. The world has a flexibility that—"

She trailed off, suddenly noticing what she hadn't only moments before. As she had said, the world she was in now didn't feel anything like a dream. It did, however, contain a single element that did. While the rest of the world was concrete, resistant to any manipulation Jackie might've wanted to do, this one being had a certain malleability about her, a fluidity that marked her as something other.

"You're a figment!" Jackie exclaimed, retreating a few steps in sudden shock. "But that's not possible! The first rule of dreams is that they aren't real! It's all in the mind, doesn't have any impact on the body or the real world. You can't be here!"

The mare didn't look offended to be told she wasn't real. She shrugged, studying Jackie without apparent comprehension. "Please do not get distracted, Jackie. We have a purpose to accomplish still. Archive created me with the instruction to serve you and aid you in completing her mission. We cannot abandon that mission now simply because we are lost. Use your thestral magic, return us to the library, and let us return to work. Archive's spell remains incomplete."

"This isn't a dream." Jackie walked past the figment, through the open gates and onto a pleasantly cobbled road. The road stretched down the broad hill, curving with it and passing in front of the numerous buildings below. She didn't have to look far along it to see activity she hadn't been able to see from within the courtyard.

Just beside the road, in a huge open field about a mile away, a fair seemed in progress. A few thousand ponies crowded into the space, watching entertainers and shopping from booths and seeming to enjoy themselves. Songs carried through the air, joyful songs just a little too distant to make out. 

This, then, explained why she had been abandoned. An unconscious pony didn't need much guarding. Could Ezri be there?

"I already told you that, Mercy. I am a thestral: I can sense a dream by the way it feels around me. Dreams have a flexibility to them, a resonance within the Skein. Feeling how they might be twisted, searching out their meaning and the secrets about their dreamer they reveal, is central to my powers. If I was asleep, I would know it."

"I am not real," Mercy said, following her out the gate. "You said this yourself. I cannot reconcile your statements. How may we not be in a dream yet I not be real? Is this the Supernal, the realm higher still than dreams Archive sometimes mentioned? Or—"

A realm higher than dreams? Jackie shook her head. "Nothing like it. We're not in the untamed Skein either; if we were, it would take concentration to prevent you from being torn apart by its chaos. I'm not concentrating on you. You're not even my creation. Apparently you're Alex's. Created to—"

She remembered everything at once. The reason the mare's voice sounded so familiar was because she spoke in Alex's voice, if Alex had been an adult mare instead of a teenager. Alex had told her in detail about an unfinished spell and some kind of automaton she had created to assist Jackie in the event— in the event of her death.

"Could a spell of Alex's have sent you to me, Mercy? She mentioned a spirit she'd created as insurance. Could you coming here be something she planned?"

"No." Mercy didn't hesitate. "Archive was forthright about my purpose. When she died, I would remain within her library. I would care for and maintain the structure until she returned. More importantly, I would assist you in finishing her spell and distributing the Biblio Universalis. Leaving the library would be antithetical to my purpose. How could I maintain a place without being there?"

"Your creator didn't know much about the way dreams work." Jackie started walking down the hill, towards the crowd. There were very few guards at the festival, at least few she could see. The ponies there didn't look hostile; most of them weren't even dressed. She hadn't been locked in either, or apparently guarded. 

Just now, Jackie was willing to risk a little harshness for answers. She had to find out where she was, how she had gotten there, and what had become of her mate. Philosophical questions like "how does a dream make it into the real world?" were interesting, but slightly less important. So she walked. 

"Dreams require a dreamer to maintain. Powerful ones repeated over and over gain stability in the Skein, as Alex's library has. However, a figment has no soul, so can't keep it running. I tried that; it was one of my first ideas back when I was trying to sell dreams. Program a staff to keep doing things, then I could just drop a client in and not have to do anything. It doesn't work." She sighed. "You wouldn't be able to accomplish your purpose."

"I would find a way." The mare was unapologetic, following alongside her. 

Jackie was even more conscious of the strange horseshoes she had to be wearing, clinking along with their glass chiming. Alex had dreamed up a strange figment to run her library, that was for sure.

"Once I find Ezri, maybe I can return you to your dream. Until then, you'll just have to stay close."

Between the chill air and having a destination in mind, Jackie made swift progress towards the fair. Soon enough she could make out the voices with her sensitive ears, and she listened closely for what their words might tell her about the purpose of this fair.

Their accents were very strange, utterly unplaceable in her memory. As she listened, she found herself reminded of those technical support lines in other countries that had existed before the event, with staff that had learned a language from books and movies and not really used it much in their ordinary lives. That was the way the ponies spoke.

As she got closer, she could see the crowd was almost entirely ponies. Motherlode, like most of the former US had been very strongly pony in population, but it hadn't been a monoculture. There had always been the rare griffon or minotaur to break up the monotony, and give her someone to relate to in her weirdness. Not so here; she didn't see a single individual who wasn't on four hooves. There was no glitter of changeling chitin either (though with this environment, she was fairly sure they'd want to blend in).

There were a few thestrals, though as in all pony populations her species was quite rare and there couldn't be more than a handful.

Jackie made her way into the fairground, and she nearly jumped as someone levitated something around her neck. She looked up, whole body tensing, but she swiftly relaxed.

A unicorn filly, maybe fourteen, stood beside a large cart of painted wooden necklaces, which seemed a universal trait of the crowd. "Never forget our home!" the filly said cheerfully, levitating one for Mercy as well. "Enjoy the fair!"

Jackie nodded in a way she hoped would make up for her freaking out, glancing down at the wooden necklace. It was fairly simple, a length of twine with carved wooden suns and moons painted around it. A single sun at the bottom was larger than the rest, and carved slightly different than the others.

Jackie recognized these marks, all but the one at the bottom. They were the cutie marks of the Equestrian princesses, something she knew thanks to Alex's library. They were the same marks sewn into the entrances on either side of the magical storage. "Who's in charge?" she asked, keeping her voice just above a whisper. "Of the fair, I mean."

The soft golden filly raised one eyebrow, but she didn't argue the question. "Princess Sunset. She's in charge of everything."

Princess Sunset hadn't been the name of any of the Equestrian princesses. Jackie felt herself relax a little; for a few horrible moments she thought she had somehow made her way all the way to Equestria. She imagined crossing universes wouldn't have been easy to repeat. "Where can I find her?"

"Look for the princess." The filly's confusion seemed to be growing, and Jackie felt the suspicion in those eyes. It was time to move on.

"Thanks!" She hurried past her, praying that Mercy would follow and not make any more of a scene. She did follow, and soon enough the two of them were lost in the crowd. 

As embarrassing as being naked was, it seemed to be the dress code around here. Some ponies wore hats, others scarves or other simple accessories, but these were the exception. Being naked meant she didn't stand out, despite being a total stranger in a new place. It was a strange blessing, but Jackie intended to exploit it.

"Look for the princess," Jackie muttered to her companion, eyes scanning the crowd. She moved along with it, flowing clockwise around the stalls and booths. More than one of the food carts tempted her with the smells she had detected from the castle, but she couldn't risk getting any. Just because these ponies didn't seem to be carrying money didn't mean there wasn't some other monetary system in play she wouldn't understand. No, her hunger would have to wait. "What does a princess look like?"

To her great surprise, Mercy answered. "Princess is another word for Alicorn, or at least that's how Archive used it. It means having wings and a horn both — having the powers of all three basic equestrian tribes."

Jackie was taken aback, and tried not to let her mouth hang open for too long. "I thought you only knew about the book!"

She nodded. "Alicorns are one of the ways Archive speculated we might power the spell, so she taught me all about them. Including what she knew about creating them. Though she wasn't an Alicorn herself, so I suspect her information was incomplete."

Jackie felt a stab of something in her gut, something like a memory. For an instant she felt terrible grief, so intense she had to wipe away a tear and scrunch her mouth shut to restrain an involuntary sob. Where had that come from? 

Just as her strange fatigue earlier, it didn't last, and she was soon able to continue. "Keep your eyes open for an Alicorn, then. I didn't think that Earth had any, but it must if these ponies think they have one."

"Earth has one so far; Sunset Shimmer. I expect it's the same one."

"Did Alex teach you what she looked like?"

Again her companion nodded. "With some detail." She stuck out her neck, so the cutie mark on the wooden necklace hung closer to Jackie. "This is her mark. Archive spoke of her secret settlement somewhere in the world. The Alicorn would never speak of it to my creator, and so she respected her wishes and did not search for it. It seems we've stumbled into it by accident."

"What did your 'creator' think of this princess? If she was from Equestria, she must not've been that great. Weren't the Equestrians the ones who cursed everyone?"

Mercy shrugged. They were nearing a large raised platform in the center of the fairgrounds, where a band was playing cheerful music and a group of ponies sang. Jackie had never heard any of the songs or even seen most of the instruments, but she didn't have time to bother with any of it now. "She did not speak of the Event much, except as an objective to overcome. I believe Archive greatly respected and admired the pony Sunset. I don't recall her ever being described in a way other than kindly, though my memory isn't as perfect as her own."

"Then Archive is probably here, right? She would've come to meet with Sunset. Maybe... Maybe Ezri and me got hurt, and... she took us here for..." Even as she said the words she knew they didn't make sense. Yet still she hoped. There was an answer for how she had gotten here, an answer that made sense. She would find it.

"Weeks have passed since last I spoke with my creator. Not even an earth pony would have been able to stay awake this long, and she was a pegasus. I don't believe we will find her here or anywhere."

Jackie shivered, but she had no reason to doubt the pony's words. "We'll... cross that bridge when we find this princess." She forced herself to keep searching. She kept an eye out for the largest clumps in the crowd, signs of important ponies that others wanted to see. She saw none yet, but that didn't mean the princess wasn't here. "I wouldn't worry about it, Mercy. Alex died a few decades ago, and she was only gone a month. If it's already been weeks, I'm sure she can't be far from coming back."

"I... suppose." The pony followed close, keeping well away from any of the other groups. The crowd appeared to be too thick, its members too invested in their activities to notice the strangers. "I knew my creator to be very wise. If she thought she would return, I don't see why she would have needed to create me."

"No reason." The voice wasn't her own, yet it spoke far clearer English than most of the ponies milling about in the crowd. "Alex was learning to plan for the far future. It's an important skill for immortals, at least the ones who want to make a difference."

Jackie looked back at the speaker, and suddenly froze. They had found the princess. She shared several colors in common with the cutie mark at the end of the necklace, bright yellows and reds with a mane so brilliant it sparkled in the pale sun. She stood several inches taller than Jackie herself, even with the gangly height of a winged pony on her side. She wore slightly more than her subjects, with a thin golden crown resting atop her head. It wasn't very large, more of a band really, unadorned with jewels or fancy engraving. Of course, her wings together with her unusually long horn said far more of her authority than any lump of metal could, no matter how precious.

She couldn't help herself. While she didn't bow, she did lower her head in respect. "Princess Sunset Shimmer, right?"

"And you're Jackie." At her nod, Sunset continued. "Guess the nurse watching you came to the festival. Are you well enough to walk?"

"Plenty." She burned with questions, but was uncomfortably aware of a hundred eyes on them. With Sunset's attention, the whole crowd watched.

"Follow me, then. We need to talk."
> Episode 2.3: New Friend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunset led her away from the festival, back up the hill and along the route she'd come. Jackie made no effort to resist; what could she do against an Alicorn? Flying away wouldn't do any good, not when traveling too far would bring her into a frozen wasteland. No soldiers followed them, and Sunset didn't cast any spells, so she hardly felt restrained. If this pony was one of Alex's friends, she could probably trust her.
"You're the first to wake," Sunset said as they walked. "The other two were in worse shape—it might be weeks more before your friends are conscious."

"Friends," Jackie repeated. "One of them is a changeling drone?"

Sunset nodded, climbing the last of the stairs and through the castle gates. "Alex's adopted daughter, Ezri. Your wife, at least according to what Alex told me."

"Alex... told you about us?" She blushed, hopping onto the chair. She wasn't embarrassed by Ezri, more by the idea that an immortal princess she had never even heard of knew about her.

"Alex and I spoke quite regularly. I couldn't answer most of her questions, so more often than not we just talked about life." She made her way back through the hall, the way Jackie had come when she escaped the castle in the first place. Somewhere in her, a little voice whispered that she was being taken to be locked back up, exactly where she had been. Her more logical side didn't care, so long as she got to see her wife. "There is a more urgent subject, however. Otherwise you'd be better off enjoying the festival."

"Are you going to tell me how we got here? Ezri, me, and... is the third one Alex? You said she wasn't doing well, so... her body? Waiting for her to respawn?"

The Alicorn looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of Alex, but that didn't stop her from answering. "It's all about how you got here, actually. You broke the rules, rules that ponies don't usually survive breaking. Now we've got to deal with the consequences."

They returned to the hallway she had started. There were still no doctors or other medical ponies around, though. "What did... What did we do?"

"Did Alex ever teach you planar geography?"

Her stupefied expression seemed the only answer Sunset needed, because she continued. "So, we live in the Phenomenal world. The 'real' world. When ponies leave it, things get dangerous. Demons you've heard of, right? Alex is always stressed about fighting Charybdis, so I assume you've at least heard of them."

Jackie nearly retched, remembering her nightmares and the little pond near Paradise Crater. The water had been so foul that it killed the grass all around it. So far as she knew, life still hadn't come back even after two decades. "I know a little. Alex didn't like the idea of us helping her fight them. Said they were too dangerous."

Sunset nodded. "If the world is neutral, you can think of the Void they come from as low energy. You and me and everything up here has far more energy, so it gets passed to them. It's horrific to see and worse to experience."

"But that isn't how we got here!" Jackie might not be able to remember anything recent, but she knew she would never have screwed with any of that. Unless Sunset meant that she and Ezri had fought and lost against a demon. If that was true, she supposed losing her memory was probably for the best.

"It's not," Sunset agreed. "What you did was probably a first in pony history. Or at least the first ponies I know of who survived. As the Void is to us, so we are to the world above. The Supernal, some ponies call it. It's the place Alicorns are born, the place magic comes from. Regular ponies aren't supposed to be able to get there. The few who tried have always been destroyed. Until you." Sunset leaned across the table toward Jackie, eyes intense. "Three weeks ago, I felt an Alicorn being born. When I finally arrived to greet her... I found you instead. And not just you. You were impossible, but not even the most impossible thing I found." Sunset strode past Jackie's open door to another just like it on the other side, and levitated it open with her magic.

There wasn't too much light, somebody had drawn the curtains near the ceiling. Yet there was light, and in it she could see a room just like her own. Just like her own, except for the unmistakably human figure resting in bed. "W-what?" Jackie stepped through the doorway, staring in absolute wonder. "How is that possible?"

Jackie felt it now, the shadow of a memory that lacked meaningful context in the world around her. Symbols that were somehow more, a city that wasn't really a city. Multi-limbed gods that felt more like creations of her imagination than beings that actually lived. But how had she gotten there? "I couldn't— Why didn't I remember?" Jackie noticed something else, just then. 

Sunset's horn was glowing. She was good—Jackie barely felt the touch of her magic. "If we could reproduce this--" she shook her head in wonder. "If Luna had known this was possible and we couldn't find it..." she muttered something, and for a second Jackie felt a surge of heat around her, the crystals all along the walls glowing brilliantly under the force. It didn't last.

Jackie closed her eyes, and tried not to distract Sunset as she worked. The rest came back. Much of what she remembered no longer made sense; somehow, she had understood the world in ways she couldn't anymore. There were some parts of her memory she did understand, though.

Sunset's horn stopped glowing. Jackie felt the magic fade, and began to whisper. "They kidnapped us... beat us... dragged us into the bottom of the city. Alex..." She trailed off, seeing the fight in her mind. An impossible fight, between a magicless pony and three centurions. Only it hadn't been. "Isaac was there. I don't know how. He fought, helped Alex. She... did... something." How could she even explain it? Jackie gestured with her wings. "Opened the air. Not like a teleport. I'd never seen anything—never felt anything like it. Like there was sunlight coming in. We escaped—"

Then she had been on the other side, through a portal into a place she never should've seen. Her mate had lost consciousness, but Jackie hadn't. She had watched from within, watched as— "She did— She was like a unicorn, her head glowing. So much magic, even the field couldn't stop her. She took Isaac, sent him through. I pulled... got him inside. She was going to follow." She saw a monster's face, heard the gunshots. "Killed her." She whimpered, looking down at her hooves. "Said she'd save us, and she did." 

She forced herself to meet Sunset's eyes. "Princess, they—the director, Salazar, she said—said that if they killed her in the anti-magic, Alex would be dead for good. Is that... Was she telling the truth?"

Princess or not, Jackie could still see the way Sunset's ears flattened to her head, and smell the changes in her scent. "I'm not—" she shook her head. "No, it couldn't." She reached out, resting her wing on Jackie's shoulder. It had been a long time since she had gotten a hug like that from a bigger pony. It felt good. "Jackie, you saw Alex's magic break through the field. Magic like that can't be stopped by a machine, only suppressed. They couldn't stop her from coming back. All they've done is slowed it down."

It didn't seem so dark in the hallway anymore. The sunlight outside had always been pale and weak. Now, though—now Jackie could feel the warmth. Waves of heat rose from Sunset's mane like a sidewalk in summer, and her eyes shone. "She was my friend too. Three centuries she's been trying to figure out what it meant to be an Alicorn, and they bucking kill her." Sunset pulled back her wing, which was just as well considering how warm Jackie had started to feel in her presence. The hug no longer brought her comfort.

It didn't last. Sunset seemed as though she were about to leave, turning towards the stairwell. Then she seemed to see Jackie standing there, and she stopped. The light faded from around her, the heat retreated, and her mane fell flat again. "That can wait. Planning, diplomacy—" She gestured at the hospital rooms. "Take care of them, first."

"You still didn't— I'm not sure I understand where she came from." Jackie gestured to where the golem stood, her expression glassy and her face impassive. She had been standing in place listening to their conversation and not reacted once to the emotions, almost as though she couldn't even hear it. "Shouldn't you send her back to the dream she came from?"

Sunset shook her head. She didn't actually look at the golem. Now that Jackie was watching, she could see the way Sunset avoided meeting her eyes, almost seeming not to see her. Well, it was more willful than that. She was trying not to see her. "That's not one of my powers. Luna could do it, but... I don't have enough connection to the night for magic like that."

"I didn't do anything," Jackie answered without thinking. "I'd know if I had done magic, wouldn't I? I'd feel it."

"You'd feel drained—weak—but not much more." Sunset advanced, closing to within a foot of her. She made no effort to avoid looking at Jackie as she had with Mercy. "Jackie, going Above changes ponies. Ezri didn't get love to eat, and she didn't starve. The human—Isaac, you said his name was? He's standing a few feet away and magic isn't killing him. What do you think it did to you?" 

She didn't give Jackie time to reply. "You were already on the path, or else it would have done something else. It isn't like the Void, stripping away everything you are. The Supernal can only take what you are and make it better: give you more of it, improve it. You must have made your magic a priority, because that's what it gave you. Like the ponies of old, before time dulled our blood." She looked briefly up at Mercy, then away again. "The old stories—ponies had power like yours once. It didn't take Alicorns to move the sun, a few regular unicorns could do it. Earth ponies weren't just strong, they could move mountains."

Sunset continued: "What you saw should've been Archive's ascension. She saw Truth, followed the magic calling her, and stabilized the chaos waiting for her so completely that her vision kept you three alive. You've brought some of that magic back with you." She flicked her tail towards Mercy. "Princess Luna would've known how to send her back, I don't. Just... try and see it the way you saw your magic before. It's not different, there's just more of it."

Jackie saw, and she understood. "I'll visit soon, Mercy. I can't worry about your mission until I get my mate back."

That snapped her back. Though apparently uninterested in their previous conversation, even in her own creator's death, the figment came alive at the mention of her mission. The color came back into her coat, which shone like crystal all over. "I understand, Jackie. Please come soon."

Jackie couldn't say exactly how she did it. The shining pony—figment, whatever she was—vanished. 

"I have to get back to the festival." Sunset did turn this time, though she no longer looked upset. "You should come too. Midnight Sun is our most important celebration. You could probably use a little fun after what happened. Your Ezri and the human will be fine. You've been stable for weeks, and there are medical spells on those beds. You should come and enjoy yourself."

"No." Jackie didn't even hesitate. "She might wake up today—I did. I'm going to be here when she does."

"I don't think—" The Alicorn sighed. "Alright. I'll have someone bring some food for you. If you change your mind, the festival goes until midnight. That's sorta the point, I guess." She left, walking solemnly up the steps, leaving Jackie alone. 


* * *


Aside from Princess Sunset's promised food delivery, Jackie experienced no interruptions that evening. Faint as it was, the sunlight coming in through the little windows didn't fade as it should have. Night never came.

What Sunset Shimmer had said about this being a "Midnight Sun" festival proved true. That cut down the number of places they could be to very few indeed. Considering what she had seen of the snow beyond the village and the magic keeping it at bay, Jackie knew where they had to be. For some reason, Princess Sunset Shimmer had chosen to build her little city in the dead center of the most inhospitable land in all the world. They were in Antarctica. 

Knowing where she was in relation to the rest of the world brought Jackie little comfort when her mate was still unconscious. She spent the hours cleaning her, or dripping sugar water from a sponge into her mouth so she could "eat". How she didn't look more starved, given what she knew about the way these ponies cared for her, Jackie couldn't imagine.

Would time alone be enough to bring her mate back? Jackie was left alone with her thoughts in the perpetual daylight, and think she did. She had somehow been to a part of the universe she had no right to visit. All who had gone had been marked by that passage, somehow. The human didn't burn around magic, her mate didn't starve without emotions to eat, and Jackie's own dream magic seemed enhanced in ways she didn't yet understand. What would've happened, had that power gone exclusively to the one it had apparently been for in the first place? 

Ultimately, when it had come down to the decision, Archive had chosen to die instead of leave them behind. In the end, she had taken the time to save Isaac, a human she barely even knew. Could Jackie make things right?

She considered her predicament. If Sunset told her the truth, her friend would be delayed by the anti-magic that kept the humans of the Initiative from dying. Did that mean if she could somehow deactivate that spell, that Alex would be able to come back sooner? Maybe flooding the reactor area with magic would do it, the sort of magic that had been there before. She could run that suggestion past Sunset when next they met.

Jackie couldn't stay up forever. In a land of perpetual daylight, it was her exhaustion and not any natural rhythm that dictated when she ought to sleep. True, the sun came remarkably close to the horizon sometimes, skirting it to within a few inches at times. Yet never did it quite vanish. Pity she hadn't visited during the other part of the year, when the world slept in perpetual night. She guessed Ezri would have enjoyed that too.

Sunset Shimmer did not come for her the next day. The regular nursing staff woke her at some point, showing her to a place she could draw a bath, as well as examining all of her wounds. A few dressings she hadn't even noticed before had to be changed, and more than one of her tired muscles had to be massaged back to life. The nurses might be naked, but she recognized the hesitation in their touch and step, as though they were afraid of some contagion only a bat could spread.

The bias might not've been as strong as it was in Motherlode, but it was still there, prominent enough that Jackie couldn't miss it. She grumbled to them, but her captors refused to let her see Sunset. Evidently the princess had suggested they wait a few more days for her friends to wake, thinking that if she had returned they wouldn't be far behind.

A few days passed. With nothing else to do, Jackie spent her time beside Ezri's bed, reading to her from some ancient human books the doctors had brought at her request. The pages were positively crumbling under her touch, yet still they survived. Survived enough for her to read them. Ezri had always liked being read to, even though she had been perfectly capable of reading on her own. Probably she ate the words or something.

Ezri wasn't the one who woke, though. The change came a few days later, during the period the doctors called night. None actually slept with them in the rooms, trusting in their medical magic to alert them if anything went wrong. Unfortunately for Jackie, their spells only worked if something went wrong. If a bed's occupant decided in perfect health they were going to get up, there wasn't anything the magic would do to stop them.

She heard the motion in the room beside theirs somewhere in that fitful state just out of reach of sleep, and tensed. It wasn't as though she expected attack in the castle of a princess. Even so, she hopped out of the cot she slept in, on the ground beside Ezri's bed. She didn't land, but took to the air in a hover.

Other tribes sometimes had trouble with indoor flight, at least when there weren't windows nearby. Jackie didn't need strong magic to overcome this weakness—she just flew. Her wings made little sound on the air, as silent as any owl. She took to the highest corner of the room, hovering just above the door and watching. She waited, teeth bared for anyone who might come to hurt her mate.

She wasn't waiting long. They came with lumbering footsteps, a creature far larger than any pony. The door banged open, almost blinding Jackie with the light of the sun from the hallway beyond (the hospital rooms had curtains that could be closed). She saw only a vague shape, outlined in the doorway. If it entered, Jackie would attack.

The figure sighed. "Is this the reward faith gets you, Ezri? You don't look good." His voice was familiar to her, familiar from a dozen dinners and social outings and visits. Ezri had a single human friend in all the HPI. His name was Isaac Rommel, and he was standing a few feet away.

Jackie landed between him and Ezri's bed. She wasn't angry. After all, this human had saved their lives. Even so, she was still a little possessive. "You're awake."

Isaac stumbled back from her, raising one hand to his face. As though it could've shielded him. Of course it had no effect against the magic, which would've been blasting into his body from all around at this exact moment. He still didn't cross the threshold, and in fact stumbled away from it. "This place—there's thaumic shielding in that medical room, isn't there?"

She shook her head, stepping towards the doorway. With each step she made, Isaac retreated two, until she was against the door and he up by the far wall. "There's no shield. I don't know what kind of technology Sunset's ponies have, but it isn't impressive. They don't even seem to use electric lights. Everything uses magic."

He glanced down at his hands, pale and undamaged despite what she said. "That isn't possible. There's a shield here somewhere. I'd..." He relaxed. "It's not just that room, or I'd be burning out here too." He glanced down the hallway. "Where is this place, Jackie? The ceiling is so low." Indeed, he had to stoop a little not to hit his head on it. The first floor of the castle had been built bigger, but not this little medical room. It was not a place built for humans.

"I think we're in Antarctica." She followed him out of the room. Ezri wasn't going to wake up just because she had a conversation with a human. "I never really learned the layout of things here. I guess the old bases are probably buried under three hundred years of ice. Sunset's ponies used their weather magic to change the climate. There's a big shield protecting her village and the farmland around it. If you wanna go up to the surface with me, I could show you." 

Isaac shivered, glancing once more at Ezri's room. He didn't seem convinced by what she had said, but he didn't object openly. The two of them hadn't been close—Ezri was his friend, not her. Still, they had shared two loyalties, not just one. The other, their loyalty to Archive, was what had put them both here. "I should've died. I remember..." He squeezed both hands into fists. "Fire. It was melting... melting everything. A voice laughing in the dark, getting closer..."

Jackie twitched once, trying not to think of what happened to humans when they died in magic. She had never seen it herself, or even been allowed to see videos of it. All she knew was what Athena had told her: when the bodies finally died, something else took the place that a mind had used. Something that would hunt and kill anything living until every part of it was physically destroyed. 

That end had been coming for Isaac. Hadn't come, thanks to Archive and thanks to her. "That didn't happen. Alex saved you. She didn't—didn't want you to die. She sent you ahead of her through—through to here. Something changed you on the way. You're immune to magic now."

Or immune to dying from it. According to Sunset, magic was still passing through him, as it passed through all things. It just wasn't killing him anymore. She didn't think it would help him much to complicate the issue still further by explaining in any greater detail. "I don't see how that's possible," he answered. "If there was a way to make humans immune, we would've found it by now. Or Archive would've given it to us."

Jackie lifted into the air beside him. Most humans knew that ponies couldn't fly without magic, and he appeared to be no exception. His eyes widened, and he continued to stumble back as she took one of the glowing crystals from its bracket on the wall in her teeth. She landed in front of him, and shoved the crystal into his hand. It tasted like dust, and she spluttered for a second, spitting until the taste was gone. "If you're in a shield, explain that."

Isaac turned the crystal over in his hands, inspecting it. He brushed away the dust. "There's a circuit on here somewhere. An integrated battery, maybe an LED..." It wasn't all that large a rock, maybe the size of a human fist. It had been made of clear quartz, slightly salty in her mouth. 

Isaac would have no trouble seeing what he said wasn't supported by the evidence. There were no circuits hidden inside, only five or six symbols etched into a rough circle on its surface. The symbols, of course, were runes, and together they made the illumination spell that all of Sunset's Equestrians liked to use.

Isaac dropped to his knees, holding the glowing crystal to his chest. He lowered his head in obvious reverence, body shaking. "Ancestors above, thank you for this holy gift!" He dropped the glowing light crystal, lowering his voice in a muttered prayer.

Jackie rolled her eyes, shoving the man's shoulder with one hoof. "Shut up, Isaac! You look like an idiot."

He looked up, indignant. "Are you saying the Ancestors didn't heal me?"

She moaned exasperatedly. "The 'ancestors' didn't heal you. The ancestors were regular people. If anything, they knew even less than you did. Having the good judgement to plan didn't make them gods. Didn't make 'us' gods." She nodded empathetically. "I was there, remember. All refugees were. They'll tell you the same story. The 'ancestors' didn't have a damn thing to do with why you're not dead."

Isaac's face twisted into an unreadable mask. He did stand though, picking up the crystal and replacing it in the empty bracket. "I know you don't agree with our faith." He didn't look down on her, not exactly. "Let's focus on something more relevant." He glanced down at one wrist, as though searching for something there. Of course, he didn't find it. He hadn't had a gauntlet in the strange world "Above," and so he didn't have one here. "Suppose the rest of what you said is true. We're in... Antarctica."

She nodded. "Sunset Shimmer—the princess Equestria sent to Earth—she's the one who saved us. That's how we ended up here."

"It wasn't the Honored Memory?" He raised an eyebrow, walking past her down the hall. He found her now-empty room, pushing it open. Of course the bed didn't even have sheets anymore, and there were no other signs of occupation. He trailed off, as though speaking more to himself than to her. "I felt her touch. When I was dying, she was there. Standing beside me... keeping me from giving in."

Jackie took a deep breath. "Ale— Archive died saving you. She took the time to get you through the portal with us, then that goddamn director shot her a dozen fucking times." She ground her teeth together, forcing back even unkinder language.

Isaac seemed to relax at her words, turning to face her. He was even smiling a little. "Well, that's not so bad. Athena thought they might be able to really hurt her if they could catch her and bring her to their master. If all they did was shoot her, then it's no big deal. She can't die while humans live."

Jackie wasn't sure she liked the sound of that logic, but she didn't object. Just now, Ezri was her first concern. Alex was immortal, and even if she hadn't been there wasn't much she could do to help her. Ezri, though... "You're right." It was a lie. Jackie didn't believe his religious crap for a second. But she tried to sound like she did, leading him back towards Ezri's room.

"She's not the one we have to worry about," Jackie continued, stopping beside Ezri's bed. "Ezri isn't doing too great." She might not be wasting away as fast as Jackie expected, but she was wearing down. The life support magic wasn't advanced enough to keep her body fed, and signs of starvation were starting to appear. Jackie couldn't be sure what kind of food she needed, but she wasn't getting either one.

"I can see that." Isaac dropped to one knee, this time not in worship. He reached out, setting one hand on Ezri's shoulder. There were few Jackie would've allowed even this much. Isaac was one, if only because she knew it was what Ezri herself would've wanted. "This 'Sunset' person doesn't know how to care for a changeling?"

"No." Jackie frowned. "I don't think any ponies do. They're really ignorant. The doctors didn't even seem to realize she didn't have a skeleton." She rolled her eyes. "Apparently they didn't bring home books about 'obscure species' like her back with them from Equestria. Idiots."

Isaac lifted his hand, then rose. "So they could help a human but not a species from their own planet?"

"You didn't need much help. Something about, uh, what happened between here and there. All the damage the magic caused got erased when you became immune. Ezri and I were the only ones with real injuries. From... before Alex came." She shivered at the painful memory, but didn't stop. "She might still wake up. You did, obviously. I did. Maybe they don't have anything special to do."

"You sound skeptical."

"Yeah." She brushed her resting mate with one wing, then turned to face him again. "It doesn't feel right. Drones heal way faster than regular ponies. Once, when we were learning to fly... she fell from way higher than I thought someone could survive. Like, it must've been at least thirty feet. She was cracked right down the middle, it seemed like. Nastyness everywhere... few weeks later though, and she was back on her hooves. It took me three weeks to wake up. Should've taken her one."

"She's wasting away."

Jackie winced to hear it put so bluntly, but it wasn't as though she could object to the truth of what he said. "I don't think she will get better. Sunset gave us her best doctors, but it wasn't enough. I think— Or, I guess I've been thinking." She swallowed. "I think we need to take her back to her own kind. Ezri talked about the hive where she came from, sometimes. I think mostly she told me what Alex told her about it, since she was so young at the time... but that's not the point. Her hive is still around. Maybe her queen is too. If Sunset's doctors can't help her, maybe a changeling queen can."

Isaac didn't say anything for a long time, looking between her and the resting Ezri, then out the little window. "If we're really in Antarctica... we're a long way from her home. Ezri was from Alexandria, that's in Illinois. We can't exactly swim there. I suppose if you know what happened to my gauntlet, we could try and contact Athena. She could probably arrange a ride for us."

"No luck. Apparently we didn't bring anything with us. That robe they put on you they had to get a tailor to sew custom, based on designs they use for diamond dogs."

Isaac shuffled a little in the loose garment, pulling the hood up experimentally. It wasn't a flattering garment, not from the way his skin was obviously bare underneath, not from the way it bunched strangely in some places and hug too loose in others. At least they had given him more than the shirt that was often all diamond dogs wore.

He reached back, tossing the hood aside and feeling at the highest part of his spine. "I thought so. My implants are still here. I bet the doctors had a hell of a time with those."

Jackie's eyebrows went up again. "You couldn't feel a piece of metal bolted into your back without using your hands? Doesn't that stuff go all down your spine or something?"

"You grow up with something and you get used to it. Ancestors only know how I'm gonna keep the damn thing charged." He sighed. "You think this Equestrian princess could give us a ride? Supposedly she can teleport anywhere on the planet. In the early days... the records say she used to just be on call whenever someone got exposed to magic. She could appear when we needed her, no matter where she was. It's been hundreds of years, she can probably still do it."

Jackie turned away, glancing briefly back at her mate. Ezri still rested, deceptively peacefully. Jackie knew better: the changeling wasn't dreaming. Otherwise, she would've been able to find her. It was a sleep of death. "I wouldn't be surprised. The real question is whether she’ll be willing.”


* * *


Energy burned around Jackie as she tumbled through the void. She had exhaled and closed her eyes at Sunset's suggestion, but still she felt smothered. There was no air in the void, neither space nor time. It was only the void, and a distant memory that she would one day find herself on solid ground. Her body felt freezing, yet she couldn't move to shiver.

The moment ended with a bang. Light and space exploded into being around her, along with a rush of air. Frost did briefly form on her body, particularly over her closed eyes. She had to rub at them a moment before she could open them, inhaling with a rush of relief. She just stood there a moment, not really seeing anything as her mind adjusted to being back in a world she understood.

"Neither of you threw up." From beside her, Sunset Shimmer sounded almost impressed. The princess wore a simple brown robe, covering up her wings but leaving her head exposed. "Impressive for a trip that long."

"How is... How is Ezri?" Jackie ignored the remark, looking instead up at Isaac. The human towered over her, and stood higher even than the tip of Sunset's horn.

Isaac's clothing was by far the most elaborate. Somehow, Sunset had managed to dig up some real human clothes, in the form of a worn-looking white synthetic jumpsuit. Over this he wore a robe of his own, though it was not all. Isaac wasn't just another pony, and his appearance would be on file with the HPI. He had wrapped his face with cloth as well, leaving an opening only for his eyes. With thick gloves on his hands and his unusual hood up, it was almost possible to imagine he was a diamond dog and not a man.

Isaac's harness probably helped too. Ezri was still unconscious, and Jackie just wasn't strong enough to carry her far. Isaac had no such weakness: between his muscular build, a lifetime of training as a Centurion, and his implants, Isaac had strength even an earth pony could respect. Enough strength to hold a sleeping changeling on his back without slowing down. "Unchanged."

"She will not stay that way." Sunset sighed, and did not move from where she stood. "The life support spell might not have been quite enough, but it was stopping her from slipping too fast. Removing her from it even for a day will cost her weeks she might've lived."

"Not lived." Jackie clenched her teeth. They had waited a full week since Isaac woke, and the poor drone had only gotten worse. She really did look starved now, despite all her hard work. "Sleeping so deep you don't even dream isn't a life. Alex... Alex said good things about her mother when I asked. If Riley's half as enlightened as she said, I'm sure she'll help."

"If she's still alive."

"I thought you said you didn't know what'd happened to her." Jackie couldn't feel intimidated, not even by the power of an Alicorn. Not where her mate was concerned. "You would've mentioned anything like that before we came, right?"

To her credit, Sunset remained impassive. "We never knew very much about changelings. When they invaded, we did learn one thing: queens don't live forever. The older they get, the more food they need. Eventually, their hunger can drive them crazy. Be careful."

"We will be." Around them trees grew thickly, concealing them from the road. Yet in the distance, Jackie could make out something glittering, a tower made of sculpted crystal. It was easily taller than anything in Sunset's village, probably more than two hundred feet. It was hard to be sure from this far away. "Back here tomorrow, right?"

Sunset nodded. "If you aren't here, I'll send somepony in a week. If you aren't back then, I'll assume you aren't coming back." She stepped forward, clasping Jackie briefly on the shoulder. "Good luck. I know how much Day cared about you two. She'd be proud." She let go, and only looked up towards Isaac's face. "And you. Don't die."

He shrugged. "I've got another eight days." He twisted his head a little, looking back towards his implants. "When those batteries die, so do I."

"While you're gone, I'll pay Bountiful a visit." Sunset frowned. "I don't know why Athena has been ignoring me... but I will find out. Find out, and bring whatever human machines you need to survive."

"You may not have much luck there. Athena ignoring your messages..." He shook his head. "We all knew something like this would happen if the director tried anything to hurt the Memory. There's probably a war going on right now. A war—"

"A war you're too important to die in." Sunset cut him off, glaring at him as she hadn't ever looked at Jackie. "You claim to worship the 'Honored Memory.' You must see how important you would be to her. If the magic that keeps you alive can be shared..." She turned away. "Just don't die." Light gathered briefly around the Alicorn. It didn't last long. Another second, and it dispersed with another harsh crack, leaving them alone.

Jackie didn't wait, not even for a second. She pushed forward through the underbrush, making their way to the road. Despite the freezing cold that waited outside Sunset's shield, winter in the more temperate north seemed far kinder. There was a little snow on the ground, but none on the roads or obstructing any of the lights. A few more steps and she had made her way onto a surface of paved asphalt, with packed earth running alongside it. 

There was no traffic on the road just then, at least not that was watching her. In the other direction, she could see dozens of ponies moving up the road in small groups towards the walled city. She longed to visit Alexandria, to see the growing metropolis Alex had so frequently talked about. Not today, though. Maybe in time, when Ezri was awake again. If she couldn't live in Paradise Crater anymore, Alexandria would probably be more familiar than Sunset's little village. 

She forced herself to turn away, down the road in the opposite direction. "All we have to do is head this way for a few miles," she said, more to herself than to Isaac. "Her hive is this way. Her... queen."

Isaac started walking, moving briskly down the path. Despite the bulky robe, he didn't move anything like a diamond dog. Dogs had a sort of hunchbacked lope, with their bulky arms swinging and upsetting their balance. Despite his load, Isaac walked with an erect balance no dog could've matched.

Jackie hurried to catch up, having to trot to keep up with him. For the first time since coming back from that strange otherworld, Jackie found herself missing being human. Watching him from what would've been lower than her own waist-height before the Event, Jackie found her mood souring. She made well sure nobody was watching them, then looked up. "I hope you realize how fucking unfair this is."

Isaac slowed, but only a little. "Unfair that..." He looked down at her, but seemed confused.

"Unfair that you're fucking human right now." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Look around you. Whole world's gone to shit—" She flicked one hoof backwards, towards the city with its fence made of rusting metal. Metal whose shapes vaguely suggested cars. "And all because humans 'can't live' in magic." 

Isaac raised one hand indignantly, but Jackie cut him off. "I know it's real. I saw what happened to you when Alex went all 'avatar' down in Paradise. That's not what I'm talking about."

The forest wasn't very big. It wasn't long before the land they passed was filled with farms instead, great round fields with irrigation pipes on giant rubber wheels. The level of sophistication actually impressed Jackie, since it implied running water and vulcanization. She's been dead a month, and I'm already thinking like her. Jackie ground her teeth together.

"Alright. What are you talking about?"

"Well... you." She flicked a wing towards him. Unlike him, Jackie wore almost nothing, only a pair of tinted sunglasses to help a little with the brightness of full sunlight. Bat ponies didn't actually need glasses, but she sure as hell felt better to be out here with them. Glasses, and a satchel for a few trade goods. Sunset had given her those too, in the hopes she could use them to convince Riley if mere generosity wasn't enough. "We knew humans could live in magic. Those freaks who sold their souls to Charybdis, grew gills, and now they're swimming around the South China Sea."

"Those aren't human." Isaac's voice was cold. "Not anymore."

"No," she agreed. "They aren't. But you are. Two arms, two legs... no freaky gills, no fins, no tentacles. An Alicorn teleported you here, and you don't even look sunburned." They reached the fork Jackie had been expecting. Sunset had described it as a place where paved roads ended, but that wasn't what she saw. Instead, the road actually widened here, with fresh asphalt and brightly painted lines. They weren't the same patterns from pre-Event Earth, but that didn't matter. There was still an unpaved section in the center, running between two paved lanes and packed to make for comfortable pressure on pony hooves.

Even so, she could tell at a glance this was the right place. Tell, from the hundreds of changelings she saw in the distance. There were more here than ever she had imagined, moving in little clouds in the air, or pulling carts along the road, or simply reclining beneath the trees and relaxing in the sun. It seemed a little strange to her that so many wore clothes, though not as much as ponies wore in Paradise. It was more the way Sunset's ponies wore them, as accessories or accents to make them stand out. Good thing too, since aside from their colors there was little to tell these changelings apart.

"Sunset was right about one thing." Isaac seemed less impressed by the activity, though he still stopped beside her. "I am what the Honored Memory was looking for. The Ancestors could see far into the future. Maybe she intended what happened. Her own death to spur the populace to action, and to solve the great question of how our species could survive."

Jackie shook her head. She knew the HPI's religion was nothing more than the crap the first generation had invented to keep their successors focused on the organization's goals. Could she really say for sure that Alex hadn't planned the events of her final day? Letting herself die to serve some higher purpose wouldn't be all that strange. "Whatever. Once we get Ezri on her hooves again, we can rescue her. Alex can tell you herself how bullshit that is."

They were being noticed. More than a few changelings further up the path had turned to watch them, black insect eyes curious. They didn't look like guards... she couldn't see any of those. But not far down this road was another wall, and past it another gate. It wasn't a few old houses, as Sunset had described. It was a second city.

"When Ezri is better... if it's possible to rescue the Honored Memory, she'll have my sword." He lowered his hand to the belt around his waist, and the not-at-all-inconspicuous blade hanging there. Apparently it was the largest in Sunset's armory, yet still it looked a little short for him. Needless to say, Sunset Shimmer's little village hadn't had a stock of magnetic accelerator rifles. "Hopefully I can give her a better sword than this."

Jackie chuckled, then started walking up the path towards the city that shouldn't have been there. "We'll see. Once Ezri's back." She kept a slow pace, much slower than they had been near Alexandria. She tried to look like she belonged, like someone who was expected and welcome. Jackie even tried to feel those things, not just look it. She would soon learn how good a job she could do.
> Episode 2.4: Appeal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Isaac had never imagined he would ever see the surface as the Ancestors of old had seen it in their glory. There was no armor about him as he strode into the changeling city, no drugs in his blood to block out the magic. The strange energy passed through him freely, a constant invisible assault from every direction. There was no pain, not like the agony he had felt in Paradise's reactor. If Isaac never felt that again, it would be too soon.

There was a part of him that feared his protection would eventually fail, and he would die in agony. He felt no hint of that now; the strange new sensations he guessed were magic did not hurt. It was, rather, a sense of pressure building in his body, with nowhere to go. He ignored the sensation, as he had since waking on the first day of his new life.

The weight of Ezri's body strained against his shoulders, the straps of the papoose digging into his skin. The jumpsuit Sunset had given him to wear had an old, stiff feeling to it, and it offered little of the protection even an HPI cooling suit would've. At least, the fluid would've helped distribute the pressure a bit better.

"Remember, you're just my diamond dog assistant. I'll do the talking."

"I remember." He kept his voice down, and low. Well, he couldn't help but have a low voice compared to a pony, particularly a mare. The human vocal range was similar, but dropped about an octave lower than ponies. He could only hope that it was similar for diamond dogs. Otherwise, he was going to seem more a freak than he already did.

Isaac rested one hand on the sword. It was a crude weapon compared to anything he had trained with, but it would have to do. It wasn't as though there was an abundance of better substitutes around.

"Halt!" a strange voice shouted from the wall in front of them, echoing the same way he was used to hearing from Ezri. The voice belonged to a drone, though she was both larger than Ezri and far more worn-looking. Her armor was dull in places, with huge weapon-scars. She had only one wing, the other torn to ragged shreds. 

They stopped. The fence itself was made of poured concrete, ten feet tall and about half that thick. It was rough work, but strong. A few rusting streaks from inside suggested it had been steel-reinforced. Poorly, perhaps, but...

"The capital hive is open only to those invited. What is your business here, strangers?" 

Though only one drone was a spokesman, Isaac followed the line of the wall with his eyes. There were dozens of drones stationed at various points along it. Each one had a rifle held in glowing green magic. Crude weapons—no match for his Centurion armor. Armor he wasn't wearing.

"Family!" Jackie gestured, and Isaac turned slowly around so that the resting Ezri would face the wall. "This drone belongs to Queen Riley. She needs her queen's help!"

"Your information is out of date, stranger." Isaac turned back around in time to see the spokesman changeling lean over the edge of the wall towards them. "That queen has taken a new name and a new title. She is Sargon Titania. Forget the old names, they mean nothing now."

Jackie groaned quietly. "Whatever. We have a drone who needs the Sargon's help. If she doesn't help, she'll die."

"And you claim she belongs to the Sargon?" The drone didn't have functional wings, she couldn't fly. Instead she jumped, falling the full height of the wall and landing on the ground in front of them. "You claim the Sargon herself created a drone, but couldn't be bothered to listen to her call for help? Do not mistake our similarities to mean we see the same world. We are superior, pony. We see and think together. You cannot deceive us."

"Turn around, Isaac." He did, much as he hated to show his back to this creature. The drone wasn't large—she seemed slightly smaller than Jackie—but she also had a body covered with scars. Still he obeyed, knowing what Jackie meant. He dropped to one knee, even though it made him feel remarkably helpless. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around the hilt of his sword, just in case.

"Look at this scar." Jackie fumbled at the harness, pulling one of the flaps away. "Ezri said she was one of Riley's first experiments. She couldn't use the hive mind if she wanted to—and isn't there a range, too?" Isaac couldn't see Jackie's face, so he could only guess.

The guard gasped, evidently recognizing what Isaac already knew was there. "Someone severed her. This better not have been you."

"No." Jackie sounded defensive. "That's a decades-old scar. Her mother gave it to her, not me."

"Whom you insist was the Sargon herself." 

"You can stand up, Isaac." He did, turning back around. Isaac continued to watch, knowing that speaking even once might give the illusion away. Anything that drew attention might shatter the illusion. "Yes, Ezri is her daughter. She's her daughter, and she needs help."

The guard glared up at them. "Alright. But... if you're deceiving us, you will be punished. You might be able to trick me, but you will not trick a queen. The punishment for wasting the Sargon's time is... quite severe. Even getting access will not be easy. You will have to demonstrate the truth of your claim before a queen."

"We'll do it." Jackie didn't hesitate, not even a second. "The ponies have given up on her. They want to keep her alive as long as possible and just pray she wakes up." She advanced towards the drone, and her wall. "The 'Sargon' will want to help. Let us worry about convincing her."

"Not her." The drone turned away, making her way to the edge of the gate. "Open it!" Motors started to grind nearby, and the fence began wheeling slowly sideways on massive tracks. "Her daughter."


* * *


They were given an escort, half a dozen changelings that kept closely to the two of them and led them through the city. Almost everyone Isaac saw had glittering black armor instead of fur, though there were a few regular ponies here and there. It was hard to say for sure, but it seemed to Isaac that the normal ponies were all serving in technical roles, directing changelings or instructing them. They passed a construction crew around the base of a building, and he could hear a gruff earth pony explaining the principles of cement-mixing to a watching crowd of fifty changelings.

Of course, there was no way to be sure which were intelligent and which were being controlled. Isaac had been taught just as all Centurions were taught, and he knew the basic abilities of each Equestrian race. It was important to know the enemy he might be facing. If only he had known that the real danger to the HPI would come from within.

In the center of the city, or at least what he took for the center given the direction they had started, was a massive building shaped roughly like a hexagon. It seemed at a glance to be hundreds of feet across, built with thick concrete walls and formed with glittering waves of transparent green... something. Isaac still didn't know what that substance was, but it was clearly not very strong as it was never placed to hold weight.

The guard from the wall had come along, and though she had offered no explanation for what they saw while moving through the city, she spoke as they stopped outside a massive ramp. The building seemed to have several entrances, many of which were located on higher levels. Like some pony buildings he had seen, this had doors opening into empty air. A steady stream of changelings, probably the same one he had seen from far outside the city, flowed in and out of these openings. Many carried bags or other cargo with them, though it was hard to guess at what they might actually contain.

"This is the palace," said their escort. "While you are here, you stand in the Sargon's sovereign territory. You will be expected to show proper respect to your betters. Should you fail to do so, your case will be dismissed and you will be punished. Coming here constitutes agreement to obey and honor our laws. If you do not wish to do this, I can still take you from the city. Once we enter, however, a queen will hear your petition. You will not be permitted to leave until a judgment has been made, either for or against. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Jackie didn't sound worried, upset, or angry. Isaac had rarely heard the thestral so calm, actually. "We're sure. I want my petition heard."

"Very well." Their escort lowered her head. "By the grace of the Queens, it will be." She gestured, and most of their guards turned to file away. Only two others remained with them, taking up the rear while the changeling herself led the way up the ramp. 

It was very steep, and Isaac had to quicken his pace in order not to fall behind his quadrupedal companions. He heard his implants clicking and groaning under the effort, protesting the abuse he was putting them through. They might make him stronger and faster, but not without a price. The energy would drain faster because he asked more of them. Eventually, their batteries would deplete and he would die.

In all the history of the HPI nobody had ever been killed by implant starvation. There was electricity abundant in every outpost and settlement, and what little energy implants took was hardly a drain compared to the CPNFG. Yet they had all been told what consequences would be waiting for them if their implants did fail.

"Increasing your speed requires supplementing the signals from your spinal cord. Living with them for any sustained period will mean that your body will come to rely on the relay they provide. If that relay is suddenly missing, you will find your limbs nearly impossible to control. Even autonomous functions such as heartbeat and breathing will suffer. If power should fail entirely, either your heart will stop, or you will suffocate, or some combination of the two. Those lucky enough not to experience either of these have the pleasure of slowly starving in their own bodies as their digestion is no longer properly regulated."

He had been taught that several times, he knew what it meant. Run out of power, and he would die. But that didn't matter, really. The Honored Memory had given him a great gift, and with it the blessing of a few more days of life. If he could accomplish anything in that time, then he was sure she would be proud. 

Besides: if the Ancestors willed to give him immunity to magic, a foe even they in their time had not been able to stop, then surely finding him a way to power his implants would be a simple thing. If not, it meant they didn't will him to survive. Right?

At the top of the ramp was an enormous door, with massive torches burning outside it streaking the walls with soot. Several guards were standing at attention, and not all of them changelings. All wore black armor made from painted steel of remarkable quality. It was impressive to see such attention to detail, and such strength. Of course, no number of "armored" guards would've made a difference against a Legion of Centurions... but if the outside world never knew how weak it was by comparison, so much the better.

The current feeling in his organization had been even more extreme: if the world didn't know humanity even survived, then that was ideal. There was no reason to have embassies anymore, not when Bountiful and its ponies could produce anything that needed to be made on the outside, or find somewhere to get it.

"We have petitioners," said their escort, flicking her tail in their direction. "For the Sargon herself. They have insisted."

The guards lowered their spears, clearing the doorway for them. Their escort slowed a little as they entered, nodding respectfully to the guards. The interior had a low ceiling, especially for Isaac. He had to stoop as he entered, careful not to scrape his head or Ezri's on the roof. Larger torches burned here, not crystals or electric lights. The hallway was almost choked with the vapor, at least at his own head level. Had he been at pony height, it probably wouldn't have been so bad.

"The Sargon herself doesn't hear many petitions," their escort explained, her voice hushed. There were many doorways along this hall, and through them Isaac got glimpses of a functioning government. Lecture halls were packed with students and visitors. Debate raged in a round amphitheater, as changelings and non-changelings alike shouted at one another. Clerks scribbled in rooms packed with scrolls. Scribes hunched over ancient-looking books as they read.

They did not go to any of these rooms. Instead, their escort took them down, through several more guarded doorways. The interior of the structure was mostly wood, though there were large sections that seemed to be carved concrete, as though the entire massive slab had been poured and something had excavated into it afterward. Given what he knew of changelings, Isaac suspected that was a distinct possibility.

"We're going down to the audience chamber. It’s difficult to say who will be there to judge you. One of the queens always is, though. Someone must be there to hear petitions, either for herself or for the Sargon. Are you familiar with the method?"

Jackie shook her head. It wasn't very dark, but even so Isaac suspected a regular pony would've had trouble seeing in the gloom. Once past the well-lit hallway and down into the larger structure beyond, there was very little light. Only the occasional naked electric bulb, brightening and dimming to some invisible cycle. "I lived... very far from here. I didn't know there even was a Sargon. Last I heard, there was just one hive here, living together with the nearby pony city. Alexandria, isn't it?"

"You mean you came from there and didn't even learn its name?" The escort didn't wait for her to answer as they descended the sloping path. The roof got even lower, and for a time Isaac had to get down on his hands and knees and crawl. There was enough clearance for Ezri on his back, but only barely. "Yes, we have always worked very closely with Alexandria. The Sargon spoke of days when our kind was seen less favorably. I understand in some parts of the world that is still the case. Regardless, Alexandria was one of the most welcoming cities on the planet. It is only with their help that we have become as we have. By taking the firsts into their lives, the ponies there helped give us life. As they continue to accept our children, they give them life also."

Isaac wanted to speak. The longer they went the more questions boiled in his mind. Yet he resisted. He was, after all, playing the part of an ignorant servant. He would not go against that impression now by asking intelligent questions.

The changeling ahead continued. The quarters were very cramped, but Isaac made do. Hopefully, the audience chamber wouldn't be this small. "We reach much further than Alexandria now. Changelings will one day spread across the world. Ponies have their advantages: you live so long, and love as we cannot. However, you can't do what we do. You can't build as we can, or communicate as we can, or cooperate as we can. Our queens see the world far clearer than even your wisest pony can imagine. In time, we will change the world."

"You don't sound like a guard." Jackie's voice was nervous now, more nervous than she had seemed on their entire trip.

"That's because I'm not." Their escort didn't slow as they walked. Isaac could see a vast black space opening before him. He was relieved, and sure enough they passed through the single doorway into a large room. Even with his enhanced eyes, he couldn't see the ceiling or any of the walls except the one they had come from. A single brazier burned in the center of the room, casting a flickering orange glow that wasn't quite strong enough to fully light it. The effect seemed intentional. On the far side of the room was another glowing doorway, protected by a thick metal gate. It had a lock, a relatively sturdy one for as primitive as these ponies had seemed.

"I'm the one you'll be speaking with." The voice echoed even stranger than it had before. "I'm not a guard. I'm a queen." It wasn't just the strange properties of all changeling voices he had been hearing. Rather, the words came from two places at once. There was a figure beside the brazier, a figure taller than any pony Isaac had ever seen save Sunset Shimmer herself. A figure wrapped in glittering gold and black armor, shaped for her elegant body. 

"Come closer." Both voices still spoke. "Introduce yourselves to me, before the petition. It is my right to look at you with my own eyes before I pass judgment."

Isaac lifted himself silently onto two legs, glanced once down to Jackie, and walked forward beside her. The drone who had been speaking all this time fell into step behind them, at the center of her group of guards. They didn't follow too closely or seem too menacing, yet Isaac could not help but feel trapped. He had no gauntlet, and even if he had he suspected the stone above would've blocked communicate with Athena's satellites. He had no armor, no way to fight his way free. How many guards might lurk in a building this size? Did they have even a shred of a chance of escape, if it came to that?

Isaac could only cross his fingers and pray that Jackie's negotiation skills would win out. She had been skilled in her dream business, maybe some of that crossed over somehow. Ezri liked her, so she couldn't be entirely useless.

"That's close enough, stop." The queen raised one hoof as they neared her, standing on the other side of the flickering flames. Even as she stared at them, Isaac was able to get a close look at his first changeling queen. Her body was proportioned almost exactly like Sunset's with overlarge wings and horn. However, some parts were even more exaggerated. Legs that weren't just graceful, but almost unhealthily so. Limbs that seemed just a little too thin to support her weight.

Her eyes weren't the usual inscrutable insect variety that had forced Isaac to get so good at reading changeling body language. Rather, they were a little like Jackie's, slitted but otherwise familiar. She had a real mane and tail too, not the fins that served for drones. It was an interesting middle ground.

Of course, that was not what stood out most to him. What Isaac noticed most about the queen was her power, the sense of magic and supreme control that radiated from her. It wasn't the same as the feeling he got around Sunset. That Alicorn had power far beyond this, but it didn't come with nearly this much control. Sunset simply loved, and those around her felt that love. This being... she was something else. Colder, more calculating.

Evil? That he couldn't say. "My name is Evoli, firstborn of the Sargon. I will judge your petition."

Jackie breathed, her whole body shaking. Isaac wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he resisted. He kept one hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword, but said nothing. The act had gotten them this far, after all. If he could keep his stupid mouth shut, it might be just what saved them. "I... Okay, Queen Evoli. What more do you need to hear?"

The queen laughed. No, not just her. The drones that watched for their retreat laughed too, along with hundreds of other voices in the building. It was as though the structure itself was laughing at them. "I've heard all the words I need to hear, pony. That isn't what a petition is." She gestured, though Isaac suspected she didn't need to. The largest of the guards, the one with the broken wing and body covered in scars, moved up through the darkness to stand beside her.

"I nominate this drone to serve in the defense of the Sargon. Which of you will fight for your petition?"

"Is it... Is it wrong to ask the rules?" Jackie's voice had lost quite a bit of its confidence. "I mean... I know you said we need to follow your laws..."

"If it were wrong, you'd be in a rather unfortunate position at this point, wouldn't you? You've already asked." She cleared her throat. "You or your representative will defend your petition against my drone. You're the one making the petition, so you choose the weapon. If you kill her, then you may see the Sargon. If you die, then..." She shrugged one shoulder. "Judgment will have been passed."

From beside him, Jackie looked around nervously. He wondered idly if she could see more in the dark room than he could, but he didn't ask. "I have a feeling these petitions make more sense for changeling queens than regular ponies."

Evoli grinned, rows of sharp teeth glittering in the firelight. "You've passed inside the palace, you may not leave. Name the weapon, petitioner."

Jackie winced, deflating. Isaac couldn't tell what she might be thinking, and he found himself not caring.

Isaac cleared his throat. Once he spoke, there would be no going back. Yet what could he do, stay silent and expect Jackie to fight for them? The bat pony might be an expert with dreams, but she hadn't trained her whole life to be a warrior. Isaac had. "Sword. We choose the sword." He stepped forward, past Jackie and into the full light of the brazier.

Queen Evoli stared openly at him, her mouth opening and closing once. Then she laughed. She did not actually look at him but met Jackie's eyes instead. "Your servant has great enthusiasm. I warn you, though. A clumsy brute of a dog would be gutted in such a challenge. You should keep better discipline over your servants."

Isaac turned, glancing down at Jackie. She tilted her head to one side, and he nodded in response. No words between them were necessary. "I second what he said. Isaac will fight the challenge, and we choose the sword."

Queen Evoli shrugged one shoulder. "Very well. Know, though, that you make this choice of your own free will, dog. Your relatives will have no legal recourse against the Sargon when they hear you willingly entered into the combat."

Isaac grunted, dropping down to one knee. "Help me with Ezri." He didn't bother with any acting, not anymore. There was no chance he could fight well when wrapped up in all this heavy clothing. He would have to remove it, and in so doing reveal his real self to the queen and all changelings besides. Fortunately, he was not a pony, and could remove the harness without much help. He lifted up with his arms, pulling the straps up over his head, then walked backward, away from the light, and lowered his cargo gently down.

Ezri's head poked out from the harness, her eyes closed in sleep. It was strange to see her look so peaceful when he knew she was dying. "You better appreciate this, bug," he muttered, before lifting the robe up off his head and setting it down beside her. Beneath the thick cloth stuffed with padding, he wore only the jumpsuit Sunset had found for him. He unwound the cloth from around his hands, then from his face. All went into a pile atop the robe.

"What... What kind of dog is that?" he heard Evoli ask, apparently having not moved from the center of the room.

He didn't leave it for Jackie to defend him this time. "I am no dog," Isaac said, striding back to the center of the room. His implants gave him strength, corrected his posture, reminded him of his training. Even equipped with an inferior weapon, Isaac was still a Centurion. A defender of the faith blessed by the Ancestors themselves. Against such, what could the changelings possibly offer to resist?

He stopped beside Jackie, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It felt right not to be trapped in all that cloth, even if he knew he was about to be subjected to mortal danger. It didn't matter. Ezri's life was in his hands. 

"You look like..." Queen Evoli continued to stare, taking in the details of his face. "I have seen depictions of beings like you. Images... descriptions. My mother spoke of it when I was very young, but I did not believe she meant the stories literally."

"She did." Isaac rested one hand on his sword, drawing it with a rigid metallic ring. The scabbard hadn't been built for a sword this size, which was unfortunate since it wasn't nearly large enough to actually be comfortable. "Jackie and I would be happy to accept your surrender." His voice did not falter, not when it was filled with the unmistakable confidence of faith. "If you've realized you can't win."

Evoli's face was unreadable, and even her less-insect eyes did not reveal what she was thinking. That didn't exactly surprise him, though. Changelings had always been master manipulators. Surely that must mean being able to conceal their feelings, be it from strangers or each other. "I'm afraid it isn't that simple, creature. The petition must be made. There is no way to ignore the law. Without the law, we are mere insects. With it, we become gods."

She gestured, and several drones emerged from the darkness behind her. One carried a little wooden case in its magic, walking in even steps. The drone that had escorted them into the hive levitated the latch open and lifted something from the velvet inside. It was, of course, a sword, made of the same dark metal that fashioned their armor. Unlike the blade in his own scabbard, this sword looked well-worn and cared for. This was no ceremonial weapon as Sunset's own guards carried. This sword had shed blood.

With a flick of her horn, the queen sent a wave of brilliant light through the room. Crystals mounted to distant sconces began to glow a bright green, the exact same shade as her magic. Lit in this way, Isaac could see the whole vast space around him. He could also see a large circle painted on the ground. Little Ezri rested just outside it in her harness. There were over a hundred drones along the outside. Not all of them moved in unison either or stood frozen like some of the guards did. Hell, most of them weren't even armed. They just sat, watching with intense interest.

"Few outsiders have ever made a petition before." Evoli retreated slowly from the circle, and all her other drones did as well. Jackie mimicked the gesture on her side, walking backward until she stood beside Ezri. "Few have the right. Claiming a connection to the Sargon's own daughter, well... that earned you this right. It also made you many spectators, as you can see." She stopped just outside the edge of the circle. Her drone flicked its sword through the air, retreating until it stood just in front of the queen, within the circle.

Isaac did the same, walking back until he stood in front of Jackie. He didn't move his sword through the air as the drone did, didn't practice or show off.

"As the Sargon's loyal servant, I answer the petition on her behalf. Let it end when only one within the circle lives, or I forfeit on the Sargon's behalf. To leave the circle or to strike with magic is to forfeit the challenge and your lives. Let the trial begin."

Isaac raised his sword in a high guard, letting his body tense. There was no switch or indicator to activate: his implants would sense his tension and switch into the high-power mode, rows of little vents along his back closing flat with high-strength alloy. He felt the motion along his spine and up his arms and legs, and watched as the world slowed down. The drone guard advanced towards him as though she were running underwater. The world came into sharper focus, and he could make out even little details, such as the reflection of the brazier in the drone's armor as she charged past it.

There was no controlling the effect, except to control his stress-response. Otherwise, it would continue to draw on his own strength and the electrical energy inside until both were depleted and he died. Isaac had no desire to die today.

He walked forward to meet the charge, careful to keep his steps slow. There was a technique to it, not revealing the actual speed that surged in his body, ready for release. No, the combat implants of a Centurion weren't magic. But until his own creation, they had been the closest the HPI had come to finding a way to compete with ponies. A unicorn couldn't strangle you with magic if you shot him first.

"Ancestors protect me." Isaac tensed, perhaps halfway between the edge of the circle and the brilliant flames. The changeling struck, lunging up towards his chest from below. Isaac easily caught the blow, sparks flying around him as he cast it aside. Even against the flat of his blade the sturdy changeling sword bit into his own ceremonial weapon. He retreated exactly one step, breathing evenly and forcing his arm to move slowly.

The drone shouted and pressed, striking forward a little quicker than before. Isaac gave again, sending more sparks around them as he caught a thrust from the side. The changeling always kept its blade close to its body, never too far to grab in its teeth.

Isaac tried a few strikes of his own, aiming not for the armor but the straps connecting the metal plates protecting the drone's left shoulder. He surged forward, thrusting through the drone's guard and severing the straps with a single precise cut. His sword bit a little into the chitin beneath, but not much. He pulled back before it could get stuck, or get even more chipped.

The crowd gasped, and changelings that had been watching from the walls drew closer to the circle, closing around every opening. The drone withdrew, retreating to stand beside the flames of the brazier. Isaac followed, but not closely, standing just out of reach on the other side.

"Are you a warrior, strange creature?" The drone spoke as it had done before, and the queen did not echo its words. Hearing speech under the influence of battle speed made them sound stretched and shifted down, coming almost unbearably slow. As it spoke, the drone used its own sword to cut the remaining straps free, freeing itself of that encumbering armor plate and revealing cloth padding and chitin underneath.

"I am... I was a Centurion of the Salt Legion." His own words came just as slow and sounded just as strange, requiring great concentration. He probably still sounded a little stupid. 

"You were trained well." The drone closed again, lifting the sword above its head for a high strike. Energy burned there, almost like glowing fingers. It was a faster attack than any human arm could've delivered. Isaac caught the blow with the flat of his sword, tossing it sideways against the brass brazier. Even so, the blow came with an impact that shook his arm. 

A crack ran right down the center of the blade, dividing his sword into two flimsy halves. He didn't strike back, and the drone pulled away again, grinning wickedly at him. "You haven't killed before."

"How—" He retreated from the center again, placing his back to Ezri and Jackie. "How would you know that?"

"Because you hesitated." The drone lifted her sword again. "You should've stabbed me in the neck. Instead, you chose an attack that wouldn't kill. Nopony wants to kill, even if you know I'm just using the body of a drone with no mind of her own. Your mistake might be fatal."

Isaac roared, barreling down on the little drone. He struck without regard for his weapon this time, aiming for the weak point he had created. The drone withdrew as carefully as he had, retreating slightly with each blow towards its master as sparks rained down. Not holding the sword in an actual arm meant a strength unrestricted by position, a power he matched with blurring speed. Even so, he couldn't break the changeling's guard again and reach unprotected flesh. 

He didn't try. As their swords locked together in another shower of sparks, Isaac lashed out with a swift kick, driving with all the strength his implants could give him. Centurions had been trained to fight ponies: he knew where his kick would do the most damage. Plate armor couldn't protect the drone from the crushing force of his kick as the foreleg bent backward so far chitin shattered and green fluid seeped from the joints.

The drone screamed in agony, and from just a few feet away he heard the queen gasp. Could she feel the pain her drone felt?

"Surrender!" he shouted, holding his battered sword above the drone. "Don't make me kill her!" A few feet below him, the drone held its damaged limb close to its chest, holding itself up with the other three.

The drone charged. There was no showing off in the way she moved this time, and as she moved she trailed sickly green goo with her. The drone swung with lightning speed, forcing him to retreat step after step. Each strike hit his sword with an increasingly pained whine, biting into the steel even as he tried to turn the blows. Eventually he was back up against the edge, with Ezri's limp form just behind him. The changeling rained down blow after blow, and he was forced to draw on every ounce of speed to keep up. Only his speed and the precision it provided kept him alive, his sword blurring to turn one strike after another.

The drone slammed her sword down towards him with more strength than Isaac had ever seen in a single magical attack. He barely raised the sword in time, and even then it wasn't really enough. The battered blade could take no more, shattering under the force. He slid to the side out of the way of the drone's weapon, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid a chunk of his own, which took him right in the chest. Blood sprayed, and the drone retreated again, leaving Isaac holding only a handle and a few inches of the sword.

The world slowed again. As his body struggled, as blood seeped from the wound, his implants kicked into their maximum mode, giving him as much speed and strength as the human body could endure. His veins flooded with adrenaline, blurring away the pain. But just because it felt like he wasn't hurt didn't mean that was actually true.

The drone turned its back on him, walking back around towards the queen. It didn't even watch him, but she did. "As I said; you shouldn't have challenged here. There is good reason only queens have petitions heard. Lesser beings like you shouldn't interfere in what they don't understand."

Isaac only half-listened, the words coming frustratingly slow. He reached up, unzipping the edge of the jumpsuit and pulling it down to his belly. He peeled it off his arms one at a time, so he could get a good look at the wound. The changelings behind him gasped, and he could feel their stares on his back. He ignored them. A chunk of jumpsuit had gone with the blade into his abdomen. The wound dripped blood in a steady stream, seeping into his jumpsuit and pooling on the ground in front of him.

"You don't have to keep going," Jackie whispered, only a few feet away outside the circle. "I'll think of something—"

"No," Isaac grunted, then pulled the chunk of steel from his chest, dropping it to the ground in front of him. The queen's drone probably could've killed him by now, if she had followed through the first strike. She hadn't though, and his frown deepened the more he thought about it. Why hadn't she pressed her advantage? "I... I'm going to finish." The bleeding got worse, but not by much. Isaac had been trained in anatomy and knew how to diagnose a wound.

The drone kept ignoring him. He reached down, using the broken end of his sword to slice off the top of the suit. A few quick slices freed him a patch to use as a bandage and a strip to tie it with, and he worked swiftly to stop the bleeding. The wound wasn't severe and hadn't even gone deep enough to cause any real damage.

That didn't matter. It could still kill him if he kept fighting. One wrong move might tear him open. The bandage could help with that, at least enough to keep him going. Besides: he would bleed out much slower this way.

The longer she watched, the less patient Evoli appeared. From her expression, it seemed she had been expecting him to be overwhelmed by the pain and to try to give up. Maybe she was waiting for him to weaken, for him to come to her. He didn't do either, working calmly and rationally as his implants burned through their energy supply. Worse, he couldn't even guess how long he had left: it took a gauntlet to view that information. He might die five minutes from now and not even know it was coming.

The drone limped forward. Isaac lifted his broken sword, a single chunk of steel protruding from the hilt. His aim would have to be perfect, his strike deadly enough to stop the drone despite her weapon. Isaac drew on all his speed, and aimed the sword like a throwing dagger, directly for the drone's exposed shoulder. The projectile flew true, straight on towards the opening. He had trained his whole life to be a Centurion.

A flickering aura gripped the blade inches from the drone's flesh, arrested in place. This seemed to strain the drone a moment, her breath coming heavier and the sword drooping in her magic. Isaac didn't advance—he didn't have a weapon anymore.

The drone dropped the broken hilt, kicking it aside. Isaac jumped, lunging for it as it rolled... but he wasn't fast enough. The weapon spun outside the circle, coming to a stop at the hooves of a watching drone. Isaac rolled onto his back, stumbling to his boots as quickly as he could. He had no weapon now, no chance of victory. It didn't matter. A Centurion died on his feet. Isaac turned to face the drone and prepared himself for death.

"No outsider has ever beaten a queen," Evoli said, through her drone. She raised the sword above her head, advancing slowly toward him. "Now you see why. Lesser beings cannot even comprehend the power we wield. Even as you fought, I saw and predicted every action, planned for it, reacted to it. You only landed the blows you did because I chose to let you." 

The drone roared and seemed heedless of its injury as it bore down on him. Glittering steel swung down towards his chest, to land a blow that would end the battle for good.

"You don't have to die, you know." The world slowed again, more than anything he had ever seen. A drop of blood falling from one of his fingers froze in midair. The changelings, almost entirely silent during the fight so far, became utterly so. Not even breathing broke the silence. Not even his own.

Well, except for the voice. Isaac couldn't move his head, but he didn't have to. The speaker was right in front of him. As he watched, the little pool of blood in front of him began to boil and froth. Shadows danced in the firelight, and darkness congealed in the red vapor that rose. It was like watching a person made of fog claw their way out of the ground.

The shape gradually became more distinct, solidifying into a semitransparent human figure. It was a young man, perhaps five years his senior, with sharp features and a well-cut suit made of mist. He had no color to him but that Isaac's own blood had given. "You don't have to die," the figure said again. "It wouldn't be difficult to give you a victory here. Not difficult at all."

Isaac couldn't move, yet somehow he found he could still speak. At speeds like this, no movement of his body would've been possible. Even enhanced by a lifetime of surgeries and implants, his muscles could move only so fast. To try at these speeds probably would've killed him. Even so, the words came from somewhere. "What is your name, spirit?"

Even in this strange state, Isaac remembered a few of the lessons he had learned. The HPI had studied these supernatural beings, creatures of magic that didn't necessarily have a physical form. Perhaps his ancient ancestors would've worshiped beings like these as gods, but Isaac knew better. They were in their way no different from wild animals, and no more divine.

Spirits could not lie about their names, that much he knew. When you didn't have a body, your name was too important to intentionally misrepresent. This one seemed to glower at him for a moment, as though considering whether or not to speak. Of course there was no compulsion here: Isaac hadn't summoned it and didn't even know if he could. "You know who I am."

Isaac knew of only one creature like this, despite his knowledge of the caste. It was, of course, Charybdis. "I thought you couldn't appear outside of bodies of water."

The strange being was not compelled by space and speed as Isaac was. It moved freely past him, looking around and apparently appreciating the scene of battle. The drone preparing for another attack, the queen furious at what he had done, the crowd intent. "Blood is just ocean with the life more densely packed. Billions of years ago, your ancestors could not survive on land, so they took the ocean with them in their blood. The connection is still strong, even today. This isn't why I've come, though."

Isaac couldn't move. He could've replied if he wanted to, but he didn't. Instead he listened and watched, delaying until the creature spoke on its own. Eventually, he did. "Your slave master is dead. Three centuries I waited to free your kind. Now, at last, I can."

Isaac couldn't grit his teeth, yet somehow the anger found its way into his tone anyway. "I don't know what difference the Memory's death makes to you. She couldn't even win an election without being assassinated, I'm not sure how she could've enslaved anyone."

The man chuckled. He reached down casually to the puddle, which remained where it had been despite his misty form apparently being made from the blood. Even as he watched, Isaac saw a scroll take shape, lifted out from the dripping mass somehow dry and unstained. The scroll itself was made of thin vellum, and he unrolled it a little, as though playing with it in his hands. "Your kind never learned the method of immortality the Equestrian tyrants chose for their beloved servant. Maybe even the Equestrians themselves never fully understood."

"Explain it then." The world hadn't moved, not even an inch. Isaac now knew beyond doubt this was the work of magic, not just his implants. No brain could work this fast. Maybe that had something to do with why he couldn't move and could only speak silently.

"Your 'Memory' was an idea. That idea was everything the filly admired about your species when it fell. When she returned and some of you still lived, you were bound to her. Her presence reminded you of the way things used to be. As a result, you couldn't change, not without being twisted so far the 'humanity' was gone. She trapped you. But now that she's dead—" He gestured at Isaac's chest. "On that very day, a human comes into being who can survive in magic. Do you imagine that to be a coincidence? My other allies among your kind will serve their purpose, but you... You're something unique."

He unrolled the scroll, showing it to Isaac. He could not read the letters there, yet seeing them made him feel sick. The shapes looked as though they didn't fit on the page, as though the paper itself was a surface with more dimensions than he could see. He let his eyes lose focus, so he didn't have to look too closely. "What's this?"

"A bargain." The misty figure grinned from the edge of the scroll. "You're something very rare, Isaac. You're the first of something new. A new species. All the others are bound, as they were when they were made. Bound to the natural forces of this universe which governed their evolution. You, however, were artificially created beyond its reach. As a result, you make your own choice. You may serve whatever you choose."

Isaac wanted to spit in the monster's face. He couldn't do that, but he could look away from the contract. He hoped somehow his glare would be conveyed. "With respect, fuck you. You can take that scroll and feed it to the fish."

If the words stung, the figure showed no sign. He didn't seem angry either, or even a little bit upset. "You judge too quickly, child. Consider your present predicament. Your allegiance is owed to nothing, yet nothing helps you in return. Your body burns with the magic of high spaces, yet it cannot be used for you have given it no outlet. A contract with me could change that." His smile widened. "I could win this fight for you. More than that, I could give you the power to spread your adaptation to others. Consider for a moment how many of your kind are trapped in their bunkers and holes. With a wave of your hand, you could give them freedom."

Isaac did not know if the spirit was telling the truth or not. Fortunately for him, he had the teachings of the Ancestors. Honored Clark, the first father of the Initiative, had written only one thing of the spirits Charybdis and Odium. They were to be destroyed and resisted at all times, never trusted, and never believed. "Go to hell, monster. I'd sooner let them kill me than make any deals with you. If you've come to do it for them, then get on with it. If not, then get out. I have a fight to finish."

The bloody figure flickered in dim light, his hands tensing at his sides. As he watched, Isaac could see their shape distort, twisting into tentacles. He collected himself quickly, tucking the scroll away into a transparent jacket. How it could make solid matter disappear like that he couldn't know. "Last chance, child." He gestured at the changeling's glittering sword, frozen in its arc down towards him. "When this blow lands, it will kill you. At least consider the bargain I have for you: I think you'll find it kinder than you predict."

"No." Isaac put all the anger into his voice he could. "You want to enslave humanity, just like your brother. I will take no bargain from you no matter how generous you made it sound. After all, the Memory herself signed the treaty, and you found a way to kill her anyway. I'd have to be fucking insane to trust your word."

"I didn't break my word." The air around the ghostly spirit seemed to grow darker, and alien shapes flickered from inside him. Many mouths opened and closed in fury. Each word the monster spoke appeared to come from clenched teeth, storms boiling in dark waters behind him. "Do not presume to judge what you do not understand. Director Salazar acted independently when she plotted Archive's death. That she thought it would please me does not matter: she was one member of your foolish Initiative choosing to run it as she saw fit. There is no word in the treaty prohibiting one member of your fools’ band from slaying another. Impetuous child." He strode closer until he stood right in the puddle. "I revoke my offer. When you die in agony, think of me."

There was a painful jerk and a sound of hissing steam as the figure dissolved. Isaac braced himself as time resumed, the sword slamming down towards him with wild speed. He could hear the air parting from around it as it fell, watch the glittering of firelight on its dark blade. On the handle was green magic, shimmering with the will of a queen channeled from one of her drones. The queen whose will would kill him. Isaac spread his legs, bracing himself firmly on the ground even as his hands slammed together with a grip like steel.

He caught the blade between his hands.

Queen Evoli gasped, and the aura of green magic vanished from the sword. Isaac sprung without thinking, flicking the sword back towards himself and catching it with one hand. He slammed one leg down on the drone's neck, driving her crashing to the ground. Metal screamed against the stone, but he ignored all that, turning the sword for the drone's neck. He wouldn't hesitate this time.

"I YIELD!" It wasn't the drone's voice, not this time. Queen Evoli shouted so loudly that Isaac froze in his swing. Dozens of insect eyes watched him, with greater respect than ever he had seen from his fellow humans. No, respect wasn't the right word. Awe.

Isaac rose from the drone's back, still holding the stolen sword. The queen's steps came far slower than before as she made her way into the circle. He lowered the sword only reluctantly, offering the hilt to her.

She didn't take it. "No. You've won the weapon. And her armor, too." Several other drones rushed into the circle, beside the injured and broken drone. They began working to undo her armor, levitating it piece by piece into a pile at his feet. "What is your name, warrior?"

"Isaac Rommel." He clutched at the wound in his chest with both hands. He still couldn't feel the pain, not like he should've. The sensation was strange and distant, like the strain in his arms.

"Congratulations, Isaac. You've won. The Sargon will hear your petition."
> Episode 2.5: Audience
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jackie paced back and forth in nervous fear as a changeling doctor sewed up the wound gaping in her human companion’s chest. Isaac insisted and the doctors agreed that no organs had been damaged, that the shards of broken steel hadn’t pierced something called the “abdominal wall” (whatever in god’s name that was). Still, it was hard not to feel a respect and admiration for this young man, whose sword had given Ezri a chance at life. All the battle she had watched and expected him to run. He fought with an inferior weapon against a drone controlled by a queen twenty times his age, yet still he fought.

Jackie hadn’t ever seen anyone fight like that. Fight not for himself, but for her mate. His friend.

From that single act, Isaac had won her loyalty. So she watched the doctor intently, careful to see if the drone intended any sort of covert revenge for her queen. Apparently she didn’t, because twenty minutes on his back and Isaac was standing again, with sticky green slime binding his wound instead of stitches.

“How do you feel?” Jackie approached Isaac as he sat on the edge of a hospital bed. The design was very similar to those she had seen during her human life, save it was apparently built for a pony’s body. That meant Isaac’s legs touched the ground and his knees bowed out, instead of hanging freely as Jackie’s might’ve done. Well, she might’ve done if her joints bent the other way and her spine let her sit like that.

The human’s chest was bare, his skin bruised and strained from the day’s adventures. This close, it was impossible to miss the surgical alterations his organization had made. A line of little metal plates ran up each limb to his spine, which was covered in thin metal. The armor was presently open, and she could see intricate joints and wires beneath, coated with glittering substances she couldn’t even name. It would’ve been impressive, were it not so horrific.

The wound itself glittered against his skin, which had turned an angry red where the slime touched it. He shrugged. “Like the Ancestors shat bricks on my head.” He smiled weakly, but when she didn’t respond he cleared his throat, shrugging. “I’ve had worse. Almost blew one of my arms off in training once. That was a lot of blood. This... This is nothing.”

“You think that nasty stuff will hold?”

“Feels like it will. If it’s strong enough for windows, it ought to be strong enough for stitches, right?” He shrugged. “Doctor said something about magic accelerated healing in the Glamour. I don’t really know what that means, but she puked it up fresh, so she must at least have been sincere.” He shivered. “Praise to the Ancestors we’re immune to Equestrian diseases.”

As she watched, Isaac reached over and started struggling into the robe.

“I thought you HPI humans were immune to every disease. I don’t think I saw one of you sick in fifteen years...”

Isaac winced as he pulled the robe down over his chest, speaking through strained teeth. “Not immune... The diseases just didn’t survive. The first generation was rigorously screened. Anything that could go dormant, any traces at all... disqualified them.”

Ezri was still with them though neither carried her anymore. She had been given a stretcher, and four drones to take it. Jackie stood beside Ezri’s cot, along with their coterie of motionless changeling drones. “Sounds brutal. It worked, though?”

Isaac stood. He swayed on his feet, holding onto the table to keep from falling. He shouldn’t have been coming at all after what he had been through. It didn’t make sense to subject his body to more stress. But Ezri couldn’t wait, and he had refused all suggestions that Jackie ought to go alone. He was going to be there if it killed him.

“Not perfectly. Some kind of nasty fever got in back in the first generation, but the damn thing burned itself out. I don’t... know the details. And anyway, it’s not like the immunity will last forever. We’re still swimming in bacteria, as much as humans ever were. Sooner or later something will mutate.” He frowned. “My being out here probably accelerated the process by a thousand years.”

“Don’t feel guilty.” Jackie tried not to show her impatience, but she couldn’t keep her tail from twitching or a hoof from pawing at the ground. Ponies were expressive about their emotions, and there was no easy way to prevent it. “It was Salazar’s fucking fault we had to leave our home. Her and that goddamn voice in the water she loves so much.”

“Yeah.” He seemed to notice how impatient she looked because he took a tentative step forward. “I guess we can go. If our... If our guides are ready.”

Jackie turned, looking at one of the four nearly identical drones in their row. They all had Ezri’s same coloration, aquamarine in their fins and in their eyes. They didn’t quite look like her sisters though there did seem to be some family resemblance. Jackie didn’t even want to begin to understand how a hive complex enough to create titles like “Sargon” might function. Must be hell at family reunions. 

Jackie stepped right up to the drone’s face and looked her directly in the eye. “We are ready to see the Sargon. Once she’s ready, I mean.” No matter how this drone might look, Jackie hadn’t forgotten that it was Evoli on the other side of those eyes. Queen Evoli might still turn against them if the desire struck her. Hopefully, a healthy dose of respect would improve their chances.

The drone stirred, and as one she and her companions rose to their hooves. “The Sargon is eager to meet with you,” she said, in Evoli’s voice. “Follow my daughters, they will conduct you.” The drones each took station around the stretcher, and as one their horns glowed, lifting the complicated harness onto their collective backs. There were no joints to distribute the load or absorb shock: this stretcher evidently required perfect synchronicity.

They began to walk. Jackie followed, and Isaac joined her. He limped along, only barely managing to keep pace with their insectoid guides. As they made their way out of the medical room and into the burrows proper, an escort of half a dozen guards surrounded their group, blocking them off on either side. It seemed the guards were as much protecting them from something in the burrows as they were preventing escape.

They need not have bothered. Jackie didn’t have the strength to carry Ezri, and she never would’ve left the burrow without her. With all his superhuman power gone, Isaac seemed barely capable of a limp.

The burrows were a maze; Jackie couldn’t have said how many times they crossed from one area to another, couldn’t have said if they had crawled under other buildings or were still in the same gigantic structure. Changelings probably couldn’t get lost, not with the queens and their inhuman mental abilities. Jackie tried not to worry about it. If the changelings wanted to do something awful to them, they had plenty of opportunities.

The drones led them into a wide hallway, with a ceiling rising plenty high enough for Isaac to walk without stooping. The number of soldiers increased exponentially, with guards standing along every empty surface. Their armor varied along five principal color-schemes. There were yellow, red, blue, and green accents on the armor, which Jackie guessed must mark rank somehow. There were also a handful of purple-armored changelings, and none of these looked like mindless drones. Despite their similar armor, each one had marks of individuality woven into their clothing or painted onto the armor itself, like house crests.

They attracted many stares, but nopony stepped up to stop or confront them. This was just fine so far as Jackie was concerned, and she made no effort to talk to any of these ponies. They approached a massive door, at least two stories of what looked like stone accented with… was that gold?

Even in the dim light of flickering electric bulbs, gemstones and gold inlay sparkled brilliantly. Gold that hadn’t been crammed into one corner or another, but set with craftsmanship and care. The precious metal spelled no words, just as the design depicted no particular creature. It was geometric, just the like ones she had seen from the Islamic world back in school. The guards at the door wore purple accents on glittering metal armor, armor that caught Jackie’s heart in her chest.

The pair of ponies by the door wore HPI Aegis armor, standing nearly as tall as humans with metal plates as thick as her hooves. The whole construction was more like the exoskeletons of an insect than a suit of plate armor, since it moved more or less together without flexibility. Massive cannons sat mounted on their shoulders, pivoting to follow them in their approach.

“Ancestors above,” Isaac exclaimed from beside her, his voice a hoarse whisper. “What are they doing here?”

She whispered back, easier said than done when his head was twice as high as she was. Probably the drones around them would hear anyway. Oh well. “Do they have markings or whatever?”

Isaac nodded. “That’s Bountiful’s crest on their right shoulder. Looks like the unit marking got painted over with some kind of bug insignia.” Jackie could see the marking he meant, a bright purple beetle about the size of any other unit insignia. Their armor had no rank marks: even Jackie knew that every soldier in armor was a Centurion or better. Neither had plumes on their helmets, so they weren’t Prefects. Other than the cannons, the armored ponies remained stationary, a pair of rigid forms flanking the door.

Their escort took them to the door itself, then stopped in unison. “Wait here. The Sargon will summon us when she is prepared,” the lead said, before falling still again.

Isaac ignored her, walking past Jackie to stand right in front of one of the Centurions. It was hard to tell, but it seemed the armored pony watched him every bit as intently as Isaac did. Jackie reached out with one hoof to stop him but closed her mouth before she could say anything. Isaac knew what he was doing.

The tall human stood only just taller than the armored pony. He gritted his teeth as he snapped into a rigid pose, clutching one fist over his heart. “Twice-born brother,” he began. “In whose service is your sword?”

Like many of their rituals, the question had only one correct response. “The Honored Ancestors.” Jackie hadn’t ever quite gotten past the strange voice that came from Aegis armor, downshifted into such a low octave that it shook her chest. They all sounded alike, male or female, young or old. Just as all the armor looked alike, apart from the insignia. “Tribune Achilles speaks their will until they return.” The speaker paused a second, apparently done with the ritual. Jackie hadn’t ever bothered learning any of these, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen quite a few. “We know your face, Centurion Rommel. You fell by the hands of traitors defending the Honored Memory. How is it… How is it you have returned? How do you walk with ponies?”

The other armored figure dropped into a bow. “The Ancestors have sent you.”

The first speaker bowed as well, averting their head in respect. “They would send a hero like you to advise us in a time of war. Tribune Achilles will want your counsel. We cannot leave our post, but by the Sargon’s leave, he could come and meet with you.”

“I would like very much to see him again.” Isaac clutched at his gut with one hand, no longer standing at attention. “But not yet.” He glanced back at the resting Ezri on her stretcher. “Don’t bow. The Ancestors may’ve sent me, but I never returned from the dead. I’m still as mortal as you are.” The armored ponies obeyed at once, rising back to their hooves. There was no way to see any more detail through all those plates. “Please tell me how you’ve come to be here. Shouldn’t Achilles be protecting Bountiful with his legion? I can only assume you’re part of it…”

“There is no Bountiful to protect.”

Just behind them, the massive stone slabs started to shake, rotating slowly inward. Brilliant green light emerged from within, casting at first a line but then a growing cone of strange radiance. It was as bright as sunlight in the dark, though there was no sign of real sunlight from the room beyond. 

The drones rose to their hooves again, taking up the harness. “She is ready.” Jackie hadn’t even seen which had spoken. It probably didn’t matter. Soon their group was moving into the room, and the HPI guards were suddenly reticent. Neither spoke, despite Isaac’s continued protests.

Jackie tried to banish the ominous news. War. No Bountiful to protect. What the hell had happened while they hid in Sunset Shimmer’s secret city? She forced out every thought that wasn’t about saving Ezri. Once she had her mate back, then together they could investigate these new problems. Hell, while they were in the business of rescuing ponies, maybe they could save Alex next. Let her deal with saving the world.

The room beyond wasn’t as massive as Jackie expected it to be, at least from the doors. It was perhaps a hundred feet across, with a single chunk of green something burning at the ceiling and filling the area beneath with light. None of their escorts crossed the threshold more than a few feet. Once the guards deposited Ezri, they turned and marched right out again, never crossing a bright gold line set onto the floor. Past that line was a roughly round room, with a raised platform in the center and five thrones upon it.

There were no armed drones within, with their steel armor and glittering forms. There were instead changelings in beautiful robes, as well as quite a few regular ponies. Well, she took them for regular ponies. Several circles of gold had been set into the floor, and she guessed they must symbolize something. Jackie hesitated at the edge of the circle that none of the drones had crossed, fearful. Some good it would do her to get this far only to get them thrown out for disrespect now. Sargon Titania was somewhere in this room. She felt it, felt a source of magic stronger than anything she had ever felt before. Even Sunset hadn’t felt like this room did. Power was concentrated beyond in a way she had never experienced. Hopefully some of that power could heal her mate.

Jackie need not have waited much longer. Another pony approached, looking a little larger than the drones they had seen but still clearly a changeling. Even beneath its fancy robes, black chitin glittered. Yet it had a mane, and apparently a real tail too. Then the being spoke, its voice lower than hers but still echoing and stretched. She knew it then: a changeling male. “The Sargon wants to meet with you. Queen Winter spoke very highly of you, despite the irregularity of your visit. Unfortunately, none of the other queens could attend. Only the Sargon herself will hear you.”

“She’s the one we came to see.” Jackie didn’t bow for the male, or try to guess whatever else might be expected. “We aren’t trying to change any laws or get her to do anything big.” She gestured down at Ezri. “We have one of her daughters, Ezri. She deserves her mother’s help.”

“Really?” The male moved past her, glancing down at though looking at Ezri through spectacles. As the queens, his eyes seemed relatively normal. As normal as Jackie’s own, anyway. He flicked one hoof towards her, brushing cloth away from her neck and looking at the scar.

“This is Ezri.” He shook his head sadly. “Winter didn’t need to fight; she would’ve recognized this. But… I suppose she wouldn’t be Winter if mercy and compassion were her emotions.”

“You recognize her scar?” She raised an eyebrow. It was hard to tell, but he didn’t look all that old. Beneath the fancy clothes was a pony who hadn’t come into full growth yet. Males apparently looked like and grew like ponies. If he had been a pony, he might have been eighteen. Those thin, overlong limbs were a pretty obvious sign. “You don’t look old enough to remember her. I know she hasn’t ever come back to visit, since she’s lived with me ever since she left.”

The male nodded, his expression distant. The purple robe didn’t match his orange mane and tail very well, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I helped the Sargon create that scar, twenty… maybe thirty years ago? Details blur across lifetimes, and this last one has been more interesting than most.” He shrugged, and the whole stretcher lifted up in his magic. “Come with me, then. Let’s see if the Sargon can help.”

Jackie was done asking questions. Every time she tried to figure things out with a question, she only learned something more confusing. She followed the male, walking close beside the stretcher across each circle in turn. Ponies stopped to stare as they walked, many of them watching Isaac. More than one looked like they wanted to walk over and talk, but none dared.

They approached the raised platform with its five jeweled thrones. Nopony actually stood on it, though that didn’t mean it was empty. The closer they got, the stronger the feeling of magic became. Despite the strange green light above, the brilliant jewels and gold of the thrones shone in their own shades. Even the gray concrete floor fractured into a thousand different shades, splintering the whole spectrum.

The male set Ezri’s stretcher down just at the edge of the platform, then dropped into a bow. “Honored Sargon Titania, Queen of All Seasons. Victorious petitioners wait for your judgment. Please share your wisdom with us.” Was Jackie imagining things, or could she see a trace of amusement in his eyes?

The air around the largest throne seemed to shimmer, and for a second Jackie could swear something was drawing her in, a secondary source of gravity faintly stronger than the one pulling her down. She had to consciously lean backward to avoid moving. Beside her, Isaac wobbled on his boots, but he managed not to fall either. 

Light gathered around the throne, green like the glow of the sphere on the ceiling. As it faded, it left a pony behind. Well, the general shape of a pony. She was a queen, that much was clear. A queen in gleaming golden armor. Not just gold paint, either. Real gold, in thin plates set with more gemstones. It was more wealth than Jackie had ever seen in once place, more wealth than she had even imagined. How could a pony be strong enough even to lift that much metal? Even without the platform, the Sargon would’ve been taller than Sunset and her Alicorn height. Her eyes seemed to radiate green magic, a bonfire of power burning just within her body. Jackie looked upon the one Sunset had called “Riley,” and in that instant she knew where her second name had come from. 

She did bow this time. Isaac did as well, though not by dropping to one knee as Centurions usually did. Jackie couldn’t speak as the massive queen made her way to the edge of the platform, couldn’t find the courage. Only in her dreams had Jackie seen beings this powerful. If Sunset Shimmer had magic like this, she had kept it well hidden. By contrast, this queen hid nothing.

Her voice was musical beyond any pony voice she had heard before, pitch perfect and harmonious with every word. It also seemed to be speaking into Jackie’s mind, not just her ears. Unlike the mind magic Sunset Shimmer had done, there was no resistance. The Sargon could reach into her skull, and she couldn’t have done a thing about it. “You bring my daughter to me.” Every muttered conversation in the whole room grew silent at the Sargon’s words. As one, every form bowed. “I am told she is the drone Lonely Day named Ezri. Is this true?”

Jackie nodded, though the gesture took most of her concentration. It was going to be difficult to talk to this pony if this presence in her mind didn’t go away. “This is her.”

“Ezri.” The queen didn’t move by walking so much as she blurred through the air, and was suddenly standing on Ezri’s other side, looking down. Her expression was unreadable, but this close Jackie could feel the magic burning around her. Even her coat pulled towards the queen, and even the black of changeling armor fractured into a whole spectrum of color. “Who is she to you that you’re willing to fight and die for her?”

To her surprise, Isaac spoke first. Maybe being human meant her strange aura affected him less. “She was my only friend growing up. I know she would’ve done the same for me.”

“Indeed.” The Queen of All Seasons didn’t look away from Jackie. “And you?”

“My wife.” Jackie didn’t avert her eyes.

A spark of something flickered in the queen’s face, magic seeming to flare around her. “You’re her wife, and you couldn’t keep her fed.” It wasn’t a question. “She looks like she hasn’t eaten for days.”

“A month.” Jackie took a deliberate step back. “Sunset’s ponies aren’t as good with some parts of medicine as humans used to be. Their version of life support is a tiny bit of sugar in some salt water and honey whenever she would take it. It wasn’t good enough.”

“Impossible.” As before, Titania did not question. She just spoke, apparently expecting the world to bow to her will. “A conscious drone will wither and starve after a week without glamour.”

“And humans cannot survive exposure to magic.” Isaac spoke up from behind Jackie, his voice much quieter than usual. Even so, he still had the courage to argue. Impressive. “I didn’t traffic with demons, either. You can search me with your magic if you want. I reject their taint.”

Titania finally turned, looking past Jackie and directly at Isaac. The human faltered, wilting with the intensity of her gaze. Magic illuminated him briefly, casting a strange reverse-shadow on the ground behind him. Blackness outlined a bright green copy of him, still standing tall. The changeling queen nodded. “That explains the influence I felt a few hours ago. He tried to make a deal… but you didn’t take it. I would have had to kill you if you had.”

“You can see all that?” Jackie looked away as she spoke, unsure if she was even allowed to ask. She tried searching for the male, but he had retreated once Titania appeared. There was no help for her but her own common sense.

“To the spirit.” Queen Titania suddenly wasn’t beside her anymore, her body blurred back to rest upon her throne. “When I was young, your friend Sunset told me a story. A story about a changeling queen who defeated her god. Do you know how the queen did it?”

Jackie shivered, only just managing to shake her head. She couldn’t look up, not with those eyes watching her. Those eyes that burned with power. 

“Ponies command magic, but the magic they control is limited by their own bodies. They cannot use too much at once, at risk of damaging their spirits. Changelings have no such limits. Enough glamour to live on for a year might be consumed in an instant for extraordinary power, or stretched into two years of near-starvation. Beyond the bounds of pony experience lie many powers you could not comprehend.”

It was Jackie’s turn for courage. “Well, use those powers on your daughter. We’ve all been changed. If you can really do all that, look at her spirit.”

“You stake your life on it?”

Jackie shivered, then nodded again. Sunset’s intel about a kind, practical queen seemed as out-of-date as the rest of what they had seen.

“Chip, come here.”

The male complied, hurrying over and bowing again. He stood just a few feet from Jackie. “Riley?”

Ha! Jackie felt a rush of excitement at the name. But why was this male allowed to use it when nobody else could?

The queen frowned. “Just stand there, Chip. I will only need you a moment.”

“As you will.” He stood straight, asking no further questions and watching nothing in particular.

“You saw what an intact spirit looks like in your friend,” the queen said, flicking her tail briefly towards Isaac. “This is what we look like.” Again magic seemed to boil away from her, burning just beneath the chitin of her body in power Jackie couldn’t imagine. All that power cast a shadow as before, illuminating the male and the space behind him. Unlike Isaac, there were gaping holes of dark space in his glowing form. The holes didn’t seem to correspond to the real ones in his body, but they looked similar enough. “Thank you, Chip. You may go.”

He bowed again, then turned and hurried back into one of the little crowds of watching males. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want me to look at my daughter this way, pony? I give you an opportunity to revise your story to the actual one. I suggest you take it.”

Jackie looked up at the queen, remembering a dream she had. There had been a young knight in her dream, with a book for a sword to make the nightmares go away. The knight had never bowed before great powers, why should she? “No.” Jackie nodded. “I told you the truth. She’s been like that for over a month. We’ve given up on all help but yours to wake her up.”

“We will see.” The queen’s eyes were dark, and for a third time she called upon her strange power. Light shone from her, brighter than either of the previous times. The ground behind Ezri darkened until it was blacker than space, darker than the emptiness in a demon’s heart. Ezri’s sleeping outline shone in the darkness, and the holes in her legs cast no shadow. Like Isaac, she was intact.

Sargon Titania stumbled backward a step, her eyes wide with shock. The illumination vanished from behind Ezri, as did the shadow. “GET OUT! EVERYPONY OUT!” The quiet throne room became a flurry of activity, dozens of ponies trying to conceal their fear as they fled out one of several side passages. The male named Chip stepped up from behind them, and opened his mouth to whisper, but Titania silenced him. “No, Scribe. They stay. You too. Get everypony else out, and make sure we’re not disturbed. Instruct the guards that even the Seasons aren’t to enter.” 

Was she… crying? Jackie looked up, and sure enough there were a few glittering specks on her face. The space around the Sargon no longer seemed to pull her in inexplicably, the burning of green magic was gone. As the chamber emptied around them, the queen appeared to shrink. Her elegant armor vanished from around her, and she didn’t move again. Sargon Titania didn’t seem concerned with living up to her title anymore, just staring down at Ezri and occasionally choking back a sob.

It took less than a minute for the room to empty. Without the pressing crowds of drones and robed ponies, the throne room felt deserted. Chip kept to the front door, sitting quietly and not interrupting them. Jackie didn’t dare speak, and neither did Isaac. With her attendants gone, the Sargon made far less of an effort to keep her tears quiet.

It was another ten minutes before the Sargon finally spoke, her voice no longer echoing in Jackie’s mind. “I never thought I… Didn’t think I’d live to see… Maybe after thousands of years of research, but… not my generation.” She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of one leg. “I mutilated this poor drone to learn whether her sisters could ever wake up. Tell me stranger, what happened to her? How is it she’s come to be… intact?”

“Jackie. My name’s Jackie. That’s what Ezri always called me, anyway.”

“Riley. But not to my subjects. Image is survival.”

Jackie rose to her hooves, though she wasn't nearly as careful as she had been earlier. “Sunset Shimmer said your daughter and I went… ‘Above.’ I don’t really know what that means, but she said—”

“How did you survive?” Riley made her way to the edge of the platform. “You aren’t an Alicorn… none of you are.”

“If I tell you, will you help her?”

She nodded dismissively. “Help is already on the way. Her symptoms are strange, but there’s one cure we can be reasonably confident will work.” She looked up. “Chip, check the chute. A package should be arriving any second.”

He didn’t shout across the hall, just lifted into the air with buzzing wings, flying up towards the ceiling. Jackie didn’t watch him, not with Riley’s eyes on her. Even softened, she was a queen with power Jackie could barely fathom.

“Alex did—er, Archive. Archive did it.”

“She’s an Alicorn now, then? The Initiative must’ve been mistaken about her death. I suppose the apotheosis would be easy to confuse for—”

“No.” Jackie didn’t let her finish. “She did die. I don’t really understand what happened, you’d have to ask Sunset to get details like that. She was going to ascend, but she rescued us first.” She gestured around, from Ezri to Isaac and back to herself. “I think we may’ve… inherited… some of the power that was waiting for her. It changed each of us differently.”

Riley sunk into a sitting position, and some of her energy seemed to fade. “That doesn’t sound repeatable.”

“Probably not.” Jackie prided herself on her honesty, and that didn’t change just because she had disturbing news.

“Why does it matter so much?” Isaac’s voice was no less respectful than earlier. “All of this with Ezri went over my head. I know she shouldn’t have lasted so long without love, but…”

The Sargon answered far faster than Jackie could’ve. “Ezri does not need love anymore.” She rose, then hopped down to ground level, advancing on the resting drone. Isaac got out of her way, even as Jackie moved protectively beside her wife again. “Changelings feed on emotions because we are born damaged. Even refugees, as unfair as that is. Ezri, though… she has survived as long as she did because her invisible injuries are healed. We don’t really have a word for one like her.”

Chip landed beside her, levitating a little gold box in front of him. He didn't bow anymore, just offering the container to Riley with a quiet reverence. She took it, unspinning the lock and flipping it open in the air in front of her. “If anything will wake her, it's this.”

“Assuming she can even drink it.” Chip spoke for the first time since the room had been emptied, his voice low. “If she doesn't need glamour anymore, it might not—”

“I know.” Riley removed a glass bottle from the container, filled almost to the brim with neon green fluid. It was similar in color to the hardened green slime she saw around the city, though far brighter. It glowed with its own light, as though it were some kind of dangerous artifact from an old movie. “Royal jelly,” she explained, unscrewing the delicate golden cap. “Enough to create another queen.”

“We're both better off this way.” Chip sighed, walking slowly back to the door. “Go ahead and use it all. I'd rather just be recycled again, anyway.”

“What?” Jackie looked between them, frowning. Just when she thought she was starting to understand these changelings…

“Conscious drones can be recycled, started over. It's expensive, but not nearly as expensive as creating another queen.” She lowered the container down towards Ezri's mouth, tilting it open and sitting her up, so gravity would help her swallow. “I pay back the debt I incurred to you, Ezri.” She tilted the container violently back, and Jackie watched a single drop grow on the bottle's edge. The drop didn't seem to obey the ordinary laws of physics, growing brighter instead of larger as the container that held it emptied. “Wake up.” The drop fell, vanishing down her throat.

“That's it? You think that will...”

“It's the safest way. All that power at once, while she's unconscious… it should repair whatever damage is keeping her from waking.” Riley set the empty bottle back in its velvet case, and set the empty box down onto the platform.

“Will she… Will she be a queen?”

“Fortunately for her, no. She would have to be a larva for royal jelly to change her. Probably she'll just have more energy than she ever had.”

“Maybe that will balance out the cold.” Jackie shivered, remembering the way she had felt when she first woke up. “Being down here, after… after that other place… thought I would freeze to death. I wonder if it was worse for her. Maybe it was so bad she didn't wake up.” Jackie looked down, as though she expected to see Ezri shivering with invisible cold. She would've noticed familiar symptoms, right?

Far from shivering, her mate had started to glow. The light came from her mouth, and her eyes, and every other opening in her chitin. It was brilliant green, just as the royal jelly had been a moment before. The drone started to twitch, rocking back and forth as the strange magic worked. 

“Ezri!” Jackie jumped to her side, but found herself frozen in the air a few inches away, her whole body held rigid by magic. She turned, glaring up at the Sargon, suddenly not caring about her title, or anything else for that matter. “Dammit, let me go!”

“You can't touch her now.” Her voice was as firm as before, but not angry. “Your natural magic would interfere. Let her body heal itself.”

Jackie ignored her, kicking and squealing against the magic, all to no avail. She watched with horror as green magic burned around the little changeling's body, her coat flipping rapidly through different colors, shapes, and builds. She grew pegasus wings and lost them again, had several different horns, and switched between mare and stallion. So many different changes, almost too fast to follow.

Jackie's screaming stopped abruptly as she felt a large, human hand rest on her shoulder. Isaac smiled sadly down at her, shaking his head. “I'm sure the Sargon knows what she is talking about. We should trust her.”

Jackie fell limp, giving up. She didn't really have much strength left anyway, not after her day. Ezri looked like she was in pain, but it was nothing like what Jackie had seen in high spaces. Something was happening. The queen hadn't been wrong about that. She nodded. “Alright. I won't touch her.” She felt herself moving through the air, a few steps away from Ezri, before something lowered her back down onto her hooves. 

She didn't fight again, watching as her beloved mate twisted and writhed between a dozen different forms. She reached out, but not far enough to touch her this time. “It'll be… It'll be over soon, Ezri. Just hold on! We're all counting on you!”

“You can do it,” Isaac echoed, watching solemnly. “You're the strongest little pony I know, bug. You got this.”

Suddenly, she did.

Ezri stopped squirming, stopped shaking and stopped coughing. Her whole body seemed to come into better focus, and all the foreign parts faded away. Ezri appeared exactly as Jackie knew her, an adult drone with bright blue fins and eyes like an insect. Ezri stopped shaking, stopped glowing, then looked up. “J-Jackie?”

Jackie crossed the distance in less than a second, practically lunging for her. She wrapped up the little drone between her hooves, squeezing her tightly to her chest. “Ezri… thank God you're back.”

“Back?” her mate asked feebly from within her grip, confused. “Where did I go?”

“It's… a bit of a long story.”

Then they kissed.


* * *


“It must be quite the assignment, to warrant a commission as expensive as yours.” Headmaster Orion stared down at the letter of credit, inspecting the thick paper with its elaborate wax seals. The number scrawled on that page was several lifetimes of fortune for most ponies. Jackie shivered in her expensive suit, which in the way of pony fashion these days didn’t cover anything useful. Still, the lawyer of a wealthy pony ought to dress fashionably.

Ezri sat beside her, though she hadn’t looked sideways once since they sat down. That familiar green form, her wings and cutie mark and eternal youth—she couldn’t shake the feeling that impersonating Alex was somehow disrespecting the dead.

She could only hope that Alex wouldn’t mind. This was her dream she was helping to fulfill, after all. She would have been okay with spending her money on it, right? Jackie had no way of asking. Alex might not return for some time, assuming she ever did. “It is. My client believes this is more involved than any spell that’s ever been performed. She expresses some doubt that anypony is up to the task.”

Her words had the desired effect, and the wizened old unicorn sat a little straighter, thrusting out his chest. “Well, it would be foolish not to even ask. You would not have wasted your time with a visit if you thought the mission was impossible.” His horn glowed, and he levitated the letter of credit just that much closer to him. It was worthless without Alex’s signature… Ezri’s signature now that they were impersonating her. Even so, he kept it close. Even for an organization as big as Alexandria’s academy of magic, that was no small sum.

“Correct.” Jackie lifted a briefcase up onto the desk with her mouth, clicking it open. “Ostensibly, the request would be that your academy’s mages complete a spell, then cast it once. The spell was being designed by one of the greatest wizards alive… but she died before she could finish it. It might be years or even decades of research and testing. That’s why we would use the payment plan I discussed, only dispersing for your direct expenses until the spell is complete. At that point, you would be paid the remaining sum.”

“And this… unfinished spell… you have it with you?”

“I do.” Jackie lifted a thick chunk of folded paper and set it on the desk between them. She started to unfold one square section after another until none of the wood was visible. It was the same spell Alex had written in her library, the same spell she had transferred into Jackie’s mind. Not the replica of the preservation spell—that would’ve taken thousands of pages. This was only her modification. “I don’t know anything about magic myself, but… she knew she was dying, so the unfinished sections have red markings on them. Those are probably the first areas you will want to research.”

“Stars and stones!” the headmaster exclaimed, staring down at the design in shock. Any smugness he had been showing before was long gone. “Miss Jacqueline… is this Mystic Rune’s work? I haven’t seen anything this advanced since I locked away all his private notebooks. This work is a hundred years ahead of anything we’ve done. It’s as sophisticated as the Equestrian texts, perhaps more.” He leaned across the table toward Ezri. “Where did you get this?”

Of course, Ezri wasn’t actually speaking. Jackie answered on her behalf. “The spell was reverse-engineered based on the one that changed our planet. The Universal Preservation… something.” She trailed off awkwardly, wishing she had listened a little more closely to that golem in the library. “That’s all I can tell you. The secrecy is part of the price.”

The headmaster stared down at the intricate designs, scratching a little scruff of growth under his chin. Jackie couldn’t rightly call it a beard, but that was remarkably close to the feeling it evoked in her. His graying coat did a much better job of making him look dignified. “I will have to consult the department heads and the funding committee, I don’t have the power to make a decision like this on my own. Upon inspection however, I can give you a preliminary response. This academy has some of the best and brightest minds on Earth—many of them studied under legends like Mystic Rune. There is nowhere else you could take your spell and hope to complete it. I believe, however, that we are equal to it. I expect your estimate of a decade was a bit generous, however. Perhaps twice that. Much research will be required… and even at a glance I can tell the power requirements for this monstrosity will be enormous. I don’t believe the sum you offered us will be enough.”

Jackie swallowed, but of course she had a backup plan ready for this. “The sum I offered was only part of the price.” She spoke carefully, trying not to sound hurried. “There was more. To aid in your work, I could offer a complete copy of the Preservation spell for your study. I don’t know how much of it will be useful to you, however… I know it’s the most advanced piece of magic that ever happened.” She scooted a little closer to him, lowering her voice. “I’m not at liberty to say how, but I’m also prepared to offer several computers… the kind ‘Mystic Rune’ used in his work. We even have the spellmaking software he helped write, significantly improved. You would be free to use this hardware for other university purposes, so long as you were working on my project.”

She took a breath, reclining back into her seat. “We would also be prepared to negotiate again in ten years’ time. To discuss the project’s funding. Reevaluate it, maybe, if you think your financial needs have changed.” Of course, she didn’t have the money for that. The letter of credit on the desk represented every  chit Alex had saved.

“We’ve never received such a long-term research assignment before.”

She shrugged. “Well, I do represent an immortal.” She flicked her tail towards Ezri. “They dream bigger than the rest of us.”


* * *


Isaac looked up from the recharging station as they returned, instantly alert. Jackie watched his movements carefully, searching for any sign of infection. She didn’t find any, though the scars on his belly hadn’t gone anywhere. The air was thicker deep in the burrows, heavy with the damp of thousands of changelings. She didn’t mind it. The dark was nice. “How’d it go?”

Ezri bounced in beside him, setting down her saddlebags. Bright red apples glinted from inside. “We pretty much nailed it.”

Jackie leaned over, nuzzling Ezri’s head from one side. “They’ve got to talk about it in their next meetings or whatever, but it looks good.”

Ezri looked down at her hooves, deflating into a low sitting position. “I still don’t… don’t get why we don’t just get Mom back.” She sighed. “She’d love to do all this boring stuff. Mom loved meetings.”

Jackie pulled the little drone into a hug, embracing her with one wing. “We would, bug. We’d find a way in… disable that dumb machine… but it doesn’t work that way.” She had already explained it half a dozen times by now, but Ezri just didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand, maybe. “We don’t know how long it would take her to come back. What if we had to keep it off for a year? What if it took ten?” She shook her head.

“Then we could break it!” Ezri screamed, though not at Jackie. “Break it into lots of little pieces! Mom would come back eventually… she can’t be dead. She said… said she wouldn’t leave me…”

“I won’t leave you, Ezri.” Jackie squeezed her tighter. “Do you really want to tell your mom that you had to kill most of her humans to bring her back? ‘Cuz those people don’t have anywhere else to go. If you break their machine, they’ll all die. I don’t think she’d like that very much.”

“N-no.” Ezri sniffed, then collapsed into a limp, sobbing ball.

Isaac spoke from beside them, not far away. He didn’t interfere—Isaac never did. One of the cables still hung from his back, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Athena is working on it. When the war ends, maybe we can do some negotiating or set up some special machines, or… something. But not now.”

Jackie didn’t voice her own fear, that quiet hopelessness that maybe Alex wouldn’t ever come back. She had made elaborate plans for her death, plans she had known might take decades. According to Isaac, she had chosen to die, so that humans immune to magic could be born. Jackie didn’t buy that crap for a second. She wouldn’t ever be able to accept the divinity of someone she had mined coal with. 

If Archive never returned, someone would have to worry about the planet in her place. Somebody who was actually from Earth, and wasn’t a bunch of satellites floating around in the sky. Maybe that someone was her.

“Okay.” Ezri sat up, blinking the moisture from her eyes. “I’m good now. I get it. We can’t… We can’t hurt lots of people just so we can maybe help one. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Jackie hugged her one last time, then let her go. “We don’t have to help if you don’t want to.” She gestured around the room, at the clipboards covered with pictures and sketches from Alex’s library, the elaborate diagrams and stacks of contracts. The costumes and supplies they had used to impersonate her. “Your mom would understand if we can’t handle it. We could probably find somebody else to do it. Maybe get Sunset to change her mind…”

“No!” Ezri squealed from beside her. “No. Mom… really wanted her book thing to happen. We can’t go back home… the dream shop is gone… we might as well do something good, right?”

“Might as well.” Jackie grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me.”


* * *

 
Isaac pulled the robe closer about himself as he felt his way through the hall. He stopped, one hand running along the rough ceiling to protect his head. Changelings might be industrious, but they were not particularly attentive to detail in things they didn't consider significant.
 
A few more meters through the dark and he saw the harsh glow of LED lights, illuminating the entrance to the caves. Isaac slowed as he approached, relieved as the ceiling sloped away from him. Thank the Ancestors he didn't have to crouch every time he visited. Of course, armed guards were standing at the entrance, both of them thickly armored.
 
One of the ponies wore Aegis armor and towered over his fellow. The other wore one of the slimmer infiltrator suits, her body much more graceful and mobile.
 
“Who desires to enter?”
 
Isaac straightened, replacing the cloth cap with its broad crest. “Prefect Isaac Rommel. You know, the only human for five hundred miles.”
 
It was hard to tell, but he could've sworn he heard her groan from within her helmet. Then she straightened, raising one foreleg to her front in a salute. “Honored be a name loved by the Ancestors.” He could practically hear her roll her eyes as she stepped aside. “You're late.”
 
He didn't reply, returning her salute before hurrying past her. The hall beyond the guards was so bright compared to the corridor behind that he squinted, covering his eyes and trying not to wince. The ground sloped almost violently down, and he had to stoop again. There were no handrails, so it was all he could do to grip the rock and pray.
 
The Ancestors appeared to be guiding his steps this evening, or maybe he was just used to walking this way. Either way, he emerged into the war room without any rips in his robes or scrapes on his head.
 
He straightened, brushing off the dust of the tight quarters. The war room rose around him, a limestone cavern so massive even the enormous holotable couldn't completely light the stalactites. Isaac sniffed back a little congestion at the thickness in the air, stepping over a small stream of cave runoff as he made his way in.
 
There were perhaps twenty ponies in the room, all chattering quietly to one another. Most stood around the gigantic holotable in the center of the room though a few worked on smaller workstations along the walls. The war room was at the beginning of the caves; the only room large enough for their purposes. There were many others, thousands of little rooms following the sloping curves of the earth. Isaac had not explored them much: though he was welcome to live here with his fellows, he hadn't left Ezri and Jackie's own quarters with the other ponies.
 
He would get to it. Eventually.
 
“Tribune Achilles.” Isaac stopped in front of a grizzled old earth pony, raising his fist in a formal salute. “Prefect Rommel, reporting for service.”
 
The pony looked far less annoyed by his tardiness than the guards. If anything, he seemed to be concealing nervousness. It wasn't unlike the expression Isaac himself had worn, the first time he met the Archive. Isaac had become a hero to many in the HPI. It was not a position he enjoyed.
 
“Of course, Prefect. Your presence is an honor to all of us.” He gestured to an empty space beside him at the table, the only place with a human sized chair. “You are the last. We can begin, at your leave.”
 
“The honor is mine sir,” Isaac repeated. It was the same ritual he had to go through every time he visited. Transfer the respect to the man who actually deserved it. The Tribune was the only reason anyone from Bountiful was still alive. Well, him and…
 
And a glittering figure standing in the center of the table. Athena was made of glittering light, her body a perfect hologram. Athena was everything an ideal human should be: strong, fit, intelligent. She was every kind of beauty, from her ancient armor to the falcon resting on one of her shoulders. Her gray eyes cut deeper than any changeling sword. “Please sit, everyone.” She gestured around magnanimously, and ponies in armor or robes began to shuffle. Only Isaac needed a chair, and he sat.
 
The table glowed taking the shape of continents and hills. Rolling slopes of green and craggy mountains with surprising fidelity. She was a true goddess at this scale, her vast scope expressed in the little peeks of land and miniature cities. “Generals, Prefects, Tribunes of the Legion, gather round.” She smiled as she said it. “We have a war to win.”
> Episode 3.1: Wake Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archive drifted.

There was no time in the void, neither separation nor meaning. It was not death as she had known it. There was no gravity this time, no destination she had never seen to draw her in without hope of escape. Without time, Archive’s death had no beginning or end. She was everywhere, yet perceived nothing. There was peace in death, the peace of Soma and the morning dew beneath the Lotus.

So stripped of self, Archive barely felt the decay. There was nothing she could do about it this time. Archive had fought to stand against the tide and been washed away. There was nothing for her to do but wither.

Air seared her lungs like acid. Her heart labored to life, and with each twitch more pain awakened in ancient bones. Feeling returned first as agony, which left the tingling of centuries spent numb. Give up, whispered the void. Draw no more power from those who deserve it. Your age is over.

Archive forced herself to breathe. Every second was agony—like the thousand false memories she had of frostbite death. She tried to draw strength through the ground beneath her, mostly out of habit. Nothing happened.

She has another child now. Let go.

She might’ve, if she had been left alone. How long had nature been trying to kill her? Fuck you. Archive lived on out of spite.

She heard no more voices. Hours passed, hours that gradually brought back feeling into limbs long dead. Her senses returned in the same sequence she was used to, starting with touch. She was lying on something flat, with metal or glass refuse caught beneath her. Her wings felt very strange—probably she had pinned at least one of them under her body the wrong way. Archive hadn’t ever died with wings before, so she wasn’t sure what to expect.

I shouldn’t have these anymore, Archive thought, though she wasn’t sure where the thought had come from. Her memories were still trickling back.

Sight came back next. Gloom pressed in around her, broken with an arching beam of red and orange. Archive didn’t fight to get up sooner, as she had done earlier in her life. Reincarnation could not be rushed.

She lay in place long enough for weak pony eyes to adjust to the dark, long enough that she could feel the slight breeze drifting over her body, hear a shrill siren as it echoed. There were no ponies, no people. Only the siren and a flashing red light.

Eventually her limbs stopped twitching and the last of the weakness faded.

The Archive of Humanity rose to her hooves. She shook herself out, scattering a cloud of dust and clearing some of the tangles from her mane and tail.

A massive metal shape lay in front of her, hanging lopsided from enormous brackets and supports in the ceiling. Hundreds of little valves and cables were half buried in an ocean of corrosion and rust. All that was left of the fusion reactor.

Alex remembered. Her friend screaming, her daughter fighting with fang and hoof, a human soldier giving his life for her.

Archive stood in the reactor core, though few others would’ve recognized it now. State-of-the-art control consoles had been ripped from the floor in places, while others looked like they had been broken by devastating blows.

“What happened in here?” Archive found her voice came out in a low croak, tired from disuse. Her ears twitched once or twice at the strangeness of it, but she didn’t think long. There were far more significant concerns on her mind just now.

Archive made her way to the most intact-looking of the consoles, but found none of the still-working buttons actually did anything. Another sparked wildly when she touched it, but that was all.

At least someone was thoughtful enough to leave the flashing lights and wailing siren on for her. Despite the enormous vacuum of time, she remembered Paradise Crater’s layout without difficulty. The exit doors were hanging sideways in their tracks and didn’t respond as she walked nearby. The hallway from central access was mostly bare, except for the clean room suits that normally hung outside it.

The sterilization area had been shattered, medical equipment scattered and destroyed. Archive moved a little closer in the gloom, squeaking in surprise as she almost cut herself on a length of glittering glass. “Did anyone…” she muttered, digging through the refuse. She found several cyber-gauntlets, but none in pony sizes. A medical cooler slid open as she tugged, but released a stench of rotting medicine. Nothing worth having down there.

She made her way to the elevator next, always alert for a working console. She didn’t find any, not all the way from where she had started to the elevator.

The central shaft was, like Raven City before it, a glass pillar that ran the entire vertical distance of the city. It was generally reserved for priority traffic and cargo, but since she hadn’t seen another living soul…

The platform was five hundred feet higher than she was, probably near the surface. The exit doors had been violently pried apart, and hung twitching from the inside of the shaft. Even so, Archive could lean through the opening and try to get a good look at the city.

Paradise Crater, previously packed with glittering lights and scurrying robots, was completely still. Cool air rose from below in a steady stream, though there were only a few service levels beneath this one for accessing the bottom of the reactor.

Archive sat herself down, frowning up at the dark. After her last experience alone underground, she hardly felt very happy.

“Is anyone there?” she asked again, calling much louder into the dark. There was no answer.

None except the one that came from her imagination. “Hey Alex.” Cloudy Skies sounded as she had the last time, as though in the prime of her youth.

“Didn’t it take days for me to go crazy last time?”

Cloudy’s voice sounded matter-of-fact. “Maybe you never got better.”

“Maybe not.” Archive rose to her hooves, walking slowly away from the elevator. Unlike that mine she had been dumped in to rot, she knew this city. Without the power on, she would have to walk the length of its perimeter, rising to a greater elevation with each loop until she reached the surface.

“I’m not going to waste time with this.” Alex flicked her tail as she turned for another hallway. There was very little light, yet she found herself less bothered by it than she had been in the mine. Many years living in this city had also dispelled that pressing, claustrophobic feeling natural to any pegasus trapped under the ground. She had used her racial magic so little over the last few years that not having access to it scarcely mattered anymore.

“I’m not leaving.” She heard no footsteps from the pony she knew wasn’t there. Even so, the vague sense of company remained. “Not until you get out of this.”

“Whatever.” Alex found the door she was looking for, or at least where it used to be. The access ramp that led to the main thoroughfare was through a blast door nearly a foot thick. The door had been melted in from the other side. “If you’re going to stay, at least help me. Can you tell me what melted that door?”

“Better question is what happened to the whole city.” Cloudy’s voice wasn’t neutral, but then it hadn’t really ever been. “Did you know anywhere better protected? Anywhere with stronger defenses?”

“I… no.” She didn’t slow. Not as she climbed her way through the melted door, or stepped out onto the wider, gently sloping thoroughfare. Thick barricades had been erected near reactor access, and at least one mounted gun had been shattered into numerous pieces.

There were a few little puddles of water, or stray chemicals leaving foul smells in their wake, but not many. Paradise Crater had been built to survive—that included a site with a remarkably low water table and impermeable clay to keep out rain. Evidently those engineering concerns had stopped her from drowning.

Archive spoke as she made her way up—mostly to stop herself from going crazy. It wasn’t as though she legitimately thought that Sky could really hear her. No, that old friend was long dead.

“So… if this all happened right when I died, it must have only been a few hundred years, right? Otherwise, it wouldn’t even resemble the settlement I knew. Time would’ve destroyed everything… but these buildings are all the same shapes I remember. The writing is still here on some of the walls, and a few things are still running.”

It was mostly lights, and all of the same kind. The crater’s emergency network was ultra low-power, and used thermonuclear instead of the reactor. It might continue generating some power for hundreds of years, even without intervention.

“Are you sure?” Alex glanced to the side, expecting to see a pony walking beside her. She really was losing it, if she was seeing things as well as feeling in the near darkness. Yet whenever she found a light still flickering, there was clearly no one there. “The HPI uses ultra-stable compounds, don’t they? Down here there’s no water, not much air, and no seismic activity. What would rot, exactly?”

Archive stopped walking, glaring at the direction the sound had come from this time. “See, that’s how I just know you aren’t real!” she shouted. “Teleporting all around me might just mean that you’re flying really quiet, but… Sky didn’t know crap about materials or degradation or anything serious! Why the hell would I believe that you’re really her?”

She could practically feel a shrug, behind her other shoulder. “I’m not really her. We went over that, remember? You’re insane.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, setting off again into the dark. “I guess that’s right.” As she walked, Alex kept alert for anything she might use. A portable light was the first order of business, but every unit she found was dead and unresponsive. It was true the HPI’s molecular chemistry made materials that far outlasted the ones that had existed before the Event. It was less true that their batteries were different enough that they might keep working for hundreds of years.

What she really needed to find was a hydrogen gas-powered unit like the one her library had used. Such fuel cells might very well still be working, so long as the seals were intact. Unfortunately, she wasn’t likely to find one outside of the powered armor suits.

“I need to call Athena,” she eventually announced, to no one. “You see a gauntlet anywhere that still works, let me know. Or a satellite phone for that matter.”

“Okay Lonely Day. I won’t see anything you don’t already. Thought we’d already put together that you were imagining me.”

She shrugged her wings in frustration. “Yeah, I get it. Figure if I’m still going to be hallucinating you, might as well put you to work.” Her wings were still a little numb, even despite the several hours she had spent alive to recover. Under the circumstances, Alex had elected to wait to investigate them until she had proper light. Even if she had adjusted well, there was no sense in getting worked up about a problem she couldn’t fix.

She didn’t find a satellite phone, no matter how long she looked. There was no intact powered armor, though plenty of empty, destroyed suits in pony and human shapes both. No corpses, though. “What do you think happened to all the bodies?”

Sky’s voice sounded hopeful. “It probably means things weren’t super bad, right? If there aren’t any bodies, it means somebody had to bury them.”

That wasn’t precisely true, though it wasn’t as though Archive was about to argue with her. Those possibilities were so dark even she had no desire to think about them. At least with humans, there was something that could’ve happened to them that required no burial at all…

Rather than think about such dark things, Alex occupied herself searching the ruins as they came upon the city. Unfortunately for her, she found that job had already been done. The further up she went, the less remained for her to scavenge. 

There were very few signs of the advanced civilization that had once been here. Wiring had been stripped from the walls, left hanging open as though huge claws had torn apart the concrete. 

Archive became one of those looters. Alex found a pony helmet that looked mostly intact, its carbon fiber resin still firm despite who knew how many years. She found a backpack made for humans and used it to collect the few odds and ends that had escaped earlier thieves. A book of sturdy paper remained, along with several pencils and pens, though the paper was all blank. At least I can keep a journal.

“I wonder if I can build a satellite radio out of broken circuits and rusty nails,” Alex muttered, mostly to herself. 

Unfortunately for her desires, her companion didn’t seem to care much what she wanted. “The real question is who won the war that trashed this place.” 

Alex didn’t need her imagination to point out the logic of what she was thinking. “If the HPI won, they wouldn’t have abandoned the place and stripped it for parts.” Her ears and tail drooped a little, and she slowed in her fumbling walk up the ramp.

That didn’t mean all was lost, though. There had been enough belief in humanity to bring her back. Not to mention enough knowledge of human ways to know how to find almost everything of value the city had been built with.

It didn’t feel that way, but Alex had been walking for hours. The ceiling, once veiled by distance alone, gradually took shape. Its vague suggestions became the genuine beams melded with the stone. “So consider what would’ve happened when I died,” Alex muttered as she went. “I was important enough that all the ponies left respected me. Athena gets the word of my death out right away. What happens next?”

There was no response. Alex didn’t care, making her way towards the main entrance cavern. This proved clogged with rubble, so she turned and continued on. There were several smaller evacuation paths—one was bound to work. Unfortunately she hadn’t been any luckier with her salvage. She had found a few rusty tools, but they were all the sort explorers might use. Nothing that would help her get in contact with Athena.

She went on. “Bountiful would declare war the same day. Athena would’ve stopped any of the nuclear warheads from working. Then…”

“Then what?” Sky didn’t sound nearly as bored as the real Sky would’ve sounded.

“Not sure. Maybe they stay in a state of war but don’t ever attack one another. Maybe Bountiful starts recruiting regular ponies to help them, maybe they don’t. Damn ocean monster doesn’t get involved, because that would break the treaty.”

“Didn’t it break the treaty by killing you?”

She took a long time to answer. There was a little light ahead, which she took for a good sign. Not faintly flashing structural lights either, clinging to a few desperate last gasps of emergency power. Sunlight, warm and bright and inviting. “I don’t know who gets to decide what counts as breaking it and what doesn’t. I’d fucking count it if it were me, though.”

Alex stopped suddenly, eyes widening as she caught the outline of something she had almost missed. Crammed in one corner was a lightweight pony harness of some kind, one she didn’t recognize.

The room itself was about thirty feet across, with a single doorway on the far end that stretched up towards the light. A few cracks of yellow came in from far away, so bright she couldn’t look directly at them after so long adjusted to the gloom. 

Alex dragged the strange broken object until it was in the light and she could get a good look at it.

As it turned out, the thing was made from milky white plastic, with clever joints of the same material holding it all together. It looked to be made to lock onto a pony’s back and point over the shoulder.

There was a cannon mounted to the right shoulder, made from the same plasticy material but with burns on the inside. “Weird.” Alex no longer felt Sky nearby, or heard her voice without a source in the dark. She had to settle for muttering to herself as she turned the thing over and examined the gun harness.

It attached by way of Velcro straps to the neck and legs, tracking the approximate direction the wearer looked with the gun and firing with a specific twist of one of the hind-legs. There appeared to be no electronics here, only gearing and joints and remarkable mechanical prowess.

There was a single magazine loaded into the weapon, and as she carefully removed it she found five bullets inside, each apparently intact. Would the darkness and temperature stability have preserved this artifact as well as it had preserved the bunker?

Archive found the gun harness only partially intact—the head tracking and aiming no longer worked, only making frustrating clicking sounds against a stripped plastic gear. It felt surprisingly light on her shoulders. Whoever had designed it had even taken the time to keep wings in mind, because it exerted no pressure on them. It still would’ve gotten in her way if she had known how to fly, but since she didn’t…

Here’s hoping you won’t need it. Alex had once had the strength of a tank and the endurance of steel plates. She had once been able to call on the confidence and strength of the spirit of Earth. She could do none of those things now, no matter how much she might still be loyal to the Keeper’s mission.

Archive made her way from the ruins of Paradise Crater, climbing steep steps towards a source of distant light. She passed through several security doors, each one destroyed. She couldn’t tell if magic or explosives had been used, but either way the armor plates and concrete barriers had been blasted to indeterminate pieces. No reason to give up. So long as Athena survived, the HPI can recover.

She saw no sign of the AI as she reached the location of the last security door, and one of the simplest exits from the bunker and onto open prairie. As she neared it she became more and more conscious of the rush of air behind her, apparently warmer than whatever waited outside. Wouldn’t it be just my luck if it was winter out there? The last security door was actually a massive bulkhead on wheeling tracks, or at least it had been. Instead of the reinforced steel and carbon fiber, Alex found a flimsy wooden board, leaning sideways on the wall.

Air rushed behind her, making her mane flutter and dance. She braced her hooves on the wood, pressing firmly on a section just a few inches above the ground. It started to lean and wobble, tilting inexorably towards her. Archive leapt out of the way just as it came down, then climbed out the opening into the light.

Lonely Day didn’t move far from the opening, standing still in the spring sunshine. A breeze lifted her wings, carrying with it the thick smells of pollen and sage. Even with her eyes closed she could feel the season all around her, as new growth stretching towards the sun.

How long had it been since Day had taken the time to enjoy nature? Her perfect memory had the answer: nine years, eight days. Well, plus however long I was dead. Day would have to wait until nightfall to know how long had passed. The only memories that weren’t clear were what she experienced while she was dead. Assuming you don’t just imagine it.

Alex opened her eyes, and nearly fell over at what she saw. A shock of white had found its way into her mane, and she pushed it out of the way. As she did, she got her first good look at her wings since she had come back from the dead, and every nightmare was confirmed.

She hadn’t been able to feel her feathers because she didn’t have any. She stretched one out, observing the dark skin, the thin bones and intricate muscles underneath. She poked it, finding the wing as tough as callous but far more sensitive.





“Guess I know how I got around so well in the dark,” she muttered, forcing her wings to close. They didn’t bend quite the same way, but a little persistence took care of that.

Alex tried not to consider her own condition too closely as she tended to the necessities of survival. In spring there was no shortage of edible plants, and she followed the thickest vegetation to a stream. Surviving out here would be trivial for her, even without pegasus magic.

But survival isn’t enough. Alex had to find her ponies. Merely eating would do her no good if the memory of Earth died.

“You still there, Cloudy Skies?” Alex asked, as she sat beside the stream and pondered what she should do next. As she had expected, there was no answer. Guess it’s only being underground that makes me crazy enough.

Lonely Day opened her senses as Sunset Shimmer had taught and searched the world for the connections that were her essence.

It was always an unearthly experience, as though she were in the center of a web of light that wrapped around the planet. She could somehow sense its every twisting nexus even though it was too big to take into her mind at once.

If her connections had always been a web before, this time someone had tried to knock it off with a broom. A handful of tenuous threads connected her to individuals, while the thicker bindings she had previously enjoyed to whole societies were gone. Except one.

It felt like half the feeble threads were all coming from the same place. Not united into a society, but thousands of individuals, each one struggling for survival.

Lonely Day had her destination. From the direction she had sensed them, she guessed they were somewhere in the midwest, or even on the east coast. Not that those places mean anything anymore. The wilderness had changed completely around Paradise Crater, every stream and tree and pond was somewhere she didn’t expect. Only the ring of familiar mountains looked similar enough for her to use it for directions.

One cord bound her strong enough that she could pull strength from it instead of giving strength. She tried to follow that one too, but found the sensations she felt quickly stopped making sense. It was on the other side of the planet at least, so far that it strained her ability to follow. She tried a few times, but eventually gave up. Whatever that society was, it could get along fine without her.

Day considered going back into Paradise Crater to search for supplies. No matter what disasters she had missed, Athena would still be there. Yet she hadn’t found anything beyond what she had carried out on the first trip, and none of it would be wiring together to make a satellite radio from scratch. I can always come back. The entrance will still be here. Maybe with a team of ponies to help and proper exploring gear. Thestrals had many talents to enhance their ability to navigate in the dark. Thinking back, that had probably been how she found her way around in the dark. She had just been too distracted to notice the information she got wasn’t quite coming from her eyes.

It will be winter soon, and I don’t have my saddlebags anymore. I don’t have Ezri, either. Day straightened her shoulders, settled the harness a little more securely, then started walking towards the connections she sensed. They were distant, hundreds or thousands of miles away. The sooner she started, the sooner she would arrive.
> Episode 3.2: The Dreamquest of Unknown Alexandria
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Journal,

This isn’t one of my journals. This isn’t real paper, it’s some kind of silicone resin that I’ve never seen before, and I don’t think was invented when I lived in Paradise.

Today I woke up alone. Crater has been destroyed. The three receiving warehouses had collapsed without a trace, leaving no sign on the surface that the city had existed. I walked all day, until it got dark and my strength ran out. The old me would still be walking now. 





Paradise was destroyed by a violent conflict of some kind. My working theory is that the destruction of the city’s CPNFG is what allowed me to return. Whatever magic I use to return to life, it was apparently suppressed in some way. Some kind of… null transit channel in the thaumic probability space… Joe would be better at explaining it. If he were still alive, I mean.

I wasn’t myself when I woke up. My wings are all batty now. Presumably I’ve lost access to weather magic, though I haven’t tried using it much since that time I barbecued a pony. There are other physical changes as well. Ears and teeth seem to be a little different, and I have much less difficulty navigating at night. If it wasn’t so much colder I might switch to traveling purely in the dark. But judging by the temperature and the stars, it’s spring. This will be a very difficult winter.

I searched for supplies before leaving Paradise, but there wasn’t much to find. Here’s what I have:
1 backpack
1 half-broken pony gun harness
5 bullets, made of an unidentifiable silvery metal. Have ruled out brass, silver, tungsten based on properties
2 quickdraws
1 belay device
1 rappel rack
100m composite line
1 helmet with broken lamp
1 folding knife
1 set assorted screwdrivers
pens and pencils
1 journal

There is no food, no communications devices, no water purification tools, flashlights or useful clothing. I could probably get some of the last out of the ruins if I wanted to go back in there, but… so much of it was stained or damaged that I don’t think I want to. Until a proper winter arrives I should be alright.

I’m scared. My magic is so weak now, tenuous and feeble. Either the former humans of Earth have been nearly wiped out, or the memory of humanity is nearly gone. I don’t know which. I also don’t know what would happen to me if they all forgot. Would I disappear? Would I cease to exist? Or just… grow old and die like anypony else? The last one doesn’t seem so bad.

I have made detailed observations of the stars and compared their positions to the stellar catalog. More observations will be required to determine the present year, though I can see significant drift. I wish I had a compass and a calculator.

I need to learn what happened. Was the HPI destroyed? What happened to pony society? The nearest city to Paradise Crater used to be Salt Lick, and I should reach it tomorrow. I could just visit and see what I find, but I have other plans first.

Thestrals might lack weather magic, but they do have something else, and that something might be my only source of information.

The Equestrian books explain dream magic was a gift of somepony called the Shadowspinner, during an ancient rebellion Equestria had apparently forgotten. I don’t know if that’s true, but like all the Equestrian books, I memorized it. If I knew enough to teach Jackie to use her magic, I know enough to use it myself. I have nowhere to sleep but this shelter I’ve made with fallen logs and leaves, and I hear noises outside. Assuming I’m not attacked by wolves in the dark, I’ll see about using Luna’s techniques myself. I will find the library, wedge open its doors, and step beyond into the Dreamlands. 

I will find a sympathetic dreamer and see what I can learn. My… friends might be dead by now. Ezri, Jackie… unless the destruction started right after I was killed, I don’t think their odds of still being alive are very high. I pray to God I didn’t miss any of my family in Portland. Without access to Athena, I have no way of checking.

Before I died, Jackie said it was possible to find the dreams of humans, even when those humans slept protected by an antimagic field. I’ll write tomorrow about my results, whatever they are.

-A Very Lonely Bat

The spell did not place Archive in her library. The simplest of all dreamwalking magic, the sort that took her little practice and only careful meditation along with the words and diagrams of the spell, deposited Archive at the top of a set of worn stone steps, stretching down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

In light slumber she descended the seventy steps to the cavern of flame, where the bearded priests Nasht and Kahman-Than waited in their vaulted chambers with Pshents on their heads. The priests seemed surprised to meet one they had heard so much about, but not known to be a dreamer of any skill or significance. Archive explained her predicament, and her quest, to discover dreamers with two legs instead of four. They wished her well, and offered a farewell blessing before she descended the seven hundred steps to the Gate of Deeper Slumber and set out across the Skein.

Flight was her first gift, given of the simple will that was its only prerequisite. She swam through the air of an enchanted wood, filled with strange dreamers with identities that were not obvious at first. Curious, she passed through the barrier of one, soaring high and blending into the dark so she might pass overhead and observe. She saw a village hidden in the trees, a village woven of living branches where fires were never kindled and prayers were always offered to the greatest trees.

The villagers were not ponies, nor did they seem to share any of the blood of her kind, but were instead very ancient dwellers of the forest, given an intelligence she had never seen before. The deer might have been any of Earth’s hunter-gatherer tribes, save that the only animal skins they wore were their own. Mineral paints of white and red seemed to mark the individuals, and their language was… strange. I could stay and learn it, she thought. Take on the role of one of the characters and join the dream. It wouldn’t take much time.

Still more time than she had, though. She stayed long enough to observe and classify the civilization—close familial bonds, a patriarchal structure where antlers were an expression of one’s right to rule, without an apparent written language, without metals or mining or any kind of hunting. They did have agriculture, and construction with mud and tile and woven branches. From the shape of their living-tree structures, it seemed magic too was somehow within their grasp, though none had wings or horns or any other visible means of channeling it.

She did not stay to study, as much as she would’ve wanted to, and departed by the same dream-gate she had used to enter. There were many such dreamers in the enchanted wood, a vast culture of similar dreamers with similar dreams. Indeed, even though the space in the Dreamlands was infinite and non-euclidean, she found it difficult to pass through the wood without bumbling into some dream or another. Either these deer are culturally homogeneous, or else extremely numerous, or maybe both. She couldn’t speak their language, or else she would’ve asked.

Eventually she passed beyond the enchanted wood, flying deftly under twin moons to the rolling countryside that borders the village of Ulthar. Many cats wandered the dirt roads and quaint lanes, without fear of being struck by vehicle or any worry over what the people might do. Ulthar had many citizens, and where she saw they greeted felines and each other alike with polite bows.

Jackie had known the secret language of the cats, and Archive found herself longing for her company. Jackie could have consorted with them, and asked directions to the dreamers they were looking for. Of course, there were many other citizens and not all of them were cats. She sought out a quaint farmhouse where a polite human couple greeted her with thick accent, offering her water from their well and directions to the town proper. She thanked them, and asked after news of the waking world, though they could tell her nothing. It had been many centuries since they had left it behind, and once dead no dreamer would ever return.

Maybe Jackie’s still in here. She was a powerful dreamer, powerful enough to survive in the Dreamlands when her body died. The real question was whether she would even want to, if she couldn’t take Ezri. Could she?

Archive traded stories of the waking world for a pint of fresh milk from the farmers, which she took with her in the saddlebags Equestria had given her. In the Dreamlands such a gift could not be taken, though it would not follow her when she awoke. It was only a memory, after all.

Eventually the peaked roofs and crumbling gables of Ulthar came into view, with its tidy cobbles and streets always alive with the mewling of the cats and the sound of conversation. This was an old place—a very human place, and so her equine body attracted more than a few nervous looks. She walked alone through the streets, searching for familiar human dreams. She could find none here of course, since dreams of such country places were no longer within the minds of men. Whatever humanity had become in the centuries since the Event, it wasn’t a race of gentry farmers.

But Archive had known this, even as she knew a great deal about the unconscious world. Dreams drifted through the Skein, grouping and clustering together according to their nature. One who dreamed of forested places would do so within the enchanted wood, though few dreamers were wise or able enough to ever leave. Perhaps a thousand years ago Archive might’ve found these streets packed with human dreams, but not today. She would have to venture further.

She inquired with several of the respectable merchants in town, but none had seen the dreams of their own kind in uncounted years. They could give her no advice, and in the end the night found her wandering increasingly empty streets with only the cats for company. Archive had expected this, and prepared accordingly, pouring out the milk that she had bought in a silver bowl as an offering to the many felines. Though she could not speak their secret language, she suspected many of them would understand her, and might be moved by compassion to aid a dreamer in distress.

Though a large number of the animals flocked around her to drink and many remained close to listen, ultimately she was left with only a solitary black kitten for company. The animal licked a little at her face as she spoke, apparently sensing her distress. It did not speak, but soon after set off slow enough that she could follow, leading her atop the densely-packed houses to the peak of a crumbling church tower. There it looked meaningfully at her, squaring its shoulders in preparation for a jump. She could see no visible destination but the ground below, but even so she imitated, spreading her wings in preparation for what she expected to be a fall.

The cat jumped, but instead of falling to the cobblestones below it continued upward, soaring higher and higher in plain defiance to gravity. Archive did not know its magic, but she had her wings and could keep up so long as she focused. The kitten seemed to have a destination in mind.

That destination was apparently the moon. In dreams time was a strange thing, and distance even stranger. It warped and stretched around her, day and night alike blending together until her hooves eventually touched down on the crumbling sand of the lunar surface. She felt the chill of space, but not the vacuum that would’ve stolen the breath from her lungs on the real moon. This was only a dream after all, with very different rules. She would not suffocate unless she entered the dream of someone who knew enough of the rules of the universe to replicate them.

“I don’t know why you would take me here,” she entreated her nocturnal guide. “I’m searching for the dreams of living humans, not the dreams they used to have. Maybe NASA scientists used to dream of that place, but that ambition died even before the Event. We won’t find anyone here.”

The cat ignored her, bounding across to another nearby hill and expecting Archive to follow. She did, though this time she didn’t need her wings. The strange properties of the moon itself were enough to bear her onward. Though the soil was pale and the gravity far reduced, she found trees growing along some of the banks, trees with pale bark and leaves that curled away as she passed, tucking themselves away in the crevices of branches as though they feared what she might do. There were rivers too, running with black liquid not easily identifiable as anything she understood. Whatever it was had a very foul smell, and her guide avoided it even more judiciously than it had stepped around the little puddles in the streets of Ulthar below.

Eventually she saw something strange on the lunar soil, something she had not been expecting. Domes of rock, made from strange hexagonal segments that seemed to slot together. They weren’t very numerous, clustered together near one of the craters, though that scarcely bothered her. There was construction equipment here, of the unmanned and automatic variety Athena had favored for her HPI. The writing on the domes was familiar too. “Please, tell me! Are we looking at something real, or some imagined creation of the unconscious? Does this place exist?”

The cat mewed, though it had stopped in its advance and would walk no closer to the automated tanks and grinding drilling machines. It sat back on its haunches, as if waiting for Archive to advance on her own. She lowered her head with respect, thanking the creature, though she did not try to imitate the words of its secret tongue. She would not risk offending it, after it had done her such a kindness in leading her here. The feline licked at the gray dust at one of its paws, then rose and shook itself, turning away. It left her there on the moon, alone with the machines.

Archive followed the familiar pattern of work as diggers extracted lunar stone, walking beside tractors as big as buildings to an impressive open refinery. Regular blocks of metal and pale silicon emerged from the end of the line, rolled by smaller drones towards the dome. These she followed, getting in line for an airlock behind several of the little robots. She paused just beside the mechanism, then darted behind it as its tracks ground inside.

It was even more familiar inside. Familiar hyperstable alloys made the tracks, though the walls seemed made from some kind of pressure-treated version of the lunar rock. The pattern was quite similar to the one she had seen used in Paradise, with an excavation wrapping around in interlocking loops towards deeper levels of increasing importance. The writing was all English, and she followed it through a processing plant and then an automated factory. There were no doors for her size, nor any doors that would permit anything that wasn’t human to pass, and so Archive was forced to call upon one of her newest dream powers. Just as any dreamer could do within the space of their own mind, a thestral could do anywhere, and she forced herself to change.

It was not very difficult. Being a pony had been her natural state for hundreds of years, but some part of her soul still had two legs. She changed into that Valkyrie, that young woman with bright green hair and glittering medieval armor. Her spell-book appeared in place of the saddlebags, and the transformation was complete. 

No sooner was it done than alarms began to sound all around her, the machinery all falling still. She waited patiently, though she could very easily have used her magic to avoid the door if she wanted. Someone or something had made this place, and she intended to find out who.

Eventually a doorway opened, and a security drone rolled through. It was on tracks like many of the others, though it also had a pair of limbs and other containment tools attached. “Citizen, you have wandered into a dangerous area. Please follow me to habitation.” The voice was familiar—feminine and confident.

“I will comply,” she responded, following the drone from the doorway with a skip in her step. The interior resembled the exterior stations, with hexagon shapes cut into moon rock and resined natural stone the preferred building material. She bounced along behind the rolling drone, through a deserted hallway where the only other occupants were other drones.

Then she found a dream; just one, alone in a single chamber of the moon. It was so small and faint she nearly missed it, thanks to her ignorance of the method for dream travel. Archive squared her shoulders and passed inside, preparing her spellbook to protect her.

It was a human alright, hard at work. He sat at the top of a large earthmover vehicle, toppling over a seemingly endless ocean of broken city. Whole skyscrapers crumbled before his comically-oversized craft, crunching glass and rubble that vanished beneath the wheels instead of leaving an ocean of debris behind it.

The face was perfectly familiar, completely unchanged from the last time she had seen him. Isaac had been only a youth when he had defended her in Paradise Crater, perhaps in his mid-twenties. It was true that the surgeries and enhancements had strange effects on the lifespan, making aging hard to determine from that point on.

Even at a distance she could see clearly that Isaac hadn’t changed in all the intervening years, like a statue frozen in time. He couldn’t see her, as his machine was loud and at least five stories tall. He would flatten her without even noticing.

He would’ve, if she hadn’t teleported into the cabin of the wrecker with a faint flash of white light. She managed the atmosphere, controlling the explosion so that it wouldn’t be too obtrusive.

Even so, Isaac heard. He rested in a docking port as much as a chair, his body bare from the waist up. He was thickly muscled, tanned, and covered with deep scars. Cables and tubes ran into him, granting him only limited flexibility, but it was apparently enough for him to turn sideways and look at her. The wrecker grinded to a halt, its massive engines spinning down. “What do you want me of, Valkyrie? It’s been years since you called.”

He doesn’t know he’s dreaming, she reminded herself. I have to help him see. There was magic one could use to show a dreamer they were asleep, but it was dangerous. Not because it might hurt anyone, but because it could destabilize the dream. Finding Isaac was itself a miracle… she couldn’t risk it. Many people simply couldn’t lucid dream, and would wake if forced to realize they were asleep.

“Isaac,” she approached him slowly, replacing her spellbook in its holster. “I have come for information.”

He nodded, lowering his head to her. “I would give my life for you, Valkyrie.”

I thought you already did. No human could’ve survived the magical exposure he had endured. “Where do you live, Isaac? On the moon? But then why would you dream of working on Earth…”

He ignored the second question, shaking his head emphatically. “Athena would have it so—I am too valuable to risk in war. But a soldier’s life is war. I cannot serve if I spend my days in a box far away.” He gestured out at the controls. “This is our compromise. I serve, but not in battle. Neither of us are happy.”

He rose suddenly. As he did, the multi-jointed assembly along his spine hissed and clicked, disconnecting one cable after another. Some foamed with liquid as they came loose, while others sparked briefly in the second they broke contact. “You have come to call me to something higher, Valkyrie. You always do.” He dropped onto one knee before her, raising one fist to his chest. “You have my sword as ever you did.”

Archive stared down at the kneeling Isaac, speechless. So far as she knew, she had been absolutely and completely dead until just now. Has someone been impersonating me in Dreamlands? She couldn’t ask him, couldn’t call his faith into question when she still needed information so desperately.

“What happened to the HPI? Are they living in steel boxes?”

He grunted. “Some are. I know it isn’t their fault, but I still feel they could find a better way to be useful. Soon they will all be gone, and only I will endure.” He gestured behind him again. “I clear the way for a city no one will live in.”

“They can’t,” she responded. “Humans can’t live outside a thaumic field. Just putting buildings unprotected on the surface and expecting them to live on them is stupid. They couldn’t even if they wanted to.”

“I know!” He rose, suddenly reaching out and gripping her by the arm. His hands were impossibly strong, nearly as strong as an earth pony’s grip. She couldn’t get away as he tugged her to the large glass window. Below them, as far as she could see was an endless rotting city, larger and more sprawling than any that had ever really existed. It towered overhead, yet all would be crushed equally by the craft they sat in.

“If I survive, other humans can too. Immunity to magic is transmissible.”

“What?” She jerked her hand away, staring slack-jawed at him. “You’re immune to magic?”

He stiffened, looking suspiciously. “Do you test me, Valkyrie? You gave me the gift. Why would you doubt it?”

The whole world seemed to flicker around her, the craft started shimmering at the edges. Everything but Isaac started to blur and fuzz. Dammit! The dream was falling apart. If she didn’t leave, its destruction would “kill” her, and wake her up.

Jackie probably could’ve stabilized a crumbling dream, if she were alive. But Jackie probably wasn’t alive. “Where can I find you?” she asked, panic in her voice. “Where’s the last of the HPI?”

Isaac only pointed above his head, his expression growing cold. “Why don’t you visit them and ask? They’ll tell you.”

Archive reached out, opening her mouth to scream in protest, to no avail. The dream crumbled to dust. Far away, her sleeping body woke with a painful start, still seething from the frustration of her failure. She didn’t know if Isaac would remember the dream, but she sure would.

> Episode 3.3: Contact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She walked. Archive couldn't have said how far she traveled, or how long she was on her hooves; only that she spent most of her time moving.

It was a slow process. She had only an empty plastic bottle for water, so she had to be constantly on the alert for new streams and ponds, so as to refill.

There was only one mercy: the land around Paradise Crater had never been developed. She had seen the natural wilderness, and even if the trees and streams could move, the location of the hills and boulders usually didn't. She would not get lost at least on this short trip.

She didn't explore the dream again yet, though she did try some more physical practice. Flight was a complex skill, but she had memorized every Equestrian book on the subject. 

Unfortunately, flying was a skill best learned by practice and repetition, not just memorizing the most advanced techniques from textbooks. The most she ever managed to do was hover for a few seconds before inevitably crashing back to earth to be sore all over again.

This was discouraging, but no more than anything else. Alex had already lost her world once, and she had been on her own before. Besides, she had all the time she needed to learn.

Well, she would. Most of her "free" time was spent grazing the sparse prairie plants, which were equal parts unappetizing and nutritionally empty.

She had probably lost five pounds by the time she arrived in Salt Lick City. Well, where Salt Lick City had been.

Last time she had seen it, Salt Lick had been a thriving western settlement, the last bastion of civilization before the inhospitable wasteland of Nevada. Alex had visited on several occasions as part of her work with the HPI, and found the ponies to be enormously friendly, if a little eccentric in their beliefs.

Whatever else might be said of the place, the city's many regular buildings had been a testament to the resourcefulness of its population, and the many farms that fed it always seemed to be prospering.

That was not the city she arrived in. Alex found herself uneasy as she made her way through the countryside that had once been filled with thriving farmland. None of the wooden farmhouses were still standing, and the prairie had reclaimed the fields. As she got within a few miles the fields returned, but they weren't the fields she remembered.

Uneven wooden fences separated drooping wheat and pale corn in uneven rows. The irrigation pipes were gone, the primitive tractors were gone. In fact, the only machinery she saw was a wooden plough, pulled by a lean-looking earth pony who stared openly at her as she passed.

Alex waited patiently until he was at the end of a row, walking over to the edge of the fence and waving one hoof in a friendly way. "Afternoon, friend!" she called, trying to imitate the friendliness she remembered. "How are the crops doing?”

He went from suspicious to hostile in an eye-blink. The brown earth pony muttered under his breath, hurrying away down the next row of the field.

"Excuse me? Hello! I didn't mean..."

He didn't stop. What language was that? She hadn't caught more than a few sounds, but they hadn't seemed familiar. Alex hurried on, hoping the farmer had just been in a bad mood.

She saw a few more farmers along the road, and her attempts to communicate with each one were similarly unsuccessful. With each failed conversation Alex became more sure that the ponies were not speaking any language she knew—as impressive as it was horrifying.

It had taken 500 years for English to change enough that most students had trouble reading Shakespeare. Another 500 years earlier, the English that Beowulf had been written in would be utterly indecipherable by speakers of Modern English.

Modernization prior to the Event and the resulting standardization of English had retarded the drift, and minimized the dialectic fracturing that might have otherwise led to the birth of new tongues.

Then the Event happened. Towns only a few hundred miles apart, previously united by road and internet and telephone, became as far in their way as cities on other continents had been before the Event. New dialects had already been forming, branching into new tongues.

Only the HPI was spared—its original population had been microscopic, and its second generation had learned English as a rule. Old recordings, dated language-learning tools and pre-Event dictionaries had still been the definitive references before Archive died. If they had survived, as Isaac's dream led her to suspect, she guessed she would have no trouble talking to them.

Unfortunately, she wasn't visiting the HPI. Alex had memorized books on linguistics, and reviewed a few of them in her mind as she walked. She also remembered the curses the farmers had used, though she doubted those would win her many friends in Salt Lick.

The town itself came upon her so fast that she almost didn't notice. The terrain was very hilly, and so as she ascended the next of many hills, she could see the town beneath her very suddenly.

It wasn't so much a town anymore as it was a collection of ramshackle buildings squatting in the ruins of a city greater than itself. Massive crumbled piles of stone and metal quietly rotted away, far too large to be moved without technology.

She couldn't doubt that the city's inhabitants lacked technology. Their buildings were all either wood or brick, and none so far as she could see were taller than a few stories. Most of the roofs were thatched and covered with tar, though there was at least one building with sturdy tile instead. There were no streetlights, no paved roads, no power lines, not even any windmills.

Like a Roman provincial village, she thought. Not a city, since Roman cities had often displayed remarkable understanding of mathematics and clever use of concrete and stone. Piles of rock and crumbling cement sat abandoned, the wreckage of a dead city that lorded over the infection festering in its corpse.

She could hear voices near the front of the town, and a dense cluster of stalls packed with various fruits and vegetables, and filled with shouting voices. A marketplace was probably her best chance to find a refugee.

She didn't run, since that might be seen as threatening. Even if she was a single pony, it wouldn't do to seem dangerous to a city whose people couldn't understand her.

She attracted stares as she made it onto the town's main thoroughfare, and they only got worse when an elderly-looking earth pony mare extended a hoof towards her and said something in an obviously questioning manner.

Alex took a second to take her in—coat pale with age, face wrinkled, even her cutie mark faded. Like most of the ponies here, she was completely naked, though she did have a cloth bag hanging from her neck.

"I can't understand that language. Do you know any English?"

The whole crowd fell silent. Ponies backed away from her, doors shut, windows slammed closed. The pony herself clutched at her purse, and hurried away as fast as her aging hooves could carry her.

Whispers followed Alex all the way into the marketplace, along with a slowly growing crowd. They kept their distance—none got closer than twenty meters or so.

"Seriously!" She turned around, surveying the crowd. Close to a hundred ponies in all had found their way around her by the time she neared the marketplace. They were packed in so close that she doubted she could've gotten away. "One of you must be a refugee! Someone has to understand me!" If any of them did, they showed no sign.

That was when a guard stepped forward. She could tell he was a guard from the sturdy-looking armor on his breast, as well as the mace he levitated in the air beside him. He said something to her, but of course she didn't understand.

Alex might not know their language, but she did know ponies. She lowered herself a little, spreading her back legs and flattening her ears, then held still. She spoke very quietly, not looking up at the guard. "I don't want to fight. I just want to find someone to talk to. That's all."

The first guard was soon joined by several others. Only one was a unicorn—the rest were all earth ponies, with only a red-cloth vest to mark their position. A sword had been crudely stitched onto the vest. They surrounded her, six sturdy-looking males with closely-cut manes and similarly harsh expressions. They whispered to one another, but of course Alex couldn't understand them.

The crowd continued to watch, at least a hundred ponies all taking a break from their day to stare at Alex. She held still and every now and then she asked, "Does anyone understand me? Just nod if you do—I'll see it. None of these others will know."

A little pegasus in a brown robe landed in the crowd, cantering up to the unicorn with something in its mouth. A scroll? Alex watched, though she kept herself still. The young pegasus circled around her once, her voice obviously curious.

One of the guards responded sternly, and she retreated out of their circle, though not so far as the watching crowd.

The unicorn, meanwhile, had unrolled the scroll and was holding it up as he advanced toward her. His horn started glowing a little brighter, and every few seconds he would look up from the scroll and stare at her.

Magic built around him, the magic of a spell. His words were suddenly familiar—Equestrian! He was reading a combat spell—something to put her to sleep, by the sound of it. She didn't wait long enough to analyze.

"Wait!" High Unicorn was not a conversational language, not even in Equestria. In her whole time there, Alex had never heard a pony speak it who wasn't casting a spell. That didn't mean the words were magic themselves—after all, if that were true then unicorns wouldn't have been Equestria's primary spellcasters.

The unicorn jerked to a halt, staring at her in shock. His nearest companion, a black earth pony with rusting chain-mail around him instead of cloth, said something harsh.

Constructing sentences in High Unicorn was a difficult affair. There was no human language equivalent Alex had ever encountered—it wasn't just tonal, but melodic. It relied on the perfect pitch that seemed almost universal to ponies, along with a rhythm and rhyming scheme and who knew how many other rules.

Alex did her best to string words together, according to the proper form. "This nightflyer wishes a friendship to last a thousand years. She lowers her head in respect to Celestia and honors the law. No banishment waits for one with her heart in harmony."

The unicorn dropped his scroll. His mouth opened, but he only stammered. "Confusion... impossible... time..." He said each word as though it were part of a spell, and indeed his horn seemed to glow a little differently with each one.

The guards retreated from her, fear and awe on their faces. They formed up together about twenty feet away, still well-within the watching crowd. 

Equestria had translation spells, spells that could be worked into physical runes. They had to be powered by a unicorn, of course, or else she would need to get the assistance of a power beyond herself. Are you there, Keeper? Her hooves were on the ground. I'm a bat now, and bats live in caves. Can you hear me, mother?

No response. As the guards deliberated, Alex cleared a single patch of dirt with one hoof, wiping away the smudges and smears of traffic. She picked up a twig from the ground nearby and started to draw, tracing into the ground.

Translation was mind magic, incredibly complex and delicate. She couldn't make any mistakes, or she might very well melt her own brain. Could she come back to life from a spell like that?

The little pegasus took off again, flying away between the buildings. The unicorn and the guard with real armor remained close, while the others set about dispersing the crowd.

She ignored them, only pausing in her work to clear off more ground to draw. The unicorn continued to stare. He didn't ask her anything else, and she didn't stop to volunteer. Whatever they had been planning, Alex had disrupted. But where had the pegasus gone to do?

She learned about an hour later, around the time she was finishing her spell. The crowd was gone by then, the marketplace practically deserted. The vendors had gathered and shut their stalls, giving her dirty looks until they were out of sight. What citizens there were kept their distance from the nearly-empty place, either by choice or with a little encouragement from the guards.

Eventually a new pony approached—another unicorn, though she had a very different look about her than the guard. She towered over Alex, tall and lean and mature, with wide cloth wrapped a little way around her almost like a sash, though it was green instead of red like the guards’.

She wasn't alone either, but flanked by four more guards ponies, though all four were pegasi with lances mounted to metal armor. It was a mismatched sort of armor, no two pieces alike.

The soldiers that had been watching Alex all bowed in respect as she approached, even the armored one. On reflex Alex did the same, though she didn't have the posture right so much as she just flattened herself to the dirt. The pony chuckled at her reaction, one corner of her mouth turning up in a smile.

Alex couldn't know what she was saying, so she waited until the guards stood up again to do the same. She held relatively still as she spoke to the unicorn and the earth pony with his chain mail, listening to every word and watching their gestures. Even without a translation spell, she would eventually memorize each of their sounds, and be able to associate them with actions and real objects.

The unicorn approached, gazing down at the diagram with an expression of confusion, then surprise. She said something to Alex, but of course she couldn't understand.

"To empower my spell is to open the door of friendship between our nations," she said, gesturing down at the diagram. "Open in your magic the doorway of the mind, and I will freely share my wisdom with anypony."

The tall pony's expression transformed again, and briefly she seemed almost awed.

She was also far more competent than the guard, because she soon responded in kind. "Though the diamond dog burrows, it hoards only out of greed. It doesn't understand the beauty of the gems it discovers."

Alex didn't miss a beat. "The beaver knows where to find a home. She builds not just for herself, but in changing the river she makes homes for other animals too. In her skill is the engineering of nature." For a moment as she sang, Alex pictured Sunset's face. What would the Alicorn think of her attempt at speaking this particular language?

"How comprehend unassailable sight forbidden?"

She shook her head. Of course, there was no easy way to explain the problems with that sentence, not while actually using the esoteric language herself. Alex pointed down at the diagram, then up to the unicorn. "Your magic leads the way to where all storms become still and all stars show the path."

The unicorn said something to the guard, then lowered her horn towards the diagram. As clumsy as her language might be, she seemed to know where to touch the diagram, providing the little surge of power the spell needed. 

Mind magic was quite inexpensive—brains were relatively small organs, and used only tiny amounts of chemical energy in their operation. Of course, it was also terribly easy to permanently destroy one with even a minor miscalculation.

The diagram began to glow, taking on the same pale greenish light that the mare had manifested. It swelled around them both, fading from the dirt even as it wrapped around them. The guards retreated out of the way, watching with obvious fear.

Alex was not destroyed. She felt the connection the instant it formed, the bond of symbiotic exchange between herself and the noble unicorn mare. The language-centers in their minds became entwined, and would remain so as long as the spell lasted.

The whole world seemed to come into focus. Alex heard the same sounds, but suddenly they were associated with meaning. One of the guards was yelling. "Lady Governor, are you alright? Should I have this pony killed for deceiving you? I would happily do it myself." It was the armored pony, the one with a single vest.

"No deception," Alex said, using the words the spell gave her instead of the language of unicorn magic. "A translation spell. No harm."

"Indeed." The voice had not changed, yet now the sounds were recognizable by their meaning. "What are you, stranger? The city watch reported an outcast had arrived, and you dress like one. Wearing their strange clothing as the outcast often do." She was looking at the exploration harness.

Alex didn't correct her, just as she didn't directly meet her eyes. The deference all these other ponies showed seemed practically religious, and she wasn't about to test it. The term outcast had other meaning, meaning the spell communicated. It meant someone cast adrift along the ocean of time, someone with a strange language and strange customs. Someone to be hated and feared who would be a prisoner in their own body unable to use their powers effectively. It meant the same thing she had always meant when she said "refugee," but with an underlying hatred instead of pity.

"Well? Did your spell fail already?"

"No." She looked away briefly, deliberating. She could lie to these ponies, manipulate their ignorance and her Equestrian knowledge to fool them into thinking she wasn't a refugee. After a few days of repeating the translation spell, she would probably have heard and used enough of this language to get away with its conversational form.

Long ago... who even knew how many years now, Archive had impersonated a refugee to find out what happened to the most vulnerable. She had discovered horrifying abuse as a result, which she never would've found in any other way.

"I am an outcast," she said. "But I learned the way of magic before I was... sent."

"Are you certain of that?" The unicorn narrowed her eyes, glaring intently at her. "I am not aware of any outcast with knowledge like yours. You speak as one formally educated. How many years did you spend at the Academia?"

"What would I have to gain by pretending? I was born into another world, a world far away. I have only recently been reborn—I'm a different species now, I don't understand my new powers very well and I don't know what happened to my family." She spoke with complete conviction, because she spoke the truth. She didn't mention that the species and world she had left behind probably weren't the ones the noble mare was imagining.

"Captain, could you and your men give us some space? I wish to have a private word with this pony."

He saluted to her with one hoof, and the guards spread out, moving off about a hundred feet in every direction and keeping everypony away from them.

The unicorn advanced on her, looming over head. "Listen very carefully pony, for I will not repeat myself. An outcast is exactly what you do not wish to be. I know you only misspoke, that given a truer chance to examine your memories you will remember differently. The life waiting for an outcast is a brutal and short one."

She leaned in closer, her head inches from Alex’s oversized bat ears. "The Nameless Power demands the blood of every outcast. In times past you would have been loaded into a slave caravan, and probably starved during your trip far to the north to the place of offering, where you would be given to his Nameless City to be consumed."

"The King in his great wisdom has bequeathed a Bloodgate unto Avenio, so if you are an outcast you will skip the journey. Instead of months to escape, you will walk less than a mile to the top of the mountain where you will be sent directly to the Nameless City. Your kind do not last long there, I can assure you. Young, defenseless mare like you..." She shook her head. "Do not think your fellow outcasts would show you mercy. You would be used, as well as dead. The city itself would suck the life from you, and leave you a corpse by next spring. That is the way of things."

"Or," Alex supplied. "You are about to tell me there's another option."

Her expression returned to a smile. "My guards are the only ponies who heard your profession of identity, and they are loyal to me. You will explain to them that you were delirious from long travel. You will act appropriately confused, and I will graciously take you under the protection of my wings. I have a skilled doctor, and he will swear a testimony to that effect. I assume you can recreate that language spell?"

She nodded, retreating a step or so and stretching each of her wings in turn. "Why... would you do this for me? I don't know what damn stupid reason you people have for murdering refugees, but why would I be exempt?"

The unicorn only smiled. "In exchange, you will tutor my son. He is young now—but another few springs and he will be mature enough to learn. I apprenticed to an Archmagus ten years in the Academia, and his mightiest spells would seem mere cantrips compared to what you did with a stick on the ground. Translation, mind to mind... an incredible feat..."

Archive squared her shoulders. "Do your primitive rituals, throw me into your Bloodgate, whatever else this backward society of yours does to worship its pretend gods. When I have set the prisoners free and ended this abominable practice, I will return and tutor your son."

The mare's smile vanished, her expression going rigid with anger. "If you knew the depth of my mercy, you would restrain your mockery. You will not survive the Nameless City. It is a demon place—it devours ponies alive! The Ruinous Power will only be sated with an offering of outcasts. A flightless bat will not survive what waits for you there! I offer you a place in my house. Plenty of time to learn our language, a position of prestige." 

"Who knows—I have some of the finest scholars on retainer, and the gold to send them as far as the Great Library. I am certain they could discover your lost noble lineage, given enough time. Plenty of Lords have second sons, strong and wealthy stallions with good holdings. Would you trade that for..." she gestured with one of her hooves, obvious frustration in her movement. "It is madness, pony! Who do you think you are to refuse me my generosity, Governess Noble Calling of all the western holds?"

Alex looked away, out at the marketplace. "I hold no ill will to you, Noble Calling. I understand you're a product of this time and place. You didn't invent a false religion to sacrifice innocent ponies to an imaginary god."

She turned around, and for the first time met the unicorn's face with absolute defiance. "I will happily tutor your son, but I must end this custom first. I will not live in luxury while my children are slaughtered."

The unicorn turned her back on her, flicking her elegantly styled tail of pink and white in a definitive sort of way. "I won't wait long on your return, Outcast. None has ever escaped the Nameless City—you will not be the first." She raised her voice. "Captain! Clasp this outcast in irons!" The guards rushed forward towards her, but even so she could see the unicorn turn back.

"When you freeze in the winter nights, when some stallion mounts you or some monster bears down on you, remember the life you could've had. Most did not have your freedom."

One of the guards produced a sturdy set of shackles, and they held her down while the clasps were slammed shut over each of her hooves. They didn't even bother with her saddlebags, or the gun-harness. They didn't care, only tugging her back to her hooves when she was fully chained.

Archive switched back to the unicorn tongue—the Governess would still understand her, but she doubted very much anypony else would. "Celestia forgives eternally, even the betrayal of her own sister. Remember my promises and know I honor them all."
> Episode 3.4: Bloodgate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The noble mare did not accompany Alex to her banishment. There were only the guards, a half dozen or so of the burliest, most unfriendly-looking ponies in town. They didn't take her possessions, didn't even seem to recognize the potential danger of her weapon. Unless they can tell it's broken. She might still be able to use the rifle, the trigger and firing mechanism still worked just fine, but she would have to aim with her whole body, and guess at the bullet's path. It was essentially impossible.

Governess Noble Calling hadn't exaggerated about the "mountain" to climb, either. They had a long way to walk north, past the edge of town and the most extreme boundary of the old city. The guards escorted her through more sparse farmland, and the foul lake came into view. She smelled it along their walk, the rot of saline and death that was always near it. At least they don't want to drown me.

The unicorn from before was among those who escorted her out of town, the apparent leader of the band Calling had selected. Alex cooperated with all their commands—which was far easier to do now that she could understand them.

"What is the Nameless City like?" she asked him, through the clanking chains around her hooves. "That's where you're taking me, isn't it?"

The guards shared a few uncomfortable looks, though none of his inferiors seemed eager to answer for him. He moved a little closer to her, so she would be able to hear him easier. "You shouldn't know how to talk. Where are your outcast words?"

She shrugged. "The spell you saw me make—I am borrowing your Governess's language skills. When night comes the spell will end, and I won't know your language anymore."

"Oh." He looked away, focused on the path around them. They weren't the only traffic out of the city—there were farmers with their carts, as well as foot traffic of other kinds, flowing out as the day wound down. They all kept their distance, and none of them looked at Alex.

"What is the Nameless City like?" she asked again. "I know it's terrible, and I know it's not your fault I'm going there. But anything you know might be helpful."

One of the other guards laughed. "Mare is mad! I heard the governess offer her freedom, and what does she do? Refuse. Says that's where she belongs. Madness!"

"You made the wrong choice, if that's true," he said. "I've never seen the city—it's too far away for a common pony to travel. No serf is free to leave the land of their birth. But everypony's heard the stories." He shook his head. "You go to die, pony."

"Death isn't all it's cracked up to be," she muttered. "Last time I stayed..." she trailed off, thinking. "Wait! What year is it? Do you... can you tell me the year? Any of you?"

The other guards laughed. Somepony behind her muttered. "Thinks herself a noble, does she, all wrapped up in numbers and letters? See what the city ponies do to her..."

More laughter, though the unicorn did not join in. "Quiet!" he ordered, curtly. "Give some respect to the dead." He turned back to her. "The question you asked could be answered better by a priest. It's the sixteenth year of new harvest. In four years, it will be the first year of cold starlight."

She grunted. "I was afraid you'd say something like that. You ponies don't use the Gregorian calendar... marking from the Event as year zero... do you know what the Event is?"

The unicorn made a sign across his chest with the motion of one hoof before answering. "The time of judgement. You speak of the Dawn. A sacred time."

"Yeah, fine. How long has it been since then?"

He shook his head. "Like I said, a matter for the priests. Or the scholars."

She sighed. "Thanks anyway. Maybe you can answer something else: how often do you take outcasts to this 'Bloodgate' thing?"

He considered a moment before answering. "Every year is different, depending on the war in heaven. You would know more about that than I would, since you'd only just been banished."

"I..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, so that only the unicorn could hear. "Do you actually believe any of this? I didn't come from heaven. I wasn't banished from anywhere."

The unicorn stiffened a little, glaring at her. "You can't deceive me, Outcast. I might not have the education of a priest, but I've read the Dawnwords. I know the sacred doctrine of Arianna. If you think you can escape your sentence with your tongue, you're wrong."

Alex groaned and looked away, back at the sandy ground passing by beneath her. "I'm not trying to escape anything. If I'd wanted to get out of it, I wouldn't have forced the governess to send me. Somepony has to do something about what you're doing to those ponies. If there's a monster, somepony has to kill it. If not, well..." She shook her head. "It's the largest gathering of outcasts in this part of the world. They might need help."

"Oh, they need help all right," laughed another guard. "Help giving up their souls to the Nameless Power. Help being devoured by his city."

Alex didn't bother trying to extract more information during the walk. Her mind turned over what might be waiting for her, and what strange circumstances might've created such a strange religion. No answers were forthcoming.

Eventually they reached their destination, up what felt like miles of steep hillside trails. Alex could feel the gate before she saw it, a subtle grinding on the air, a poison that she couldn't quite name. There was no easy way to quantify how the sparse prairie vegetation seemed somehow weaker around it, or how few animals she saw. No birds got near the place, not even very many insects. By the time they had reached the top of the hill, she saw no animals at all.

Archive saw the gate, and knew why animals hated the place. It seemed almost like a pool carved out of granite, with perfectly square outlines and many channels carved with care into the rock. The channels formed letters, all of varying thickness and all connecting to form a spell diagram. The smell of rot and corruption boiled up from the bottom of the bloodgate, and at their approach a dozen ravens scattered to the sky, cawing in protest and circling around overhead.

The bloodgate was aptly named. Inside it were half a dozen corpses in various stages of decay and corruption, with obvious stains of blood in the channels and around it. There was a single squat, square building beside the gate, and near it, a very large cage of rough iron.

There were deer in the cage, about a dozen she could see. Even as they approached, a griffon emerged from the building, wearing a red uniform just like the ones from the city and bearing no weapons but his sharp claws.

"We have an offering for the Nameless City!" the unicorn called, and the guards separated. They formed up on the other side of the unicorn. None of them looked particularly happy to be up here, surrounded with the scent of death.

"So be it." The griffon reached into a pouch around his neck, and drew out a piece of metal. He tossed it to the unicorn with one claw. "Take this to the fair governess. Good day." 

The unicorn moved forward with a key, moving it towards her shackles. "Don't try to run," he whispered. "Or the gatemaster will send you through with two broken legs. I've seen him do it."

Alex held still as the shackles came off. She didn't run. A few seconds later and she felt something around her neck—an enormous, powerful claw. The smell of decay boiled around the griffon, as thick as around any vulture.

He threw her towards the bloodgate, where a rope waited on a post. She rolled with the fall, landing upright and quickly rising, but she did not run. She had eyes only for the spell, deconstructing it as quickly as she could. 

The griffon wrapped the rope around her neck, tying it off on the post with practiced ease. 

Alex didn't struggle. "You tell some lie about a city, only to round us up and use us as blood sacrifices?" She started trying to line up a shot—it wasn't going to be easy. Griffons were very large predators, and the caliber of her rifle was quite small. She would have to fire as many of her shots into his chest as possible. There was no chance at all she could hit him in the head, not without being able to aim properly. "It's wrong. There's a special place in hell waiting for people like you."

The griffon only laughed, walking away from her. Was he going to get a knife? He would have to get very close if he wanted to do any kind of ritual bloodletting, that would be her best opportunity. There would be no margin of error.

But no... there was nowhere close to the post waiting to receive the blood. There was a basin set into the stone, but it was on the other end of the gate. But why...

Alex's heart froze as she saw, and suddenly realized the reason for the cage. The griffon emerged from within dragging a doe behind him. The poor animal kicked and struggled as it was dragged along, and the ground scraped mercilessly at its coat. "What made you think I was killing you? Everyone knows it is against the law to kill a person to power a spell, even an Outcast. Only animals can be used for that." The griffon had a very thick accent, though it didn't stop him from being understood.

Alex watched with horror as the griffon reached the other end of the gate. He yanked the animal into a standing position, and provided most of the strength to hold her that way. She was dressed—some kind of cloth vest, along with tribal patterns of white paint on her coat, faded but still matching the natural spots on her back. Most horrifying of all were the eyes. In that instant, Alex started struggling again, bucking and surging against the rope. As an earth pony, she could've easily torn it right out of the ground. As a thestral, on the other hand... she couldn't budge it. "Dammit, no! That isn't an animal, she's a person! Can't you see her eyes? Can't you see the clothes she's wearing?"

There was a harsh, sickening sound, like meat dropped onto a counter. A few strangled gasping sounds, as the griffon slit the deer's throat into the basin. The body twitched and spasmed a few times, and the griffon held it down, draining all the blood that emerged from within. Then he shoved, tossing the corpse callously in to join the others. "See? I am as kind as any butcher." He licked one bloody claw clean. "It is not the deer you should be worried about, Outcast. Where you travel waits far worse things than death."

Alex seethed with rage, but no amount of pulling at her rope would do any good. She couldn't get an accurate shot off, not at this distance. Besides... if she killed him now, the deer would've died for nothing. If I can end the human sacrifice, maybe I can end the animal sacrifice too. The deer were not her responsibility, but that didn't mean she wouldn't help them if she could.

Blood seeped down from the basin into the numerous channels around it, and with it came the sense of magic. Not the natural, pleasant tingling of a unicorn spell... something unclean, something dirty and evil. Alex read the runes, and knew that the riddle of how races besides unicorns might cast spells had been solved at last. Few events released more energy at once than the death of an intelligent being. The spellnet of runes was clumsy and awkward, and only some small fraction of power would be preserved. Apparently that was what it took to open a gate.

Red light bubbled up from within the gate, filling it as though it were no empty basin at all, but a solid pool of bubbling red blood.

The griffon neared her, raising one of his claws. "Behave now, Outcast... I do not know how you can understand me, but I know what will happen to you if you struggle." He leered down at her. "I know you will not like it."

She nodded, and took her submissive posture again. "I won't struggle."

"Good." He untied the rope in a single fluid motion, taking the end in his claw and shoving her towards the pool with the other. He stood very close then, less than a foot away. "I will remove the loop from your neck, and you will jump. If you don't, I'll throw you in myself. Do not think you can save yourself by wasting my time—the gate will not close until a soul has used it."

"Hurry then."

He laughed. "In a rush to get to hell, eh? Very well." He got very close, his claw still smelling like death as he tugged on the loop, loosening it. "Go."

She did. Archive might not have a powerful body, or the magic that came from the earth, but what she did have was several lifetimes of training and the swiftness of air. She struck the griffon's back leg with a bullet, snapping the bone.

He screamed in rage, lunging for her with beak and claws outstretched. She rolled easily out of the way, and he went down on the ground where he had been standing. "I may not be able to stop this!" She leaped sideways again, out of reach of his claws.

The griffon rose unsteadily to his three good legs, eyes feral with anger and mouth frothing. "You think they care if I send you through as a corpse!? I'll tear you apart!"

He lunged again, though he could do no more than lurch. Archive froze, waiting until he was inches away before snapping to the side again, letting him come down on empty air. She followed forward with a leap of her own, shoving her shoulder towards the back of his head. She kicked her back leg, and the report of a rifle cracked the air.

The body twitched beneath her, spasming for a few seconds, then fell still. There was a hole in the back of his head.

Archive fell backward onto the ground, shivering all over at the blood. It didn't help to know that she had just killed a murderer, one who had killed countless times and enjoyed what he did. That did not make the blood stain her less. It isn’t like I haven’t killed ponies before. She fished around on the corpse for a moment, until she came up with the keys, which she slipped around one of her legs by the ring.

Eventually she got up, shambling to a well beside the cage. She cranked a bucket down into the depths, then turned and turned until chill water came up. She washed away the filth, cleaned off the barrel of her gun, then looked around.

She stood alone beside the hut, its cage packed full of deer. Every single one of them seemed to be watching, a dozen pained eyes on her. They were about twice her height, though it seemed the years had changed them a little. They were more petite than the deer she had seen before the event, and had a few minor similarities in build to herself. The warping effect of magic. But how many years? 

Alex approached the side of the cage, and the timid captives retreated, out of reach. "I am sorry I couldn't save your friend," she said, her head lowered in respect. "I would've killed him sooner if I realized what he was going to do." She took a moment to get a good look at the deer inside the cage; one buck, several doe, and even more fawns. They're using the lives of children to cast spells. God, how long have I been dead?

One of the mares seemed less timid than the others. She also seemed to be dressed differently—there were numerous bits of something woven around her neck. She had no mane, no vest, only the necklace of stones. Semi-precious, glittering rocks, like quartz and other pretty but worthless varieties. She opened her mouth, and spoke in a halting voice. "You... one fawn... killed the skycat."





Alex nodded, pointing at the rifle. "I blew his brains out while he was down, not exactly a fair fight." She walked up to the edge of the cage, and tried to pull it open. The bars were locked tight.

"We fought before. So strong... he kill, eat... how did fawn do it?"

She shook her head. "I'm not a fawn."

The deer were all gathered into a far corner of the cage, huddled protectively around one another with the buck facing her. His antlers lowered slightly and he scratched the ground with one of his hooves.

Only the doe was brave enough to remain near the side as Alex put the key into the lock, and was able to talk again. "Can you tell your friend to relax? I'm not going to hurt you."

The doe raised an eyebrow. "Tiny one who kills skycats give no harm?" She sounded doubtful.

The lock clicked, and Alex tugged the rusty gate open. "No harm." She stepped out of the way, back beside the cage. The entrance was wide open now. "Go on. They'll probably be back to use this place eventually... get as far away as you can."

The deer exchanged a few terse words in another language. The buck hissed. "It's a trap, Longstrides-through-dense-grass! The blood of magekind runs thick with lies!"

Alex froze in shock as she heard the words. Though the accent was thick and the rhythm was unfamiliar, she knew them well. The deer were speaking Dutch.

"This magekind is different, Fleetsteps-among-thorns! You saw how hard she fought when the skycat took Gestalt-of-rainbows! Besides, magekind don't eat meat! What could she possibly want with us?"

Alex didn't wait for the buck to answer. She tried her best to imitate the strange accent and cadence. "This magekind wants you all to get to safety. If you are too afraid to leave now, please don't be afraid once I use the door."

It was their turn to stare. The doe, Longstrides-through-dense-grass, recovered faster than any of the others. "You know our language? H-how? It's forbidden to teach... if any of the Mother's children ever..."

Alex cut her off. "Nobody taught me. I learned from books. Believe me, I'm dying to know how your species learned a human language not even used much on this continent, I don't have time to investigate." She turned away from the deer, and walked slowly towards the gate. "Good luck. Don't get captured again."

She was almost to the edge of the portal by the time something nudged her—Longstrides-through-dense-grass. Archive looked up, but she didn't turn. "What? I can't stay long... I have somewhere I need to go."

She stared down at Alex, her gaze intent. She didn't speak, not for several long moments. "Fawn who saves Kin from skycats, magekind who talks to Kin and sets us free: did the Mother send you?"

Alex realized then what Mother the deer meant. She lowered her eyes reverently to the ground. "We are acquainted. I have fought for her before, many times."

She felt hooves wrap around her, pulling her tight. It wasn't an attack. "Then you shouldn't go. The mankind's horrors make her bleed. And this... this..." she pointed. "The magekind save it only for the weakest. I think they send those who aren't cruel enough to die."

"I know." Alex didn't pull away. The deer smelled as bad in her own way as the griffon had. Not death, but sweat and waste and fear. She had been in that cage a long time. But gratitude and love were universal. After being hated and yelled at and fighting for her life, Alex could use a little love. It was good to know what she did mattered.

Eventually the doe released her, looking down with serious, expressive eyes. Animal it might be, but the concern was universal. "You will be welcome with us. When we return to the Kin of the northern forests and they hear of what you did... you will have a place with us."

"I can't..."

The doe tugged her back a little, interrupting her. "I'm not ignorant! I know your strange blood stretches your life like a tree. I will tell my fawns of you, and they will tell theirs, and all the Kin will do the same. Your welcome will not wane when we are gone. You must come with us!"

Alex hesitated. It would be so easy to leave this horrible place behind. The magic of the portal revolted her, and what had been done to create it would linger in her nightmares. Going with these deer might give her a chance to correct an even greater injustice. Intelligent creatures, people, were being hunted and enslaved. How hard would it be to give them the weapons to fight back?

You can't fight every battle, she heard Cloudy's voice say, in the echoes of her memory. Even an immortal can only be in one place at a time. Look what happened with Oliver. You built a city, but it cost you a husband.

Alex shook her head. "I can't, Longstrides-through-dense-grass. If... that is your name, right?" The doe nodded, but Alex didn't give her a chance to argue again. "I honor you for your hospitality, and I wish you luck getting away from here back to live with these Kin. But I can't come with you... there are others I have to rescue." She gestured down at the swirling, bloody portal. It smelled horrible. 

"You said so yourself, only the weakest were thrown through there. I have learned that many cities just like this have been banishing the weakest and most unfortunate among them to whatever is on the other side. The Mother..." She wasn't going to lie, not with that being. "I can't hear her anymore, but I know she would be horrified at all this. I must end it... and I can't do that from here."

The doe nodded resolutely, then glanced back over her shoulder. The rest of the deer had barely ventured outside the cage. They pranced about around the entrance, bouncing nervously on their long limbs. None got anywhere near the portal. "I'm going with her! Take the others, Fleetsteps-among-thorns, flee home!"

The buck emerged from the crowd, bounding closer, though not too close. "You can't! What would I tell your parents?"

"You shouldn't come with me," Alex agreed. "It's going to be horrible through there. I don't know what this place will be like! It won't be safe!"

"You heard her! The fawn was sent by the Mother. She deserves the Mother's protection. That would be you, but... it's more important you get the rest home safely. I am the most we can give." She looked down, back towards Alex. "Unless you plan on killing me too, I'm coming. Such a small one can't stop me."

"Can you at least stop calling me a fawn? I'm older than your whole species." 

The buck protested a few more times, but he wouldn't get closer. The other deer only watched, either too nervous or not able to speak. Alex didn't wait for them to get their courage. The power of death would keep the portal open until it was used, but she wasn't sure how long it would stay open once that happened.

"You might die." She stood at the edge of the precipice for another moment, looking to the deer. "I may not be able to protect you."

"I am already dead." The deer pointed behind them at the griffon's corpse. "Every minute now is a gift from the Mother, and I will spend them how I choose."

"Alright." Alex closed her eyes, taking one last, deep breath. "Jump when I do." She didn't open her eyes, to see if the deer would follow, but leaned forward until she could no longer keep her balance, letting herself fall into what she knew looked like a swirling ocean of crimson blood.
> Episode 3.5: The Nameless City
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor was the sky was the ground and Alex couldn't tell which way she was falling. She tumbled with uncontrollable speed, a nauseating rush that seemed like it would never end.

Then it did, and she was soaring through the air for some distance before rolling and bumping uncomfortably to a stop. She moaned a little, flexing each of her wings in turn to make sure nothing was broken. It wasn't.

Eventually she straightened, forcing herself to sit up, and brushing the dirt from her face.

The city was enormous, its towering skyscrapers vast and expansive compared to the puny buildings built by modern ponies. The "bloodgate" on this end was itself a vertical square the exact same size as the pool she had just left behind, made of a single cast of sturdy metal covered with markings. There was nothing through it but more sky, though a few faint drops of blood seemed to ooze from the opening before falling to the ground to steam away.

Alex rose, testing each of her legs before putting weight on it, and ultimately found that she was uninjured. From her hooves, she could get a better look around her. 

It was a human city. The skyscrapers weren't just towering, they were rotten. Glass panels were missing, exposed metal showed corrosion, and many of the intact windows were coated in a thin film of... something. The ground all around her, formerly bustling streets, was covered with sediment, and only faint traces of roads or sidewalks poked through.

There were no cars, not even rusting hulks of where they had been. The buildings themselves seemed little more than rotting shells, overgrown with greenery. Some leaned precariously under the weight, and there was plenty of evidence nearby that others had already fallen.

Even so, this place had defied the erosion of time better than she would have expected. Even if not a single year had passed since her death, many lesser suburban areas and small towns had already been completely erased by nature. In some places the touch of humanity remained—big cities like Tokyo, London, or Rome.

Why is this city still standing? She still didn't know the year, not with just three days of watching the stars, but she could guess decades at the very least. It would have taken at least that long for the metal of Paradise Crater's reactor to corrode into the solid mass of wrecked hardware it had been, probably most of that time spent underwater.

She didn't get to stand around and think any longer, though, because something kept prodding at her shoulder. It was the doe, Longstrides-through-dense-grass. She had evidently made it as well. "Where are we?"

Alex walked ahead a few steps down the windswept street, to a street sign. The letters were long faded, but the structure of the sign was familiar. "Big city, lots of skyscrapers, familiar plants... I'm guessing we're in New York."

"Ruins like these should not be entered. The Hunters will take revenge if we desecrate their grave." She bounced back and forth between her front and hind legs—not a pony sign of anxiety exactly, but simple enough for her to comprehend.

It was a good thing they had another language to speak—the effects of Alex's first spell had ended with the portal. Violent transit through space was intense enough that the gossamer threads of mind magic were torn away.

"What hunters are you talking about?" Alex had to ask—there was no possible way the deer could mean...

The doe got very close, lowering her head to within a few inches of Alex's ears. "No one knows for sure. All we know is they were worse than the skycats, worse than the magebloods, but also more. They were... so big and powerful that they barely even saw us. But if they did, they would kill us. Even you, mageblood."

"Human," Alex supplied. "The word is human. Almost all the humans are gone now. But you shouldn't know about them. Your species wasn't sapient when they existed..."

The deer only stared blankly, uncomprehending. "Human?"

"Nevermind." Alex tried to brush off some of the dirt on her coat, before picking a direction and setting off at a trot. The doe followed easily, taking half as many steps to every one of hers. "Look, Longstrides-through-dense-grass... your name is hard for me. Can I just call you Stride? Or... Grass?"

"Stride. Grass is food, I don't want a name to make predictions." Her eyes darted around them, from the wrecked buildings to another standing tall and defiant despite the years. "I hope this is the way out, mageblood. I am not welcome here."

"Alex. My name is Alex. And no, this place doesn't..." She reached out, patting the doe's shoulder in a way she hoped would be reassuring. "Nobody cares that you're here. You're probably just feeling some kind of instinct, left over from before. Back when humans still lived here."

"How can you be sure?" Stride stopped, resting a hoof on her shoulder. "I've never seen one, but... there are stories! Terrible stories!"

I'd love to hear some of those eventually, Alex thought. Instead, she said, "I was one of them. Many years ago..." She thought back until she found a book about North American wildlife. "Fifteen of your generations back, maybe twenty."

Stride shook her head. "Not even mageblood live that long! I've seen old, you haven't seen twenty summers! Old enough to be my mother perhaps, but not the mother of the first tribe!"

"It's true. Travel with me long enough, and you will know. I walked on two legs, lived in a city like this, ate meat..."

The doe's eyes widened, and she retreated out of reach. "That would explain how you killed the skycat! But... why didn't you kill the rest of us? You left my Kin alive, even wanted me to go with them!"

"I'm not human anymore, Stride." She sighed, sitting down on her haunches on the grass. Where were all the people, anyway? The ruined streets were deserted around them, though they were also so choked with plants and rubble that they couldn't see very far in any direction. "Even when I was, I never cared for hunting. The only time I ever saw one of your kind was when I went camping. I never hurt one."

"I think even if we found some humans, they'd treat you differently now. They don't kill creatures that make clothes and build societies and learn old human languages." Alex got up again, and marched past her. "Look, I don't know how to send you back. You're welcome to go your own way, if you want. But I'm not leaving."

Alex hadn't gone far before she stopped again, inspecting something pale half-buried in fallen leaves and other refuse.

"Why did you come here?"

Alex brushed the leaves away, tugging at the thing resting underneath. It was a pony's skull, the top half of one anyway. Several other bones poked out from nearby, obviously a complete set. "To stop this from happening to more ponies. Make this into a thriving city, where ponies don't starve in winter. Eventually powerful enough that we can tear down the governments that would kill intelligent beings to fuel their spells. If I could only find Athena..." She pushed the skull back into the leaves, brushing off her hoof on the ground. 

"I'm sorry I was too late, friend. Whoever you were. I'll send someone to bury you before winter. Promise."

"The Mother's champion is insane," Stride muttered from behind her. "Thinks she walked with the hunters and talks to the dead."

"And yet you believe that I talked to her? I don't see what makes that easier."

"I saw her strength in your eyes," Stride said quietly. "When you saw what they were doing to Gestalt-of-rainbows. Some mageblood got sick, or cried, or looked away. You fought."

"Well, look into my eyes now, Stride." She reached out, touching the doe on one side. "You don't have to stay with me. But if you do, if you give me your hooves and your loyalty, I will teach you to build a society out of ashes. When this is over, you can return to your Kin with the knowledge to make them great. You can return with friends who will fight beside you next time someone tries to kidnap and kill you."

Stride was silent for a long time, staring at her. Alex heard nothing—nothing but the wind, and the distant rustling of leaves. Then Stride nodded. "You say like it is already true. I would like to see this future already before you."


* * *


 

Much of the city resembled the area around the portal: some structures intact, some crumbling, but no sign of anything like useful salvage. This city had been picked quite clean back when there had been a pony settlement here. Alex set their route according to what she remembered about it, heading for Central Park. That was where they had been building last time she checked, scavenging and looting the existing city more than living in it.

She kept her eyes open for any sign of whatever had kept the city so well preserved for so long. It was true that some of the skyscrapers hadn't made it, true that more than once she passed a river running where a street had been, and in those areas the structures had been hit particularly harshly. Yet even so, the whole thing felt wrong. There shouldn't be this much of a city left. Maybe one or two lucky structures, perhaps a stone church here or there. Not the majority.

It had already been late when they arrived, and it was getting darker by the moment. Nightfall no longer seemed particularly frightening to Alex, not as her sight seemed to get better instead of worse the less light happened to be around. Her companion felt more and more uneasy about being out, though. She had already pointed out wolf tracks, and there was no telling what else might be hiding.

Alex picked the most intact-looking structure she had yet seen: a tall apartment building with most of its glass windows unbroken.

It wasn't. Her memories about how thoroughly looted the city had been weren't wrong. Centuries of scavenging, of erosion and time, meant the building had very little for them. No trace of carpet, so much as it was a steel and cement shell, with rooms of various sizes and occasional piles of decomposed detritus. The stairs were intact and the building didn't shake as they climbed, so she counted that enough.

There were no doors, but they picked a room near the back of the floor, and piled up bits of rotten material until the doorway was packed full. It was a depressing place to spend the night, but she hoped at least it would be a safe one.

"Tomorrow I have to teach you how to find better food," Stride offered, when Alex had stripped and made a pillow out of her backpack. The deer slept close-by, even more oblivious to personal space than native ponies could be. Just now, Alex enjoyed the warmth. "You graze like a fawn, putting anything green into your mouth. No wonder you aren't more grown up."

Alex winced, though she bit back the pain. "There's a way to graze? Aren't we just eating crap? Almost empty calories, just to stay alive. We'll get farming going soon, but we have to find—"

Stride silenced her with a look. "Just like a mageblood! Maybe in the darkest winter we get that desperate, but not before the leaves change! I will teach you, tomorrow. You cannot build anything with a stomach full of grass and dead leaves."

She slept, uneasily. She went on no more dream-journeys. She still wanted to find Athena, but just now it seemed more urgent to start helping the humans banished to the "Nameless City." Maybe with enough of them, she would find someone with technology she could use to contact the AI. A cell phone might even do it, if she could get a strong enough signal.

She heard motion from the hall, soft hoofsteps as though partially obscured by cloth. Somepony was trying to sneak up on them. Alex opened one eye, though she didn't move, watching their makeshift barricade begin to collapse from the other side, almost silently.

Alex rose even more quietly, trusting to the darkness to hide her. She pressed herself to one wall, somewhere she wouldn't be easily visible to whoever was sneaking in on them. She unfocused her eyes, calling on the power of her office. Was it true that the ponies of the city were former humans?

This one was. She waited until he had taken apart the barricade, or very nearly, and was creeping in over the rubble. That was when she raised her voice, calling loudly enough that it echoed. "Robert Miller, there's no need to sneak up on us. Please, come in."

Something metallic dropped, clattering to a stop on the cement floor. She saw the knife, a sturdy pre-Event looking piece without any corrosion.

Robert was an earth pony, solidly built and dark furred. His mane was a light tan, and his eyes were half wild. Like most ponies his night vision was poor, and he looked only in her general direction when he finally answered. "Whoever you are... don't fight. I can break animals in half. I've done it before."

Archive stepped sideways, so that she was right below the window and clearly illuminated by the moonlight streaming through. "That's because of your race, Robert. You've become an earth pony, and strength is one of your primary abilities. Not the most impressive, but significant."

"I don't w-want to hurt you." He fumbled for the knife, resting one hoof on the handle but unable to lift it. He also seemed unwilling to bend down to take it in his mouth, what with how vulnerable that would make him.

Stride had opened her eyes and watched the exchange from the wall, eyes mostly on Robert. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," Alex responded in her language. "Our first recruit came to us."

"Looks like he's here to eat us to me."

"Be quiet!" The earth pony snapped one hoof down on the cement, which cracked easily under the force. "Speak normal! If you try anything, I'll kill you!"

"You won't." Archive advanced on him, very slowly. "You can't fool me, kid. You aren't a killer. You should be practicing law right now... Penn State, class of 2011, right? You were a junior fellow at—"

"Shut up!" he screamed again, very little of sanity left in his face. "You can't know those things! The whole world is dead! Everyone is dead!"

"Robert isn't dead," she said. "You hate yourself for what you've done to stay alive." She was very close now, almost within reach. Archive kept her body as tense as drawn cord, ready to dart away at the slightest perturbation in the air. An emotional earth pony could shatter her like glass, but he would have to hit her first.

"I don't blame you, kid. You did what you had to do. But you can stop." 

The pony was shivering now, his eyes darting rapidly between her and the knife, but unable to move. "S-stop it... whatever you're doing..."

She rested one hoof on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. She was at her most vulnerable now, easily within reach. Failure was no longer an option. "Let me show you a better way. You've run around this city half-starved, hunted by something you can't see, not sure where you'll find your next meal or where you'll sleep... but under all that, I can still see the person you were. Robert wanted to practice law so he could help people, and because you wanted security for yourself and your family. I can help you find both."

The muscular earth pony melted like butter left out in the sun. He cried, and Alex held him with all the strength she had. In truth, she could see very little of how his life had been since coming to the city—it was only the person he had been that she could see. But all she had to do was look at the scars in his coat, the lean ribs poking through, and hear the quaking in his voice.

Not every pony who did evil was evil.

"I don't understand," Stride said, when the pony had been reduced to weak quivering and the danger had passed. "He didn't even try to hurt you. What kind of spell was that?"

"The most powerful spell anyone ever cast," Alex answered. "The truth."


* * *


 

Dear Journal,

Found my first refugee in the 'Nameless City.' Pretty sure it's New York, by the way. I've seen several of these structures before, though at present I can't get a good view of any of the iconic landmarks. I do not have an easy answer for how the city is so intact despite the time elapsed. Even the luckiest skyscrapers should've crumbled to dust at this point, right? Well maybe if I could find a useful year.

Stride the dutch-deer (way easier than her proper name), did not know a year any more than the refugee did.

So yeah, earth pony's name is Robert. Apparently he's been in the city since before last winter. He was able to tell me a little about the state of the city, though I am somewhat suspicious of the quality of the information he gave me. I will want to independently verify as much of it as I can.

He guesses there are a few thousand ponies trapped here, from all over the world. He doesn't have an idea of how long the average has been here, though what information he did have was not encouraging.

There is no settlement to join, no city or town growing up here. Most ponies survive by grazing, which based on some quick napkin math I did does not sound sustainable through winter if all of Manhattan Island is still mostly city. Ponies’ coats are helpful, but the delicate species would not do well.

No ponies build houses, most just shelter in the ruins and fend off the marauders. There are a great deal of ponies like him, thieving bands of a few to a few hundred that have always stopped something more civilized from forming.

Robert is extremely nervous about building with us, because he's afraid that once word gets around we have anything worth taking, people will come to kill us and take it. Just now, I am inclined to share his fear.

A few thousand ponies would be a respectable starting population. If we could reach a certain level of sophistication, the metal and glass of this city are very useful raw materials to build its replacement. I don't know why so many of the structures survived... but if they did, maybe more valuable salvage did as well. Maybe we could strip copper out of building wires, or pipes, or whole working machines!

I haven't seen any sign of working machines. No cars that are anything more than rusting mounds. No street lights that look intact, and nothing in the few buildings I checked that resembled working tech.

A shame, considering what I could do if I could get word to Athena. I will have to try Isaac again soon. Sending a message he will remember through to waking will be tricky, but it shouldn't be impossible.

Tomorrow I will send Robert to protect Stride while she searches for edible plants for our food stockpile. If we're incredibly lucky, we'll find something we can grow. A single earth pony can feed many other ponies with their magic, when taught to properly use it. Abundant food is the first step to our stability.

While they search, I will try and find a unicorn. With someone to empower my spells, there are few limits to what we could accomplish. We'll need magic if we hope to overcome the odds against us.

That's one blessing: the refugees banished here might be slowly losing their minds, they might be starving, but nobody's been teaching them their powers. We will have a distinct advantage over the criminal elements. They might see what we do and know it's possible, but they won't have teachers.

I promised some difficult things today. I don't intend to become a liar.

NEXT DAY UPDATE: 

I would like to date these entries, but that 's difficult to do without some arbitrary frame of reference to use for comparison. How about counting days? Day two in the city was successful, though not in the way I imagined.

First, food. Stride and Robert collected all sorts of edible plants. That deer proved to be quite resourceful. She found several different kinds of berries, as well as some wild turnips, and a few dozen wheat-berries. Potatoes and sugar-beets would have been nice, but considering our odds I'll take what I can get.

They apparently met some other ponies during the search, but Robert frightened them off. I'm glad things didn't come down to fighting. Stride's loyalty is secure, but Robert's is not. If he were forced to fight, I'm fairly sure he'd run and we would never get him back. His earth pony talents will be absolutely essential to what I want to build.

The ponies here are some of the most forlorn, empty creatures I have ever seen. I met several today, wandering aimlessly through the streets as though they couldn't even see me. Some laughed when I explained I was going to start a town here, and that they were invited. None were as easy to reach as Robert was. Too callous, too damaged—I wonder if maybe they've lived in the city too long. I might win them over yet, but... not with only promises to offer.

The search wasn't fruitless, however. I found a pegasus—she wouldn't talk, but she listened, and she was willing to follow me home. She hasn't left my side since I found her, actually. She's only a filly, maybe eleven or twelve. The last time I found an abandoned child was a changeling queen hiding in the top floor of a building. Nancy is about the same age Riley was, but she hasn't survived as well. She looks pretty bad, I can only imagine what she's been through.

But she's safe here. Got her cleaned up, and she's resting easy now. Maybe for the first time in a long time.





Tomorrow we will relocate to somewhere more stable—a smaller, intact building that is easier to defend, preferably with somewhere we can start planting. We may need to start with rooftop gardens, or something else that is easy to protect.

One hint about what might have kept the city intact this long: there is magic here. It was so diffuse I missed it the first day, and I'm no unicorn. It became more obvious with exposure. It isn't evil, not like the bloodgate that got us here, but beyond that I don't know what it is. It would take a unicorn's senses, which I don't have.

Focused plenty of attention on Robert—can't have him giving up on us. I think Stride taking him around to lots of edible plants and the subsequent feast did more to earn his loyalty than any words I could say, though. Few arguments are as persuasive as a full stomach.

-Day
> Episode 3.6: First Stop
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hear me. Alex jerked in her sleep, her legs twitching violently beneath her. Not far away, Stride pulled away a little, muttering something under her breath. Robert was asleep at the other end of the room, far too self-conscious to join the three females. That was just fine with her—she would be happier once they had real bedrooms anyway.

Nancy woke almost the instant she got up, watching her. Alex made her way out, and she followed. At least she didn't make any noise. Once they had gotten far enough (there was no door to shut), Alex turned to meet the filly's eyes. "You should go back to bed."

In answer, the filly wrapped one of her forelegs around one of Alex's, clinging to her. "Alright, alright! Just let go." The filly relaxed, watching her closely. "I don't really know what I'm looking for. I might just be losing sleep for no reason. But if you want to come..."

She did, apparently. Alex set off down the stairs, fully alert now. The filly followed closely at her side, obviously struggling with the dark. She bumped into a wall more than once, and eventually Alex stopped. It was nearly pitch black inside, except where there were windows close, so it wasn't as though she couldn't see how the pony might struggle.

"Here, climb up on my back. I'm a horse, might as well carry someone. That's what horses are for, right?"

Nancy looked skeptical, but climbed up quick enough. I wonder what it would take to help her talk more. It was a little harder to move with the weight of another pony on her back, but Nancy was a pegasus and that helped.

The streets weren't empty at night. True, she didn't see any ponies at first, but there were plenty of other animal signs visible to her. She smelled a mountain lion, though thankfully she didn't meet it. She did see raccoons, foxes, even a skunk, but none bothered her and she didn't bother them. It was meeting another pony she was most afraid of, since bringing Nancy along would limit her ability to fight. I'm better with my hooves than I was when I crossed the country with Ezri. The wolves wouldn't be able to bite me this time.

She wandered next to an overgrown woodland, one distinguishable from the nearby streets only because it lacked the large piles of rubble or any standing structures. Surrounded by the trees, it was easy to forget she was really in the ruins of New York City.

Something was calling her. It was intensely familiar, though beyond that it was hard to place anything at all. It had to be supernatural, though she felt nothing beyond a distant longing for places she couldn't see. Where are you taking me?

No voice answered. Still, she seemed to know where to go. Alex passed a little lean-to built of scraps, with a garden of herbs outside. There might have been a pony inside, but she didn't want to bother them. It wouldn't have been terribly considerate to pester a pony in the middle of the night. Even if they had been friendly, the scare would probably change their mind.

Alex kept wandering, turning away from what she thought was Central Park to one of the streets that had turned into a river. It was a fairly leisurely flow, but even during the day the water had little bits of ice floating in it. She would have to cross. "Watch your legs, Nancy. Water's cold."

She sped up into a canter, traveling in leaping hops to the other side. Even so her legs were totally soaked, and her passenger got plenty splashed too. The filly started to shiver on her back, shaking herself off a little.

"Sorry. We'll have to build a bridge one of these days."

No day soon, though. They would have to build a city first.

At least neither of them were encumbered by clothes, so they would dry out quick enough. I'm going to wish for a jacket when winter comes, though.

Whatever she was feeling, it seemed to be getting stronger. Alex crossed a few deserted streets, towards what she was rapidly learning was the least decayed side of the city. Where one in three structures seemed to have survived on the end near the gate, with most of those nowhere near safe enough to actually enter, the side closer to the ocean seemed paradoxically more intact. Few structures had crumbled to rubble here, and more of them looked like they might be safe enough to enter. Might even find some salvage.

Her thoughts were interrupted by something far less subtle than whatever had led her out here. No tug, more a wrenching, as intense as sudden nausea but without the unpleasant side-effects. At once she had her direction, and knew it was perilously close.

The earth shook with the force of a nearby explosion, scattering animals and birds and shattering a nearby window. Alex turned in time to see a gigantic bus, barreling down the street at her and Nancy from the left.

Alex blurred through the air, scattering dust and leaves as she jerked out of the way, entirely on reflex. She skidded to a halt on her hooves, wings splayed to catch her and eat momentum. "Eeeek!" She dug deep gashes into the ground with her hooves. She squealed, but managed to stop before she hit anything.

"Sorry about that!" She helped the filly off her shoulders, though her eyes were wide with shock. "Maybe you should walk on your own for awhile." She turned back towards the place they had been walking. "I wasn't imaging that, was I?"

Nancy only shrugged, though she followed as Alex made her way back.

She didn't have long to search. There was indeed a bus waiting there, along with a pair of tracks leading to where it had come to a stop. I'll have to complement the driver—managed to bring it to a stop instead of running off the road or into a river.

The bus was one of the nicer ones, with blacked-out windows and a sleek silver body. The sort with its own bathroom Alex never could've afforded to ride, in the unimaginably ancient time before the Event. "Skyline Marquee Retiree"

"Alright, Nancy. Looks like we have company." The strange feeling was gone completely now, nothing was tugging her into the night anymore. Did I sense the bus coming? Being able to sense refugees before they arrived would be a useful skill. Unless something else was calling me.

She hurried over to where the bus was parked right in front of a stand of small trees. It was a small miracle it hadn't appeared driving straight into any of the larger ones that had started growing on the former streets. Even more impressive that the driver had retained control long enough to come to a stop.

By the time she was getting close, a pony half-walked, half-rolled out of the doors, still wearing a pair of ill-fitting pants and a blue jacket. The clothes did little more than encumber him, and indeed he fell flat on his back before groaning and rolling over. "Hoi!" he shouted, quite loudly. "Is anyone out here?"

"Yeah." Alex stopped maybe ten feet away, Nancy just beside her. The engine was still running, and the lights were still on. The bus's brake lights were practically blinding. She could just make out shapes moving around inside, and panicked voices. She couldn't get a clear look with the tint in the way, though. "Two people. Welcome back to the world of the living."

The pony righted himself eventually, though he tried to stand on his hind legs first. He ended up falling flat, though his body knew how to catch him. He looked in Alex's direction with difficulty. "Where are you? I can only see an animal!"

"You don't need to yell," Alex answered, walking a few steps closer to him. "I'm right here. Name's Alex."

"Y-you're... a... a talking horse," the pony stammered. "A weird... green... winged..."

"I think it might be some kind of demon, Stanley." Another voice, from the stairs leading into the bus. Another pony trapped in clothes, though this one was stuck inside a dress of baby blue cut with such little attention to fashion that Alex got a good idea of the age of the pony wearing it. It was her only hint, since otherwise the mare was just another adult pony. "Don't listen to it!"

"I'm not a demon," Alex sighed, crossing the last few steps until she was right beside the stallion, and very near the door. A panic of activity continued inside, shouts and voices and struggling ponies. "I'm a bat pony. I'm just the nocturnal version of a pegasus, like my... sister, Nancy." She gestured at the filly, then advanced on the stairs.

"Look, I know exactly what you're thinking. You're confused—you don't know where you are, or how you got here. You don't know what happened to your bodies. You've all changed in ways you don't even understand." She was only inches away from Stanley, now. "I do. Let me talk to everyone. As a matter of fact... we should probably get onto your bus right now. This city isn't safe... and you just made a hell of a lot of noise."

Stanley looked past her, as though searching the night for something. "Alright, horse. But only because keeping the guests safe is so important... and there's nobody else around." He gestured up into the bus. "Come on, then."

They hurried inside, with Nancy bringing up the rear. Alex waited patiently as the ponies climbed ahead of her, painfully slow. No natural predators would dare get close to something so loud and bright, except maybe a wolf pack. But in spring, they probably had plenty of easier food.

Ponies, on the other hand... a few more bloodthirsty than Robert would be all it would take to destroy these ponies.

"There," Stanley said from the driver's seat. It was comically oversized for him, but he somehow manipulated the controls, shutting the bus door. "Locked. Want the intercom?"

"Yeah." 

Stanley tried and failed to pull the intercom from the console. All he could do was lean forward, pressing one hoof to the controls and talking right into it. "Attention passengers!" Most of the seats were full, perhaps fifty ponies in all. An even mix of mares and stallions, covering all the pony races and one griffon at a quick glance.

To Alex's astonishment (and Nancy's relief) the sounds of confusion and argument and conversation died. Ponies of all stripes turned universally toward the front of the bus. "If we could all remain calm, there's someone here to help." He gestured at Alex. "This is..."

Alex took the microphone on its flexible cord, snatching it out from under him. She had hundreds of years to practice her hoof skills, after all. "Someone who's here to help."

"Who are you?" someone shouted from the back of the bus, she couldn't see who. "Where'd you come from?"

"My name is Alex Haggard," she began, rising briefly up onto her hind-legs so that everyone would be able to see her. "I saw your bus arrive. This area is extremely dangerous, so I hurried over to help as quickly as I could. Speaking of which..." She turned, glancing back at Stanley. She took her hoof off the button as she spoke. "Kill the engine, and the lights. You need to save fuel."

"I got a full tank. Just filled up a few minutes ago for the morning's tour."

"You have the last full tank you'll ever have," Alex insisted. "Just switch it off. You'll understand why when I'm done explaining, but that will be a ton of fuel just burned away idling."

He groaned, but cut the engine off. The lights got dimmer, the exterior lights vanished completely, and the speaker in her hoof abruptly stopped working. She let it fall.

Somepony else called from the bus, "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

"That's... probably not the most important question, right now." Alex's voice carried easily, echoing through the bus. "There's more you need to learn. I'd ask that while I'm explaining, everyone who can should watch a window. If you see motion outside, any motion, even an animal, you let me know. I must know about any incoming danger to protect you from it."

That shut them up, and she heard the sound of shifting bodies as ponies reoriented, near the many windows. Nancy even listened, turning around so she could look back down towards the doorway.

Alex realized abruptly she hadn't told any of what she was about to say to the filly. She had just been taking care of her, making sure she was okay, but the filly hadn't asked about what was going on. Hadn't asked about much of anything.

"You better have a good explanation for this," said a unicorn stallion from the front row. "This is a bus of American citizens you've kidnapped, mutilated..." General consensus bubbled out from around him, and angry ponies all nodded.

"I haven't done anything." Alex advanced on him, narrowing her eyes. "I was as much a victim as you were, sir. I've just been around longer, so I've learned what happened."

He laughed. "I doubt it. Your voice... I've got great-granddaughters older than you."

It was all she could do not to laugh right back. She didn't, though. He couldn't possibly know she was immortal. "I'm sure you do, sir. I'm sure many of you on this bus could teach me about all sorts of things. But none of you know what you are, you don't know how you got here, or why. You have strange new bodies you can barely control, and you know nothing about them."

She cleared her throat. "For instance, all of you feel stronger now. You feel more awake, you feel more capable. Your minds are sharper, your memories are clearer. A million little problems just went away." Of course, Alex could only guess about what that might feel like. She had never experienced old age herself. 

"Your new bodies have a lifespan about three times what your old ones did. They also age more gracefully than humans do, so tend to remain functional until the very last legs of life. In pony terms, even if one of you were a hundred... you're not even middle aged anymore. Congratulations."

Alex told them everything. It took a long time, well over an hour. Nancy fell asleep at her hooves as she spoke, eventually relaxing. This was quite the change, considering she hadn't ever relaxed around Robert. Maybe these ponies were just easier to trust.

More than once the ponies interrupted, calling for evidence or further explanation. She gave several demonstrations—scrawling spells with paper they had or instructing an earth pony among them to snap a (now useless) walking stick with minimal effort. The longer she spoke, the more somber her audience became.

They weren't attacked, though more than a few animals did pass their parked vehicle in the dark. Eventually the sun began to rise, lighting up the world around the bus.

"So what do we do?" Someone eventually asked.

"I'm going to find my family," another pony responded, to a quiet chorus of agreement from several ponies nearby.

Alex cleared her throat, and rose up on her hind legs again. "I wouldn't blame anyone who wants to do that, but please don't go right away. You can all barely walk—none of you know how to use your powers. This world is extremely hostile. Please don't wander off now."

The first speaker, a pale unicorn stallion, bristled at her words. "What, you want us to just give up? Abandon our families?"

"Hell no!" She didn't give him a chance to move the crowd further towards madness. "It's already been hundreds of years. If your loved ones are going to be there for you to find, a few weeks to learn how to be a pony will not make a difference. I suggest you all stay here—let me teach you.

"Once you know your magic and you have your hooves under you, then you can choose to search for your loved ones. It won't do them any good to have you starve to death in some wilderness without ever finding them." Of course, she would have to tell these people just how hopeless that search would be, see if she could discourage it completely. Just not right away. She had earned herself a little credibility with her demonstrations, but she very well might lose it if she pushed too hard.

"We should vote," someone else said. "You have somewhere for us to go in this city, Alex? You have a town in here?"

She shook her head. "I was just banished here myself. But... I've been here a few days. I know the city. I know a few places we could set up that would be easy to defend. Other than that, I can only offer my experience."

"If my daughter listened to my experience, she wouldn't have sent me off on this damn bus," someone muttered.

"We know, Gene," the unicorn grunted. "Let's focus on the subject at hand. I agree, we should vote. The vampire should wait outside."

Stanley nodded in agreement. He looked every bit as disturbed by the truth as any of the other passengers. Not that it was easy to tell him apart from any of them. No doubt he had been one of the youngest humans on this bus. Now that they were all ponies, a few decades no longer made a difference. He pushed a lever, and the door opened with a hiss. "You can wait outside while—"

A knife shot through the opening, over Nancy's resting form and into his neck. Stanley dropped, twitching and spluttering, and several ponies charged the stairs. Sturdy-looking earth ponies, covered in scars and lean, just like Robert.

They hit Stanley so hard the knife flew out of his neck, so hard he and the chair broke through the metal sidewall, shattering glass and tumbling down into the dark.

Alex shoved with her hind-legs, shoving Nancy several rows back along the carpet. The tumble would hurt—but it would also put her well into the crowd. She retreated herself, spreading her wings a little and clogging the aisle as several more ponies climbed into the bus. Six in all, all stallions, though there were a few pegasi and one unicorn as well.

It was the unicorn who spoke, over the shouts and the screams and the panic in the back of the bus. "You'll all shut the fuck up!" They did.

"Welcome to New York," he said, even as one of his ponies took the key from the ignition and started fiddling with the dash. One of the earth ponies made their way slowly down the aisle, advancing on Alex. She held still, two rows back, protecting Nancy.

"Here's what happens. You strip down whatever you're wearing. You leave everything on this bus. I let you out one at a time. Stallions get lost, mares stay." He leered down at Alex, meeting her eyes where she stood in the front row. "Any shit from any of you, and you get what the driver got. Got it?"

"What should we do?" She heard the voice, from just a row back, and didn't even have to look back to see the pony was watching her. 

She didn't have her gun harness. She didn't have her powered armor, or her earth-pony strength. She didn't even have competent allies—though there were so many of them.

All of the ponies by the door had weapons of their own—the earth pony in front of her had a knife wrapped around one of his forelegs, so that the tip scraped against the ground. Stupid. Limping around like that, dulling the metal.

It didn't matter. There were twenty-five earth ponies in this bus. Incompetent, ignorant, but numerous. Fear alone controlled them now—fear and the terrible barbarism just demonstrated in front of them.

Alex felt it. She was at the very front, the first these barbarians would claim as their spoils. Noble Calling hadn't been lying about what to expect in the city.

There were dozens of terrified eyes on her. In that moment, she felt their futures focusing on her. If she submitted, it would break their will. If she fought...

"How about you all turn and walk away, and we don't tear you to pieces for what you did to our driver," she called, her voice clear enough to echo through the bus. "There's fifty of us. Six of you. I don't like your odds."

"Wrong answer." Something flashed in the air towards her—another knife, covered in rust and corrosion, pushed by a brief glow of magic. Alex was ready for it, and for a second she blurred in the air, slamming one hoof sideways against where it had been, stopping it against the side of the seat.

The unicorn's smugness turned to annoyance as he looked down at her from the back. "Rip the bitch's wings off," he said, waving a hoof dismissively.

The earth ponies charged. Time slowed around her, expressions of fury frozen in mid-charge as they bore down on her. An empty seat beside her was suddenly filled, a towering spearman with bronze skin looking between her and the charging ponies.

"You have a penchant for helpless odds."

Alex took the knife in both hooves, her motions coming painfully slowly in her perceived time. Compared to the charging ponies, though, she was practically a blur. This was the speed of air, a gift she had rarely touched. It was so thoughtful of these murderers to leave the door open and let the wind inside.

Helpless if these six caught me alone on open ground. In here, less so. She couldn't talk, there was no time for that. But she could think. The earth ponies lose their resilience when they leave the ground too far behind. They're eight feet above it now—standing on a plastic floor. Whatever residual they brought with them has worn off already. Those pegasi are both flightless, and their leader can barely use enough magic to throw. He's trying to rip the knife out of my hooves, and he's not strong enough. Besides, so long as I kill at least one of them, the others will help. Unless I'm crushed, these ponies will be trampled.

"You misunderstood me," the spearman said, with a hearty laugh. "When I said the odds were helpless, I did not mean for you."

Guide my hooves, she pleaded. I haven't fought in many years.

"I will help you throw straight and draw heartblood with every stroke."

She was already doing just that, shoving both hooves into the thrust as she took the first stallion right in the eye. She braced against the knife for only a moment, letting the weight of the charge carry it backward into the stallion's brain.

She rolled out of the way, spreading her wings and letting the force of the impact fling her into the air above the seats. She couldn't fly, couldn't even glide really, but that didn't matter. Her balance was perfect, and she landed on the railing, even as the second earth pony tumbled into a heap with the new corpse. "Use the emergency exits!" she shouted back into the bus. "Come at them from both sides!"

A piece of luggage came flying at her, but Alex dodged easily, landing with a skid in the space beside the stairs, only a few feet from the attacking unicorn. He murdered Stanley without even asking for surrender. How many others has he killed?

The tight quarters kept the earth ponies from getting to her, since their own companions were in the way. Still, the unicorn and one of the pegasi could both get at her. The pegasus lunged, knife in his mouth, and he scored a deep gash in one of Alex's forelegs as she dodged a shard of glass that came hurtling at her from behind the unicorn.

She grunted, rolling sideways and letting the knife cut, even as she brought her other leg into the same sort of devastating kick she had used on the griffon at the bloodgate. The unicorn's kneecap proved even less resilient, and he went down with a scream of agony, thumping to the floor.

A brawl had erupted in the back of the bus, and the press of ponies seemed to be surging toward her. Their attackers no longer stood a chance.

The pegasus seemed to know that, because he lunged again, this time trying to get past Alex instead of land any blows on her.

Alex let him finish the slash at open air, then slammed his head sideways into the dashboard with a careful thrust and followed up with a solid kick between his back-legs. The pegasus went down, even as magic flashed again from beside her.

Metal strained, and shattered glass scattered from around them, though nothing went flying towards Alex this time. The unicorn screamed in pain and frustration, trying to struggle back onto his three good legs.

"Hard with broken bones, isn't it?" Alex snapped out with another kick, aimed similarly to the first. The unicorn rolled, taking the force with his shoulder instead. Instead of snapping, he went flying back against the instruments, banging his head against the body of the bus.

He struggled to right himself, but she didn't give him the chance, catching him with both hooves against his shoulders. She slammed his head into the metal wall, horn-first, shoving with all her strength. 

The horn might meet the skull, but enough sudden trauma could separate it, shoving the whole mass backward into the brain. It took her three tries before his body stopped twitching, and he dropped limply at her hooves.

The battle was over. Alex stumbled from the bus, hurrying to Stanley's fallen form. She checked, just to make sure the knife in his neck had killed him. It had.

She made it back in time to see the pale unicorn who had suggested leaving to find their families shoving the last of the corpses from the bus. He now looked bruised and a little bloody, just like she did.

"You look bad," he said, looking her over.

"It's not serious." She glanced down once at the wound on her right foreleg. "A few stitches and I'll be fine. Too shallow for the artery."

He got out of the way as someone shoved the limp pegasus she had subdued onto the ground beside the corpses. One of his wings now looked bent the wrong way, but he was still breathing. He appeared to be the only one of their attackers who had survived.

"Not that. I met someone who could fight like you, once. Back in Vietnam... he always had that same expression in his eyes when he was done. Haunted."

She dropped onto her haunches, shivering all over. Killing these criminals hadn't been as easy as the griffon. He had been literally sacrificing people alive with all the callous calculation of a butcher.

These criminals—they had been ordinary people once. Maybe if she had met them sooner, on their own, she could have turned their path another way as she had turned Robert's.

"Don't take this as bragging, Mr..."





"Tom." He sat down beside her, though he mostly seemed to be watching the area around them. He had lost his pants somewhere, though he still had an overlarge jacket and a unit cap. "Just Tom."

"I've fought monsters like them before. I know what they would've done to us. To me." She lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. "I see in their eyes the people they used to be. They're monsters now, but they hardly had the opportunity to be anything else. This place made them this way." She gestured out at the ruins.

Several other ponies made their way out, checking on Stanley or spreading out to watch the nearby bus. Several looked injured, though none badly.

"No." Tom's voice was firm, unapologetic, and he advanced on her, gray eyes intense. "Everyone has a choice. No one forced them to murder Stanley. No one forced them to try and take half of us for..." he trailed off briefly. "They made their choice, and got the just reward. You wouldn't have hurt them if they had left us in peace."

"Yeah." Alex rose to her hooves again, taking one last look at the corpses. "Still want to have your vote? Those might not be the only ponies coming for us."

"We'll still have it," Tom said, rising too. "We won't let evil take away what makes us good. But if it means anything to you, I think my vote has changed. It might change even more if you can drive this bus."

"I know how we can." Alex headed back towards the steps. Nancy met her there, wrapping her in a tight, tearstained hug. She even made a few relieved squeaking sounds.

Alex didn't rush the hug, holding her until she relaxed. "Shh, it's okay... I told you I'd protect you." She hurried the pony back up the steps, trying to block off her line-of-sight to the corpses. "I meant it. It doesn't matter how powerful the bad guys look, got it? We can be stronger than they are. Faster than they are. Smarter."

"Someone bring Stanley's body," Tom called from behind her. "We should bury him when we get wherever we're going."
> Episode 3.7: Civilization 101
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

The number of ponies I've found went from two to fifty today. Found a bus I think came from a retirement home or something, and we were attacked along the way. Had to do some fighting to keep them safe, but we only lost one. I'm not sure how they snuck up on us with so many eyes watching. Nothing for it now. Can't bring back the dead.

These old people are adorable. Well... maybe that's the wrong word, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. It isn't the way they talk—experienced, patient, meandering. They don't look old anymore, but that doesn't matter.

So we find our way to an intact apartment block—it looks like Section-8 from the identical concrete bricks and uniform design on the inside. Funny how some of the most modest housing for the poorest lasted longer than the uptown mansions.

I say lasted, but that's extremely generous. The structure is sturdy and the ceiling doesn't appear to be falling in. The glass is dirty, but intact. Didn't warp down to puddle at the bottom of the frame. I used to think that glass would all do that, and that's why old-timey buildings had windows that looked all warped. No, it has to do with the glassmaking process. Pre-Event glass was made on a bath of molten tin, so it always came out perfectly flat. Wish we could do that!

That's about all we can say about the building's resources. It has been stripped of anything valuable—no furniture that hasn't crumbled away, the wiring appears to have corroded away to nothing and the pipes are missing. None of the plastic finishings have survived and most of the wood ones turned to pulp too.

I am again reminded of the inconsistency of decay, and I was forced to admit to these new ponies that I don't know the exact number of years that have passed since the end of the world. I told them everything, though I might've focused on the details that were simplest and easiest to accept. Harder pills will come later, when they trust me.

The building is fairly large—eight stories, and a dozen individual apartments on each floor except the bottom two (which have rec rooms, laundry rooms, etc). We can only assume what the purpose of these spaces might've been, since the machinery and furniture is all gone. Still, it will work well for getting this little population of pioneers situated. The stairs are still safe, and with a little cleaning the windows might even make it a nice place.

One of the nicer parts is that we're in a very poor part of town. The bottom floors are thick, and there are metal bars over the windows. How these didn't rust when the interior wiring appears destroyed is another mystery that will keep me up at night. Magic, probably.

There are a large number of intact buildings on this block, all of which surround an interior park that's turned into forest. Probably half an acre of space, which is a nice place for us to start.

I was saying I thought these ponies were cute. One of the ways I meant that is how much they hold onto the old world. There are so many of them in one place—more refugees than I've seen in a long time, and all equally fresh from Earth that was. It's almost like they create this little pocket of American culture around them, thick enough to feel with my magical senses. I step inside, and it's like stepping back into a warm room after walking a long distance through the cold. It's good to feel that optimism again, that ramshod confidence that anything is achievable if only we have enough determination and work hard enough.

Once we got our bus parked up right beside the apartment, I helped dress a few little wounds with the first-aid kit from the bus. That done, I went to go get Stride and Robert from our old hiding place.

Robert was thrilled about the news, Stride... much less so. She went off to forage on her own, grumbling about how it was going to be impossible to feed so many mouths. She might not be wrong.

By the time I got back, Tom let me know they had elected me interim president of their "New American Equine Association," at least until they could "draft a formal constitution and organize a proper election in November." I am not making that up.

They sound a little like I did back in Alexandria, if I'd been about a dozen times more methodical and had a group of more competent, harder-working ponies. Looking at you, Joe. You could've been both.

Consider the riddle: You have a bus with most of a tank of diesel, and enough food for one more meal of sack lunches. You must feed 53 ponies indefinitely, without tools or seeds or enough time for a harvest. How do you do it?

I'll tell you the answer, and it's a boring one. Ever wanted to rebuild civilization from scratch? Most people haven't. Fortunately for the "New American Equine Association" (dreadful name by the way), I wrote a book on the subject. I can't help but notice none of these new ponies appeared with one. One of these days I will have to find out what happened to Ezri and Jackie.

I'll keep abstract for the sake of brevity (and succinctness. I don't know where my saddlebags are with more blank journals, so I will conserve the space I have).

What you do is sort through the lunches and sort out anything that can be planted. Tomatoes, strawberries, wheat berries (the real gold of the lot). Carrots, potatoes (god yes!). It's the little mercies, like the fact this bus wasn't transporting the invalid sort of elderly who eat nothing but baby food. Can't plant jars of pea-paste.

This returns us to the question: How do you restart civilization?

1. Keep the ponies alive.
Remember the pyramid of needs? The bottom level is the first priority, and it's also going to be the most difficult for us at first. If this was winter, most of these ponies would be doomed to starve. It is not winter, however, and with green grass growing that will not happen. That does not mean it will be easy, however.

Water is easy—there is a river about a hundred yards from the back of the building, and a stream offshoot from it comes even closer. Trips will not have to be very long, and we have plenty of containers to fill with the watery spoils.

Shelter we have, so long as ponies are alright sleeping on the floor of an empty room or inside a bus with a hole in the side. Building anything new will be out of our reach in the short term anyway.

Once we spent some time getting these ponies used to moving around, I split everyone up into groups. Robert and Stride each took one group, though Stride doesn't speak a word of English and none of these refugees know a word of Dutch.

Another team helped clear the first floor—any entrance that wasn't the front door made a perfect place to dump refuse, piling it up so high that getting in will take a great deal of effort. Not that the building is secure—some windows have bars, but plenty more have fallen off with age. A flying pony could easily get in. Not to mention I've seen earth ponies take down brick walls.

The (former) laundry rooms on the second floor don't have windows, so they made the perfect target for another team—carrying everything of value that isn't tied down from the bus to the inside. The ponies of the NAEA (confusing name again) were only expecting a day-trip, but there are plenty of cameras and a few tablets and laptops, not to mention clothing, DVD-players, fire extinguishers, mechanics kit, first aid, and lots of personal effects. 

I'm sure we'll have to vote or something before we use all of that, but... we're getting closer. I had them all turn off everything to save power. When we get a little further and I can reliably produce even high temperatures, I bet I could tear some of that stuff apart for the parts I need to make a communication device Athena can hear.

Not that it would be easy. It will have to wait on our more urgent needs.

Last team was all earth ponies, and they had the hardest job. The park in the center of the block—the one not visible from the street—that's going to become our first field. Half an acre to clear with nothing but our bare hooves and lots of determination.

Earth ponies are strong, and they're good with the earth. Debris fell, stumps came loose, and boulders rolled. There were several among them who had farmed before, and they knew the general idea. Rocks would make convenient walls for our three sections:

Potatoes, wheat, and veggies, all about equal sizes. As of now there are still plenty of trees in the way, and we avoided those. We can't cut them down yet.

Oh, and that's not quite all the space. A few latrine ditches needed to be dug, not to mention a large open work area for me.

See, I wasn't on any of the other teams. They frequently came to me for instructions or clarification, but mostly I had another mission.

2. Harness fire.
Fire is the tool that builds civilization. Even before the event, almost everything we did relied on it. Our industrial farming system relied on the heat of natural gas to produce fertilizer, our houses were lit with burning coal, and our cars zoomed around burning oil. The HPI might not burn fuel, but even they relied on heat (when I left), fusing hydrogen together and boiling water with the resultant energy.

We cannot do anything like that. We must make do with the technology we can reach, and leapfrog our way back. We'll drag ourselves back to technology by the bootstraps, then teach the world it can't murder and abuse its refugees.

So I dug a trench, with the help from the ground-clearing ponies. Into that ditch went all the wood we gathered clearing the land (that we could gather. The living trees are still growing for now).

The trench has lots of little stuff underneath—kindling and leaves and the like, which will spread flames easily but then crumble away and leave an air-channel. Lots and lots of living branches got piled over the top, and then an endless ocean of mud goes on top of them. 

One end of the trench got left open, and I started a nice fire, then sealed up most of that too except for a single opening for air, which should be able to travel all the way through to the opening on the other side of the trench.

Anyone who's read my restart-civilization book (which apparently doesn't exist) knows what I'm doing: making charcoal. Wood fire alone will not produce the temperatures we need, so we burn the wood slowly in a low-oxygen environment to drive off the volatiles and concentrate ourselves an essentially pure-carbon fuel.

If we want to get anywhere, we need tools. There is ample metal scrap all over this city. I've seen three main types in the few days I've been here: steel, copper, and aluminum. The last one will be where we start—you don't even really need a proper furnace if you have the right fuel. We can pour into sand-and-clay molds I can shape by hoof.

Of course, aluminum is also soft, and we'll have to upgrade eventually to something more lasting. Unfortunately, while aluminum metal is extremely non-reactive, steel just loves to rust and most of the steel we've seen is in some state of decay. The metal is all still there... but we'll need to refine it first, drive out the oxygen and make something new. Steel will take a blast furnace, and the painfully slow process of blacksmithing. 

I think I've gone too deep into the specifics. Suffice it to say that there were no serious complications today. Charcoal making in progress, scavengers came back with not too much food but more we can plant with, so that's good. Ate the rest of what was on the bus, sans the meat (which left us with plenty of lunch meat only the single griffon can eat, lucky him).

Well I say that, but I can't say meat sounds appetizing. It's been so long since I last had any. The part of my life where I enjoyed eating it was so short compared to the rest of it. I don't even really remember... the perfect memory didn't start until I left Equestria.

Planted everything we have (depressingly little), and I gave the ponies instructions for how to give every seed the tender loving care it needs. And with that, we are out of food. Tomorrow the ponies will be introduced to the wonders of grazing.

Nancy remained with me for the whole day. She was... in shock, after what happened in the morning. But at least she was comfortable around me. I guess she knows that I mean my promises.

Five people died today because of me. Five died, but more than fifty weren't beaten, robbed, abused, violated, murdered...

Not only that, but fifty is a much better way to start than just four hiding in some empty apartment. These might've been old ponies, but they're competent. A full twenty of them are veterans of some war or another. Lots of the mares have useful skills as well—old fashioned type skills like cooking and sewing. The sort of skills we'll need.

I wish I could be in many places at once. I am the best organizer, but also the only one who knows how to do the technology things. I'm the only one who can teach their racial magics, which they must all learn rapidly if they are to stay alive in this corpse of a city. I can't do it all.

So I end up not doing very much, other than giving instructions and getting information about how people are doing.

I've got a nasty wound, but the medkit had disinfectant and liquid bandage. I don't think I'll get infected.

Ponies are living mostly on the third floor, spread out between the dozen apartments. I have one with my little group, and it feels enormous. Plenty of refuse to clean out tomorrow. 

We have a watch, and sleeping shifts. I wanted to take one, but the ponies out-voted me. Typical.

I don't expect another attack so soon, though. So far as I know, there are no groups this size currently operating in the city. The gang we dismantled was probably one of the largest.

Of course, if I do this right, our prosperity will be visible in time. Bad ponies will get together to take it. A mob of hungry, determined ponies will sweep over us and try to undo what we've built. I must have these ponies ready before that happens.

We will survive, we will grow. Once we have anything worth coming to, we can spread the word that hard work will earn anyone a spot.

I hope you're listening, Athena, because I need your help. It's time to take this city of bricks and make it a city of marble.

-Interim President Haggard (NAEA)
(I always wanted to be president of something! Might as well be a few dozen old people and a broken apartment building.)


* * *


Alex could feel the sweat pooling at her hooves, and even behind her makeshift goggles the intensity of the forge practically smothered her. We need to start making leather substitute soon, or more ponies are going to get burned. The forge was nestled against their apartment building, a makeshift structure made from scavenged bricks and plant mortar. It was barely large enough for the four ponies crowded inside, all of which were earth ponies. Well, except her.

In the center of the round space was the furnace, about three feet wide and filled with searing charcoal flames. There was an opening at the base, where one of the ponies moved their hooves back and forth with the bow-bellows, blasting waves of air that stoked the flames and brought life to the dead steel. "Listen carefully while you work!" she shouted, settling the blade onto the flat of their anvil—really just a single solid chunk of dense steel that they had scraped the rust away from. "Listen to the steel. It's made of Earth's blood, she'll tell you how much carbon is left inside!" 

She wrapped the straps of the hammer around her left hoof, then demonstrated the proper technique as she slammed it down onto the glowing metal. There was something deeply satisfying in the sound, even if she could no longer feel what the metal was telling her.

"It already looks flat!" one of the aspiring blacksmiths, a mare with a dark coat and reddish mane, shouted over her hammer. "Why can't you just quench it now and start sharpening?"

"Because there are still too many impurities in the steel!" she answered, not interrupting the motion. Each swing practically made her leg go numb, but she kept at it. These earth ponies no longer had any concept of what it was like to tire as other ponies knew the sensation, so it was important that she set an example they would recognize. "Without more advanced methods, all we can do is drive them out with brute strength! We can't cast them with molds—cast iron is too brittle! Only steel will do."

She kept hammering, flipping the blade over several times and striking with exacting precision. It had been many, many years since she had done work likes this—during her first century in Alexandria, in fact. But that didn't matter. Time could not dull her memory.

Eventually she did quench the blade, and a thick cloud of steam filled the little shop. "We'll have to repeat that process several times more. You'll feel it, when you touch steel that's right. Just use the surface of the anvil for comparison, until you can get it worked out in your mind."

"That's a lot of work for just one sword," the mare, Elinora, said. "How did people in the middle ages deal with all this?"

"Patiently," she answered. "That's why weapons were so valuable. We won't be stuck doing it forever. Eventually we'll be able to punch and machine steel parts ourselves. But we'll need... a few thousand ponies, and electricity, and chemistry, and—" Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun.

It was a unicorn, a pastel-colored stallion with an apologetic look on his face. "Excuse me, Alex? Do you have a moment?" His hooves and legs were covered with wet clay—he had come from where ponies were making pottery, then.

She turned back to her students. "Do you all... does this make sense?"

They looked uneasy, but there were a few nods. "I'd like to see you work through the whole thing. I want to know what it's like when it's done," Elinora said.

"Yeah, well... if there was time." She removed her gloves, really just leather loops made of someone's cut purse. "I want to see each of your best attempts at making the blade. Elinora, you can start. Take some scrap steel and get started. I'll... be right back."

She hurried from the blacksmith shed, hanging up the last of her protection on the wooden hook outside. "What's wrong, Kerry?"

He looked away, embarrassed. These ponies seemed quite impressed at her ability to remember all of them, and consistently address them by name after such a short time together. It was a good way of showing them that she valued their individual contributions. "Well, uh... remember how you talked about cracking?"

She nodded. "Let me guess. The first pots came out of the kiln, and they're all cracked."

"H-how did you know?"

"Because I was pretty sure it would happen," she muttered, setting the pace for both of them towards the place they were doing pottery. They had found a clay bed about five hundred meters away from their building, in a section of field they didn't need yet, and so had set up a flat beam of wood to work as a table.

Their kiln was really just more scavenged bricks and tiles fired with charcoal from beneath and kept steady using a metal plate and a small container of water. The speed it boiled gave a modestly accurate approximation of the temperature inside, using a conversion table Alex had jotted down for them.

There was no fire burning now, and as they got close she could see a dozen dried pots and bowls and plates on the table—all of which were laced with large cracks.

The gathered ponies, another five including Kerry, looked various stages of embarrassed and apologetic. "We didn't..."

"I know." Alex kept her voice as calm as possible. "It's no big deal, really. Clay isn't a scarce resource." But their fuel was. They had expanded the charcoal trench, and kept the fire burning constantly now, but between the kiln and the blacksmith they went through it pretty quickly. Sooner or later they would run out of trees, and they would have to drag them around with them through the city to make more fuel.

"We followed your instructions!" Kerry insisted. "Kept it burning just as long as you said..."

Alex raised a hoof to silence him, inspecting the long crack running the length of an unglazed pot. "This is daunting. The shape of these... yeah." She set the pot down. "You cooled them way too fast. You have to reduce the temperature extremely gradually, particularly around 440 or so. The silica in the clay contracted suddenly, and that's what caused these cracks."

She explained the process again, in detail. They listened, looking less bashful and more determined. Eventually she finished. "And don't throw away any of the cracked stuff," she said. "Break it into manageable pieces, and store it somewhere. There are uses for broken pottery."

"Alex!" another pony shouted, a tiny pegasus mare barely her own height. "Alex!" She slid several feet in the dirt before coming to a stop, panting from the effort of her run.

"What?" She sighed, then turned away from the ceramics workstation. "What is it, Melissa?"

"Guards caught someone trying to sneak into the stockpile!" she shouted. "Another barbarian—with a knife."

"Right!" She turned away and broke into a gallop in seconds, far too fast for the stunned Melissa to keep up. She flapped her wings along with her run, trying to imagine the little currents of air that might lift and speed her. Bats might not have the same swiftness that the pegasi inherited, but they could be damn fast. At times it felt like her hooves barely touched the ground, and she remembered a little of her joy from long ago.

Except that reality kept bringing her back. Alex could do anything—but with ponies so new, it seemed that far more often she was doing everything. I've got to offload some of these responsibilities, somehow. Trouble was, there wasn't anypony else who could teach like she could. Plenty of these ponies had useful skills—carpentry, plumbing, electrical, from a time before the digital age. Unfortunately, they hadn't attained a level of technology that would make their skills useful yet.

She could hear the commotion in their storeroom even before she reached the building, and she dodged between the growing crowd with grace. She took the stairs three at a time, in arching leaps more than simple jumps.

The upstairs storeroom held everything of value they had stripped from the bus, all their possessions, and any food they had that would keep (mostly fruit). A lone earth pony was backed against the wall, a knife wrapped tightly around one of his hooves. One of her own "guards" was crumpled on the floor, clutching at a broken leg, and several others had been cut. 

"Oi!" She pushed through the ring of watching guards. "What's going on here?"

"He attacked Jerry!" one of her guards, a lean unicorn shouted. "Barreled him right over. He's got a bag with all our food, see? That 'saddlebag' thing you made."

"You all are going to let me out!" The earth pony lunged sideways, smashing their makeshift wooden shelf and sending suitcases tumbling. "I'll kill the next one!"

Alex turned briefly, facing the guards. "All of you, doorways. Clear the room."

They obeyed, though this was no military organization. They didn't carefully retreat so much as shamble, dragging their wounded along with them.

"The pretty one's got the right idea," grunted the stallion. She could smell him even from here—obviously bathing hadn't been one of his priorities. "Get away, nobody else gets hurt. I get this fancy bag of yours, and I'm gone."

"You're going to put the bag down." Alex kicked a fallen spear, really just a stick with a sharpened point, catching it on one of her wings. She couldn't strike that way of course, but she could brace it against the wall. "And you're going to leave."

He laughed, brandishing his bloody knife. "Or what, girl? I don't know where you all came from, but every one of you is clueless. This food is mine, on account that I got it now. Feel me?"

"The ponies here are trying to rebuild, Randy O'Brien. We are going to bring civilization back for everypony, but to do that we need to keep the supplies we gather. Those apples aren't yours."

The stallion did not react to her words as Robert had, with shock and shame. His smile vanished, and he briefly bared his teeth in a sneer. "What, you think you're going to trick me into giving you what's mine? I've seen better. I've seen people who can lift things right up into the air. But you don't have a horn, so I don't need to worry. You let me go right now, or I'll break you."

She was facing down an earth pony, and this time he hadn't climbed up into a metal and rubber building. Bricks and cement would not keep him from his strength. "You are stronger than I am, Randy O’Brien. If you fight, I will have to kill you." She dropped the spear, and began circling around the earth pony, watching his every motion. "It won't be fair."

"Because you've got wings and I don't," he said, lowering closer to the ground—preparing to charge. The body language was obvious, even if he didn't know. "You all break easy. You'll be no different."

"Please don't," Alex said, her tone as flat as she could. "Actually, I was going to say because I'm four hundred years old and I know every fighting style humans or ponies ever taught. I don't know how long you've been robbing and murdering in this ruin, but you've never fought anyone like me." She met his eyes, and called on every drop of power she had. It wasn't much. Archive was so weak. "I am an immortal, Randy O'Brien. Even if you killed me, I would return and come looking for you. Accept our offer of surrender and be gracious."

His expression faltered, and it seemed as though she had gotten through. He glanced from her to the ponies in the doorway, then back again. "I... I can't believe you found idiots stupid enough to believe that. Maybe I'll make them my idiots when you're dead! No reason I couldn't be an 'immortal' too!" He charged.

Randy O'Brien was not an immortal. Alex's spear caught him in the throat, and he died bloody and messy on the floor.

"God in heaven." One of her "guards" inched closer to her, where she still stood flecked with blood and covered in dirt and debris. It was Tom. "He didn't even touch you." The spear still poked out the back of his neck, where she had driven it through to a full foot. Blood pooled around the corpse, deep red from the broken arteries.

"I warned him." Archive sat on her haunches in the middle of the ruin, staring down at her bloody hooves, her voice pained. "None of these ponies were even trained."

"Were you telling him the truth, Alex?"

She nodded very slightly, little enough that she doubted any of the ponies gaping in from the doorway would see.

"How?"

"Not now." She rose again, turning back to the corpse, and tore the knife from the cloth at his hooves. She dipped the tip in his blood, and drew seventeen precise lines on the dead pony's back, dropping the blade from her mouth. It tasted like copper. "Tom, touch your horn to that mark. Right on the center."

The body vanished in a brief flash of flames, consumed completely by the simple burial spell. Even the blood on the ground around him was gone. Alex turned away. "Get back to your patrols," she said, walking slowly from the room. "Where's Jerry? Let's take a look at that leg."

Another few hours found Alex by the river, washing the blood from her coat in the icy chill. Nancy watched by the side of the river, playing with the wildflowers. It felt good to let the water wash over her, carrying with it a numbness that washed away the pain of another life taken.

"Cold," Nancy said, touching one hoof briefly into the water, before pulling it back.

"Yeah." She tried not to react to the word—even though she was thrilled to hear the little pony speak. At least one of us is healing. "You don't have to. I'll be done soon."

She heard the other pony approaching before she saw them—the huge ears of a batpony were good for something, after all. Tom looked purposeful, though he quickly turned away from her as he passed the last of the trees. "Sorry!" he called. "I can wait, Ms. Haggard."

She smiled faintly at the embarrassment. It wasn't that she felt any of it in return—nudity had long lost its taboo, even around other returnees. Hundreds of years of practice could do that. "One moment more, Tom." She walked out of the water, shaking herself out. There were no towels, but she didn't really need one. She would dry quick enough. Nancy got behind her, putting her between herself and the stallion. Guess you still have more healing to do. "Alright. What is it? Not another emergency, I hope."

"No." He looked back, ears flattening again, but he didn't turn away. It wasn't as though any of them had very much to wear. "Nothing like that. Just... hoped you could explain things. I'm not the only one, er... the others are nervous about you. After that fight. They're afraid of you."

She sighed. "I'll respect your vote if you want me to leave. Our little democracy is the only law there is."

"No, nothing like that." Tom watched her from about ten feet away. She could see some of the fear in his eyes as well. It hadn't been there last time. "Jerry... he started spreading around you were some kind of avenging angel. That maybe God sent you, to protect all of us. Since he would've known the trouble we'd be in, coming back like this."

Archive didn't look away from him, resting one of her wings protectively on Nancy's shoulders. "What do you think?"

"I think you seemed pretty miraculous," Tom said. "Showing up right when you did. There's a whole ruined city, and you knew exactly where we'd show up. Both times I've seen you kill, and you always look like you're full of regret. I think maybe he has a point."

"I know things you don't, but that doesn't make me divine. I was created by natural laws. Anypony could go through the same process I did, and come out with similar abilities."

"Are you sure your name isn't Gabriel?"

She sighed. "Positive. I've met many strange creatures over the years, and some of them were incredible... but I never met that God."

"Tell me this then, Ms. Haggard. Why are you really helping us."

She didn't look away. "Because I want to see civilization returned. I want to see all the banished humans united, our strength and intelligence and resourcefulness combined. I want all of you to live long, happy lives, and not be destroyed by this awful place. Because, one day, I want to see this city rebuilt. I want to see the starvation and the desperation and the violence end, and every set of hooves in the city joining us." She didn't flinch, even as Tom's eyes bore into her. "I lived through the end of the world, Tom. I've already helped rebuild civilization once. With your help, I will do it again."


* * *


"You don't know how long I've been looking for you, Archive." the voice came so quietly that at first Alex thought she might've imagined it. She froze, searching her surroundings for anywhere a pony might hide. Could it be Nancy, searching for her?

It wasn't. Just behind a stand of tall grass was a large puddle, only a few inches deep but as wide as a koi pond. A human figure stood in the bushes, his form vaguely transparent and swimming with mosquito larva. The outline in the water was tall, handsome, and confident. He still wore what looked like an expensive suit, though it was as watery as the rest of him.

"I can only imagine." She stopped a dozen paces or so from the edge of the water, close enough to converse easily but not stand within easy access of the creature. "If only you had waited forever."

"We weren't able to continue our conversation, all those weeks ago. I have been searching for you, but you've become a difficult dream to find."

"Imagine that." She paced sideways from the pond, eyes scanning the area around her. She had no intention of letting something sneak up on her while she was distracted by this creature’s attention.

Charybdis could only send some small fraction of his power at range like this, she knew. But living servants around her might still try to take advantage of how distracted she was by the conversation. 

"Do you like what I've done with my planet, Archive?" Charybdis did not advance past the grass at the edge of the water. His expression was as unfriendly as anything she had ever seen, a smile that somehow conveyed hatred as endless as the ocean. "Your cities are all ashes. Your 'technology' is forgotten, and your allies made feasts for the crows. I wish you could have been here when I killed them. Whole towns so overflowing with corpses a thousand generations of flies had food for their maggots."

Archive felt hatred of her own. Her wings flexed beside her inadvertently, each of the delicate bones cracking in turn like a human might do to their hands. "Don't think I'll forget that, spirit. Someday, I will see you get the same treatment as your brother. My species is strong—they'll rebuild, stronger than ever. Nothing is forgotten while I remember it." She tapped the side of her head with one hoof. "Mock all you want, monster. One day we'll be coming for you."

Charybdis did not laugh. "You may regret that promise, Archive. By revealing your power, you've presented a target for myself and all my servants. I would not need to raise my hands against you—your own actions already set your demise in motion. But I'll speed them along, don't worry. You clearly need reminding of what pain is. I will be certain you are the last to die this time, instead of the first. When my servants come for you in their numberless millions, I hope you remember this day. Remember the promise you made to destroy me, and see how far that promise has taken you."

Archive felt a chill at her chest, and her breath briefly seized. Did Charybdis really command numbers like that? Could he slaughter her rebuilding civilization without effort? Was her entire mission doomed?

"Not today," she said, feeling the indignation as it boiled in her chest. It was the same sort of fury she had felt when she fought Odium at the Keeper's command. "Not here. You're not welcome in my city, demon. GET OUT!" Power surged briefly through her, power channeled through the swelling population of humans that surrounded her. It wasn't the strength of an Alicorn, it wasn't even really a spell. Even so, it was enough, and the magic blasted out from around her at her words. All around her, hundreds of little puddles exploded into steam. The figure was not immune to this effect, and he exploded outward, stretching briefly towards her in fury. It wasn't enough.

Moments later, all the water near her had boiled to nothing, and Archive was panting from the effort.
> Episode 3.8: Delayed Arrival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diary,

Tired so I'll try to be quick. I went into way too much detail last night.

They hate grazing. What a surprise. There was some deliberation and a motion to replace me, until I pointed out that no one else had any plans to feed everyone and that if they did what I said I could promise none of them would have to eat grass a month from now.

Grazing is not an ideal situation. Grass and leaves and other plant matter are nearly tasteless, and they also don't carry much nutritional value. You have to eat for hours, not to mention all that grass bloats you up and in the end you have to get rid of it too...

A pony population that has to graze will have far less time and energy to be effective at doing other things, like rebuilding civilization. There was no need to lie about the fact that it was the first thing I wanted to end.

My charcoal is still burning. It might be another few days, or it might be done tomorrow, we'll have to see. No attacks in the night, and nothing went missing. These (former) old folks seem like good people so far.

Food, scavenging, and learning, those are our three roles. There is now a rotation, though the earth ponies will spend most of theirs in our garden and fields. Weeding, tending, digging irrigation... all while thinking about rich harvests and healthy food-crops. It's a shame they're also so valuable on any team that's venturing into the city to scavenge, or else I'd have every single one of them in with the crops all the time.

Salvage has two groups: one that looks for things we can plant, and another that looks for other stuff. Right now, I have them searching for pipes. We'll need to get water into our "field", and eventually we'll want to harness water to get our most reliable power. That takes pipes. 

We can bake our own from clay of course, though that will take a kiln and fuel I'd rather not waste, so if we can find existing pipes, that will be fantastic. There's no trace of PVC, but copper is a remarkably stable material and there's plenty of that to be found. Unfortunately the only way to get it seems to be prying it off with brute strength, but tools aren't that far away. Soon enough we'll chop down all the trees in the park, and have enough fuel to keep a nascent blacksmith shop going and keep the apartments lit and warm at night.

Learning is the last group, and we're talking powers. I've sorted things so that large groups of individual races stay together—some of the time to training, and some just to helping me. Today it was a bunch of unicorns. Quite a few have already picked up glowing, though none can levitate yet. Still, I went through the practice exercises young ponies use in Equestria, and they'll be able to practice those on their own.

Earth ponies will not need much training, maybe one session about how to know their limits and what actions can separate one from the power of earth and make them vulnerable.

All the birds will be harder. They wanted a demonstration of flight today, but I had to admit that I actually haven't ever bothered to learn. This provoked a little nervousness from the ponies, who have yet to see me unable to do something. And some doubt, since after all if I can't fly how could I possibly teach them.

I had to tell them a little more about me—demonstrate the range of content in my memory. I quoted from several of their favorite books and movies (lots of Bible passages, one of the few things lots of them had memorized and could check me on).

So that's a second major challenge for my authority on day two. Still, I managed to explain things in the end. This might actually work to my advantage in the long term. I've meant to learn to fly for so long now, and finally I'm in a situation where I'll be forced. Sky would be so proud.

Of course, most of what the learning group does will not be endless rehearsing of pony powers. I'll teach more practical skills—physical combat, how to move and function as a pony. Eventually I'll have to teach how to do the more technological things I hope to start.

The time will come (around the same time as our first harvest, which I'm predicting will be about 2-3 weeks out with all this earth pony magic concentrated), when we need to start specializing ponies. They will need professions, so that ponies can develop specific skills and hone them over time. That time (and the food independence that enables it) will mean a fantastic milestone for this little community. It will also end what (so far) has been practically utopian cooperation.

I cannot exaggerate just how impressed I am with these ponies. I spent so much time moping when the Event happened—plenty more time playing video games or wandering around or watching movies. These ponies are better than that. They aren't breaking their backs or anything, and they take plenty of breaks... but they also only learned the world had ended two days ago. They arrived in the world only to be threatened with terrible harm, then fight for their lives against frightening adversaries.

Their resilience impresses me. Even Stride noticed—she told me she was amazed I had found ponies who actually knew how to work. She wasn't sure they existed. Robert easily joined in with their numbers—I didn't tell them what he used to be, or how we met. I watched him in the field today, and he opened up with the others, no longer looking perpetually ashamed of himself.

Hope is such a precious resource, catastrophic when depleted and so difficult to renew. There is so much hope, in spite of everything. These people were near the end of life, and already weighed down with the beginnings of what would've killed them. Now all of them are fresh and healthy again—young enough that they could still have children, if they wanted to.

At least so far, the weight of this incredible gift appears to have outweighed the numerous negatives—loss of family, world, luxury, and stability.

I do not expect this resource is inexhaustible. We must regain stability, and recover their quality of life. With so few, recovering any kind of technological stability would be doomed to failure. Combined with magic, though... we can do it. Lights can be replaced with spells, fertilizer can be substituted with earth pony magic, and the pegasi can do climate control. If we need to, we might even be able to create ourselves a little pocket of not-winter to extend our growing season through the colder months. 

Doing something like that wreaks havoc on the surrounding climate, since of course that heat must come from somewhere and the angle of the Earth relative to the Sun is unchanged, but at the moment I'm not inclined to be terribly worried about that.

Prosperity will come. In time, I may even thank whatever superstition caused all the refugees to be dumped in one place. Working together, this might be a great source of power and learning. If we can build for each other the framework upon which civilization hangs.

We have also already learned that the refugees' connection to ancient humanity has not carried with them some intrinsic civilizing force—stripped of the necessities of survival, they are as likely to become barbarians as anyone.

Yet something makes these ponies different—they have seen a better way. I hope they will long to return to it.

-Archive 


* * *


 

Alex stepped up onto the slightly raised platform. It had been erected on the edge of the building, overlooking the clearing they had made with their grazing in the grass of the central park. The platform would give everypony gathered in the dirt below a good view of everything she did, and help carry her voice over the heads of the ponies beneath.

"Welcome to morning practice!" she called, having to force the cheerfulness in her tone. As an earth pony, waking up with the dawn had been natural and pleasant. As a thestral, every single morning was a struggle. A struggle she tried not to show. There were only two other thestrals in her whole city, and neither of them had come. She didn't blame them.

Most of the “Association's” winged ponies were in attendance. Nancy was at the very front of the crowd, grinning at her with her usual eagerness. Many had been entranced when Alex explained that their wings were for more than decoration—few had taken to the practice as eagerly as Nancy. The little pegasus could already hover and fly short distances without much effort.

"Wednesdays mean flight practice. For those of you who've been with us the whole time, you'll be ready for the takeoff techniques we'll be covering." She glanced over the crowd—a few of the faces had skipped some of the early classes. "Those who haven't better just watch." She gestured behind her. "You'll notice the windows on the second floor have been removed. That wasn't done for ventilation. If that scares any of you, best just watch the rest of us."

She took them through the morning stretches, a brief jog around the park, and a few stretch exercises. The program was ripped straight from Equestria's "Wonderbolt Recruit's Training Manual," so Alex was fairly confident it would eventually produce results. Eventually.

Some mornings she ran fitness drills with the earth ponies, or combat drills with anyone who wanted to come. Her pegasi kept to the formations they used during those days, running in blocks of four and singing cadence as she had instructed. It was a surprisingly effective way to maintain good breathing while fighting the boredom of the otherwise menial activity.

It helped that many of her ponies were already veterans, so a little militaristic training did not frighten them.

The sun was well and truly rising by the time they were lining up in the windows of the second floor—or at least her bravest ponies were.

Lonely Day stepped up onto the edge, facing the eight ponies brave enough to attempt the jump. Nancy was at the very front of the line.

"This exercise is meant to train your native magic," she explained, loud enough that those watching on the ground floor would still hear her. "The instincts to use it are as natural as flight is for a baby bird. Spread your wings before you jump, let the feathers catch the air. Let it fill your wings, lift you, carry you forward. It's just like the gliding we did from five feet... it's only the stakes that are higher."

"How would you know what it feels like?" somepony asked, near the end of the line. "You don't have feathers."

"Oh, I used to. Until I forgot to preen them, and they all fell out." Muffled laughter echoed from around her—none of it very enthusiastic. These ponies were far too afraid to laugh just now.

"I'm going to demonstrate for you all." Alex turned away, pulling her tail close instinctively. "My wings are a little different, but the basic principle is the same. After I go, wait until I'm on the ground and I can offer advice to the next in line.

"I can't catch you. If you're even a little nervous about this jump after our lower glides, you don't have to go."

None of the ponies retreated. Alex edged to the drop—a single story wasn't much to a human, but it was twice that far to a pony. Not that it should be a big deal. Pegasi fall soft. Even if someone does screw up, they should be okay unless they hit their head.

"President!" The voice was distant, but bat pony ears were sensitive. She felt them pivot slightly, pointing off into the field. Past it, rather, where one of the structures that surrounded their complex had always been collapsed.

She saw the torchlight next, flickers of red firelight bobbing in unicorn magic. "What is it?" she shouted, adjusting her voice so it would carry.

"The deer! She went down... looks bad!"

"Nancy, get my medical bag." She pointed, and the filly took off at a run. 

Nancy still might be too shy to talk when anyone else was around, but that didn't mean she was stupid. A few seconds later, and she was already back, offering it up by the strap.

"Practice is canceled," Alex barked at the waiting ponies, slinging the medkit over her neck. The weight threw off her balance for a few moments, enough that she had to hesitate to center herself again. "Don't do the jump without me here." 

Lonely Day turned away from the crowd and jumped out into the void. Her wings caught the air just as she had explained, a lightness that embraced and surrounded her and ripped away Earth's surly bonds.

For a few moments, Lonely Day flew. The pale orange of morning was more than enough light to guide her as she passed over the heads of the crowd beneath, heading straight for the shouts. 

Was someone else flying beside her? No... Day looked, but nopony had followed. There was no one there.
 
Day had been watching and reading about and listening to stories of flight for centuries. With the urgency of an injured pony to guide her, she was able to hold herself in the air, soaring over their growing fields and orchard until she could make out the morning search party.

All four of them were there, gathered around Stride's fallen form. The deer was twisted into a pained stance, striking out at anypony who got too close. From the look of it, they had used a makeshift stretcher made of cloth to drag her here.

Alex landed on the ground perhaps a dozen paces away, her wings folding instinctively as she made her way up to the struggling deer. "What happened?"

Robert was on shift lead. His former timidity had been replaced with confidence and pride in his work—he knew the city better than anyone now, and no one was better at keeping a patrol safe. "Mountain Lion. We ran... Stride tripped, went down. I think one of her legs is broken." He looked battered, along with the other ponies on the crew. Their weapons were wet with blood.

The deer screamed loudly in her native Dutch, voice thick with pain. "You should've left me! Earth below, the pain goes on forever! At least a swift death would've served the tribe!"

With a gesture, Alex scattered the ponies who had been trying to hold the struggling deer down. She began thrashing wildly again, wild enough that she very well might hurt herself. "Be quiet!" Archive shouted, forcefully enough that the deer froze in her twitching. Her Dutch was as skillful as ever. "Thank you." She unzipped the medkit, advancing slowly on her.

"How did you trip?" she asked, even as she dug around in the medkit for painkillers. They had used the last of everything stronger than aspirin. "Someone get me a stick for her to bite."

"Demon magic!" the deer shouted through her agony. "Nothing there, I swear it! Fawns wouldn't trip on such an easy slope. Something grabbed me. Wanted me to die!"

"It won't be getting its way," Alex said, very calmly. "This is a very clean break. Painful, but... easy to set."

"They will!" Stride argued. "Kin with three legs is doomed to a swift death. Can't walk, can't run... burden to the tribe. At least if you leave me for the predators, their hunger will be sated."

The patrol team only stared at the two of them, uncomprehending. No one in the Association could speak Dutch.

"Brought a stick," someone offered, dropping it on the ground beside her.

"Good. Get me several more about this thick, strip off all the leaves and side-branches. I'll have to make a splint."

She looked back to the deer, lowering her head beside Stride's. "Listen to me. You will walk again. With unicorn magic, I will have you on your hooves in a week, understand me?"

The deer nodded, though there was only disbelief on her face. "Even the Mother has not given such a gift."

"The mother..." Alex frowned. "Cares about species, not individuals." She offered the stick. "Bite down on this. I have to set the bone, and it's going to hurt worse than when it broke."

Stride took the stick in her mouth, eyes widening. "There's medicine to make it hurt less, but we ran out. I have to do it without. I'm going to use the ponies to hold you down. Please don't fight—it will be much easier to heal you that way."

Stride nodded.

Archive rose to her hooves. "Robert, hold her there! Kelly, there. She's probably going to kick like crazy when I do this—don't let her hit me in the face."

It took well over an hour to get the limb properly immobilized, twice as long as Oliver might've taken for the same job. In the end, they had to carry Stride back home on a stretcher.

"Well done, Robert," Alex said, patting him on the shoulder. "What happened to the lion?"

"Dead." His eyes were dark, a little unfocused. "I've never... never felt anything like it. Its claws didn't even scratch me."

Alex tugged him towards the field, out of earshot of the rest of the patrol. They continued up the stairs with Stride's stretcher, leaving them behind.

"You've used earth pony magic before though, haven't you? What made this time different?"

"I..." He hesitated. "More of it. I think there was more of it. Lion was twice my size, and way faster than me. Got its teeth around my throat at one point... didn't work."

"Lots of ponies don't understand how magic works," Archive explained, her voice still low. "They think that it's just down to the patterns, the techniques. Repeat them correctly, and you get the correct result.

"It isn't like that." Alex forced him to meet her eyes. "In Equestria, they have a princess whose whole job is to help ponies with their friendships. They have another one who does the same thing with love.

"Doing things for the ponies you care about is going to give you far more magic than doing them for yourself."

Robert laughed weakly. "That explains you, then. You don't do anything for yourself."

She didn't laugh. "More true than you know." She turned away. "Good work, Robert. If we had medals, I'd give you one."

"How about an extra helping of wheat with dinner?"

She laughed then. "I think we can manage that."


* * *


 

Archive took the seventy steps of deeper slumber and into the enchanted forest, prepared for another long search. She wasn't looking for Isaac this time, though she was quite certain she would be able to find him. Rather, she had a library to find.

She passed through the forest at a gallop, ignoring the inquisitive zoogs and their strange calls, the cats as they sometimes gave chase, or the calls of strange dream-birds. She ignored all of it, focusing instead on her destination. She didn't know why she hadn't returned to the library in her dreams—she feared it had been destroyed.

No, I gave Mercy every tool she could need. If anypony could keep the library together, it was her. One dark thought clouded her dream as she galloped through dreamland countryside: if Mercy had succeeded, why hadn't any of the old people come back with her book?

“I have been waiting for you, Archive.” She heard the voice before she saw where it was coming from—a large cloud passing over the countryside, dark and full of storms. Alex stopped running. There was nothing around her, nothing but the pleasant farms of old dreams and old dreamers. She wondered how many other dreamers would hear the voice of this creature—there could be no doubt in her mind about its identity. Archive never forgot a voice.

"I would've happily consented to a conversation," she muttered, eyes on the ground all around her. There was no water near her, which was the only way this monster could manifest in person in the Phenomenal world. But in the dreamlands, that rule didn't apply. "Shouldn't have had your cultists kill me."

The storm cloud seemed to be bearing down on her. It was so distant—miles, at the scale of the waking world. Even so, there was no doubting the speaker could hear her. "Salazar suffers still for her defiance, you may be assured. She is less grateful for the gift of deathless years than she anticipated. I have been saving the privilege of killing her for your return."

Archive shivered involuntarily. The cloud only seemed to get larger as it dropped down towards her, and the outermost wisps of fluffy white resolved into lengths of dark, writhing tentacles. Something terrible was hiding in that cloud, and it was getting very close. But what would be the point of attacking me here? The worst it could do is wake me up. That wasn't quite true, though the power for anything else without also claiming her body would be enormous. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

"Long enough that the time for you to renew our bargain has come and gone," the voice said, though it did not sound particularly happy. "I do not blame you, but the consequences were severe and the losses pointless. We have much to gain through cooperation."

Archive felt her whole body tighten, preparing the magic she might need. Out in the dreamlands proper, he might very well try and attack her. She didn't intend to be caught unaware. "You could start by being honest with me," she grunted. "I'm in the ruins of a human city. There shouldn't be anything less but hills of rubble covered in foliage and concealing the hardiest metals, after that long. As we speak, my body sleeps in a building built from human bricks. If you wanted to lie to me, you could be less obvious."

"Always the voice of her species," Charybdis mocked. "So human, to learn one truth and think you've mastered the universe. Perhaps I gave Salazar too much pain—she may have done you a mercy by keeping your name from the Supernal." A gust of wind dismissed the cloud, revealing the horror underneath. It was no creature she had ever seen—like the corpse of a blue-whale animated by a giant squid, which wore the carcass like a suit and thrashed about with five-hundred meter tentacles.

Archive reacted instinctively, feeling the invisible cords of her strength and summoning magic from them all. It was a little like earth pony magic, though it had no direction—whatever it was about the belief of humans and ponies, it knew no distance. Thestral magic let her change outside her own dream, so change she did. She grew taller even as she lost her fur, confident and adult and powerful in her visage. Her armor was a little different this time—instead of chainmail, she wore some kind of lightweight jumpsuit, sturdy boots, along with a single compact piece of technology secured to the small of her back. She could feel the faint hum of energy coursing through it, as it cycled between magical and electrical charge thousands of times a second.

That wasn't the only change. Her left arm, instead of a steel shield painted with her cutie mark, had a long bit of dark composite and metal mounted to it, which seemed to hum with a similar energy. Her spellbook was different too, replaced by a fist-sized lump of transparent pink crystal, wrapped with wire and covered with runes. The hell is all this? She didn't exclaim, but she did look around in obvious confusion, trying to get a good look at herself. The jumpsuit wasn't just tough, but seemed to integrate all sorts of machinery into the back, whose purposes she could only guess at. She could see openings near the neck, which she guessed to be some sort of air-circulator.

"I know you change with the ages, Archive. Do not think it will change the nature of our conversation." The monstrous, rotting corpse seemed to reach into unseen folds with its tentacles, flinging meaty chunks of slime to the ground in front of her. It only took them moments to land—not missed attacks, but a half-dozen vaguely humanoid figures.

Monstrosity failed to describe them. The grass under their feet rotted and died from their mere presence, taller and thinner than any human, with slimey limbs but none of the placidness of the first generation. She hoped their ability to move in the dreamlands was a reflection of their will, not some new ability. God help us if these things start walking around.

Archive raised her free hand in front of her chest, tensing as though it was protected by a real shield. The air distorted in front of her, shimmering into glittering light. A shield appeared from nothing—made from hardened light, like a unicorn's, though it was about the same shape as a metal shield would've been.

The creatures began circling out around her, shambling awkwardly with each step. None seemed armed, though each had sharp teeth, dead eyes, and a hunger on their faces. "The Skein is mine, Archive. You are no longer permitted beyond the boundaries of your own sleep. My children will see you return there safely, and keep you company on all your endless nights to come."

Their strategy was obvious then—flanking, moving to grapple her and overwhelm her with numbers. Her right hand tightened on the crystal in its pouch, but it didn't seem to do anything. The hell is my spellbook? Archive had relied on that manifestation of her magic to cast spells in the dreamlands—it would take great practice to prepare her mind to perform magic in other ways.

Nothing she could manage during a fight, anyway. Of course, she still had her thestral magic...

Archive called upon a weapon she knew would be familiar, forcing it to manifest in her right hand despite the enormous cost in energy. The blade might only be nine inches long, but the metal shimmered faintly on one side, like a rainbow, and the edge was so sharp it hurt to see. "You waste your time, demon," she said, dropping into a low stance, calling upon her memory of one of ancient Earth's now-dead superpowers. Archive had never actually experienced the insanely rigorous training of those soldiers, but she could feel their memories guiding her arms. "The Skein is a place of knowledge, and I have the knowledge of a species. You can't make edicts and expect to enforce them with figments and monsters." 

She was panting from the magical cost of what she had just called, but tried not to let it show. Charybdis was, on some level, just another predator. It could not be reasoned with, but it could be manipulated. She spun the knife with a flourish, letting it ride over the flat of her hand, without letting either of its impossibly-sharp sides slice her. If it did, she would bleed forever.

"All the knowledge of doomed slaves will not protect you, Archive. I will be obeyed." As one, the monstrous forms closed in around her, slashing with barbed tentacles and gnashing their unnatural teeth and screeching shrilly as they went.

Archive selected her first target, and charged straight for its head. She leapt, slamming her shield into its unnatural face before rolling off of it, leaving a gushing, severed head behind. Its brother turned smoothly to lash out at her, but the tentacle stuck on something inches above her skin, and the barbs didn't even touch her suit. Even so she jerked, and had to lash out with another blow from her knife.

It passed through tough flesh as though it were air, trailing acidic blood through the air that steamed as it touched grass. "Toxic atmosphere detected: Pressure seal engaged." A bubble flickered into being around her head, faintly shimmering and protecting her from the cloud. The purpose of the tubes—and the utter lack of openings in the suit now made perfect sense. Archive wasn't just wearing armor, she was wearing a spacesuit! 

There were still so many, and Alex had only one knife. She had cleared the circle, but four of them were still following. One threw itself bodily at her, a homicidal missile aimed with deadly accuracy.

Alex was too slow to dodge, but she wasn't too slow to catch the creature on her knife and cut its chest open, even as it drove her to the ground. She shrugged the corpse off even as the remaining three monsters came running at her at the same time. She rolled out of the way of one, but another came down right on her, driving her violently into the ground. She felt something break, and the air was driven from her lungs. It didn't actually seem to touch her though, only the air right above her.

That didn't mean it couldn't pressure her bodily into the ground. She kicked uselessly against it, even as one of the other two started pulling at her legs. A third appeared to be wrenching up a boulder larger than she was. They intended to crush her.

Her arms were pinned, but she had a memory for that. A quick jerk up into the soft tissue where the tentacle-legs met loosened the grip enough to free one of her arms, even as the world was dragged along behind her.

"Warning. Shield matrix failing. Integrity at 10%" The alarms blared in her armor, screaming in protest as she was dragged bumping along the ground over to the monster struggling with a boulder.

But by then, she had freed her arm. She hadn't ever dropped her knife, and she brought it up now, slashing violently across the monster pressed up against her and leaving it in two halves. Some of its tentacles kept struggling around her, even when the rest of it had fallen away.

She was still off-balance, dragged along as she was by both legs. She tried kicking, but by then the tentacles were wrapped so securely around her legs that they wouldn't budge. She couldn't sit up, not with as fast as they were moving forward.

Archive flicked her knife right into the head of the monster dragging her. Its tentacles slackened, and she rolled again, out of the way of the massive boulder. It shattered as it struck the ground where she had been moments before.

"I told you!" she screamed, though her voice echoed only around her own head in the invisible air-shield. Her knife had been shattered by the boulder, but that didn't matter much. She scrambled to her feet.

The monster seemed undeterred by the corpses of its fellows, pressing forward towards her with lashing tentacles. Her hands searched desperately for a weapon, but all she could find was the crystal wrapped in wire. She gripped it in gloved fingers, searching for any sign of how to use it.

User Honored Memory appears to be in danger. May I be of assistance? The thought came unprompted, echoing in her mind in a voice completely not her own. It lacked gender, age, or emotion, save perhaps that the speaker sounded a little smug.

"Yes please!" she shouted as she backed up. "Can I have my spellbook back?"

Link with Universal Compiler is stable. Dreamlands energy multiplier of 10,000EU is in effect.

"Fantastic!" she squeaked, backing up from the last of the creatures. She could summon all kinds of dream-weapons, if only she could get together enough concentration. But having a horrible monster bearing down on her, venom dripping from an octopus-like beak... "I want, uh... a Lunar Targeted Force Shunt! 20,000 Newtons!"

Target assumed from local observation. The monster exploded in a shower of slime and misshapen bones, spraying away from her in an even arc. Its acid blood seared the hills bare as it touched, filling the air with more of that awful stink.

Archive didn't feel the draining magic she was used to, which should've dropped her to her knees after such an expensive spell. All she felt was the rush of adrenaline at a fight won. That could've been won way easier if I had my spellbook back.

"I told you, bastard." She reached out with one hand, brushing the slime away that was clinging to her invisible shield. "It wasn't going to work."

Charybdis was gone. No more rotting creatures flew in the sky, though far in the distance there was a massive, dead shape, a hulk she could almost smell through the protection of her shield. Nor was that the only creature she saw. A pony had joined her, standing tall and confident only a few feet away.

It was an ordinary bat pony, with brown mane and a gray coat. She did have a top hat, along with a cutie mark depicting the nine of spades. The mark belonged to a pony Alex thought was long dead.

"I'm sorry for stealing your kill, but he made a bold claim back there. Someone had to show him the dreamlands don’t work that way."

Alex couldn't ever forget a face, anymore than she could forget anything else. It didn't matter that she had only met this pony once, after an attempted robbery on Alexandria's library only a few years after the Event. It didn't matter that this pony ought to have been long dead—her memory didn't care. Refugees were hard to forget, especially those special few that had crossed the threshold from one world into another, long ago.

"You're brave to take a risk like that," she said, looking down at the pony. She was a little taller than an average pony, though other than that there was very little to set her apart. "Sunset once mentioned that skilled bat ponies sometimes escaped into the Skein when they died. She also told me that if they ever died here, they'd be gone forever." Her voice was muffled from within the atmospheric shield, like someone was holding a blanket over her face. "You didn't have to fight him for me."

"I've been waiting for you for a looooong time."

"Waiting to tell me what the hell happened to the planet? I had half-expected the HPI to be living on only in the history books when Salazar stabbed me in the fucking back..." She shook her head, as though shaking away an angry insect. Her gesture had an unintended side-effect, though.

"No atmospheric contamination detected, seal disengaged." The faint shimmer around her face vanished, and with it the distortion in her voice. Alex looked around, worried for a moment that the suit might be wrong, but the clouds of acid were all gone. Either this pony had banished them with her dream-magic, or they had blown away in some Skein wind.

"Though... if you've been in here... God, who knows how long... you probably don't actually know anything useful, do you? That'd be just typical."

"The topic of the HPI is a weak spot for me. What else do you want to know?”

"How long has this religion been sacrificing humans?" she asked. "When I died, the world I left was..." She shrugged. "Recovering. Lots of cities had electrical grids, indoor plumbing. We had the trains running all over the old US. We had radio, explosives, firearms, industrial chemistry." A few images appeared in the air in front of her, flashing very briefly. Images of Salt Lick City, a primitive medieval hovel. "What the hell happened?"

"Not a bad starting point," Artifice said as she removed her hat and pulled a small blue gem out of it. Both it and her eyes glowed for a few silent moments before she replaced it and her hat. "Sometime after you died a magical plague hit. That's what wiped the floor with the settlements. People started to get desperate, and then the morons started to blame refugees for the plague. Some really bad timing made it so the plague started to burn itself out after they started the religion-based stupidity. I think you can figure out the rest from there. Fear does things to people."

Archive nodded. The bat hadn't confirmed the year for her, but that wasn't even the first thing she worried about anymore. A magical plague—serious enough that civilization itself hadn't survived. Serious enough that human sacrifice had been seen as the only solution. She would have to face the weight of that, at some point. Could I have done something about it if I hadn't been killed? Now she would never know.

"I need to find Athena," she said. "Do you know if there are any dreamers who could pass a message for me? I found one of my... one of my human friends, but he didn't believe who I was. Is there someone cooperative I could talk to?"

"I can't really say I know anyone cooperative. Even when we were looking for you after you disappeared no one wanted to give really solid help. Even that changeling kid of yours doesn't like to talk with me in the dreamscape. Have to use messengers. Talk about annoying." 

Alex just stared. "Wait... wait a minute. Ezri was a drone. Drones don't even make it to a century. She was half-dead when that bitch Salazar got me. You keep using present tense. Is she... Did Jackie bring her to the dreamscape, when she died? Thought I taught her better than that..."

Artifice laughed. "Doing 'this' takes great resolve. Her and the bat didn’t want my help. Anytime I try to help one of your people it turns into a massive waste of my time."

"Then don't," Archive muttered, drawing her crystal into one hand. "That's been the story of human civilization since the beginning, anyway." She brushed a little of the collected slime and blood from the crystal with one finger. "My daughter will help me. I just have to find her." She focused on the crystal. "User Honored Memory requires a tracking spell. Target: changeling drone named Ezri."

Search terms insufficiently rigorous. Please provide tissue sample or valued possession for tracking.

"Worth a shot."

"Wow, just don't help you huh? Sounds like a poor way to make friends," Artifice said. "Look, I told Ezri I would find you one day. Give me your message and I will be out of your mane."

Alex would have to word it very carefully, so the identity of the sender would be immediately clear. "Tell her I'm alive and in New York City. I have to follow the refugees, I think she'd recognize that. Don't dress it up, either... delivering facts in plain English is the surest way to show her the message didn't come from you."

"Thanks, now I will leave you to do... whatever it was that you were doing just wandering the dreamscape." Artifice gave a small bow, and started to walk off in a seemingly random direction. "Try to be less angry when they get back to you."

"It's not my daughter I'm upset with.”
> Episode 3.9: Jailer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed, and their little city grew. Alex continued to struggle with managing her own time—she could only teach one group of ponies at once, or only be in one place to fight. The severity of this issue only began to relax after several weeks had passed, and the basic competence of her ponies could be counted on more and more for basic tasks. What took the huddled masses of abandoned refugees months of trial-and-error she could instruct her ponies in days. In time, basic levitation and rudimentary magical proficiency became ubiquitous among her unicorns. Her pegasi became comfortable gliding down from tall surfaces, and were working on flight. 

Earth ponies, her alma mater as ever, were the quickest to adapt and some of the most useful. Their labor filled the central park with dense fields and rich produce. Long before they had grazed away all the grass in the park they had plowed the whole thing under for ever-expanding fields. They went to rooftop produce gardens next, postponing the necessity of growing past their single block and broadcasting their presence to all the city. Their first harvest came in, and they turned the lowest level of basement that wasn't flooded into their own little root cellar. Bread joined fruits and vegetables in their diet.

They made other innovations too. Most importantly, Alex stationed watchers at the Bloodgate six or seven blocks away, alert to the arrival of new ponies. Instead of being dumped into the savage city, these ponies could be brought back to safety. Her ponies were reluctant to allow the "savage" outsiders in after all the little attacks they had fought through, but fellow humans from the long-vanished Earth who hadn't had the light of civilization extinguished by hard living were an easier sell. More mouths they might be, but until winter that wouldn't really matter.

They improved in other ways, as well. Pipe and a little diverted river water brought both mechanical power and easy irrigation, drinking, and bathing. Their makeshift blacksmith went from the hundreds of hours of hard craftsmanship, as they devoted most of their time to melting scrap aluminum, scraping away the corrosion, and casting it into standard tools or parts. 

It was impressive growth, and even Alex was blown away with the diligence of her ponies. Very few had left to find their families (though for those few, they hadn't come back), and so their numbers had steadily trickled upward. They gradually cleared out the third floor of the apartments, then the fourth, growing more organized even as ponies ceased to be separated into labor teams and instead found themselves specializing in specific tasks. Weavers, potters, farriers, blacksmiths, chemists, doctors, scavengers, farmers, and more. 

Alex had never clawed her way up by her bootstraps before, but she couldn't help but grow more and more loyal towards her ponies by the day. Even an insignificantly small gathering felt critically important to her, with as weak as she had felt. It was a shame that nothing had yet come of her message to Ezri or Jackie, but that wasn't entirely surprising. There was no telling how long that might take to arrive, or what they might do with it.

It was unfortunate that her attempts to signal Athena were similarly fruitless. None of her cell-phone contraptions made any headway, and her simple spark-gap transmitters (the best she could manage with some scavenged parts from the now-defunct bus) had not received a reply. 

Even so, she was amazed at how well everything seemed to be going for her ponies. They had encountered only individual thieves and criminals, who seemed to rely primarily of the helplessness of their adversaries. Once her ponies started traveling in groups, acting with trained responses in physical combat, and wielding carefully-crafted steel weapons, they were largely avoided. 

Unfortunately, Alex could not continue making such an impact on city affairs without repercussions. She knew, as she had always known, that sooner or later one of the larger gangs would discover them and want to take what they had built. That time came just as summer was starting.

The message she received was quite civil. A pony had arrived early in the day, dressed in makeshift armor strung together from bits of scrap-metal and torn cloth, demanding to meet with "the bat-demon." Alex took the visitor in her office.

The office was really just a second floor building with a window and a large map of the surrounding buildings, made with lots and lots of woodcarving. There were no carpets, no fancy rugs or portraits on the walls. Aside from the desk and the large map, it was unadorned, though rigorous cleaning had eliminated even the last speck of dust.

The visitor was an earth pony stallion, and he carried no weapons, no tightly bound scroll of his message, only a smug expression. When the guards brought him in, his smile got wider. "Really? You're the demon everyone is talking about?" He glared across the desk at her, then turned back to the guards who had brought him. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Tom now had the benefit of a full set of armor, which looked like a piece of inhuman sophistication compared to the scraps that their visitor was wearing. Tom, like the other guards, was also well-trimmed, clean, and stern. "Should I remove him, Madame President?"

Alex caught the wink when the messenger looked away, and it was all she could do not to return the smile. Damn you, Tom. Can't you see how serious this is?

The messenger sure did. "I'd like to see you try, dickhead."

"That won't be necessary." Alex did not rise from her desk, even though the visitor towered over her. There was a knife just below it, within reach of her hooves if she needed it. The gun harness was back there too, its mechanisms repaired. But it only had six rounds left, and that wouldn't be nearly enough to kill an earth pony. "Ancient law requires we receive messengers in peace, hear what they have to say, and release them. Zeus deals very unkindly with those who violate guest right."

Tom gaped, momentarily dumbfounded by her response. Take that, old bastard. I can be silly with the best of them.

The messenger's expression darkened. He glanced once behind him, at the guards in the doorway. Archive could see his intentions—this was a refugee after all. Barbarism, desperation, and heartlessness were human traits too. "You would be unwise to attempt it, Damian Morrison," she said, very loudly. "Raise your hooves against me, and I will leave your corpse for the crows." There was no anger in her voice, or any emotion at all. She was merely stating a fact.

Damian's eyes widened. "H-how…" Then he laughed. "The stories were true. You really can see into the minds of men."

Not precisely what she was doing, but Alex wasn't about to correct him. She only nodded.

"Damocles will be pleased." He laughed, glancing behind him at the guards. "If you're such a badass, send the big stallions away. This message was only for you, anyway."

The name was familiar to her, which was why this man had been permitted into the village to deliver his message in the first place. Damocles was at the head of the largest gang anyone knew of. They had at least a hundred members—but unlike the New American Equine Association, every single one of them could fight.

"I will not." Her voice was uncompromising. "This settlement is a democracy, and we keep no secrets. You cannot deliver any message meant only for me, because I will immediately share it with the other ponies here." She folded her forelegs across the desk.

Damian's smile faltered. "If you knew Damocles better, I don't think you would defy him so rashly."

She only shrugged. "The New American Equine Association will not be intimidated, Damian. Either deliver your message or don't."

"You have… what, fifty people?" He glanced around, back through the open doorway. There wasn't much to see, though a distant window had a good view of their field, packed with fruit.

Alex's expression remained completely impassive. In truth, the number was about twice that, though only half were capable of fighting. The other half were either too young, or too clumsy, or too scared to be useful in a fight. 

"I will not say."

"We know you have fifty," Damian said, taking a few slow steps towards her. "We've been watching. We know what you're trying to do here. Damocles isn't going to let you.

"Really? You know what we're doing?" She gestured at the window out in the hallway. "You see out there? Those are fields. What I'm doing is putting food in the bellies of the hungry. Giving them warm fires at night and somewhere free of lawless barbarians. That is what we're doing."

"Damocles thinks different," he said. "Damocles says you're luring people into your 'association' with lies to get their loyalty. You're building the next gang here—you plan on taking his city from him. Damocles won't allow it."

She shrugged. "Damocles would be wise to leave well enough alone. If you have heard of me, you must have heard of what we've done to all those who have attacked us. He will be no different."

Damian laughed again, his voice echoing through the hall around them. "You aren't the first to think they could fight. Things will go bad for you if you turn him away."

"What does Damocles want from us?" she asked. "To rule over the settlement? All my ponies as slaves?"

"You keep using that word," Damian said, dismissive. "No, no slaves. Damocles wants the city to know that your settlement is subservient to him. You give an offering of food every week, and in exchange, he protects your settlement. So long as you make the offering, you keep running exactly the way you already are."

"You can't be serious!" Tom spoke from the doorway, breaking his stoic expression at last. "You can't actually be considering—"

"Tom, quiet." Alex silenced him with her harshest glare. "I want to meet with him in person. To discuss the terms and get it in writing. We do everything properly here in the Association."

"He thought you might say that." Damian's smile returned. "The clearing by the doorway, where newcomers arrive. You may bring two men—he will do the same."

"Agreed." Alex extended her hoof across the table to him.

He shook it, his grin getting wider. "I will inform him. He will be pleased to hear it."

The guards saw him out. A few minutes later Tom returned, fuming. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Alex?" he hissed, shutting the door behind him. "You plan on enslaving us to that… monster? You heard what that woman said they did to the town they were starting up near the point. You think..."

Alex waited patiently as he continued. It took a long time.

"You know what will happen even if he does honor a reasonable agreement! Eventually, it changes, not to mention showing the rest of the city we can be intimidated! Soon enough, we'll be back to eating grass, and God only knows what we'll do when winter comes!"

Alex rose to her hooves, walking out from behind her desk. "Are you finished?"

Tom looked a little taken aback. Eventually, he nodded. "Yes."

Alex made her way to her shelf on the far side of the room, where she kept all the weapons she had confiscated from ponies who had fought them so far. "I'm not going to agree to anything. Great job in making it look like my leadership position was insecure, though. That should make this 'Damocles' pony feel even more confident than he already is." 

"You're not?"

"Hell no. You're exactly right, about everything. No deal with him would end in our favor, even if it prevents a war." She drew out a long bowie-knife, taken from a pony that had tried to take one of her scavenger's hostage. She took her wooden toolbox—a gift from the blacksmiths and woodworkers—and carried them both over to her desk. 

"Then why go to the meeting? You think he's going to let you go after turning him away? I'll come with you… maybe Robert as well, he's a sturdy pony… but he chose the location."

"It's an ambush," she agreed. She removed the steel chisel, complete with a little brace so she could use it with her hooves. It had a mallet as well, and she pointed. "Mind hitting when I say? I can't do both at once without hands." 

"Sure." Tom lifted the hammer in his magic. Though he had yet to master any real spells, his levitation was among the best in all the Association. He could manipulate nearly as well as someone with hands. "So what are you doing?"

"I figure Damocles has… I'm not sure, maybe a dozen or two ponies all setting up there as we speak. They won't have guns, but they'll still be armed. He'll capture me, then either kill me outright or extort me into signing an agreement that's hugely unfair to us. One of the two."

"And you let him do it. Without even arguing…"

"Of course I did." She began carving a pattern into the metal as they talked, packing in the runes along the flat of the blade as tightly as she could. "I wanted him to think I was an idiot. I'll do better than just agreeing to everything, either. I'll go alone, no guards at all. I'll look like the biggest fool in New York."

"Alright." He sounded exasperated. "Why?"

"Hopefully so I can convince him to turn the deal around. Plenty of his ponies would be great for the minutemen you wanted to start."

"No, they wouldn't." Tom's expression was dark. "You've heard what they do to the ponies they catch. They keep slaves, they rape, murder… every awful thing you can imagine. We can't have that around when we're already so fragile."

"I don't know how many I would win over, anyway," she admitted. "But the alternative is a war, Tom. A war with a force twice our size, who have been ponies longer than any of you. If they do attack… well, they probably will." She straightened. "Nopony sleeps tonight. Everypony who can is holding a weapon. The ones who can't, they're higher up ready to rain rocks down. There is a distinct possibility they will attack tonight. If I die, it would be the best time for them. If Damocles is wise, he would stand a better chance catching us by surprise, so nothing might happen."

"When we're done with… whatever this is… I'll see to it. We'll be ready to defend ourselves. I know their type… we kill a few, and the rest will break. We're defending our friends, our wives… they're only in it for what they can take. Poor motivator."

"So it is," she agreed. "If I succeed, we might never have to fight a serious threat again. I may inspire such horror that nopony dares threaten us."

"What does this knife do? You haven't showed us any of these markings."

Alex suppressed a laugh. "No, first year students don't experiment with magic like this. Equestria didn't even teach it to us… we had to derive them ourselves. A talented friend of mine… Well, don't try any of this yourself. It will almost certainly kill you."

Tom shivered. "You're something else, Alex. Every time something like this happens… I remember the angel who broke the seventh seal."

"I'm not an angel," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "If I was, I wouldn't need your horn to empower this spell. I'd just… wave my hand, and they'd all vanish. Maybe teleport them somewhere far away… I hear the weather in Alaska is great this time of year."

Tom looked like he was forcing himself to smile. "I'd be happier if you'd just admit it. If you're not… that means God didn't send you. Weapons have a habit of being turned against those who wield them."


* * *


 

Something was following her in the dark. Alex wasn't sure what gave her that impression—a wisp of shadow moving behind her? An unexplainable sound from just behind a nearby building? She had to resist the temptation to track down the interloper and deal with them.

But Alex's scheme relied on looking as silly as she possibly could. That was why she was wearing nothing but a harness stuck through with a dozen daggers, underneath the repaired gun-harness, each one within reach. It was like something an anime cosplayer might've worn to an ancient convention.

I know you're back there, she thought, without turning around. If it was any other night.

Alex carried no flashlight, no torches or anything else to set her eyes apart from the rest of the dark. It was thoughtful of Damocles to try his scheme at night. Most of his ponies will probably be half-blind. It also meant that she could see her destination through the night, even when she was several blocks away.

There were several large fires, bright enough to light the entire clearing by the gate. As she got closer, she could see the firelight reflected in the steel, off the high windows of nearby buildings, and in the many faces of the ponies.

Many of them were trying to hide, lurking in ditches, in the undergrowth, or in the lower floors of nearby buildings. Many more lingered in the streets, not actually standing in the clearing, but close enough that it would take them only moments to run there. Every single one of them was armed, with makeshift armor that would've fit perfectly on the set of Mad Max.

There were three ponies in the center of the clearing, standing right in front of a gigantic bonfire. Blinding yourselves. Idiots.

There was nothing left to guesswork about which one was Damocles. His armor shone in gold, and the reflection of the flames behind him made his skin look just as metallic. He was an earth pony stallion, with a bright yellow coat and a body like an Olympian. The armor looked far better than anything his followers were wearing—like something made by a real pony blacksmith, not scavengers or even her students back in the village.

He saw her coming. The massive pony raised a hoof, and the murmurs of conversation all around fell silent. There was only the wind, and the crackling of several campfires. "You were wise to do as you were told."

She approached, feeling the tension in her eyes as they contracted. She had still lost a great deal of her night vision by being so close to the fire, though. "I came because it suited me." She kept her voice even, as though she didn't see the danger. It had to be pushing credulity by now—even a fool would've noticed the ponies lurking.

This close, it was a trivial matter for Alex to relax her focus, open her mind, and call upon the power of her office. Damocles would hide nothing from her—she would know his plans, his nature, his past.

She felt nothing. Alex strained, concentrating every stray drop of magic she had, but with no effect. While every other pony around her had a name, a past, a life of turmoil here on Earth since the Event, Damocles had nothing. There would be no cheating at this negotiation.

"I am Damocles." He removed his helmet, setting it down beside him. The face underneath was dark, scarred, and cruel. His eyes were intelligent, his mane shaved to a bare fuzz. "And you are the pony causing trouble in my city."

He looked her over with hungry interest of all kinds—enough that she felt a little sick. "You might impress some with your tricks and lucky guesses. It is not so difficult to gaze into a pretended past and prophecy in the name of dead creatures. You will find me less impressed with your prophecies."

She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity."

His harsh expression broke into a faint smile. "Who are you, 'demon'? Speak the truth to me—I am not like your weak-willed servants. The earth permits no lies to me while your hooves stand upon it."

Was this earth pony really that strong? How many earth ponies had ever won enough of the love of Earth to channel power like that? She never did that for me. "My name is Alex. I am the spirit of forgotten Alexandria, where all imagination and knowledge are assembled."

Damocles was silent for a long time, his gold eyes as intense as a bird of prey's might've been. Eventually he looked away. "Did you imagine your king would allow you to rob the wheat from his fields before it ripens? Better than scarecrows have been watching you."

Alex's mind spun as she put the facts together. A native, wearing native armor, ruling over the largest gang in the city. Crushing each and every attempt at rebuilding civilization. "What do you want from my settlement, Damocles? Put the terms before me, and we'll discuss."

His smile returned. "No terms. I care nothing for your doomed ponies. My only interest is you. The stories are impressive—I hear you killed a dozen ponies with your bare hooves. That your mastery of combat is absolute. I called you here to test that assessment, and make you an offer." He gestured. "Behind you!"

Alex snapped around to look, just in time to see a unicorn about fifty paces away, leveling a primitive crossbow at her.

"Fire!"

She moved by reflex. Her body jerked, magic filling her as her wings flapped. A thick column of air churned around her, deflecting the bolt half a degree to the left. Instead of striking her in the chest, it scraped along the leather of her harness, then flipped and tumbled on the ground to land in front of Damocles.

Alex touched down a second later, not even realizing she had been hovering. 

"Impressive." Damocles retreated a few steps, stomping his hooves. "Allen!" 

A massive, hulking figure rose up from the darkness somewhere behind him, then taller and taller still. The minotaur had to be nearly seven feet tall, thickly armored with rusting steel in awkward plates, and carrying an axe longer than her whole body. "Yes, Damocles?"

"Kill her."

The minotaur's horns were covered with bits of sharp metal, all tied down at odd angles. He probably weighed half a ton, and the ground started to shake as he advanced. He didn't seem in a terrible hurry.

"Stop him, Damocles!" she shouted, fury boiling in her voice. "Or I will!"

In answer, the huge stallion replaced his helmet, than casually stepped out of the way.

The minotaur charged.

Again, there was no chance to react. Damocles had not given her enough time to run, or to plot out some careful strategy. A massive, monstrous biped was charging down at her, the metal of his armor all glowing orange from the fire.

Alex held perfectly still, pulling her wings close as she centered herself. She caught a few distant laughs—the watching ponies already thought they knew the outcome.

The axe came down, with enough force to split her in half like wood for a campfire. Alex held still until the last moment, then jerked to one side, air billowing about her as she summoned the swiftness of air again. She rolled past the minotaur even as his swing continued, drawing one of her knives as she went. She sliced deep at the minotaur's ankle-tendons, flesh parting easily beneath her touch. She slid another fifteen feet or so in that direction, out of reach.

The axe buried deep in the soil even as the minotaur screamed and toppled forward next to it, frothing rage from his lips.

Once angered, a minotaur could ignore almost any pain, and would fight through fatal injuries. That didn't mean they could ignore the damage, though.

Allen tried to stand several times, and each time he fell limply onto his face in the dirt. Each time he seemed to get more enraged, spraying blood that mixed with the soil from deep wounds. Had she nicked an artery?

The minotaur was beyond rational thought by then. He began clawing his way towards her, abandoning his legs entirely and tearing huge gashes in the ground with each arm as he went. Alex calmly retreated, easily staying out of his reach. "You sacrifice your own men needlessly!" she shouted towards Damocles in his golden armor. "I don't want to kill them!"

Allan stopped dragging, though he was still fuming. A glazed look had come over his eyes, and he no longer seemed to be able to focus on her very well. Well, worse than usual in the terrible mixture of bonfires and moonless night.

"Medic!" Damocles shouted, and at once four ponies approached them from the darkness of a nearby building. All refugees, though Alex's mind was now too strained to sense more. One was a unicorn, and he levitated a dark cloth over Allen's head before they got close. The minotaur screamed and bucked and flailed around in the dark for several seconds more, until he finally relaxed. Then they approached, carrying heavy canvas satchels along with them. They began to work quickly, seeing to his new wounds. 

They would not be easy to heal. Unicorn medicine and human surgery could fix a severed tendon, but did either technique survive into a hell like the Nameless City? Alex didn't know.

"The stories are true." Damocles approached again, approving. "Not even a urine stain on your legs, I'm impressed. The king will be very pleased with you."

Alex was still panting, bloody knife braced against one hoof. She wiped it off against the cloth of the harness, before sheathing it again. "What are you talking about?"

"My offer." Damocles sat on his haunches, looking her over again. "You kick against the pricks rebuilding what is already strong in the world outside. What if I told you there was a ship waiting for you? A life waits for you, filled with all the gold, glory, and sex you could imagine. A life where apples and wine flow like water, in exchange for your service in His Majesty's Immortal Guard."

It all clicked then—the reason Damocles was able to command the loyalty of so many of the most despicable ponies in the city without getting gutted in his sleep. The reason he was so brutal with settlements as they rose, but largely left individuals alone. Why he wasn't a refugee and wore such fine armor.

Alex gaped. "You're the jailer."

Damocles laughed. "I am the gardener. His majesty can own the hooves of as many conscripts as he wishes, but those ponies are soft and weak from easy lives. Here in the Nameless City… your lives are not so easy. I cultivate your strength, and send the best of it to his service. I build the best soldiers in all the world."

"And if I go? What do you do to my settlement?"

Damocles shook his head. "You already know. What you have done is not permitted here, but it was no crime of yours. You will not pay for it." She could almost hear the silent words that followed. But they will.

"And if I refuse?"

Damocles laughed, and the bitter sound echoed from all around her. "Then I will send them your pieces! It will be a good lesson for what is coming for them."

Alex drew her dagger—the one that had taken not just Tom's magic, but every other unicorn with the discipline to empower spells as well. Frost collected along the metal as it was exposed to the air, a sign of what was to come.

"I offer you this one chance to surrender!" she shouted, loud enough that her voice would carry. "I don't care what king sent you. I don't care how many soldiers you have." Her voice surged with magic. "All of you who hear me, drop your weapons! I swear to spare the life of every man or pony who surrenders!"

There was powerful magic in the command—as much power as she could possibly summon. It was the Royal Canterlot Voice, a powerful compulsion to anypony who felt loyalty to what she represented.

It would not last, she knew. Damocles seemed surprised that so many had obeyed, though for his own part he only leered. "All who wait, learn the faces of those who surrendered tonight! We will reward them when we finish with her!"

There was no way to know how many had obeyed. Even without the dark as an issue for her vision, there were so many obstructions, so many ponies lurking in corners or behind ditches or in buildings. 

"It is a shame to waste your life." Damocles began advancing towards her, unafraid. "You show so much promise. You could've been a great captain in His Majesty's army. Now only pain waits for you."

Archive raised her dagger in a high guard, its runes glowing faintly violet in her vision. She was careful not to touch her unprotected coat with the metal, not even a scratch. One drop of blood was all the spell would take. "When you get to hell, say hello to Odium for me."

Damocles charged. He held no sword but the blades on his armor, and all of them would slice at her.

Time slowed, and the air beside her seemed to shimmer. An old man appeared, his skin rich with wrinkles and most of the hair gone from his face. He wore a flowing, traditional gown, and atop it tightly-woven armor of intricate, ceremonial design.

"I am summoned." He bowed respectfully to her, though his eyes took in her surroundings. Even as Damocles charged, dozens of his ponies were emerging from their hiding-places, their own weapons ready. Many were crude, but some were not. There were at least three crossbows she could see, and probably more she couldn't.

It is a high honor to speak with you, Hattori Hanzo, she thought. She could only move with the painful slowness of accelerated time, her body seemed to melt through molten sugar even with the speed of the air to lift her. I need your guidence. I must win this duel.

The man walked casually away from her, inspecting the massive bulk charging down at her. "The battle does not seem well matched."

Not without you, she admitted. I need only one blow to kill him. But he's so strong that the same is probably true in reverse. His armor is sturdy, and his magic is stronger. Only this dagger will cut him.

"Even the mightiest blow can be turned again. Even the castles of the gods may crumble." He gestured at the charging pony. "There is a gap here, where the helmet meets breastplate. This is how he dies."

The world sped up again. The memories of a thousand thousand hours of training surfaced in her mind. She saw the perfect technique, felt the tension in her body, and jumped.

Damocles charged into her a second later. Alex's blade flew as though it was being guided by magic, straight into the opening and into her attacker's neck. Damocles came to a screeching halt, but not before some of the shattering force of his charge had thrown Archive into the air. She shot a dozen meters up, looping over and over and begging her bones not to break.

She spread her wings wide, slowing even as her eyes were fixed on the golden armor. The pony wasn't dead, but clutching at the knife, trying to remove it from his flesh, struggling with all his strength. It was a hopeless gesture.

Archive glided down to a landing a few feet away from him. Dozens of ponies had stopped in their attacks, weapons lowered in horror as they saw their leader fall. As the clearing became more and more packed with soldiers, any who came close enough to see stopped to watch.

Archive advanced on Damocles, where he lay on his side in the dirt. His breaths came as wheezing, whistling gasps, his back-legs kicking up huge sprays of dirt whenever they struck the ground behind him.

Already she could see the spell taking effect. His eyes had begun to glow red with light, light that was spreading all over his body in faint lines—as though he were made of glass, and magma was leaking out the cracks. "What did… what…" How could he even speak?

Archive saw the knife hadn't pierced the neck, despite the incredible force behind the blow. It had only scratched faintly into his flesh before the magic of the earth had stopped it. That magic was holding him together now, even while a lesser pony would've been long dead.

Thanks to the armor, he was already glowing brighter than the nearby bonfires. "An old friend of mine made that spell." Archive retreated a few steps, closer to a large chunk of concrete on the ground, probably fallen from a nearby building. "It was part of a thermoelectric generator design." Her eyes narrowed. "The generators didn't work for shit—always exploded." She stepped sideways again, putting the boulder between her and the fallen Damocles.

"When I…" She could smell cooking meat now, a stench that had once been so awful she had retched. "When I die… king will… send an army… kill everypony…"

Archive raised her voice again, filling it with the same power she had used seconds before. "You fell to me in one blow, Damocles! What do you think is waiting for your king?"

Joseph's ancient spell, diligently converting magical energy to heat, finally reached a breaking point. Damocles finally died, and in his death came the massive surge of magic that came with all intelligent creatures—the same one the Bloodgates used. The spell consumed it all. But the strain was far too great for it to contain.

For a fraction of a second, the space inside Damocles’s chest became hotter than the surface of the sun. Then he exploded.

Archive was ready, pressed against the back of the rock, not an inch of her body exposed. His men were not so lucky—Damocles’s sturdy steel armor became the shrapnel in a (formerly) living grenade.





Archive's ears pressed to her head as the ground shook. Ponies all around her dropped dead in a wave, and many more were injured.

Ponies were already running. Some had dropped their weapons, while others were assembling on the other side of the clearing.

Archive rose to her hooves, settling atop the boulder and filling herself with magic again. "The same waits for everyone who raises their weapons against my city!" Her voice was so large it seemed to fill the clearing. Many of the armored ponies ran away. A quick glance told her that many more—at least a hundred—had not. Despite the incredible slaughter, despite the death of their leader, they had already formed battle lines. I guess Damocles wasn't lying about the quality of his soldiers.

Something moved in the shadows behind her. "When I heard you had returned, I knew it had to be a lie."

Archive turned, facing into the darkness. There was nopony there—none still alive, anyway. The voice didn't seem to be coming from any of the corpses. It was also immensely familiar. 

"If you took the millenium off to go to drama school or something, you should get your money back. That was some really hammy shit there at the end. Just like I remember."

"I thought the demonstration was effective." She gestured sidelong at the crater, and the circle of carnage all around it. She was too weak to drag many of the corpses into the flames, as she wished to do. Even after the monstrous things Damocles and his ponies had done, they deserved at least that much. "If you had a better way, you could've said so."

"Not until we were sure." A nearby patch of particular darkness resolved into a pony that had not been there moments before. A bat pony mare, as tall as an earth pony stallion, and with wings as wide as death. She was wearing a light jumpsuit and boots, though there were slits for her wings. Those were armored too, some kind of light metal that flexed when she bent them. "You aren't the only one who cares about humans. There was this mare over in china, few centuries ago… thought for sure it had to be you. Turns out she was just another refugee, some politburo suit who wanted to recapture the glory of the old kingdom."

"Are you satisfied, Jackie?" Alex took a hesitant step forward—she could still remember when she had been close to the same size as this pony. She now looked like a child by comparison. Yet now that she wasn't hiding, she could see her quite clearly.

Another voice spoke first. Though it came from the same direction, it wasn't Jackie. There was a familiar reverberation about it, an alien tone no pony could quite imitate. "Mom," she said, the voice trembling. "I've been waiting… waiting so long to see you again." Another form resolved beside her, a pony wearing a light exoskeleton, covered all but for her face. It sounded like Ezri, though her coat looked so strange she almost didn't recognize her.

"Sorry you had to visit during such a bad time." Alex retreated a little, finding a pile of rubble beside the crater she could use to shelter from their crossbows. A few bolts had already flown in her direction—misses all, but not something she wanted to invite. It would take great concentration to stop even a single bolt. "I think these ponies might be about to tear me apart."

Jackie reached over her shoulder, into a white cloth bag around her neck, tossing something down on the ground at her hooves. "Gift from a friend."

"We've been hanging onto that for awhile," Ezri added.

It was a sturdy belt, made of the same sort of white material as Jackie's jumpsuit, with a holster on one side. Alex tossed it into the air, catching it around her neck and stepping through with her legs. The belt settled naturally in front her wings, leaving its contents in easy reach. She bent down, and found the gun clung to her hoof, rising when she lifted it without any effort on her part. She held it up, and her bat eyes were able to make it out with clarity.

It was what she imagined a colt .45 might look like, if ancient dwarves had made it based on witness accounts. The barrel was eleven inches of dull silvery metal, connected to a slowly rotating cylinder made of crystal, floating suspended in some kind of magnetic or magical field. The hammer too was another chip of crystal, slightly darker than the cylinder and floating independent of the rest. There was no trigger or guard, no buttons of any kind. It did have a front and rear sight, and a grip that would've worked for hands if she had them. As it was, the black material clung to her hoof like an adhesive. "What kind of gun is this?" There was an engraving set into the barrel, almost too small to read.

Auspicium Melioris Ævi

"You'll have to ask Athena—she made it."

Far away, the battle lines had formed a shield wall, both flanks curving inward. Alex recognized the maneuver—it was one of Caesar's. A fairly competent recreation of it, anyway. They had perhaps twenty seconds before they were overrun. Alex ducked her head behind the rubble, letting crossbow bolts fly freely over her. The other two continued to stand upright, utterly unafraid. "Can you at least tell me how to use it? Then… I mean, if it's not too much to ask… maybe help me fight these ponies?"

Jackie turned slightly to face her. As she did, a crossbow bolt hit her right in the head. Rather, it bounced off the air near her head, shaft exploding into splinters without effect. "If it's anything like Athena's other inventions, it uses your thoughts. Your intentions. Oh, and it probably doesn't have to worry much about ammunition. It's all zero-maintenance."

"Are we gonna run?" Ezri asked, her whole body tensing. "We could fly out of here. These ponies don't look like they could follow."

"No!" Alex turned to face the onslaught again. Their timing was very good—the formation would smash into them from three sides at once. Even with many of their number dead or fled, they kept advancing. Even after watching their leader literally exploded from the inside. That was a terrifying level of discipline. "If we leave, they come for the settlement! They might bring a mob! If I win here… it'll be a story so terrifying that nopony will attack us again! Do I have your help or not?"

"Mine." Jackie drew a long, silvery-looking dagger from a holster on her jumpsuit. "My sweetheart is too innocent to kill."

"I'm still gonna help!" Ezri glared. "I didn't get this stun-rifle as a fashion accessory!"

For the second time that night, the world froze. Caesar! Even Ezri and Jackie, with their strange technology, slowed to a crawl as time advanced for Archive.

A man appeared; middle aged, but tall and confident. His armor was gold, his helmet bore laurels, and a sword was in his hand. Three men fight a hundred! Archive shouted into her mind. The enemy is well trained and coordinated despite the loss of a leader. How can we win?

The man walked slowly up the battle line, poking at armor or weapons with his sword. "Less coordinated than you think. These creatures fight at a disadvantage—most cannot wield weapons well. So they barb their armor and wear thicker plates. This is a weakness." He pointed at the right flank. "There is fear in their eyes. These men are the weakest. Break through the flank to the rear-guard. The darkness and their overwhelming numbers will be their undoing. So long as you fight well and do not let yourselves be held down, you will triumph.”

The world returned to normal speed, and she echoed the gesture. "We're going that way! Stay close to me!"

She aimed, and the revolver fired on its own. The rotating crystal at its center lit up with a brief flash of orange flames, and the earth pony she had been aiming at dropped dead. Even with a headshot, that was too easy. What is this gun firing? Athena wasn't here to ask.

At the crack of her gunfire, the army charged.
> Episode 3.10: A Few Lost Things
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The battle was a long, gruesome affair. Any historical questions Archive had ever considered about what it might've been like to watch a battle between technologically uneven powers was now sated. Jackie and Ezri could not be touched—any attempt to grab them ended in ponies sliding off some invisible barrier. Any that got too close to Jackie died swiftly to her dagger, which cut metal armor like it wasn't even there. Ezri's stun-rifle left anypony who approached from her flank unconscious on the floor—perhaps the most merciful thing they could hope for.

Eventually, it was over. Perhaps an army twice as large, fighting in the day instead of in darkness that advantaged the ponies they were hunting, with the support of battlemages or siege weapons… perhaps such a force could've killed them.

Archive was surrounded by the dead and dying—the ponies that had ignored her plea for surrender and charged into battle to defend their general. Maybe with an HPI Exo-surgery unit she could've saved their lives. As it was, the only mercy she had to offer them was her dagger. Any with wounds shallow enough that they could still move limped away from her on their own, fleeing in terror as fast as they could go. She let them—their prospects weren't good, but they were better than a swift knife to the throat.

As the sun started to rise, Alex let herself collapse to the dirt in the center of the clearing. She felt weak, her hooves shaking slightly from the horrors of her night. The pistol had kept working long after she had fired the first six shots—it still worked, so far as she could tell. 

"Like the wings." Jackie sat down beside her in the dirt, wiping the blood from her dagger on the ragged clothes of a nearby corpse. "Guess you finally went over to the dark side. It's a good look for you."

Alex only sighed. "More were supposed to run. I've never seen ponies keep going after such a devastating opening attack." She looked around the clearing. A few crows had already started to gather. It wouldn't take long before the smell started. "Blow up one pony, the others live. This was not the equation."

Ezri nestled into her other side. Or tried—she was taller too, even moreso now that she had the armor. Of course, that wasn't the only detail that was different. Her body had changed to something bright green. She had  antlers poking up from her head along with the horn, as bright orange as the suggestions further down her body.

In her weakness, Archive didn't even have to use any effort to exchange focus on reality for the unseen world. For a moment, all of her fatigue was forgotten, and she wrapped her hooves around Ezri's neck. "You did it, bug! You're fixed!"

"You did it," Ezri muttered, though she didn't try to escape the hug. "I didn't do anything."

"It's the ancient tale of the immortals." Jackie's voice got lower, like she was imitating a movie trailer announcer. "Long ago, the power of the alicorns was divided. Only one pony had the strength to unite them, and her name—"

Alex rose to her hooves. "I don't want answers. I've been… It's been weeks now. Weeks of trying to scrape out a living for these refugees. I haven't been able to learn a damn thing. Except that… there was apparently some kind of disease… killed lots of ponies…" She turned away from the carnage and started walking, a straight course back to the settlement. Her companions kept pace easily, not seeming to feel any of the fatigue that was dragging her down with exhaustion. "I have to bring a team… to collect the weapons and burn the dead. I won't have the first thing newcomers see to be a clearing full of corpses."

"Settlement, huh? How big is it?" Ezri bounced along beside her, as unaffected by the slaughter as Jackie had been.

"We can talk about that after. Why don't you tell me… the year. What year is it?"

"1362 AE," Jackie answered.

A thousand years. Alex let it sink in, trying to wrap her head around such a tremendous number. She had been one of the oldest creatures alive, before she died. Now… now she supposed both of these ponies were older. "What happened to the HPI?"

"Gone." Ezri no longer bounced. "Like, after you died… there was a big war, just like you thought. Lots of people died…"

"We won!" Jackie said. "That part was good!"

Ezri continued where she left off. "But everything was trashed. So they left. The humans who are left are living on Olympus… it's a pretty awesome space station. But the shield makes it suck to live there, so we can't. Only a few little research stations left on the ground now."

A war had been fought and won without her. Archive felt her shoulders sag even more. Her ponies had needed her, and she hadn't been there. "I knew we were strong," she muttered, staring down at her hooves. "We weren't going to be made into slaves."

"They'd probably want you up there if they could have you," Jackie admitted. "So let's not tell them. It's shit living somewhere without any magic."

"Do you think they'd help my little settlement here?" Alex asked. "The battle we fought today… it was only the first. The next army will be bigger than three ponies can fight alone, even if they're exceptionally skilled and well-equipped."

The two of them shared a look. "They, uh… probably won't." Jackie looked away as she said it. "Back in the day, when the second plague was killing everypony, humans tried to help. They couldn't, and ponies pretty much hated them for it. They were immune, after all. Eventually, a whole medical convoy went down…" She trailed off.

Ezri winced, shaking her head. "The only one who tries now is Athena, and she can only do what they let her. I guess the way you wrote her, humans are in charge until they get their starships made? Since those aren't done… that's mostly what she has to do. Leave us ponies for the dogs."

"She made a neat gun." Alex glanced at the holster on her belt. "I've never shot anything as well-balanced as this. I don't even know what it's shooting, but it doesn't seem to mind going through magic." They were more than halfway back by then. A handful of ponies already moved on the streets, though they gave the three of them a wide berth. Considering they were armed, armored, and covered in blood, it was easy to see why they would be avoided. "What about you two? You said something about… did you find an Alicorn artifact? Not that I'm not thrilled you're alive. But only dragons live… over a thousand years."

Again the two of them shared a look. Ezri spoke first. "When you died… I guess the magic had to go somewhere? You were about to be an Alicorn, but you weren't there anymore… so the three of us shared it."

"Three of you?" Archive hadn't thought back to those memories since coming back. They weren't her most pleasant recollections. "The guard, Isaac? Shouldn’t he have died of thaumic exposure?"

They shook their heads. "He's ageless, like us. Immune to magic, too. Has a kind of magic of his own, but… it's complicated." Jackie shrugged one shoulder. "He's something else. Not completely human. Athena would love to duplicate his mutation, but she hasn't yet. He's the only human who can use magic instead of get killed by it."

Archive stopped walking, her ears jerking to alertness. "Wait. You're saying… we did it? We found a way to let humans live in the magical field? We won't have to run away to another galaxy?"

"Isaac would be better at explaining," Ezri said. "He can't share the immunity, not yet. Athena's hopeful, but no results yet."

The outer walls of the building came into view. She could see smoke rising from the courtyard, a thin white line that hinted at what was going on inside. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of fresh bread. "One last question. What are you two gonna do? I know I don't have very much to offer you in the settlement. We're still working on our basics—food isn't great, and there isn't enough firewood some nights."

Jackie grinned at her. "I remember a pony, a long long time ago. She was one of the richest ponies in the world, but she left it behind to walk across the country and work in a mine. She wanted to help some ponies who couldn't help themselves. It's time we return the favor."

"Well, you," Ezri added. "I just got dragged along for the ride both times."


* * *


 

Waiting at the Bloodgate was Alex's favorite responsibility.

The gate could not be moved—its immense weight in solid iron was obstacle enough, but Alex had long since decoded the runes written onto its surface. This portal was a beacon coded for a specific location. The difference of even a few inches might be enough to break the connection to every other gate in the world.

Alex hated to know that with every new refugee that was sent to her, some deer (or other intelligent creature) had to die. One day she would find and destroy every single one of the Bloodgates, and erase every copy of those spells in every book she could find.

For now, though, at least Bloodgates represented a convenient refugee delivery mechanism. It was far easier to get everyone together when there was a primitive religion sending them to her in a constant stream.

The gate and its clearing were one of many parts of the city that now sat under constant guard, with a bell that could be easily sounded in the event of an emergency. Alex was at that precise moment sitting up in the observation tower, where she could see the gate and all the entrances at the same time.

Each of the entrances except the one pointing back to the settlement had been piled high with rubble topped with rusty metal spikes. Guards trained in the empty space—not just the elderly founders of the New American Equine Association, but plenty of raw recruits as well.

Ever since the death of Damocles and the dissolution of his army, the Association had gone basically unopposed. Predators of all kinds scattered as their ponies took more and more of the city.

Much more importantly, the death of Damocles had demonstrated to all that the Association was different from all the previous little colonies. Archive's greatest success, of course, had been in getting the ponies to pass the vote allowing non-newcomers to the city to join the Association.

In less than a month, they had gone from just under a hundred ponies to well over a thousand.

By all accounts, Archive was far too valuable to sit as a scout up in a tower and watch. Like every other pony in the Association, she had one day off in seven. She used that day to sit in the tower.

Sometimes, it paid off.

The gate flickered to life, and a training drill in the field below ground to a halt. Even Tom—now the drill sergeant and her most trusted pony in military matters—didn't try to stop the recruits in their stares.

It was as though someone had poured huge buckets of blood from nowhere through a system of channels and inlets in the metal itself. Liquid curtains poured down, blanking out the empty bay behind the gate.

Alex tapped the bell twice with a mallet, before leaping from the edge of the tower. She spread her wings and rolled in the air, catching herself on the ground in front of the gate just beside a large set of menacing tools. Clippers, cutters, tongs, all rested submerged in a barrel of oil.

The Bloodgate rippled. Archive felt it before she saw it—a surge of magic from far away that meant the traveler was about to arrive. She straightened her gunbelt, brushed back a few strands of mane, and repressed her grin. Almost every day saw at least one new arrival to the city. 

The entire stream of new ponies had been rescued by the Association, protecting them from the dehumanizing brutality that was surviving on the street. Instead, they kept up a fresh influx of new blood, in agony over their missing civilization but ready to embrace any alternative that presented itself. 

I can't be there for everypony, Archive thought. But I can be there for you.

A pony emerged from the gate, a pony hogtied with thick rope and covered with bruises. She wasn't anything special, really. Lime green, with an orange mane and an oak tree for a cutie mark. She was an adult mare, though beyond that there was no telling her age. Her mane and tail had been freshly (and roughly) cut, but otherwise she looked intact. No more serious wounds, as the returning sometimes bore.

Archive had been lucky enough to catch a pony on her shift only twice before. She climbed the ramp, even as the courtyard filled with Tom's shouting voice and drills resumed. The portal closed with a few faint splashes of blood, though the liquid itself always faded away.

The pony had wide, terrified eyes. She was screaming—something incoherent and completely hysterical. Alex waited patiently for her to get her screams out and settle down into a resting position, panting. She couldn't really move with the way she had been hogtied. Whoever threw you in here hated you enough to waste a rope hoping to make you suffer. I wonder what you did.

Unfortunately, Alex's powers would not allow her such glimpses—the lives before ponies were open to her, but after… that was far harder to read, even for a very recent refugee.

"Hey there." She waved a hoof vaguely in the pony's direction. "Are you calm yet? I'd like to talk with you." She made her way over to the pony, looking down at her.

The pony only started, shivering all over. "W-what… what are you going to…"

"I'd like to start by cutting you loose," she said, her voice calm and methodical. "But I don't want you running off and getting hurt. I know you're scared… you've just been through hell, I can see that. If you can be calm long enough for us to have a conversation, that hell can be over. I want your word you won't run away."

The mare took a long time to respond. "A-alright." She fell onto her side, going as limp as a sack of rocks.

Alex walked a little bit away, to the barrel of oil. "I'm going to take a knife out of this barrel here. I'm only cutting you loose—please don't freak out. Stay still, and you'll be out of that rope in no time."

She waited for the acknowledgement from the pony before taking the long handle in her teeth, walking over. She shook out the oil, before bending down and slicing gently at the rope around the mare's hooves. One slice, and she set it down, doing the rest of the untangling with her own hooves.

"My name is Alex," she said, looking over at the pony. "What's yours?" A little innocent conversation, something to calm the pony, bring her back to a world she could understand. It had worked with the last two Lonely Day had helped.

"Really?" To Alex's surprise, the mare smiled a little. "I had a son named Alex. Alexander was always too long for him. I'm Mary. Mary Haggard."

Alex dropped the rope. 

Then she cried.

It didn't matter—the pony was already untied, and she could sit up without further obstruction. Mary did so, her fear still obvious in flattened ears and a stationary tail. "Is something wrong?"

Alex whimpered. Tears streamed freely from her eyes, splashing the cement where magical blood had been only moments before. She could barely keep herself upright. "Y-you…" She sniffed, wiping some of the tears away with the back of her leg. "Of all times… all places… how could you be here?"

Her pain translated to fear in Mary. She tried to rise to her hooves—quite awkwardly. "I didn't have a choice. Monsters sent me here… monsters who couldn't understand me and…" She glanced down at the rope. "Forced me here. If I'm not wanted, I'm sorry, but—"

Alex cut her off. "It's not that!" Her eyes opened, and she saw the pony standing in front of her with her magical senses. She saw a single mother with a (mostly) empty nest, doing her best to survive on whatever jobs she could scrape together. She saw a life of love and service to her children.

She didn't care that the recruits would be watching, she didn't care that this pony wouldn't know her. She reached out and hugged the pony with all the weakness she had. Magic filled her, filled her as Archive had never felt it before. For a single, terrible second, Archive could see across the vast expanse of time to the Event—all the broken households, all the families torn to pieces and lovers who would never meet again.

For just a second, Archive let herself hope that things might be different.

There was too much magic for her to contain. Guards along the rubble walls, recruits doing their drills, even Tom. They all stopped what they were doing, overwhelmed by emotion none of them could understand.

The moment passed. Mary, at the very brunt of the magic, looked a little dazed as she stared back at Alex. The fear was erased; the confusion and the pain at her treatment had been swept aside.





"I've been waiting for you… a very long time," Alex whispered. "Our lives are so short, time so vast… I never dreamed I would see your face again. You don't know me… but I know you."

She blushed, unable to meet the pony's eyes anymore. "Who are you?" There was no fear left in Mary's tone anymore. Instead, there was something almost like comprehension.

"I already told you," she said, through her tears. "I'm Alex. Alexander Haggard."

The pony stared down at her for several long moments, unblinking. Then Mary embraced her.

"I guess I know even less than I thought I did, Alex," her mother said, when she had finally released her. "You still sound a little like yourself. Just not very…"

"You're right about that." Alex had spent years dreading this particular moment. What it might be like to meet her family as someone else—a different pony than she was supposed to be. Now that the moment had finally come, it hardly seemed to matter. Understanding still filled her, along with a sense of distant minds calling to her. Perhaps she would've gone to them, if it hadn't been for her mother only feet away.

"I'm a mare now. Err… a girl. The same thing that made everyone into pon—into horses… made me into this." She chuckled. "It's kindof a long story."

"Well that seems like an oversight." Mary sat down again, and as she did finally seemed to see the courtyard around them, the ponies drilling and the makeshift walls. The ruined city rising around them on all sides. "Oh my God."

Alex almost didn't remember that she was supposed to be here to greet the newcomer refugee and introduce them into the settlement. "Right, yeah." She brushed a few stray tears from her face, then straightened. "You're in… well, that's a long story too. But if you want to walk, I can tell you on the way. You can walk, right?"

Mary nodded. "Not well." She was still staring up at the buildings. "We're not in a Planet of the Apes movie, are we? We're not going to find the Statue of Liberty half buried in the sand somewhere? Where's James and Elizabeth? Are they here? Is James a woman now too?"

"James and Elizabeth aren't back yet," she said. "I haven't seen them since the world ended. It's, uh… worse than the movie. The world is even more hostile. But that doesn't matter—I won't let anypony hurt you."

Alex hopped down off the ramp, turning. "Corporal!"

Tom was at her side in seconds, saluting. At this point, the gesture was mostly for the recruits. He would never have bothered if they were anywhere else. "Madame President." He inclined his head slightly to Mary. "Welcome to New York."

"I'd like to take this refugee back to the settlement immediately, instead of waiting for the end of your drills," she said. "Can you spare us two ponies for an escort?"

Tom's eyes focused briefly on the gun hanging at her side. "An escort for you, Madame President? I expected you would be escorting us."

"Preventative measure," she explained. "This refugee has already suffered enough. I don't want her to… to have to see any more."

"Understood." Tom turned away, barking instructions to the ponies watching the walls. One came from each of the three barricades, each one armed and armored with their best in aluminum. All three looked down at Alex with naked awe.

"Escort the president and this refugee back to the settlement," Tom ordered. "Then double-time it back to me, understood?"

They saluted, though each was awkward about it. Nothing like the crisp precision Tom himself used.

"Thank you all for your help," Alex said, turning away and offering her hoof to steady Mary behind her. "Come on, Mom. You aren't going to like what I have to show you, but it's better than where you came from."

"That wouldn't be very hard." Mary fell into step beside her, albeit at a far slower pace than Alex would've liked. They made their way across the courtyard, several of the recruits whispering and staring as they did. Though their conversation had been too far away to overhear, ponies all over had just heard her say "Mom".

Alex didn't care. They passed through the open gate on the far side, then onto the open streets. They had done the best they could to clear the rubble and refuse away from the route between the bloodgate and their settlement, in the hopes that anyone who found the clear path would follow it.

Alex explained as they walked. She summarized the end of the world, the magic that had ended everything. She told the story of civilizations rising and falling, and the new status quo that hated refugees and everything they were.

"So we got together," Alex finished, as they passed again into settlement territory. Simple wooden fences and a few ponies standing guard marked the beginning of new fields, planted where old roads and buildings and parks had been. The park at the center of the housing block just wasn't big enough when the settlement had grown to over a thousand ponies.

She waved goodbye to their escort, before returning to the path. "We're still growing all the time. We rescue everyone we can, and we're always getting bigger. Learning new skills. Give us time, and we'll rebuild the world."

Farmers tended to the crops. Workmen dug irrigation ditches, or expanded fences. Guards patrolled the whole thing. Only the sidewalk had been spared, giving them a clear path through the field. Magic swelled in her chest again as they passed through it all. The light of civilization was burning here again. Where once there had been barbarism, now there were ponies who spoke kindly and worked with pride and slept with full bellies. 

"Looks like you have a long way to go." Mary hadn't screamed or argued as other refugees had done, only walked close and listened carefully. "The place that threw me into the gate was like medieval times too."

Alex chuckled. "The difference between us and them is that in another decade, they'll still be in ancient times and we won't. Together, we have all the knowledge of human civilization. They burned it all when they destroyed Alexandria."

The central building could no longer house all of them, and several of its neighbors had also been appropriated for the task. As they got close, it was very easy to spot the difference. The occupied structures had been completely scrubbed, and often reinforced with new cement or wooden blocks. Windows were plastered over. Alex had taken to flying her way to her apartment on the very top floor, but she couldn't do that. Mary was an earth pony, so there would never be any flying. I guess I know how Sky felt around me.

"We have, uh… a procedure for this," she said. "We normally do housing by where you previously grew up. East Coast in one building, Midwest in another, etc. Gives people common ground. But under the circumstances… if you'd like, you can live with me. It's up nine flights of stairs, but…"

"I love stairs," Mary said, in the exact same sarcastic tone she had always used when they visited public buildings. She had always forced herself to use them, even when elevators were present. Something about heart health. "That nice man was calling you president. And now, everyone is staring at us. Did you…"

"Yes." Alex let herself feel a dash of pride. "I had to. But the reasons are… too complex to explain right now."

"My son is president," Mary muttered, and this time there was no sarcasm in her tone. "President of a… country?"

"Sure." Alex rolled her eyes. "Just one settlement for now, though. Maybe a country one day. We'll have to grow past refugees and their children first, but…" She shook her head. "That's a story for another time. We've got the registrar in that building right there. Let's make you a citizen before we do anything else. Then… then maybe you can meet my daughter."

Mary struck her harmlessly on the shoulder. "Don't lie to me, Alex. The whole world might've turned upside-down, but I can tell by looking you're too young for that. Too young to be yourself, even…"

"She's adopted," Alex muttered, dragging her a little towards the central building. The city office was down there now, along with its single staff member. "I don't think you know pony ages yet, though. I'm plenty old enough for…" She blushed. "That. Almost everypony here is. Only a few children, and since we all age slow…" She shook her head again. "That's not the most important thing right now. We have a class for new refugees, it will go over all that stuff with you. Let's just stick to the basics."

They made their way to the office. It didn't matter that the overflowing magic had long faded. It didn't matter that there were already whispers about her going through the settlement. It didn't even matter that there might be a whole country coming to kill them all.

Alex had part of her family back. No storm in the universe could compete with a star that bright.
> Episode 4.1: Election
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alex!" Her mother greeted her with a hug, though she had seen her only hours earlier. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the debate?"

Alex turned to one side, where Nancy was keeping pace with her. In the months since the Association had stabilized, Nancy had become her assistant. She proudly wore the saddlebags filled with gear, and offered Alex the clipboard with a smile. Alex took it with one of her hooves—a feat few of the ponies here could imitate. 

"Some things are more important. Like checking on the stockpile." The door to the settlement's root cellar was the sturdiest thing they had ever built, its entrance an excavated basement reinforced with new cement and a solid steel door. It also had a full dozen guards watching it at any time, including a precious few of their trained unicorns.

In a world where the social contract was still a precarious thing, there was no greater wealth than what they had stored away inside. Mary glanced sidelong at her. "You don't trust my team?"

"Implicitly," she responded, smiling. "But we're trying to build a government. It has to be structurally sound enough that it keeps working, even if someone slimey gets the job."

"I know." The mare patted her on her shoulders. "You're just so easy to tease." The guards saluted as they passed down the stairs. Just inside was a wooden shelf, with a few helmets attached. Each one had a light of some kind, though they were each unique. The flashlights and their batteries had all come back with different refugees. When they went out, that was it. "Headlamp?"

"One for Nancy," Alex answered. "Yours will be enough for me."

"Right, right." Mary put her own helmet on. It was closer to a woven basket with holes for ears and a flashlight stuck onto the forehead. "I forget you're a bat. How is that, anyway?"

Alex flexed her wings a little nervously, even as she helped Nancy with her own helmet.

"It makes her weird," the little pegasus answered before she could, grinning. "Sitting in her office with the lights off all the time."

Even after these many months, Nancy usually kept her words to herself. Mary was one of the few exceptions. If Alex was her adopted sister, then Mary was her mother too. 

"We have to save our fuel!" Alex insisted, hoisting the clipboard a little closer so she could get a better look at the manifest. "Ponies who don't need light shouldn't waste it."

"The ponies around you need it."

In answer, Alex shoved her gently to one side. "Yeah, alright. Let's see about this inspection." She looked at the first item on the list. "Fifty barrels of wheatberries?"

Mary nodded, gesturing through the single open door. There were metal shelves, one of the few pieces of furniture they had scavenged and repaired instead of making from scratch. The wooden barrels, on the other hand, were all brand new. As were the ceramic pots on higher shelves. "It's amazing how much the farmers bring in. Frost is already setting in, but they keep harvesting."

"Magic," Alex said simply, selecting a barrel at random. "Where's the crowbar? Let's look in this one." A few seconds later it was open, and sure enough it was filled to the brim with wheatberries. The nutritional wealth of a king. She replaced the lid, though lacked the strength to hammer it back into place.

Mary did that with her earth pony strength. "Do you want to see the other forty-nine?"

"No." Alex counted the barrels, made a few marks, then moved on. "Oats. Thirty barrels?"

They repeated a similar process for everything on the inventory. The basement was enormous, and with only the magic of a single year they had managed to fill it with food. According to Alex's calculations, it should be more than enough to survive winter and have enough to plant next year's fields.

So long as they didn't get too many refugees, and ponies only ate according to the system they had developed. Hence the guards, the inventory, and the centralized storage area. There were no discrepancies in the inventory that she could see, and soon enough the rough paper was covered with marks of approval. 

"Great work," she said, as they were making their way out. "Keep packing things in as densely as you can. We can't really predict how many new refugees we'll get when it gets cold. There might be none, or… the rest of the city's huddled masses might realize we have food and come begging for it. I don't know what they ever did to survive previous winters."

"Probably didn't," Mary said, matter of factly. "I like the change, Alex. This way is much better."

"It's… transitional," she admitted, as they made their way back into the light. Her eyes strained for several seconds, adjusting slowly. She had to stand still, blinking in the sun, until the pain finally faded. "This whole 'commune' thing never works at scale. History is… well, the sooner we can transition to a real currency and a real economy, the happier I'll be. Maybe as early as next year."

Mary shrugged. "If you say so. You were always good about the big questions."

Alex passed the clipboard back to Nancy, checking the sun. It was still well up in the sky, indicating at least a few more hours of daylight. "What's our next appointment?"

Nancy fished around in the saddlebags a moment, before coming out with a tiny book. It had been a novel of some kind, written on thin paper. Now it was Alex's calendar. "Clothiers," she said. "We have to check on the coats."

Alex already knew that, of course. A perfect memory meant she could hold all of human knowledge—a to-do list was hardly much trouble. Still, it gave Nancy something to do. "Right." She waved. "See you at dinner, Mom."

They didn't make it to the clothier. Before they could reach the building, Alex heard shouting in a familiar voice. Stride's. So she turned, waiting as the deer bounded her way along the path. She dodged between ponies with ease, her mobility long since restored. Only a few faint scars along her coat showed any sign that her right foreleg had once been broken.

"Alex!" The deer stopped in front of her, not even breathing heavily. She towered over the ponies, and attracted many stares. Even more than Alex normally got.

"What is it?" The deer had picked up quite a bit of English over the months, but Alex still tried to speak in her language when she could. She was the only one who could.

"Something moves across the bay," she said. "An army marches. I cannot tell, but they seem to be coming this way."

"Which direction?"

The deer pointed, in a direction Alex knew would eventually take her to the landward edge of Manhattan Island. There were no more bridges to cross anymore, which now was more of an advantage than it was a weakness.

"Alright." Alex checked to make sure the pistol was secure, before spreading her wings and preparing to take off.

"Wait!" Nancy watched, concerned. "Wherever you're going… the debates start after sundown! You can't be late!"

"I won't." Alex grinned at her. "Come on, you can make sure!"

Alex galloped. It took her about ten steps to get enough speed to take off, wings beating behind her as she did so. She felt the weight of the air beneath her, then the magic as it stole her weight.

She climbed rapidly, soaring over the heads of more staring ponies. There were more who could fly—dozens of them now, and more every day. Few had her confidence.

Nancy fell into formation behind her, beaming as they crested over the edge of the compound and were passing over fields. A winter wheat was growing now, well on its way to maturity. A few farmers waved at them as they passed overhead.

"Where are we going?"

Even after making it a regular part of her life, Lonely Day was still often overcome with the sensation of flight. It was the same joy she had felt running as an earth pony—but instead of running, she was swimming. The sky was an ocean of air, every part of it open to her. There was nowhere in the city she couldn't go. Nowhere in the whole world.

She could not visit them now.

"Stride saw an army coming!" she yelled, when she was sure they were far enough that nopony would overhear. There were no other ponies in the air anywhere near them—not terribly surprising. "I want to see how big it is. I knew we'd be seeing one eventually… I just thought it would take longer. Someone must have got word off the island somehow."

Nancy flew much closer to her then, as they neared the edge of the city and its tallest buildings. Alex found a banking building, the tallest structure still standing with a clear view across the bay, and settled down onto the roof beside blowing dust and windblown refuse.

Nancy touched down beside her even more gracefully, wings still flared. "An army?"

"Yeah." Lonely Day stared out over the edge of the roof. "Right there."

They were very far away, outlines obscured by the distance and the dust they kicked up as they moved. Her eyes scanned the formation in its march, drawing a quick estimate of their numbers.

They moved very slowly, at the speed of the catapults they dragged along behind them. Several palanquins were set at the front of the formation, each one bearing brightly colored banners. "Woah."

Alex remained motionless, taking in every detail she could see. Pegasi flew in formation above the marching army, so thick in places they filled the air like a large flock of birds. There was no telling how they might be equipped, not from this distance.

"That looks like more people than the whole settlement."

“Ten to one," Alex muttered. "At least. More ponies than every refugee living in the city several times over." The formations were not very orderly—more dense globs of men than marching order. Even so, with numbers like this…

"I'm scared." Nancy clung to her side, resting her head against Alex's wing. "They won't come, right?"

"They will." Alex would not lie, not even to a child. "I will keep you safe. Nopony is going to take you away from me. I promise."

The filly clung tighter, shivering against the growing evening chill. "Okay."

"They don't have boats, and there is no bridge. It's too far for an army like that to swim. They'll have to build one, or hope winter gets cold enough to freeze the Hudson." She patted the filly on the head one last time, before hopping back to the rest of the roof. "We have to get back. I'm not supposed to miss the debate, remember?"

"Oh, right!" Nancy relaxed a little at the mention of something familiar. "Let's get flying! You'll… probably want to share this news with ponies, huh?"

"I will have Tom do it. Stride is technically one of his scouts… if I report it, it might look like I'm trying to take advantage of the situation for political gain."

Nancy walked carefully across the roof, though Alex saw her roll her eyes. "I don't see the point of an election, anyway. You literally know everything—who else thinks they could be a better president than that?"

"Lockwood obviously thinks he can, or he wouldn't be running against me."

Nancy muttered some words no child her age had any right knowing, then added, "Then Lockwood is stupid."

Alex rested one leg gently on her shoulder. "When we started the Association, we did so as a democracy. We wrote a constitution, and we rule by common consent. We have individual rights—if ponies don't have the right to choose who they want, then we aren't a democracy. Having a debate means we can let ponies judge our ideas for themselves. If ponies really think that Lockwood will be a better president, than… he should be president.

Nancy didn't look convinced. "An army of bad guys is coming, and you'd give up control just like that? Don't you think you should stay in charge… until we're safe? For their own good?"

"Never." She gritted her teeth. It was an unpleasant flight back.


* * *


 

Alex arrived almost perfectly on time—late enough that a massive crowd was already packed into the amphitheater. Many fires burned along the edge, keeping ponies warm and lighting the whole thing with a flickering glow.

Only the stage at the bottom had an even light, unicorn magic lighting them like spotlights. There were a pair of podiums on either end of the stage, along with a chair between them. A handful of ponies crowded the stage, mostly on her opposition’s side.

Alex touched down on the empty side, letting her wings flare dramatically as she did so. A few gasps echoed from the crowd at such a blatant display, though of course Nancy proved even a filly could do it with the proper training.

The proctor was the first to approach her, walking slowly over from the middle. She was a unicorn, with the better part of the pantsuit she had arrived in re-tailored to fit her pony body. Jenny Summers, the only former news reporter in the settlement. "Pushing things a little, aren’t we?"

Alex's expression was dark, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I have just learned very serious military news. Serious enough that everyone here needs to be warned immediately."

Summers's eyes widened a little. "Are we going to be attacked?"

"Yes. But not tonight. If you could delay the event a few minutes so I can call our lead strategist, he can deliver the news instead of me."

Summers's expression hardened. "I'm afraid not, Madam President. The rules you specified about tonight's event were very clear. Any alteration at this point would seem like partisanship. Unless you think we should cancel…"

"No," Alex sighed. "They won't be here for days, at least. Maybe even weeks, or months. We are in no danger."

"Then the event must proceed as planned. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Summers nodded, walking over to the center of the stage. A simple spell had been worked around a large stick, which would greatly amplify the voice of anyone who held it. She took it in her magic. The crowd quieted as she started to speak.

Summers went through introductions, explained the role of the president, and reminded everypony that they would be able to vote the next morning. Eventually they reached the questions. "Since Mrs. Haggard is the incumbent, we're giving Mr. Lockwood here the first opportunity to answer. Tell us, Mr. Lockwood, what makes you a better choice than your opponent? You have five minutes." She levitated the stick over to him. 

Lockwood was a pegasus, so had to catch it with his hooves. The spell would still work for him, and indeed it did, as he stepped out from behind the podium, approaching the edge of the stage.

"People of New York," he began. "I know many of you feel personal gratitude to my opponent. All of us owe her our gratitude for her contributions as we grew from a group of strangers into a city of our own.

"I question, however, how many of us would feel comfortable with her as our president, if they knew the more unpleasant details about her. I suggest that, now that we have become stable as a society—we have enough food, our borders are secure and our future is stable—we are ready for more civilized leadership."

He gestured. "If you would step out for a moment, Mrs. Haggard. I'd like them to see you."

She did, standing calmly and looking out on the crowd with a flat expression.

"As you all can see, Mrs. Haggard is wearing a gun. This isn't the only one of her weapons she's turned on her enemies. She has two close 'friends' you can see there, on the side of the stage. Friends with advanced armor and weapons she has not shared with anyone else. Now, I may not know history as well as she does, but that looks a wee bit like someone trying to secure their power by force."

Murmurs passed through the crowd—murmurs of agreement. Jackie and Ezri were not wearing their armor tonight, but they often did. Technology that not even humanity before the collapse could have replicated, let alone their primitive reboot civilization.

"As I considered this campaign, I spoke with many who had known Mrs. Haggard intimately during these last few months. What I found disturbed me—I heard numerous bloody, frightening stories. As near as I can tell, she's killed at least a hundred people since coming to New York. Not prisoners, taken for responsible trial for their crimes. She killed them outright.

"Now maybe 'justice' means something else to her, but the way I see it, that isn't right. Vote for me tomorrow, and I pledge to end vigilante justice in our city. I'll invite everyone—no more waiting for them to come to us. Many of you have friends on the outside, friends that our current president will not allow to come in without pledges of work and loyalty. I will lift these restrictions for all, effective immediately.

"A vote for Barry Lockwood is a vote to end tyranny. A vote for freedom and justice for all citizens."

He stepped back behind his podium to roaring applause from the crowd. Alex scanned them, and found the most downtrodden, weary-looking ponies were those likely to be applauding him. These were the ponies who had come in off the streets, not those who had been rescued without ever seeing them. Those who had never been exposed to the absence of society were unmoved by the speech.

Curious. I would've thought it would be the other way.

"Madam President, you have two minutes to respond."

Alex imitated her opponent, walking to the edge of the stage, taking the enchanted stick in one of her hooves as she did so. The spell made her coat stand on end where she touched it, yet otherwise it did not interfere.

"The facts Mr. Lockwood has told you are accurate, but they are not complete. He did not include, for instance, the fact that the majority of those deaths were an invading army, who would have murdered every citizen had I not stopped them.

"Those of you who know me know I do not hurt anypony without offering surrender first. Some of you in this audience are here today because you raised your hooves against this city, but put them down when we offered you another way.

"Mr. Lockwood fails to mention that many of those ponies I killed were in the very act of attacking or killing our citizens.

"I believe the informed citizens of New York will be able to see my actions for what they were: the desperation of war. Mr. Lockwood is mistaken when he indicates we move into a more civilized time. We will not be safe until all of New York has joined with us. At this moment, the majority of its ponies still live outside the walls. The safety we enjoy is precarious and might shatter at any moment."

She offered the stick back to Summers, returning to her podium.

"Mr. Lockwood, you have sixty seconds."

He took the “microphone,” rising briefly up onto his hind legs as he looked around at the audience. "Hear her? Even now she fills your ears with fear mongering. The 'ponies' outside the walls aren't our enemy, they're struggling refugees in need, just like we are.

"I for one find myself skeptical of any claims a government makes that require us to give them more power—no matter what they are."

He waited for applause—there weren't as many this time, though there was a light smattering, before he returned to his podium.

"And now, our incumbent, Interim President Alex Haggard. I have the same question for you: Why are you a superior candidate to your opponent? You have five minutes."

She took the stick again, though this time she remained at the podium, looking out on the crowd. "I know I have asked difficult things of all of you," she began. "Every one of you has worked hard, and exceeded all my expectations. Because of you, we will have enough food to last through the winter. Because of you, we no longer have to fear an attack in the night. Lockwood is correct to suggest that life has improved tremendously since this settlement was founded.

"He is wrong in every other respect, however. Mr. Lockwood is ignorant of the realities that surround us." Again, she remembered the army she had seen, and her promise to Nancy. "When I protected the settlement from invasion, I learned that this entire city was meant to be a prison for us, that we were meant to live in pain in order to make soldiers.

"Killing Damocles was the only way to protect our settlement, as many in this audience will know what he has always done to anyone who tried to build civilization here. I am not fearmongering—ask anyone who has spent time on the streets, and they will tell you I am being honest.

"Before he died, Damocles gave me a warning I believe is accurate. Whatever foreign power he served will not permit us to turn his torture chamber into a city. Sooner or later, the king will come to destroy us.

"My policies—as rigorous as they are, and as difficult as they have been for some of you—are also the method I believe guarantees us the best chance of surviving that day. When that enemy comes, we will be a strong enough nation to resist it.

"My opponent might very well give you more enjoyable lives. For a few months, life might get easier. But eventually that army will get here, and I won't be able to stop them alone this time. We will all die."

She tossed the stick to Summers, rather than walking it. The movement was precise and quick, and she caught it in her magic without trouble.

"Two minutes for response, Mr. Lockwood."

Lockwood ambled out from behind his podium. "Isn't it convenient that the danger never goes away, no matter how safe we make ourselves? Isn't it convenient that the only way to deal with it is to keep her in power. Mrs. Haggard, I noticed you said this mythical army was coming to kill all of us—yet, isn't it your official stance that you are, in fact, some kind of immortal?"

Lonely Day did not need the microphone spell. "That is correct. I can be killed, but not permanently. I'll return, usually quite quickly."

She made out a muffled laugh from somewhere behind the platform—too quiet for the crowd to hear. Jackie was glaring up at her, intense. That was one time!

There was no laughter from the crowd as she said this. Only Lockwood laughed, the sound seeming forced from his lips. "That is a patently ludicrous claim. Not to mention, unless you volunteer to be killed in some way… which I'm guessing she won't do, everyone… is completely untestable. It's the same as all your other claims—frightening, dangerous sounding futures that will never happen. As it is, you only hold your current position because you've lied to these people, and you lie to them every day."

"Mr. Lockwood, that's time." 

"I for one won't stand for it another moment! Voting for me is the only—" 

Summers levitated the stick out of his grasp, glaring him down for a moment. "Mr. Lockwood would please remember the terms." She offered the stick back to Alex. "You have one minute."

Archive stepped again into the middle of the stage, glowering across at her opponent. "Mr. Lockwood has again carefully chosen his facts," she began. "It is true, I am in some ways different from you. It is not true, however, that my claims cannot be tested." Archive spread her wings a little, relaxing as she met his eyes. "If you question my honesty, test what claims of mine you can. I claim to know simultaneously everything humanity ever learned, across all fields of study. There are many experts in this crowd tonight. Doctors, technicians, scientists. If my opponent would consent to the diversion from our rules, I would be happy to permit any experts to examine me on any subject whatsoever."

There was a pause, as the whole of the amphitheater seemed to turn towards Lockwood. The pony sneered down at her, shaking his head curtly.

She turned away from him, looking down into the faces of the ponies below. "Lockwood refuses because he knows what we would discover." She raised her voice a little. "Look out at the city around you. Think about your full bellies, and how safe you sleep at night. All of this is evidence that I know enough to be your leader. I beg each of you for the chance at a full term. When those years are over, I commit to step down from my office and never run again."

She passed the microphone back to Summers. Several more questions were asked of each party, though they continued more or less along the same lines. In the end, Alex did not walk back to her friends and family on the edge of the stage feeling very confident.

"I can't believe this place is so eager to self-destruct," Jackie said, tapping her briefly on the shoulder. "Don't they know how much danger they're in? This isn't some pre-Event town you're running for mayor of here."

"No, it isn't," she sighed, dropping onto her haunches. "I wish we'd worked it into the constitution that the interim president had a whole year or something. If I had that much time, I might be finished making everything stable. I trust these ponies. Lockwood promises to make things easier for them… but they're not blind. They don't have to believe his claims, because the evidence is right in front of them. They know he can't do it."

Even as she said it, Lockwood himself walked across the stage towards her. He leered down at her, hopping down from the edge of the stage. "When this is all over, Alex… I'm going to have you gone. We don't need you anymore."

Alex felt her body tense. "Mr. Lockwood. What I didn't say on that stage was that, as of this moment, there is an army marching on the city. The threats I warn about aren't fictional, no matter what you claim. The destruction I warned about isn't some vague, distant thing. The invaders are already here. They arrived minutes before our debate started. By the time ponies vote tomorrow, they will all know it."

If Lockwood was surprised by what she said, he hid it very well. He only shrugged. "But will they believe it? Even if they accept the truth in time, their votes will already be cast. Come January, I will be sitting in your office."

"You're lucky I'm not the person you just described for everyone, Gabriel Keen."

That made him stop, eyes widening in shock. It drew more of a reaction by far than her remark about the army. "It shouldn't be any surprise for you to learn that magic is real. You think I won my battles to protect this settlement because of dumb luck? Because I treated the lives of my ponies casually?" Her eyes narrowed. "I am a creature you cannot understand, Gabriel. Wherever you see me, ten thousand years of history are looking back at you."


* * *


 

Bells screamed alarm as Alex cut through the city. Jackie had been out like a log—too difficult to rouse in so short a time. The constant alarm meant only one thing: the Bloodgate outpost was under attack.

Not from without, as she could plainly see as she zipped in closer. There were no ponies manning the walls, no mob washing over the barricades or scrambling through buildings.

Nancy hadn't come. Ezri would be rousing the army even now, perhaps already galloping here with Tom and as many minutemen as they could scrape up.

A dozen armored ponies fought in the courtyard with a similar number of her own guards. They were not doing well—the pony ringing the alarm had taken several arrows. Even as she watched, he took another to the head, dropping limply to the courtyard below.

Alex reached sideways across her torso, drawing her pistol. She was already close enough that they would see her descending.

Alex aimed at each of the four unicorns in turn, firing a single shot for each. By the time she was gliding in for a landing, all four of them were dead.

Archive stood in front of the Bloodgate, the ground still dark with red. She took in the invaders—seven armored figures, and one with deep, red robes. A commander, maybe? "Ponies, retreat! The army is coming—retreat to the city!"

The red-robed figure pointed angrily at her, and at once all seven of the remaining soldiers abandoned their battles and turned on her instead. Her own ponies—inexperienced, and poorly trained—took advantage of the chance to flee as she had instructed. They had not fared well in this battle, that was for sure.

Alex raised her pistol again, spinning the cylinder with a flick. She had learned since first obtaining it the weapon had a name—Kerberos. "Surrender," she said quietly, though she knew they wouldn't understand. Pity she hadn't learned that word.

The ponies charged her down, pikes and spears mounted to their armor and furious screams on their lips. Archive fired seven times, and one by one each of the soldiers dropped dead. It didn't matter how thick their armor was, or whether they were earth ponies or not. In a handful of seconds, Alex had doubled the number of corpses in the courtyard.

"Now, you." Alex leveled the gun at the red-robed pony, the only one who hadn't attacked her. Primitive as these ponies might be, it didn't take much demonstration to teach just what a gun could do. Every one of his ponies was dead on the ground around him, steaming holes rising from their heads.

"Demon." His eyes fixed immediately on her gun, though he managed to speak flatly. It was also English, though the accent was so thick it was difficult to isolate. "You cannot touch a priest, even in this place."

He removed his hood, revealing one of the oldest ponies she had ever seen. His mane had mostly fallen out, and liver spots were somehow visible through the fur on his head. His body had a sunken, withered appearance. More than that, she could feel magic from him, even though he was very clearly an earth pony.

She wanted to shoot. Unfortunately, he wasn't coming at her with anything. She wouldn't kill an unarmed enemy. "I could." She advanced towards him, letting the cylinder spin again. A little water vapor rose from each of the exposed chambers as she did. Alex still didn't know how the weapon worked—some strange combination of a spell and advanced technology—but it kept shooting, no matter how many times she needed it to. "But I won't. Where did you come from?"

"The king's army sent us to purify the city, and to find his servant."

"Damocles is dead." In the distance, Alex could make out the sound of galloping hooves, and many shouts. The priest heard it too, and his eyes jerked to the portal. Unfortunately, Alex was in his way. "I killed him."

"You can't lie to me." The priest shifted uncomfortably on his hooves, edging slightly to one side. Alex stepped sideways to match, between him and the gate again. "The king's servant wore sacred armor. The evil magic of this place couldn't pierce it. Like my sacred icons."

The gate flew open, and her own ponies flooded inside. Many were armed, but many more were still in their sleeping clothes, dragging weapons behind them.

The red-robed figure bolted towards the Bloodgate. Alex didn't even move to stop him—just aimed Kerberos, and shot him in the knee.

The pony went down in a tumbling, sloshing heap. Red splashed from a container he had been wearing under the robe, running all over the ground. It sizzled and popped, even as he kept clawing for the gate.

Even with a serious injury, an earth pony could be resilient.

Alex stepped between him and the gate again, just out of reach. She aimed the gun at his head. "You will stop moving now," she said, voice flat. 

He did.

"Mom!" Ezri buzzed over to her, even as the soldiers swarmed over the courtyard. "What happened?"

Alex ignored her, eyes snapping to Tom in the crowd. "Corporal!" She gestured at the ground in front of her. "Strip and bind this prisoner. I assume you already got our wounded to the medical detail."

"Yes, Ma'am!" He repeated her orders. Soon enough the wounded priest had been freed of his robes and was tied securely to a stretcher for transport.

Archive slipped Kerberos back into its holster, finally letting herself relax. "You bastards didn't have to attack us on election day," she muttered to the prisoner, before rising to her hooves and inspecting the courtyard.

"When my king discovers what you've done here, he will raze this city." The priest spat in her direction, a dark mixture of phlegm and blood.

Alex stepped easily out of the way. "Strip those soldiers before you burn them!" she called. "We could use the armor and weapons!" Only then did she turn sideways, facing the prisoner. "I doubt it," she said, matter-of-factly. "These buildings are a thousand years old. If time couldn't bring them down, primitives with torches sure won't."

 


* * *


 

The medical bay was no longer an empty room lit by a dirty window and only a bus's medkit worth of supplies. Metal plates had been attached to the walls—plates inscribed with runes that bathed the room in a constant, even light. Such spells were fairly intensive to maintain, but given the purpose of that chamber, a little wasted magic was an acceptable loss.

Of course anything disposable had long since been used up. When they could, medications were replaced with herbs, and distilled spirits served where once hydrogen peroxide had been used.

In addition to the four soldiers dead, another six had been wounded, which along with the city's existing wounded filled most of the beds. Alex was greatly relieved that she wasn't the only one to do medical work anymore—they had a real doctor and several nurses, with another in training. Too bad we can't have Oliver, though. I don't think I'll ever know another doctor as good as he was.

Alex waited beside her prisoner, out of reach and constantly alert. The sense of strange magic hadn't departed from him, even when he had been stripped of all his ceremonial robes and intricate tools. She wasn't about to have a monster running amuck in her hospital, even if that monster now had a shattered knee.

"Madam President." The doctor, Mercer, nudged her with the edge of an examining rod. "I can give you a report now, if you're ready."

She nodded weakly. "I'm ready, Doctor. How are the soldiers?"

"They'll live," he said. "Nothing medicine and magic can't fix. Forget about putting a spear in any of their hands anytime in the next few weeks. We'll need a spell from you for Crossbeck—slash went right through to the intestines. If we don't seal it magically, I give him twenty-four hours. I stitched him up as best I could, but with conditions as they are…"

"Infection, right." Alex didn't correct him on the “hand” point. Old habits were hard to break.

"The others will need to stay here for at least a week, longer if any of them start getting infected. We're almost out of alcohol."

"I'll get you more." She sighed, glancing once back at the bound priest. "What about our guest?"

"Compound fracture," Dr. Mercer answered. "I don't know what you did, but it completely pulverized the bone. I knew a surgeon back in St. Mary's who could've saved that leg—put in a titanium joint replacement, maybe. Under these conditions… I don't stand a chance in hell. It's got to go."

"You're absolutely certain of that?" she asked, speaking nice and slow so the prisoner could hear. "You can't save his leg?"

"Positive," Mercer repeated, sounding a little annoyed. "When have I ever told you anything I wasn't sure of, Madam President?"

"Never. Have you had the chance to vote yet, doctor?"

He shook his head. "That attack happened before the polls opened. Been here ever since."

She gestured to the door. "Go ahead and do that then, doctor. If our soldiers are stable…"

"Stable enough for the nurses to keep an eye on them," he agreed. "I wouldn't worry about your chances, Madam President. After this morning… you aren't the one who looks like a liar." He turned back to the prisoner, expression somber. "What about him? When I get back… we'll have to get that leg off. The longer it's attached, the greater the risk of a bone-splinter making its way to the heart."

"Have a nurse bring me two sheets of spelling paper on your way out," was all she said. "I will be ready for your return."

The unicorn doctor raised one hoof towards her in acknowledgement, then turned away. Alex heard him repeat her instructions to one of the nurses, and the doors banged open and closed several times.

"I hope you heard all that, friend," Alex said, as she pushed over a low wooden desk, to within five feet or so of the bound prisoner. "Things do not look good for you." The nurse deposited two large sheets of paper on the desk in front of Alex, along with a lump of charcoal. The paper was quite uneven—a mixture of many unbleached colors and lumpy from the production process—but a spell diagram wouldn't care. She waved the nurse away.

Her prisoner blinked weakly up at her, through eyes glazed over with pain. "When he comes… my king…"

"Will surrender to me or die," Alex finished for him. "Now you're going to listen to my offer." She started drawing on the sheet, sweeping, elegant lines with charcoal that rapidly shaped into runes. "How badly do you want to keep your leg?"

The prisoner laughed, though the gesture dissolved into pain after only a few seconds. "Doesn't matter what I want. Your doctor is as wise as any surgeon. If he believes the leg can't be saved—"

"Does your king know you're a refugee, Lloyd Meyer? Do the others in your priestly order know?"

"I understand… how a pony might guess my history," he said, hissing with pain. "But not my name. What magic are you casting on me?"

"None, yet." She continued to draw. "I'm a bat, can't you tell? We'll have to bring unicorns in to cast this spell. Assuming you cooperate."

"D-don't… try to lie…" he croaked. "You killed my escort without taking a wound. You… struck me down… now you know my name. You really are a demon."

"I am the blood of the ones you betrayed," she whispered. "It cried for vengeance from the dust." She finished with her drawing. The whole surface of the sheet was now covered with runes, each written with precision in dense calligraphy.

She held it up. "Can you read runes, Lloyd?"

He nodded, though his eyes jerked unevenly over the surface, not following the structure of the spell as an experienced mage would. "Never… seen them like that."

She set the diagram down. "This spell will give you back your leg, friend. Not today—it will take weeks to heal, once cast. But the pain will stop… the broken pieces will all mend. You'll walk again. You don't deserve it."

There was a long silence.

"No," he croaked, wiping moisture from one eye. "I don't. I've done… so many terrible things, spirit. So many dead… it was the only way. The only way to survive! You have to understand."

"My ponies depend on what you know," she said. "So this is my offer. You tell me what you know of the enemy—what the army plans to do, their strategies and equipment. The magic they command—answer all this for me, and in exchange I will instruct my doctors to repair your leg."

She put the blank sheet over the spell and started drafting the one her soldier needed. "Refuse, and I'll toss my spell into the fire."

"You couldn't!" There was genuine horror on his face now. "If it does what you say… it's a precious relic! Being able to repair broken bones by magic… a miracle…"

Archive felt her eyebrows go up. "You did see me draw it from memory…"

He groaned again, rolling over. Alex was a little surprised he was still conscious—earth pony magic was a powerful thing. "As you say. I will answer all your questions, except the secrets of my order. I took an oath—an oath I wouldn't break, even if it kills me. I will answer every other question you have."

Alex offered her hoof. "Shake on it. I want to see your eyes."

He rolled the other way, reluctantly taking her hoof. "I promise."

Archive looked into his eyes, searching for the truth they might be hiding. She found it. "Very well. We will resume this conversation once you have been treated. Tomorrow, perhaps. If you do anything to harm anypony, I'll have you carried a mile outside the settlement and left to the wolves."

Archive didn't really mean it, of course. She had probably sounded like she had.
> Episode 4.2: Strategic Asset
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without television and electronic voting, without districts and gradual tallying, it didn’t really make much sense to have an election party. It also didn’t help that the only alcohol they had was distilled for medical purposes, and most of their food was flat and flavorless.

“I heard you took one alive today,” Jackie said, over a plate of greens and flatbread. “Didn’t think you could do that.”

The penthouse apartment had perhaps twenty ponies in it—all of Alex’s intimate friends. A few of them actually laughed, though the sound was subdued. Six of their own had died today, after all.

“He surrendered,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “They should do that more often. He’s still recovering from surgery, but… by tomorrow morning, we should be able to have a proper interrogation.”

She glanced across the table to Stride, gesturing. The deer hurried over, looking awkward. Stride didn’t understand parties, no matter how many times Alex had explained them. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing.” Alex switched languages. “Any change across the bay?”

She nodded. “They’re erecting a camp. Starting to cut down trees. Seems like they plan on staying.”

Jackie and Ezri sat together on a wooden bench to one side, watching without comprehension. Alex translated, and Jackie’s expression grew dark.

“You’re not leaving, Alex.”

“Huh?” She blinked, tilting her head to one side. “What are you talking about?”

Ezri rolled her eyes. “What do you do every time something bad happens? Run out alone. How many times have you died that way?”

Nancy sat suddenly upright, eyes widening. She had been resting just beside Alex during most of the conversation, half-asleep from the late hour. She no longer seemed mostly asleep, despite her youth. “That’s actually happened?”

Alex glared up at Ezri. “You don’t have to freak her out like that,” she said, before turning back to the filly and letting her expression soften. “Ezri is remembering another time. I’ve been hurt really bad before—that’s what she means. Don’t let it bother you, okay?”

“Okay,” Nancy repeated, though she didn’t look convinced.

Jackie grunted. “You don’t think she should know everything?”

“I wish I didn’t have to remember all the details,” Alex said. “We’ve got more important things to worry about, like…” The doors banged open at almost that exact moment, and a thin gray pony carrying a rolled sheet of paper climbed in. 

All conversation stopped at that moment, everypony staring at the pegasus. It took him several moments to collect his breath enough to say anything. “The count is finished.” He offered the scroll in Alex’s direction. “Here.”

Ezri levitated it over, unrolling it in front of the two of them.

It had been surprisingly close. Lonely Day had taken the victory by less than fifty votes. An attack that same morning, and over four hundred people still voted for him? Were they insane?

It was hardly a positive result. A vote so close meant that a near majority wanted Lockwood for their president. It meant their settlement was precariously close to tearing itself apart.

Ponies around her started cheering, congratulating her, but Alex ignored them all. She cut across the room to the messenger, offering the scroll again. “Lockwood knows this as well?”

He nodded nervously. “Shouldn’t he? I thought…”

“No, you did the right thing.” She snapped around. “Tom, Jackie, Silvia, Ezri!” She drew her revolver nervously, spinning the cylinder, as though checking it for damage. It was in perfect working order, as ever.

All four of them hurried over. Only Tom showed any sign of comprehension—the others were still celebrating. “Hopefully nothing’s about to happen,” she began. “But it doesn’t seem likely. Jackie, Tom, I need you with me. We’re going to mobilize the minutemen. Hopefully we don’t need to prevent a riot.” She turned to the others. “Silvia, how’s that shield spell coming?”

The unicorn took a sip from her glass before answering. “Almost a hundred meters now. With a few more unicorns…”

“You won’t have a few more.” She gestured at the room. “You two are going to keep these ponies safe. Nopony comes into this room until morning.” Her eyes wandered to Mary, then Nancy in turn. “Hopefully you just get to enjoy the party some more. But we won’t be taking any risks.”

Ezri nodded gravely. “With my life, Mom.” At least Jackie and Ezri shared the penthouse with her—that meant their armor and weapons were already up here.

Alex met Tom’s eyes next. “Arm the minutemen with nonlethal weapons. Protect the armory and the storehouse.” Those areas were already guarded, as they always were. But if a huge mob formed, a handful of guards on each would be far from enough.

“Understood.” He turned and ran for the stairs without another word. Alex went for a window instead, fighting with the ancient mechanisms until she wedged it open. 

By the time she had, Jackie was already in her jumpsuit, expression much darker. “You really think we’ll have to…” She trailed off.

The window overlooked the central courtyard, which gave them a decent view of most areas of interest in the colony. A crowd was already forming on the far side—the most recent building cleaned and stabilized for habitation. At least a hundred of them, maybe more, many carrying torches or dragging tools. “I’d say 100%.” Distant shouting at their lead—Lockwood, she guessed.

“Do you want me to kill him?”

“No!” She glowered. “That’s not how democracy works. We just need to… to remind them.”

“I’m not letting them kill you,” Jackie said. “Last time that happened, the whole world went to shit. Never again.”

Alex glanced over her shoulder at the worried ponies, one last time. Terrified eyes. “I won’t let this be the end of our democracy,” she said, before slipping over the edge and letting herself fall from the window. She caught herself on the night wind, feeling the darkness all around her. Shadows warped at her will, concealing her as she glided out over the clearing. She passed over the storage cellar, with its winter stockpile. The survival of this settlement depended on its protection. As she flew, alarm bells started ringing, guards rushing from barracks and dragging their weary companions along.

She passed over the mob, keeping enough distance between herself and the flames, but not so much that her sensitive ears wouldn’t be able to make out Lockwood’s yells.

“Let them make themselves slaves!” he was shouting. “We’ll take what’s ours, and start our own city! Without a monster lording over us.”

Archive didn’t prove them right by appearing right in front of him. Her worst fears confirmed, she wheeled around and headed back for the locked storage basement, where already her guards were looking afraid. After all, there were only fifty soldiers anywhere close to trained, and six of them had died that morning.

Thanks to the fields and the sheds, there would be no direct line of sight to her as she appeared only a few feet from the storage shed. There were three guards outside—two with crossbows, and one with a spear. All three had aluminum armor on their bodies.

“P-president?” one of them asked, blinking in confusion as she stepped out into his perception, and the shadows wrapping around her no longer kept her hidden. “What are you—”

The sound of the distant mob crossing the field hadn’t resolved into proper words yet, though the shouting and flickering firelight were very obvious, even at this distance. “We’re about to be attacked,” she said, not drawing her weapon. “Our own ponies. Corporal Wagner went for reinforcements, but he won’t be here in time. We’ll have to hold out alone until he can get here.”

“Uh…” The three of them shared a look. “Who’s attacking?”

“Lockwood,” she muttered, anger unrestrained. “He just found out he lost the election, and he’s got together a mob of his strongest supporters.” She extended one hoof to the guard with the spear. “Give me your weapon.”

Jackie hadn’t reappeared—probably she wouldn’t unless she had to. Her first strike would be as unseen as it was deadly, more than likely. Alex could only hope she didn’t kill anypony. If she did that, it would prove everything Lockwood had said in the eyes of his supporters. The mob would turn into a riot for sure, and more ponies would die.

Alex caught the offered spear and traced a semicircle in the dirt in front of the storage area. “All three of you, get behind this and don’t cross it for any reason. Don’t step on my lines.” She drew very quickly—this spell was the first one almost every unicorn learned, after all. She was just tweaking the intensity, shifting a few variables… and it was done. She tossed the spear back to its owner, turning to one of the crossbow-wielding unicorns. “You, uh… Ralph. Put your horn right here.” She stepped onto the other side, then raised a hoof to prevent the others from following her. “No, you guys are on that side.”

Ralph touched his horn to the indicated place, and immediately the spell came to life. It looked like a shield, one of the most powerful Alex had ever conjured. It was bright and domed over the heads of the ponies within, so vibrantly green it was almost opaque.

Her words didn’t distort in the least as they would’ve with an ordinary shield. “You three. Look as menacing as you can, brave. Don’t say anything once they get here, not a word.”

“I can still hear you,” Ralph pointed out.

“Yes,” she whispered, harsh. “Because shield runes can’t just be written in dirt. The energy requirements are too high. This is just a light spell.”

“Oh.”

Alex went back to tracing runes—not actually connected with her light spell. Not actually a real spell, either. She chose unicorn words at random and laced them together in the scariest-looking combinations she could, before sitting down on her haunches at the very center and leaning on the spear.

It was a good weapon—a shaft of sturdy wood, with a steel tip. About four feet long, with a special cross brace on one side so that it could be held with a leg instead of a hand.

“I hope you’re watching, Jackie,” she muttered, very quietly. “Make sure my spell works, will you?”

There was no reply. A few seconds later and the mob rounded the orchard with its earth-pony-grown fruit trees, and saw her work. Lockwood shouted, his voice carrying through the night. “See for yourselves, exactly as I said! The tyrant will not permit you to take the labor of your own hands!”

It was a good thing Jackie wasn’t visible to be pedantic and point out none of them had those. Probably wouldn’t have helped diffuse the situation.

As it was the crowd roared with anger, shaking their tools and torches and speeding closer to her.

Alex didn’t need to be a unicorn to be heard. Like her or hate her, these ponies were part of her civilization now, one based as closely on humanity as any pony civilization could be. She gathered up every one of those little threads as Sunset had once taught her, and yanked.

The crowd came to a confused halt, every one of them finding their attention drawn to her unwillingly. Even Lockwood was compelled by the magic, the breath momentarily torn from his lungs.

Archive did not waste the opportunity. “Be careful, citizens! The storage area has been protected with a dangerous spell. I’m here to prevent an accident.”

“Protect us?” Her pulling had the desired impact. The crowd bunched up around her, circling the storage area but not getting within ten paces of the shield. Only Lockwood dared to get closer to her, yet even he kept his hooves well clear of the runes.

“Yes,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could. It was time to channel her daughter. “This isn’t just a shield—this one will kill anypony who crosses it. I would not want anyone to be harmed accidentally.”

For all he had called her a liar before, Lockwood hesitated now, looking between the intricate markings on the ground and the glowing barrier. His eyes narrowed. “We came for our fair share of the stockpile,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. “We’re taking it, and we’re leaving.”

“No, you aren’t,” she said. “Remember the constitution you read when you joined. Remember how each of you signed and agreed to live by it, when you moved here?”

“There’s nothing in the constitution about keeping us as slaves,” he said, raising his voice a little. Shouts of approval echoed from behind him, and a few ponies shook their weapons vaguely in her direction. 

“There isn’t.” She rose to her hooves, careful not to step on any of the lines of her spell. Of course, it wouldn’t do anything if she did… but after the basic training they had provided, everypony in that crowd ought to know the mechanics of runes enough to know that they should not be disturbed.

“But the constitution is quite clear that all stockpiled resources are communal until private ownership is formalized. You may all leave if you wish, but you can’t take the resources we’ve been saving. That food is meant to get everyone through the winter, and seed the crops of a new year. If you wish to leave, you’ll leave without it.”

She raised her voice, calling on her magic again. She couldn’t keep using it—these ponies would get callous to its effects quickly. Even so, while she held her connections, they would be compelled to listen. Many of them would probably feel instinctive trust in her promises. Even when those promises were threats.

“I know many of you are upset—Lockwood promised you things you desperately wanted. But lashing out because you’ve lost isn’t the answer, not now. Our situation is already desperate—did any of you see the bodies of your brothers and sisters we carried in this morning? Six of us died to keep you safe today. Who will keep you safe when the army comes to find their missing troops?”

She flicked her tail back at the shield. In the distance, she could make out charging hoofsteps. Tom and the minutemen were finally on their way, and getting close. She wasn’t surprised he had chosen to reinforce the armory first. Food would be devastating to lose, but it was quite difficult to kill soldiers with wheatberries.

“The New York settlement is protected by powerful spells. I have many years of practice with magic: magic to keep our water from making us sick; magic to let crops grow out of season; magic to heal the wounded. I can see a few of you have mastered levitation. Maybe a few more can fly. Will flying and levitation keep you warm when it starts to snow, or light your homes at night?”

The crowd shifted uneasily, some of its momentum deflating. Many eyes fell on Lockwood, waiting for his response.

“We know everything we need!” he insisted. “We have copies of all the magic the settlement is using. We can reproduce all of it for ourselves—the president here can’t even do any of it herself. She steals the strength of others to do it, like everything else she does!”

It wasn’t hard to speak over him. “I’ve stolen nothing, Lockwood. Every one of you chose to come here! You could have all the freedom you want on the other side of our walls, but you came here. You came here because working together makes us stronger.

“We need all your strength for the next few months. Winter is going to be incredibly hard. The magic you’re learning now will help keep everyone alive. If you leave now…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Listen—I’ve already promised I won’t ever run again. I can sign a document to that effect, with Lockwood to witness. In four years, we really will be safe. You can all vote for him again, and he can be president. Is four years so long when you have hundreds more to live?”

Again there was silence. This time even Lockwood seemed to be considering her words. Murmurs passed through the crowd, and lots of the torches seemed to droop.

Eventually, Lockwood straightened. “What you’re doing is wrong, Alex. It’s wrong of you to force ponies to work the way you do. It’s wrong of you to force them to swear to follow your rules to eat the food they grow.”

She nodded. “It’s wrong of us to be thrown into this city to die by primitives. It’s wrong of our fellow prisoners to steal and murder and rape. It’s all wrong. What we’re doing now, as hard as it is, puts us on the path to recovering as quickly as possible. Maybe in time that we can survive the invasion when it comes.”

Tom rushed in, breaking past the shield with his soldiers all moving in formation. They had nonlethal weapons—clubs, mostly. Training swords made from wood. Alex moved forward, so that the soldiers could rush between the mob and the stockpile and she could still talk to the ponies assembled.

“I don’t want to leave anymore,” someone shouted, from the back of the crowd. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I still remember what it’s like to live on the street.”

“Yeah!” someone else agreed. “If we can’t get the supplies… we’d never make it.”

“We could wait until spring, couldn’t we? It would be easier to start a new colony when it isn’t about to get cold.”

The crowd began to disperse. Ponies left, taking their weapons and torches with them. In the end, only a handful remained, the group of the sturdiest, most obstinate of Lockwood’s supporters. All of them had farm implements instead of torches.

“This isn’t over, Alex,” Lockwood hissed, only a few feet away from her. “This is war.”

“Careful.” One of her hooves migrated to the holster, though she didn’t draw her handgun. “The law will be enforced, Mr. Lockwood. If you do anything to weaken us during wartime, I’ll have you out on your ass.”

The half dozen burly-looking ponies edged in around them. Tom’s own men advanced at the exact same moment, so they couldn’t surround her.

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, his voice so quiet that only she could hear.

“I’m reminding you of the laws you agreed to follow when you moved in,” she said. “We are at war now, Mr. Lockwood. There are twenty thousand soldiers camped just across the bay. One of their scouting parties attacked us today.”

He grunted. A few of his ponies closed in around her even closer. “What do you think will happen if a riot starts? You think those cronies of yours will get you out before something bad happens?”

“I think…” She kept her voice just as low. “I think you haven’t heard about the battle this morning. Our soldiers are better trained than your friends, and six of them died.”

“I heard.” He leered at her. “Don’t see what difference it would make right here.”

“That battle ended two minutes after I arrived. Do I look hurt to you, Mr. Lockwood?”

The stallion met her eyes for another dangerous moment, before turning away, disgust on his face. “We’re done, lads. For now.” They left.


 * * *


The next day dawned uneventfully. There were no more riots, no ponies dead in the streets. Despite his threats, Lockwood and his ponies went to their regular work as on any other day. The settlement had been saved.

Alex gave her acceptance speech that afternoon after lunch, to a crowd of unenthusiastic ponies. It was hard to get excited when they’d had to bury the corpses of their friends only a few hours earlier.

By evening they had gathered all the tactically important ponies in the village, enough that Alex felt confident in conducting the interview. Lloyd Meyer was waiting for them in the hospital.

Even after the healing spell had been performed, they had taken precautions. Four guards waited beside him at all times, all earth ponies. Between that and the bindings holding him to the bed, Alex wasn’t that worried. She would have liked to do something more impressive with magic, but time and resources had been tight.

Lloyd didn’t look like he had struggled much. The pony looked much healthier than the day before—some of the color was back in his face, and his eyes no longer seemed glazed. His whole leg was immobilized in a sturdy cast—Ezri’s changeling slime wasn’t as light as plaster, but light didn’t matter much when they didn’t want the pony to move anyway. “I was wondering when you would come.”

Alex gestured for the medical staff to draw the curtains separating them from the rest of the hospital. She had brought five ponies in all—Tom for the army, Mary from supply, an earth pony named Rudolph for the farmers, a blacksmith pegasus named Carson, and Jackie for her knowledge of the outside world. Only Jackie was armed—she hadn't taken her armor off since the night before.

“Who are all these?” the prisoner asked, groaning a little. “Does your spell need recharging?”

“No.” Alex was the only one who didn’t bother with a chair. She walked up beside the bed and sat down on her haunches, gesturing to the guards. “Ponies, wait outside the hospital. You’re on break.” They left without a word—no salute either.

Only then did she look back. “Dr. Mercer tells me the spell was successful.”

“A wonder,” the prisoner agreed, and the awe sounded real. “I broke a femur once—off a swing, in another life. My knee already feels better than my leg did after weeks of healing.”

She nodded. “What we did wasn’t some ancient mystery, as you seemed to suggest. There was a time when all people everywhere had access to healing magic when they needed it. Sometimes a spell is the better tool—sometimes an antibiotic. We used to be able to choose both.”

“I don’t know how you would know that,” Lloyd grunted. “I have great-grandchildren older than you.”

“Hey!” Tom grinned. “I said that. You told him to say that, didn’t you Alex?”

“Are we here to get answers, or is this some sort of joke?” The pegasus flicked his wings impatiently. The tips were singed, some of the wax melted from a few of the feathers. It didn’t seem to bother him. “My apprentice is casting another batch of pots, and I don’t want them to shatter like the last ones did. If I’m not needed here…”

Alex extended a wing gently toward him, stopping Carson before he could make it to the curtain. “The whole assembly needs to be here for this, Carson. The people you represent are going to be wanting answers, and it will be your job to give them. We must understand the obstacles if we are to overcome them.”

The pegasus grunted, then walked back to his chair. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He sat down, folding his forelegs across his chest impatiently.

Alex turned back to the prisoner. “You know the deal, Lloyd. Do you intend to cooperate?”

He nodded. “Coming back after a defeat like mine… I’m dead anyway.”

“Very well.” She cleared her throat. 

Mary was already settled behind a writing desk by then, and took the quill into her mouth. One of Nancy’s feathers, sharpened into a pen. “Ready Alex.”



Alex: Were you sent by the army camping across the river from New York?

Lloyd: Yes.

Alex: What was the purpose of your mission?

Lloyd: To locate a missing servant of the king, Damocles. If something had happened to him, to take possession of his force and punish his murderers.

Alex: Then why would you need an army?

Lloyd: The last message we received from Damocles indicated somepony new was trying to build in the city. It said they’d already gathered more ponies than any previous attempt. We assumed that if Damocles had been killed, that must be the cause. I guess we weren’t wrong.

Alex: No, you weren’t.

Tom: What will the army do now that you haven’t returned?

Lloyd: I don’t know. I was never a soldier. I don’t know tactics.

Alex: Guess, speculate.

Lloyd: If my first scouting party didn’t return, I would send flyers to get a look at things from the air. Whatever took my first group might take another.

Alex: Continue your speculation for a moment. Your pegasus ponies fly over the city, and we don’t notice them. They see the gate is still guarded by troops in different armor and uniforms than yours. Maybe they even see us digging the grave. What do they do then?

Lloyd: I don’t believe they will attack right away. The army could not cross into the Nameless City.

Tom: Why not?

Lloyd: Currents are far too fast, and the water is too deep. Many soldiers can’t swim, and even those who can would be hard-pressed to cross so far wearing steel armor and carrying supplies.

Alex: How soon could they attack?

Lloyd: The Bloodgate requires many sacrifices. We brought animals to fuel our trip here—we had intended to return by boat. There are not enough to send more than a few more scouts into the city—my brothers will not waste the blood. They will conserve it, in order to send messages to the king.

Alex: That isn’t an answer. Where could we be attacked?

Lloyd: I don’t know anything about the military. I already told you.

Alex: But you must have spoken to the generals. You must know something from travelling all this way with an army. How would they get onto the island if they can’t swim?

Lloyd: We did… there was a plan. A contingency for the worst possible scenario. Maybe they have already reached it, or maybe they will after you kill another scouting party.

Alex: I will only kill another scouting party if they attack my ponies again.

Lloyd: Yes.

Alex: So what was the plan?

Lloyd: I shouldn’t say.

Tom: You will answer the president’s question.

Lloyd: You can’t frighten me, outcast. My order has far greater magics than yours. The price of disobedience is… extreme.

Alex: Please explain this contingency. I already threatened you once, Lloyd. I don’t want to do it again.

Lloyd: (after a moment) They planned to wait until spring. It is well known that outcasts do not understand magic, and rarely know useful skills. We expected most of you to starve during the cold season, as you do every year.

Alex: Will seeing us with our own settlement change their minds?

Lloyd: Talking to me would. Seeing you from the air… I don’t think so. From what I saw of your fields on the way in, they did not look impressive. Most of your trees were too young to bear fruit, and your wheat looked like it was struggling to grow in the cold.

Carson: But we make our own metal tools! See this? (Carson holds up a set of metal tongs) This is stainless steel! You primitives couldn’t make it if you tried!

Lloyd: Neither could you. You found that in the ruins. Anything ‘advanced’ about you would probably be explained that way—either tools you had stolen from Damocles when you killed him, or artifacts recovered from the city itself.

Tom: So you intended to wait until spring. What then?

Lloyd: During the winter the ponies would be building barges. When the thaw finally came, we would sail those barges to the Nameless City. And… and kill every pony we found. Install a new jailer, and start over.

Rudolph: You people are monsters. I always thought… the way you send people here… it seemed callous, but maybe it could be explained. Just murdering them… helpless, innocent people…

Lloyd: We are all monsters. King Obrican does what he believes is right. His subjects trust his rule, myself included.

Alex: You haven’t lied to me until now. Are you sure you trust him?

Carson: How can you know that, President? Didn’t you say he was a priest? Priests are always the best liars.

Alex: I’m positive.

Lloyd: I trust him. King Obrican is going to win—there are twenty thousand spears waiting to cross the river and flood into your city. They won’t come until you’re starved and weak from a tough winter. All your lost knowledge will be destroyed, and I will die too.

Alex: That will not happen.

Tom: Twenty thousand, Alex…

Alex: It won’t happen. Lloyd, is there any chance the king might send more?

Lloyd: More than an army? Not until word got back to him. Outcasts are considered inferior for religious reasons. Blind, deaf and dumb. The possibility of you winning would not have been considered. Otherwise, he might have sent an army five times as large.

Tom: Unlikely. Any primitive king would have a hard time keeping such a large force supplied.

Lloyd: You are ignorant, outcast. You understand neither our methods nor our tools. Don’t take the success of your leader to mean you are invincible.

Alex: Tom is a student of military history, Lloyd. He makes valid points, but… I think they’re irrelevant. I think that’s enough for now. I will return again tomorrow. We have already learned a great deal from the captured armor and weapons… but I will want to know more detailed information about your military capabilities. Tomorrow, after you have a chance to rest.

Lloyd: As you say, ‘President.’

Alex: (approaches the prisoner, and says something unintelligible)

Lloyd: (appears visibly disturbed) You can’t.

Their meeting reconvened in the city conference room ten minutes later. The large space had rough furniture, as rough as anything else they had made with their own hooves. Alex had contributed only the detailed map of the city, which she had sketched onto the surface of the wood for some unicorn to carve. It centered on the settlement, though it extended for twenty blocks or so in every direction—past the most extreme edges of their fields, past the Bloodgate and every part of the island they had intended to expand into.

There were no chairs in here, and so the ponies huddled around the table and sat. No one looked happy, and for a long time no one spoke.

Rudolph was the first to break the silence, glancing across the table at Jackie. “Outsider, do you think there might be room for… about a thousand people… wherever you came from?”

The bat yawned and stretched in reply, shaking her head. “We didn’t come from anywhere. My wife and I were hiding in the same kingdom you’re fighting.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Mrs. Jackie… but the kingdom we’re fighting didn’t make your armor. Couldn’t we live with them? Wouldn’t they want to help us?”

Jackie laughed bitterly. “I don’t know. I’d ask, but they all went to fucking space, so…” She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think they’re going to come to our rescue.”

“They won’t,” Alex agreed. “We’ll have to do this on our own.”

“Then we’re dead,” Carson muttered, eyes downcast. “There’s nothing we can do to fight odds like that, Alex. Even if we weren’t coming apart at the seams… we can’t make enough armor for everyone.”

“Armor isn’t the issue,” Tom whispered. “If we trained every able man and woman we didn’t need to keep everyone else fed and clothed, maybe we’d have four hundred. They’d be outnumbered fifty to one. This isn’t a war we can win.”

“It gets worse.” Alex spoke evenly, without the despair the others were barely restraining. “I’m not certain how many ponies there are in this city—but my magic lets me guess. There are at least twice as many refugees still out in the city as live with us… and that number might be much higher.” She raised a hoof, cutting Rudolph off. “No, it isn’t a good thing. These aren’t going to be trained soldiers—they’re going to be starving, helpless ponies.

“Our enemy’s strategy gives us time, but it also gives us an enemy we can’t just fight. The ponies who weren’t driven here when we won against Damocles… the ponies who didn’t come when we started planting fields and scavenging from anywhere we wanted… those ponies will all come once there is nothing for them to eat and they can’t find warmth in empty buildings.

“I’m guessing all of them who know about us will come to our gates eventually, starving and too weak to work. The stockpile we’ve been keeping will be nowhere near enough. If we don’t do something about it, we’ll starve long before the army comes.”

She did not voice the other, even more distasteful option. A few moments passed, and no one else did.

“So we’re doomed,” Mary muttered. “We die either way.”

Alex stared down at the map for a long time, letting her eyes lose focus. She tried to see the city, with its thousands of hungry ponies. As it was, the population outside their settlement relied on grazing. Once that option was gone…

Then she smiled. “I know what we’ll do. About… about the food problem.”

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” Jackie grumbled. “You just remembered some secret Equestrian spell, didn’t you? Sunset Shimmer taught you some secret way to make food out of rocks.”

“No.” Alex grinned. “We’ll just skip winter.” She raised a hoof, gesturing. “Mom, pass me some of that paper. I have to draft up a weather schedule.”

Jackie crowded in close as Mary passed her a few sheets, the only one who wasn’t stunned into confusion. Her voice was low, but not so low that the others wouldn’t be able to hear. “Alex, you know how big this island is, right? You have, what, fifty ponies who can fly?”

“More than enough.” Alex started writing rapidly, scribbling her schedule. “Equestrian weather code specifies an absolute minimum of one trained pony per square mile. We don’t even need to go that far.” She gestured to the map, drawing a circle in the air above the settlement with one hoof. “Four square miles, that’s all. Just divert some of the heat rising up from the gulf… bust a few clouds… and winter never comes.”

Tom was the first of her colonists to speak. “Alex—I know you said the ponies with wings could change the weather. I’m still not convinced… I’m not convinced a change on this scale is possible.”

“Even if it is,” Rudolph began. “Won’t there be consequences? Plants and animals aren’t used to shifts in the climate like that.”

She nodded. “There will be serious consequences. But there is one group of plants I can guarantee will not die: ours. Earth pony magic will keep them strong and healthy, regardless of the sudden shift. Equestria’s whole ecosystem… or at least the parts I saw… depended on magic.”

“I don’t like the idea of making the planet dependent on us,” Tom said. “That’s been one of the few things keeping humans alive as long as we have. Even when we screw up, the world keeps on spinning.”

“It won’t be permanent,” she said. “But do any of you have any better ideas? Please, if you have a suggestion, I’ll take it.”

“You want us to use a kind of magic none of us know… to change the climate on this whole island,” Carson said. “Suppose we do it. As insane as it sounds. Spring comes on the outside, and our friends invade. They have… fifty soldiers to each of ours. Can you fight all of them, the way you fought Damocles?”

There was silence again. Archive could practically feel their hope fading. She couldn’t let that happen.

“I… I don’t know what we’ll do about the army yet.” She straightened, putting the pen down. “But I will find a way. It’s never mattered that something seemed impossible before, has it?” She looked to Tom. “I promised I would help you all bring civilization back. Haven’t I?”

Tom nodded.

“Rudolph. I promised you that you’d never have to watch another pony starve. You didn’t believe me when I said so, did you?”

“Well no, but—”

Archive glanced briefly towards the end of the table, where her mother sat. She looked away quickly, wiping away the tears before they could form. 

“Give me time to find an answer,” she pled. “Don’t give up hoping.” She tapped on the model in front of them with one hoof. “I need time to think. There are many spells… many technologies we might try. I’ll have a better idea of what we can do once I speak with our prisoner again, about their methods of war.

“But none of that matters if we can’t survive winter.” She looked across the table at them all. “Flying classes are mandatory for every pegasus from now on. Mom, please see that every available pegasus is transferred out of whatever morning duties they had. Also, cancel every salvage crew. From now on, we’re going to be using our spare labor to clear out and reinforce new buildings. Let’s plan on space for… five thousand more, just to be safe.”

She turned slightly. “Rudolph, forget everything I told you about preparing the crops for winter. Plow the clover under, we’ll do a turn of corn and potatoes instead. Mary will get you the stock for planting from our stores. I’ll get you another… hundred ponies from the labor pool for clearing new fields. Go as far outside the fences as you need to. Forget stockpiling firewood—burn the land clear if you have to.”

She could feel it—confidence filling the room again. Trust, and the strength to keep going. It smelled delicious to her. “Carson. We need farming implements for another five hundred ponies. Training weapons too. Everyone you have on winter clothes can be doing something more productive.”

“Tom.” She turned. “Just keep training your ponies. Be thinking about what it would take to turn your whole command structure into a training organization. You might be getting a lot of new recruits.”

“This isn’t the first time Alex here has helped ponies in need overcome crazy situations,” Jackie said. “When I was still… a long time ago, she took on a whole army of miners to help out the refugees they were enslaving. If she says she can do it, she can do it.” Jackie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Somehow.”

“I don’t think we have that many choices,” Tom eventually said. “It’s either try this plan, or… or try to get off the island and survive the winter without supplies. With an army out there… I’m guessing we wouldn’t be able to escape. They’d hunt us down and…”

“Unfortunately,” Alex said. “Lloyd said that the army was here to kill everyone. They aren’t going let the ones they came to hunt run away and disperse into the woods. We either fight, or we die. Simple as that.”

“We fight,” Tom said. “We know things they don’t. We’re fighting for our lives, our wives and children, and they’re only fighting for glory. This will be a decisive advantage. Not enough to win by itself, but…”

Rudolph looked between them, his expression darkening. “Going to be a hell of a year.”

So time passed. Whatever discontent there had been in the settlement appeared settled, or at the very least pushed far enough to the sidelines that there weren’t any more riots. Lloyd’s promised pegasus scouts arrived a week or so after the election—and Jackie made sure they wouldn’t be reporting back on what they had seen. Alex didn’t know how the thestral had managed to kill all four with a dagger, and she hadn’t asked.

They outfitted the area just around the portal with fortifications—but not the kind that would be lethal to a refugee who happened to stumble through.

Most importantly, every pair of wings was devoted to the monumental task of creating a bubble of spring in the beginning of winter. Alex could fly alongside the weather team, giving frequent instruction to the ponies upon whom their lives now depended, but she could not help them. She didn’t just have different wings—she didn’t have any weather magic of her own.

Alex didn’t know what would’ve happened to her settlement if she had failed, because she didn’t. By the time what she took for December was upon them, the rivers were ice and the streets were buried in snow, except for a few miles around the settlement.

Magic flowed like water—fruit trees grew strong and bore fruit, crops swelled rapidly for harvest, and the cellars overflowed with good things.

Another of Alex’s predictions came true too: hunger brought more and more refugees to their doors, so much so that they built a dedicated office specifically for swearing in new citizens.

Not a day was wasted—every pony able and willing was given armor and weapons and the best training they had. Craftsponies of all kinds improved their abilities, and where once they had been forced to go naked and power the mill with muscles, by December they had looms and a water-wheel to keep grain processing.

The population doubled, and with it so did the magic at their disposal. Those resentful at the changes they had brought six months ago were very easy to pacify when they could offer a part of the city where snow never fell and there was always food to eat.

A few things got names—the settlement, long called simply “New York,” was finally given the proper name “Estel” to help ponies tell it apart from the wider area of Manhattan Island in general.

Life was good. For awhile.
> Episode 4.3: Warm Hearths
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alex walked slowly as they neared the edge of Estel, repressing a shiver as she felt the chill wind that always marked the border. The variation in temperature between the settlement and the surrounding city had become so extreme over the last few months that a constant vortex blew through the city, swirling around the territory. It was not snowing inside their bubble, yet a mere twenty meters away Alex could see a maelstrom of snow and ice, whirling around them fast enough to tear an inexperienced pegasus from the air. It wasn't fast enough to hurt a pony on the ground, unless you were unlucky enough to take something in the eye.

They walked along a field of vegetables—a field where once cars had driven—marked by a low stone wall. Now carrots, lettuce, and potatoes grew inside, blissfully unaware of the frost roaring up against them from so close. There were no farm workers here now—the entire city had the day off to spend with their friends. Not families, except where new ones had formed since the Event. 

"We could've talked in my office, Stride. Nopony would've bothered us. It's Christmas Eve—they're enjoying the festivities. Like I'd like to be doing."

The deer had changed in only one way since the seasons had turned over (or almost had). Stride had grown a thick coat, so thick she could bound through the snow without difficulty. She was clearly straining to be in the barrier even now, sweating in the mid-sixty degree weather. "I did not want them to overhear."

"We can't talk out there." Alex gestured with a hoof. "I don't want to spend my Christmas Eve wet and freezing."

"That was not the reason, All-Crafted!" The nickname was a new one—one Stride had coined by accident and many others had adopted. The title "President" just didn't seem to do justice to someone who could craft a new season in the middle of winter. "The others are possessive of you of late. I fear even if we spoke in my language, someone would overhear. This is better."

Alex sat down on a bare patch of ground, spreading out her wings as she relaxed. "If you say so. Tell me what's bothering you, Stride."

"Your city is still trying to kill me," she began. "But that isn't why I wanted to talk."

"Buildings collapsing don't mean the city wants to kill you. You're heavier than most ponies—it just couldn't take the strain."

The deer narrowed her eyes. "All-Crafted, I respect your wisdom… we can speak of that matter another time. I did not ask you to come with me for that."

"Why, then?"

Stride seemed to struggle for a long time before answering. She turned back towards the center of Estel, where even now she could hear the sound of conversation carrying over the not-too-distant wind.

Something strange happened then: Stride appeared to her magical senses—a brief flash of comprehension, for only a few moments. "You have done… things I could not imagine. I knew from the first, when I saw you fight the skycat and win, that the Mother walked with you. I saw a favored daughter, and I knew you could do great things. Still…"

Alex remained silent, letting Stride finish.

"When we found ourselves in this hell, I thought I might die here. It was worse than a slave pen, and I knew you would fail. But you didn't." She lifted a hoof, gesturing at the field and the walls and the barrier of wind beyond. "This is incredible, All-Crafted. We walked in with nothing, and we have already built something wonderful. More mageblood live here than any Kin in any of our cities."

"I… I don't understand what you're getting at," Archive said. "Not that I don't appreciate the compliment. Your assessment is a little generous… and perhaps premature. We don't know if anypony here will still be alive in a year. There is an army waiting to kill all of us. They may succeed."

Stride laughed. "Kill the mageblood who can stop the seasons and feed five thousand with salvage and prayer? I don't think so." She briefly touched Alex on the shoulder with one foreleg. "I called you here to… remind you of something. A promise you made, long ago."

"I remember all my promises," Alex said, quietly. "Which one do you mean?"

"I didn't believe you at the time—magebloods always make big promises, but always lie. But now… I see you were telling the truth. You said you knew the way to make a people great. You said that one day, when your people were safe, you would go with me to the North to the forests of my Kin and teach us your ways."

Stride started pacing back and forth only a few feet away, carefully avoiding the vegetables. "I didn't laugh at you back then, but I would've told you we didn't need your way. The magebloods I knew were always backwards and cruel. Sometimes they were stupid. But this…" She gestured again at the farm. "If you could take these secrets to the Kin, your promise would come true. Magebloods would not be able to steal us away. So I want to ask—to remind. I know you lead here for the next four years—when those pass, I will be old—but not too old to go with you north to the Kin. So… so I ask, All-Crafted… can you bring what you have brought to these magebloods to my people as well?"

Archive rose to her hooves. "I… I will go, and I will teach your 'Kin' as I have promised. The end of my term seems as good a time as any to go—by then, Estel will either be safe or gone, so…" She sighed. "I have to warn you, Stride… I won't be able to give them everything I gave to these ponies. Magebloods, as you say, are not like deer. They have… advantages you do not. I can't teach them to fly. I can't help them change the seasons, or grow huge bounties of crops like this from just a handful of seeds. I can't teach them to carve patterns into metal that light up like the sun when you touch them. This is all pony magic."

"I'm no fawn!" Stride insisted, her whole body tensing with sudden anger. "I didn't come because I thought you could change those things."

"There is one more thing: how long do your Kin live?"

Stride still seemed upset, though she answered anyway. "I once knew a dame who had seen thirty summers. It is true that most do not see twenty—but that's because our lives are so hard! If we didn't have to fear predators or starvation, I'm sure many more would live that long! Are you… are you saying we aren't worth teaching because we don't see as many years as you?"

"No!" Archive wilted. "Nothing like that, Stride. I just… want you to remember that, aside from Nancy, every mageblood you have ever met would be dead already from old age if they were a deer. Every warrior, every craftspony… they have much experience that your kin cannot afford to waste the time acquiring. Anything we build will have to account for that. Somehow."

"Fine, fine!" Stride stomped past her. "Forget I asked. Just go back on your promise, like every mageblood always does."

"Stride." Archive caught her with a wing, scratching along her back. She had no way of applying enough force to actually stop her that way, of course.

Stride stopped anyway, blinking back tears.

Archive embraced her. "We'll find a way. I don't know how much of a change we can make… but once my children are safe, I'll be prepared to take any risk to help your Kin. Who knows—with the advantages of modern agriculture, they might advance on their own from then on! That was really all it took for humans, so maybe it will be enough for deer too. And if it isn't… I'll stay as long as it takes to figure things out. I promise."

Stride didn't pull away. Instead she embraced Alex, though she was always delicate with her far greater size and strength. "Thank you, All-Crafted. If we could try together… that is all I ask. If I can look out at a Kin village one day, and see what I see here, now… I can return to the Mother and know I have done well."

“For now, you should return with me to the village and enjoy the holiday with us,” Alex said, smiling at her. 

Stride shook her head, retreating several steps. “Apologies, All-Crafted. But I… I cannot possibly share in a religious celebration with your ponies. The Mother forbids that we worship other gods. Apologies, but… I will serve the community by keeping watch while you all enjoy yourselves.”

Alex stared, unable to form a response for several long seconds. Then she laughed. “You’re kidding me. All this time, you’ve…” She shrugged. “Christmas doesn’t have to be religious if you don’t want it to be, you know. There are plenty of people who are just using it as an excuse to spend time with the ponies they love and exchange gifts. That’s all it has to be.”

Stride turned away from her, facing the winter. “No need, All-Crafted. I hope you have an enjoyable celebration.” With that she was gone, bounding off towards the wind and through the barrier into the snowy wastes.

Alex sighed as she watched her go, before turning back to Estel. Alex let herself enjoy the walk, and didn’t rush. Even she had no work detail today, nothing to get to but enjoying the time with her family.

She met a pony she hadn’t expected to see waiting on the street near her building, with a basket resting on the ground beside him. Lockwood didn’t even have any of his goons beside him, though like more and more ponies these days, there was a weapon strapped to his barrel.

Alex made to cross behind him, but Lockwood noticed her, raising one hoof. “Madam President!” he called, pausing to scoop up the basket and hurry over.

She groaned quietly, but didn’t try to get away. He’d just fly after me if I did. Of course, there was a very short list of ponies who could keep up with her if she really wanted to fly away. Nancy was on that list, but Lockwood wasn’t.

“Yes?” She stopped near the door, turning to face him. “How can I help you?”

A few ponies had stopped to stare. Estel had no tabloids, but if it did Archive didn’t doubt this encounter would’ve made it in.

“I just wanted to apologize.” Lockwood looked down, away from her. “During the campaign, I… may’ve said some things that haven’t proven accurate.”

Alex choked back a laugh. “I remember you called me a monster who couldn’t be predicted or controlled. That I was ‘enslaving the gullible to my mad whims.’”

Lockwood coughed. “Yes, well… I believed all that. Either you were a terrible liar, or you actually were a monster.” He shrugged, offering the woven basket towards her. Alex looked down, and saw it was filled with baked goods. Simple sweets, but a profound luxury in their world. A deceptively simple gift.

“I’m glad you won,” Lockwood said. “If I had to take over in a week… I’m not sure what I’d do. I still don’t know what you’re planning to do about the army waiting out there.” He smiled slightly. “Something dramatic, I guess.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “Or else they’ll send a big army after we beat the small one.” She looked down at the basket, sniffing. No poison, only the regular, wonderful smells of baked goods. “What’s your game, Lockwood?”

“No game.” He backed away from her, leaving the basket on the ground at her hooves. “Do you have more magic up your sleeves? Like the weather thing?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “If we survive the invasion, then there’s no limit to how quickly we could recover. The technology too… some things are just done better with a machine than a spell, even if you do have the right unicorn for the job.”

He nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’m going to hold you to your promise, Alex. About not running for re-election.”

“I won’t,” she repeated. “If we’re still under military threat that far from now, I’ll stick around as an advisor until that’s dealt with. Otherwise, I think I’ll take a vacation.”

“Right.” He turned away. “Merry Christmas to you, Madam President.” He walked away, leaving her alone with the basket of sweets. She took it in her mouth, spreading her wings and lifting off from a standstill, flying straight towards her apartment on the top floor. She landed on the balcony, pushing the door open with one hoof.

Alex stepped into her bedroom only to feel a weight slammed into her, almost hard enough to make her stumble back out onto the balcony.

“Nancy, don’t scare me like that!” She pried the little pegasus free of her chest, only for the pony to hop into the air beside her, tossing something at her head. A hat, made from red and white fabric with a stupid ball of white fluff on the end. “W-where did you get that?”

“Merry Christmas!” The pegasus landed, bouncing into the bedroom ahead of her.

None of Estel’s citizens knew that their president, the mare who could fight whole armies and bend the seasons to her will, shared her room with an eleven-year-old. It hadn’t always been that way—at one time, Nancy had claimed one of the bedrooms of the top-floor flat, and Alex had taken the other, with the third for her office. She had given one to her mother, and one to Jackie and Ezri to share, which left her with Nancy.

She stopped a moment by the door, looking in at the absolute absurdity of it. There were two small beds, made from the same rough wood as all their new furniture. There were blankets too, rough and scratchy and not very warm. Alex’s personal desk was on one side of the room, empty except for her diary and a few half-written spells pinned up on the wall around it.

Everywhere else were drawings, chalked onto the walls in several different colors. Some were intricate and lifelike, her own work when she was stressed or frustrated and wanted something to do. More were cruder, awkward and lumpy. Nancy had decorated the plain cement bricks with scenes of herself spending time with her favorite ponies—mostly Ezri, Mary, or Alex herself. 

“Thanks, squirt.” Alex settled the hat on her head, then reached down to muss the pegasus’s mane. “Christmas isn’t ‘til tomorrow, though.” 

Nancy bounded past her, pausing to look into the basket, and beaming at what she saw there. “My family always had our big meals the night before! We were too busy playing with our toys and stuff on Christmas. Mom’s been cooking all day, so I think she sees it that way too.”

“Yeah, we were the same way.” Alex stopped, watching Nancy bound her way out the door into the apartment. For a fraction of a second, it was as though she were looking back in time, looking at a very different pony. Nancy’s coat was dirty and stained, her feathers all disheveled with several missing. Her eyes were hollow, hooves chipped.

Now she bounced, and youth practically glowed around her when she walked. She would talk to anypony now, not just Alex. Even stallions didn’t frighten her anymore, so long as she had company. “You though you broke us, Charybdis?” she whispered. “Even our weakest was too strong.” This, right in front of her. This was what it meant to be human.

“Do I hear right, Alex? You actually brought something?” Mary’s voice echoed from down the hallway, dark except for the flickering of a distant fire. 

Alex took the basket in her mouth, then hurried towards the voice. The hall itself was empty, plain cement floors clean but its brick walls unadorned. She passed a bathroom door, filled with boxes and old books. Only one bathroom worked on each floor, for all the residents to share. This wasn’t the one. Of course, Alex could’ve claimed a large number of luxuries for herself on account of her rank. Her craftsponies seemed to expect it. Every time she refused, their respect seemed to grow.

The living room and kitchen of the flat had been greatly rearranged since they had taken the apartment for themselves. A genuine fireplace was now the center of the kitchen, with a simple metal cooking surface mounted above the wood. A few nearby counters and a basin with a bottle of water accounted for most of the kitchen. A large table sat prominently near the windows, which were open to let in as much light as possible.

She stopped in the kitchen and dropped the basket at her hooves, staring in wonder at the feast before her. A dozen different vegetables had been prepared, many of which were familiar to her. Asparagus casserole, candied yams, mashed potatoes, and numerous other holiday standards. Each one had been cooked with one of a handful of cast-iron pots and pans, though Mary had somehow managed to rotate them all through the fire to keep them warm, at least judging by the steam. “Damn, Mom. This is incredible.”

Mary was wearing an adorable little apron, splattered and stained with the vegetable viscera of a large meal. Even so she stepped out from behind the counter, embracing Alex with enthusiasm. “No, incredible was the effort it took to get real cider made in time.”

“You’re a gem.” Alex lifted the basket up onto the counter. “How many ponies are you cooking for? This is…”

“Seven.” Mary hurried back to the fire. “You, me, Nancy, that delightful lesbian couple, and Tom Rhodes.”

Alex followed, depositing Lockwood’s gift on the counter. “That’s only six.” She glanced once around the room—of all the ponies she had named, most were already here. Only Jackie and Tom were missing. Ezri had imitated the form of a young unicorn, and was playing a board game with Nancy. Apparently Alex’s arrival had also interrupted their game.

“You invited Tom?” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s…” Her eyes widened, and she retreated a few nervous steps. “Wait a minute! You couldn’t…” She winced. “Isn’t he a little old?”

Mary didn’t look away from her work, but she seemed to be listening. “That’s a good one, Alex! How old are you, again?”

Alex opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again. “I guess… Well, just be careful. You’re not too old to have more children anymore.” 

“Yes, son. I may not know ponies the way you do, but I know biology. Do I need the president’s approval to make decisions?”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that, and so there was a painful silence between them.

Well, except for Ezri’s voice from the corner. “You’ve caught them by surprise!” said a younger version of Ezri, complete with a lisp. “The orcs look up at you from around their card table, stunned. You have surprise for one round.”

“I cast fireball!” Nancy shouted, energetically. “They have a keg, right? I blow it up!”

“Who’s the seventh, Mom?”

The earth pony shrugged. “Not sure. She claimed to be an old friend of yours, said she wanted to talk to you. I don’t think she wanted to stick around, but the ‘President’ isn’t taking visitors during the holidays. Only way she was getting any of my time with you was if she came to dinner.”

“Uh…” Alex searched the room again, looking for a pony she had missed, but there were no others. “Where is she?”

“In the roof garden.” Mary pointed straight up. “Since you weren’t around, she wanted to make herself useful. I sent her up to weed.”

“I’ll be right back.” Alex took the door at a run, pushing it aside and galloping towards the stairs.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” Mary called after her. “Ten minutes! Bring your friend back with you!”

Alex ran past other apartment doors, hearing loud and happy voices through several of them. Most belonged to people who had been rescued along with her first busload of ponies, months ago. She took the stairs three at a time, wings beating and aiding her flight, then passed through another open door onto the roof.

It was a flat, wide space, like many buildings in poor neighborhoods had been. A dozen square plots were planted here, overflowing with strawberries, blueberries, and other luxuries.

A pony bent over the plots on the other side of the roof, singing quietly to herself. Alex slowed a little to listen as she approached. The pony didn’t turn around, or stop her song until she had finished.

Yellow coat, bright red and yellow mane, with wings folded on her side and a prominent horn. She stood taller than anypony Alex had ever seen now—as tall as princess Luna had been in Equestria.

Sunset Shimmer turned to face her, hooves covered with dirt and a small pile of weeds on the roof beside her.

“Simple Gifts?” Alex tilted her head slightly to one side. “Isn’t that a human song?” She approached slowly, as though afraid that Sunset might disappear if she moved too quickly.

“I suppose so.” The Alicorn didn’t disappear. “It’s good to see you, Lonely Day.” She pulled Alex into a hug, wrapping her up with her wings.

Again Alex felt it, the same brief surge of magic she had known when Mary had returned. “I knew… I mean, I thought you had to still be around, but…” She pulled away, looking out over the ledge. “It’s been so long since I saw you.”

“Too long,” Sunset agreed. She stared for a moment, eyes fixing on her back. “Nice wings.”

“I used to be a pegasus,” Alex muttered. “But I got murdered and stuck into an anti-magic field for a thousand years, and…” Her voice broke, and she felt hot tears streaming down her face. “Why didn’t you save me?”

“I tried.” Sunset looked away. “But I couldn’t force you back. The veil binds Alicorns too—you must have realized this by now.”

“Yes.” Alex walked to the edge of the roof, staring out across the city. The buildings were all the same—most of them crumbling and unsafe, yet much else had changed. The streets were full of healthy crops, and many of the buildings shone with light from their windows. “There was a plague… did you sit back and let it destroy our society?”

“No.” Now there was pain in Sunset’s voice too. “It infected my ponies as well. We tried to cure it, but we couldn’t. All the world suffered together.”

Sunset joined her on the edge of the roof, looking out at the ponies below. There were no farmers in the field today, no activity in the market. Ponies were already celebrating.

Even so, Alex could see past the city to the river, and faint against the edge of her vision, rows and rows of tents huddled against the snow. The army sent to slaughter them.

“Did you come to save my ponies?” Alex asked, her voice hesitant. “There’s an army, right there.” She pointed with a hoof. “They want to kill every pony in the city in the name of their nameless god.”

Sunset looked away. “No. I haven’t come to stop them.”

“But…” Alex gaped. “You could send them away with one spell! Blow up the camp, or… teleport all the ponies away! This could be over in a second with an Alicorn on our side!”

“Yes.” The Alicorn met her eyes. “It could.”

“I’ve been trying!” Alex practically shouted at her. “I don’t know where you’ve been, I don’t know why the fuckin’ HPI decided it was done helping people and that it was okay if the world started throwing humans into a hole to die, but somepony had to do something!” 

She stomped one of her hooves, and the tile beneath it shattered without much resistance. “Dammit, Princess! Aren’t they your subjects or something? What’s the point of all that power if you don’t use it?”

If she expected anger from the Alicorn, she was disappointed. Sunset only embraced her again, squeezing her like Alex might do with Nancy. “Archive, you don’t need any gifts from me.” She let go, pointing across the way at the nearby buildings. “I once knew a pony who could search out gemstones hidden in rocks. You’ve done far better here—you took rocks and made them into gemstones. You know what I see?”

Archive remained silent.

“Eudaimonia,” Sunset said. “I see a pony who’s already seen the Supernal. You can hear it calling to you, but you’re afraid to answer.” Magic shimmered around her, forcing Archive to meet her eyes. “No more hiding, Archive. No more running away. There’s an army across that river. You can hear their saws and hammers as they build the boats they intend to use to cross and kill the ponies you love.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I have the power to stop them. I won’t. Somepony else will have to do it. Somepony like you.”

“I still don’t know how!” Archive whimpered. “I don’t know how to stop so many ponies. I don’t know how to scare them away, so their king doesn’t just send more! I don’t know how to be an Alicorn!”

Sunset shrugged. “You know as well as anypony there’s no list of instructions to follow. But you’ll figure it out, I know you will.” Sunset turned, walking away past her, for the door. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay for dinner. I made a promise to your cook.”

“My mom,” Alex corrected. “Mary’s my mother. From before the Event.”

Sunset froze, eyes wide. “How is that possible?”

Archive shrugged. “Dunno. Hold out hoping long enough, and I guess something good is bound to happen.” She followed Sunset Shimmer back for the door, letting herself smile. “I figure, after all the shit I’ve been through, it was probably overdue.”

“I suppose it was,” Sunset agreed, following along beside her down the stairs.


* * *


There was something comforting and familiar about being woken too early for Christmas morning by a child eager to open their gifts. She didn’t protest, even though she felt like she had only just layed down to sleep. Staying up to reminisce with Sunset and Jackie probably hadn’t been such a good idea.

“There isn’t gonna be…” Alex muttered, following Nancy groggily out of the bedroom and into the central living area. Their tree was unchanged from the day before, except for a handful of small packages. Without cardboard, without cheap paper, most had been “wrapped” in plain cloth that would probably be sewn into something else when the morning was over.

Alex recognized almost all of the gifts, as she placed them there herself. An enchanted winter jacket for the pegasus, with a removable section to let her wings free for flying. An intact copy of the Bible she had found scavenging for her mother, who longed almost daily for her old copy. Jackie and Ezri were harder—what was she supposed to give to ponies hundreds of years older than she was, who had apparently lived as wandering ascetics for at least a century?

Nancy was dragging something out from under the tree, something Alex hadn’t noticed the night before. She could guess who it would be addressed to, given her own cutie mark had been printed onto the paper. Who the hell? “Alex, you were wrong! There is one here for you!”

“Yeah, I guess I was.” She didn’t open it—not for at least an hour. Her daughter and Jackie didn’t show up, but Mary did. She made waffles—though without eggs or syrup, the familiar breakfast treat turned out somewhat flat and chalky.

“You can’t just sit there,” Mary said. 

Alex sat in front of the strange box, wearing her silly hat. She had remained largely an observer through the festivities, happy enough to see her mother and Nancy were happy. “I’m just letting everyone else open theirs first,” Alex muttered.

“We’re all done.” Nancy was wearing her new jacket, which clearly fit perfectly and made her seem downright adorable. She also seemed to be sweating from the warmth. Enchanted clothing like that was easily equal to the bleakest northern wilderness, particularly when a pony already cold-resistant was wearing it. “Come on, Alex! Open it!”

She reached out, feeling the paper with the sensitive inside of her fetlocks. It was thin and waxy, exactly like any other wrapping paper she had ever seen. There was even some kind of transparent tape holding it down. “Where did you even get this?” she asked her mother, working carefully to remove the tape and unwrap the box inside. There was no card, no tag, nothing to identify who it had come from.

“Not me,” Mary insisted, raising one hoof in protest. “Would you like to wake your friends?”

“No.” She kept working. “An early morning is a terrible christmas gift to a bat. Jackie can stay asleep until a reasonable hour. It isn’t even noon yet.”

“You’re a bat, honey. You’re awake.”

“Don’t remind me,” Alex groaned, sliding a thin cardboard box out from within the wrapping paper. She pulled off the lid, staring down in shock at what was inside.

It looked like leather, though of course she knew it came from seaweed, or some other Equestrian substitute. A pair of lumpy saddlebags, covered in scuffs and scrapes and with some threadbare stitching. The sun and moon cutie marks were as bright and colorful as she remembered them.

A thin paper card was folded atop the old saddlebags, and she spread it with one hoof to read. 

Enjoy your gift while you can. She wasn’t easy to find.
-D

PS: You dropped this. After all the work my friends put into making it for you, I couldn’t let it go to waste.

“Awww,” Nancy muttered, staring over her shoulder. “I thought it would be something cool, all wrapped up like that…”

Alex shut the card, lifting the saddlebags out of the box and shaking them out. Despite the intervening ages, they were as soft and flexible to the touch as she remembered. “It is.” She set them down over the plain wooden bench, with the Celestia side facing out.

“A bag.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe the pattern is pretty, but…”

“Not a bag,” Alex said. “An artifact from another universe.”

“What?” Nancy shrugged off her coat, perhaps a little reluctantly. “How?”

“Well, I told you about Equestria. I told you how, a long time ago, the princesses wanted to help us fix our world. They wanted to give us all kinds of things… thousands of books, enchanted items for us to study and copy… way too much for one pony to carry. So they made this.”

Nancy flicked the bag open—not difficult to do, since it had no straps holding it down. It was empty of course, just a plain faux-leather interior. “Did the magic run out?”

“No.” Alex shut it, then opened it herself. The space within curved as strangely as she remembered, as though someone had cut a hole through the couch to a little entryway, sealed glass doors and modern architecture. The motion was enough to make the lights come on.

“Uh…” Nancy poked her hoof through the empty space, pulling it back after only a moment. As though she were afraid she might get burned. “Woah.”

Mary looked over from the bench, showing only mild interest. “Oh, Felix’s magic bag. Can you pull anything out you want?”

“Unfortunately not.” Alex hopped inside, gesturing for Nancy to follow. 

Once she had shown it was safe, the filly eagerly climbed in after her. “This looks like people built it,” Nancy said. “I thought ponies were all… old-fashioned.”

“Oh, yeah.” Alex walked up to the door, then swung it open. She looked back, over her shoulder. “Hey, mom! There’s a real kitchen in here!”

“Is there a blender?” Suddenly Mary’s head was in the doorway, looking in after her. “I’d strangle someone if I could have a decent smoothie.”

Everything was exactly where Alex had left it. It all looked more than a little worn, from the months she had been living in Motherlode and used the saddlebags as a sort of second home. Despite a thousand years without being opened, there wasn’t even a layer of dust. The counter still shined from where she had cleaned it, an uneven stack of DVDs was still piled near the television from a movie night she’d had with Jackie and Ezri before the miners had killed her for trying to undo their scheme.

“This isn’t Felix’s bag, this is a Tardis,” Mary said, walking right into the kitchen and opening the fridge. It was empty—the survivors from the mine had eaten everything, as they had likely drained most of the water in the tank. Alex hadn’t bothered to refill anything, since she had gone to live in Paradise Crater and not brought the saddlebags with her.

“This is… big,” Nancy muttered, opening the door that led downstairs. 

Alex followed her, past the open bedroom door, the modern bathroom as clean as the kitchen, to the equipment room. Her empty powered-armor stand was still there, a few cables dangling from when she had left in haste. The tape she had used to bind her wings was even still sitting on the desk.

Alex immediately regretted not restocking these, back in Paradise. She could’ve put a dozen sets of powered armor in here if she had wanted, and filled the storage chamber in the other bag with enough food to feed hundreds. Better yet, she could’ve filled it with modern weapons, perhaps gattling turrets or drones. That would’ve made quick work of the army waiting for them.

She had not even opened the other side since the wolves had killed her.

“Alex, Alex!” Nancy hadn’t remained in the workshop for long, but doubled back to the bedroom. Alex followed, and found the filly looking up into the closet.

Alex’s old clothes hung there, transfered here even though the nudity taboo had stopped bothering her. Skirts, shorts, tops, dresses, swimsuits… all cut for her smaller, younger self. Ezri’s full winter outfit was folded neatly on one shelf, though the changeling hadn’t worn anything else.

“Oh, yeah. My old stuff.”

“Can I?”

Alex grinned. “Sure. Plenty of it should fit you. Might be a little loose, but…” She glanced over at the filly, then back up. “You’ll grow into it. Just try not to hurt any of it. This stuff is old, so it’s special to me.”

“I won’t!” Nancy selected a dozen different articles of clothing, enough for several complete outfits. Alex left her in the bedroom, hurrying back to the living room.

Her mother was sitting on the couch, with an old leather bound book beside her. Real leather too, not an Equestrian fake.

It was one of Alex’s journals. Several identical volumes sat beside her—about one per decade. Mary looked up, noticing her, though she didn’t stop reading. As she often did, Mary read to herself out loud. 

“I told Luna that I wanted the burden of protecting the human legacy. For now, I think that means protecting as many of the former humans as possible. Once there are enough others to focus on the needs of survival, I’ll start worrying about the lost knowledge.”

“That’s an old one,” Alex said, hopping up onto the couch beside her. It was just as comfortable as she remembered.

“I started with volume one.” Mary looked up, flipping back a few pages to the sliver of crystal taped to the page. It glowed faintly even now, undiminished by time. “I saw… saw things.”

“Yeah.” Alex looked away. “Memory crystal. I wanted to make sure I could show ponies what Luna showed me. Exactly what she showed me, in case they didn’t believe. It would be a… pretty crazy story, otherwise.”

“You looked cute in a dress,” Mary teased.

A younger Lonely Day might’ve blushed, avoiding any reminder of her old life. Alex was too old for that now—her human life was a strange, distant dream. “Oliver thought so. He always wanted me to wear it, whenever we went anywhere fancy. I’ve still got it, in a box on the other side. Wouldn’t fit anymore, I bet. The tailor practically sewed it onto my body. I’ve grown up too much since then.”

“Oliver,” Mary repeated, flipping back through the pages. “I think I saw that name in here. He’s the doctor?”

“The best I ever knew,” Alex said. She got up, walking across the room to a framed picture, and gently pulling it off the wall. It was an ancient artifact, almost as old as the journal. Like most of what she had that was that old, a little magic had gone into keeping it intact this long. A little magic, and an airtight frame.

She set it down flat on the couch in front of her mother. “That was taken four years after we were married. Cody…” She whimpered, shaking on her hooves as a lifetime of memories came flooding back. A calm foal, a precocious colt, a thoughtful teenager, and an ambitious, brilliant stallion. Her little Cody’s life passed in front of her eyes like a butterfly. 

Lonely Day was not some ancient god, who had seen thousands of generations pass away. She had spent most of her years with her son still alive—less than a century in total had been missing her child.

She remembered Oliver too, the relationship she hadn’t been quite ready for, and had eventually destroyed. But where he had no doubt left feeling bitter and abandoned, she still remembered all their happiest moments. Their first date was still as fresh in her memory as Christmas Eve dinner the night before.

When Lonely Day came to her senses again, she realized she had been crying. She didn’t know how long she had been shaking, only that there was a pair of hooves around her, and a warm, familiar scent. “Shh…” Mary was saying. “It’s okay… it’s okay…”

Alex blinked, wiping away her tears with the back of one hoof, before sitting up suddenly. “I’m sorry… I lost my composure. I won’t…”

“No.” Mary silenced her with a glare. “This is all a little overwhelming to me. I don’t know… I don’t think I could know everything you’ve been through. I wish I could’ve gone to your wedding, or known my grandson, or… I wish I could understand what you even are…

“But none of that matters. No matter what changes, no matter what happens, I’m still your mom. Seems even… however long you’ve been around… families are still universal.”

Alex nodded. “I… yeah. I think they are.”

Mary let her go. “I hope you don’t mind if I read some of these. If James and Elizabeth aren’t back yet, I’d at least like to know what you’ve been up to.”

“That’s an awful lot of reading.” Alex got to her hooves, just in time to see Nancy emerging from up the stairs.

The filly was wearing a white sundress, complete with a wide straw hat and sandals. None of it seemed to quite fit, though it was all close. She could only hope Nancy hadn’t also tried to put on the rest of the outfit—it had been one Amy had picked for her, which meant it was fairly provocative. Please don’t make me teach you about lingerie.

“How do I look, Mom?” she asked, as proud and confident as ever Alex had seen her.

“Oh.” Mary looked up from the book, grinning. “Very grown up, dear.”

“It doesn’t have wing-slits,” Nancy grumbled, stopping a few feet away from Lonely Day. “How are you supposed to get your wings through, Alex?”

“You aren’t.” She winced “We’ll have to cut a few holes—very carefully. I didn’t have wings back then, so none of my clothes were made for it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Nancy muttered. “How could you have wings now, but not then? I didn’t think we could change!”

“We can’t,” she admitted. “Not normally. It’s kind of a scary story. You should ask Ezri about it—I bet she remembers.”

“Oh, Ezri!” Nancy turned for the exit. “I’ve got to show her we have real clothes now! She’ll be so excited…”

She’ll be excited that you’re excited. Alex didn’t say that out loud, though. None of it really mattered.

The city was still in danger. She hadn’t been given any magic bullets to use against the invaders. Yet even so, she felt far more secure about the future than she had.

As she went about the rest of her Christmas day, visiting friends and important ponies in Estel, she found that attitude had spread to most of its citizens. While many were nervous about the future, every one of them was hopeful the city would find a way.

That was a far greater gift for a weary immortal than any old saddlebags could be.




> Episode 4.4: Fire in the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The marshaled strength of Estel stood before her.

Winter was “wrapped up” for good. Weather teams no longer needed to maintain the intricate patterns above their patch of city to stop snow and chill wind from penetrating and destroying their crops. Not that anypony outside the weather teams in Estel had ever had to deal with the consequences. They had successfully defied the natural order of the seasons and lived to talk about it.

Only a small percentage of her ponies were armored. Armoring all these ponies would have been a waste of precious metal when she hoped not to fight in close quarters anyway.

Every pony before her had a rifle leaning against one of their shoulders, old wood and shiny new metal. They were primitive, single shot, cartriged long-bore weapons that would’ve fit in quite happily during the Civil War, except for the modified trigger and aiming mechanisms. They had to be simple enough that somepony with hooves could use them.

Archive passed through the assembled formations—blocks of a hundred that were further subdivided into fifties, then tens. She passed her six mortar crews, each one six ponies with their vertical-angled cannons. Next came her armored pegasi and unicorns, with sturdy aluminum plates to protect them but no rifles. They would not need them.

Estel had marshaled every pony with the strength and courage to fight. As she stepped up onto a raised platform, she turned to look out at the five hundred mares and stallions they had armed and trained as best they could. A full fourth of their population. Every other pony had been assigned a supporting role. Carrying wounded, treating them, bringing food or ammunition or supplies. 

Even now the forges were still hot, the sound of labor continuing through this last, final assembly. The sound of mechanical tools and the steady glow of electric lights now came from the workshop—her tools, stolen from the saddlebag. Those tools had made this possible.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Tom Rhodes already waited on the stage, standing at attention. He straightened, saluted, and five hundred ponies all moved to imitate him. Most lacked his military discipline—their timing was off, their legs moved irregularly. These were minutemen, not master soldiers.

“At ease!” she shouted, and Colonel Rhodes lowered his leg. The assembled ponies did as well. Just a few feet beyond where everypony had lined up, the vast crowds of civilians mobbed, watching with nervous eyes. Two thousand ponies did not take up that much space, really. All of Estel could easily cram themselves into one of the buildings, as indeed they would.

Just behind Alex, the oldest and sturdiest of their structures had been reinforced. New cement barricades surrounded it in rings, gun emplacements and supplies already waiting. Windows were boarded and reinforced. Active shield spells had been worked into the foundation, every protection spell Archive knew and a few more she had invented.

Silence fell in the early evening, aside from the sound of repeated drilling and hammering in the workshop. Archive stepped up to the edge of the stage, straightening and spreading her wings to give herself as much volume as possible.

Magic filled the air around her—her magic. In no place she had ever seen had Archive been so surrounded with the forces of civilization. These ponies had put their trust in her—the promises of their constitution, and the strength of arms of their minutemen. It was a magical strength she had not possessed since she had returned.

“People of Estel!” she shouted, her voice echoing easily over the crowd. “I can see in all of you the fear for what’s to come. Many of you have gone to the shore and looked across the Hudson at our enemy. Perhaps some of you have thought about running away. I understand that a few already have.

“Before we commit to this, I’d like to introduce somepony.” She gestured to the side of the stage, and Lloyd Meyer walked up the steps, hooves sounding in the silence as everyone around watched. His health had markedly improved since coming to Estel—his face looked to droop less, and some of the spots were gone from his bald head. There were even a few wispy strands of mane growing again. He was still a very old pony, shriveled limbs and knobby bones, but he didn’t seem to be in constant pain anymore. Alex knew why.

“Many of you will recognize Lloyd. He worked for the enemy—but we captured him. Lloyd, please tell the ponies of Estel what that army will do if it gets its way.”

He looked doubtful, glancing once over his shoulder. As if he didn’t believe Alex knew what she wanted. He obeyed anyway. However awful this pony may’ve been, he had always honored his promises. “They will slaughter every one of us,” he said. “When they finish with this settlement, they’ll sweep across the city, and occupy the island until they are certain they have found and killed every pony living here.”

A shiver of fear and surprise passed through the crowd. Most of the soldiers remained still, but she could still feel their fear. As she expected. 

“We cannot run, Estel!” Archive shouted, stepping forward again. “But we do not need to! Our enemy has lost the secrets of magic, and they never knew our technology!” 

She reached around her neck, removing the chunk of crystalline quartz hung there by thin twine. It was a shield spell, the same kind of shield all their soldiers were now wearing. It was modeled on the ones that Jackie and Ezri brought—except that the magic was far less stable, making it cheaper to cast. While projectiles directed outward would pass easily, those moving inward would swerve.

“We’re going to win tonight, ponies. Not because our ponies are better trained, or because our guns are better, or because our weather team has become experts with combat magic. We won’t win because our generals are smarter, or our strategies are better. All that is true, but it isn’t why you will all sleep safely tonight.

“We’re going to win because we’re fighting for a better cause. We’re fighting for our families, for our safety, our friends. They’re only fighting for gold, to serve the whims of a primitive king they’ve never met.

“You come from a proud history, people of Estel! Look and see the buildings all around us, remember the civilization we came from! Every one of us is an envoy from a better age. We look out at the despotism and inhumanity and we refuse to comply! We will be a rock! The world’s tyrants shatter on us!”

Ponies armed and unarmed alike cheered and stomped, so loud that the nearby buildings shook. Archive let the sound echo on, filling the clearing. Only when the last voice had faded did she start speaking again.

“We already know we can do the impossible. We’ve rebuilt civilization from what was left inside a  tour bus. We’ve stopped the seasons and fed a city full of starving ponies. Together, we can stop an army.” She turned, nodding to Colonel Rhodes.

Tom saluted, then cleared his throat. “Everyone please move to your service station. Go go go!”

They did. The untrained crowd mobbed up into the building, moving sluggishly. Most of the soldiers left as well, pushing the cannons along with them. Archive was pleased to see the way they moved in disciplined lines.

Having a sword hanging over your neck was a great way to inspire ponies to do their best.

Fifty or so ponies remained in the square, every one of them protected with armor and magic and armed with the very best they could produce.

Not rifles, as the other soldiers used. These ponies had crossbows instead, though the bows lacked the actual bow mechanism or the cord. What they had instead was a spring-loaded mechanical magazine packed with metal spikes, and a set of enchanted crystals set into the sides.

Alex had reverse-engineered Kerberos—though like the shields, her own product was an inferior imitation. They lacked the skilled master craftsmen required for anything nearly as precise as her handgun.

The fifty ponies separated into new formations—groups of five. One unicorn to four earth ponies.

“How did I do?” Alex asked, her voice only loud enough for Tom to hear.

The stallion nodded. “You put a fire in them, I think. They’ll need it.”

Alex turned away from him. “You will be ready for our signal?”

“It may not be enough,” he muttered. “We made enough gunpowder for twenty shells, Madam President. If that isn’t enough to send them running…”

“I know.” She turned briefly, meeting his eyes again. “Fifteen thousand years of history is looking down on us, Colonel. We will not fail.”

She didn’t wait for his response, hopping down off the stage to where a few attendants were waiting with her own armor.

It had been scavenged from the best they had salvaged from Damocles’ own ponies, before being enchanted and then chrome-plated using the machinery in Alex’s saddlebags. 

One of the unicorn craftsponies who had made the adjustments helped fit the flexible metal onto her body. She slipped her wings into the protective shell, then the unicorn settled the swept, lion-faced helmet onto her head. “Thank you for your help, Andrew.”

“Fight well,” he responded, before hurrying back into the central building.

“We will.” She advanced, and as she did her ponies straightened again, as though preparing for parade. “Demolition teams!” she barked.

“Aye!” Four of the teams of five stepped forward a half-step.

“Is the ordinance in order?” She went down the line, and the earth ponies in each group turned slightly, displaying the little wooden barrels they were wearing on their backs. Each one held about a gallon of thick, jelly-like slime, prepared with an emulsifier spell ponies had once used to spread paint on new buildings.

Archive doubted its Equestrian inventor would be too happy with what she planned to do with it.

“Breach team, on me!” At her words, Jackie, Ezri, and seven other of her most talented, experienced soldiers stepped forward.

“I know you’ve all heard the plan a thousand times as we’ve practiced, but here it is once more!” Alex raised her voice. “Breach goes through with me, clears the beach. Perimeter team holds the beach while the demo teams get their ordinance onto their assigned rafts. Do not make contact with the ships in any way once your barrels are open. If any of it gets onto your bodies, you will die. I’m not going to lose any one of you ponies out there tonight, are we clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Good!” She walked forward through the assembled formation, breach team following her as she went. “When you pass through the return portal, do not do so at speed! Prepare to turn around immediately! Do not panic and gallop back through, or you will die!”

They passed outside the courtyard that had once been a public park. Young plants poked out through the dark soil here—a crop nopony would harvest.

At the very front of the structure was a reinforced concrete barricade like something out of WW2. Out in front of that was a trench, perhaps ten feet deep and ten feet long. The inside was lined with metal spikes, all set deep into the ground and pointed forward. At the very front of this trench were the unicorns and their waiting rune-circle.

The spell this one stored was complex enough to require three interlocking rings, complex enough that Archive had spent nearly two full days creating it. Not a single teleport, but a sustained conduit—a spell that could transport as many people as they needed a relatively short distance. So long as the unicorns had the strength, it would stay open.

Archive gestured, and her old friends stepped forward. They didn’t have metal armor, or imitation spells. Ezri’s powered armor and Jackie’s flexible, bulletproof fabric both seemed strangely frail compared to the thick metal plates that weighed Alex down.

“You don’t have to come,” Alex muttered, quiet enough that the other soldiers couldn’t hear. “Just because it looks like there aren’t that many guards watching the rafts doesn’t mean they might not react quicker than we expect. You could die.”

“Not bloody likely.” Jackie looked briefly down at the armor she wore. “You know what it would take to get through this stuff? This is carbon fiber thaumium weave.”

Ezri just nodded in agreement. “My armor can take a HEAT round. One of those flying squid-monsters swallowed me once, and I hardly felt it.”

“You smelled like fish for weeks,” Jackie countered. “Anyway Alex, we’re here to babysit you. These ponies are depending on you, so you’re sure as fuck coming back.”

“Thanks.” She resisted the temptation to hug both of them, much as she wanted to. 

“Don’t mention it.” Jackie turned away, and Ezri followed, as they made their way back into formation.





What I wouldn’t give for five hundred of those suits. If only the old HPI had still existed. However callous they could sometimes seem, she didn’t doubt for a minute they would’ve committed resources to protecting a human colony like this. 

They had no protectors left anymore. Nopony but her. 

Archive stepped forward to her waiting unicorns—the colony’s strongest, best trained. Tom himself was among them, along with many other soldiers. Most were civilians—magic could be strengthened just as effectively sewing clothes as it could be practicing with swords. “Are you ponies prepared?”

The unicorns all shared a nervous glance. Tom was the first to respond. “On your order, Ma’am.”

“Do it.”

The unicorns, ten in all, circled the runes on two sides. On another side Alex and her ponies waited, and on the fourth—rows and rows of polished metal spikes, ready to impale anypony who followed.

The unicorns began to sing. The spell was much easier that way, when the structures of its runes were matched with a similar structure of words. This too Alex had composed, though of course her own voice would not have helped cast it. None of her ponies understood the Equestrian these unicorns had practiced. It didn’t matter. So long as they held the patterns and said the words, the spell would work.

They sung of the world long before, before stars and space and before even the Alicorns. They sung of the time when all space had been one, when position had been a meaningless word. The universe remembered what that time had been like. Properly coaxed, it could be persuaded to act that way. Buried in the runes was a very specific set of coordinates, exactly like those the Bloodgates used to send refugees into her city. Only these coordinates were on the other bank of the Hudson, where a row of twenty large rafts were being strung together.

Tomorrow or another day very soon, those rafts would be used to bridge the gap into her city and transport an invading army they could not resist. Archive’s plan tonight was one of desperation—destroy the way the enemy would use to reach them. With more time, they could manufacture more shells, more bullets, more cannons. Enough of those, and forty to one odds wouldn’t seem so bad.

The spell took, and a crack like thunder split the night. There was a flash from the center of the circle, and a hair-thin crack about as tall as a human appeared there in the dark. Through it, Archive could see a faint wisp of sand, of wood, and a single startled pony with faux-leather armor.

“For Estel!” she shouted. Dozens of voices took up her shout, before charging along behind her through the opening.

There was no period of vacuum or freezing temperatures, as in a conventional teleport. The gate spell skipped the intervening space altogether, depositing Archive on the other side. Archive did not slow down or stop running, but she did raise her handgun, killing half a dozen ponies with a single shot each.

A distant alarm-bell had already started to ring as her ponies came through the doorway, pouring out along the beach and moving down the line of rafts. How long do we have? Archive wondered. How long will it take for a significant force to be raised? She could only hope they would be long gone by then.

The remaining guards on the beach fell to rifle shots or magical attacks from her soldiers, without her own ponies taking a single casualty. Their bladed weapons required physical contact, after all. Her soldiers would not give them that chance. “Burn them!” she shouted, advancing towards the camp. “None of those rafts survive!”

Dark shapes moved in the air above her. They would be nothing more than blurry suggestions to Alex’s other ponies. To her own thestral eyes, she could make them out clearly. A whole wing of thestrals, with only two ponies blocking their path to the ground.

A broken corpse landed on the ground in front of her, a red line running across its neck.

“Shield wall!” Archive commanded, and at once the ponies responded. A dozen earth ponies lowered heavy wooden shields, bracing against them as their companions prepared bayonets on their rifles. 

Archive blinked, and for a moment it seemed she had marshaled thousands of men. The Roman formation she had used was manned by armored centurions and legionnaires, spears and shields flashing in the moonlight.

The vision faded, leaving only one ghost beside her. “You have held the beach for nearly five minutes,” the ghost said, walking beside her with a gold plume on his helmet and hands folded in front of him. “Their elites will be marshaled by now. Even disorganized, their numbers will overwhelm you.”

Several more ponies tumbled out of the air above her, bodies twitching and spasming from electrical stimulation. Most weren’t dead yet, though after a fall like that… they would be soon.

“Give the signal!” Archive shouted to the nearest unicorn. “Time for the wakeup call!”

The unicorn, a slim mare with a terrified expression, nodded and closed her eyes in concentration. A second later a bright red flash rose from her horn, a brilliant lance of magic that went up and up into the night.

“Brace for bombardment!” Archive shouted, looking back to the beach. Her ponies had already dumped most of their barrels—only a few of the rafts were not being slowly coated in shimmering slime. None of it had done anything yet. Despite her warnings about an early death for any who splashed the emulsion on their bodies, they planned on setting it all off at once.

Distant explosions mingled freely with the shouting and scrambling of the army, much closer to her. She heard the screaming whistle of air as the first shell came down.

Archive had used a design from the second world war, a ten-pound charge with special fins and cuts in the frame that guided air to make that terrifying whistling sound.

Another second and the first shell struck the camp just up the hill. Tents exploded, ponies and gear went flying through the air.

Her own ponies were prepared, and they did not break. The trickle of enemy troops against their shield-wall stopped in their tracks, staring back at their camp even as three more shells landed.

Two more explosions broke the night (evidently one of the shells had been a dud), the shouting of officers and disciplined ponies as they marshaled a resistance was lost in terrified screaming.

The ghost looked on, approval on his stern face. “This would never have worked on one of my armies. These troops did not maintain camp discipline. They were so confident they would not be attacked that they had no procedure in place.”

They came to murder civilians, Archive thought. We weren’t supposed to fight back.

More gunshots rang out, and more thestrals dropped to the ground. Another second later and Ezri landed beside her, passing through the ghost without noticing him.

“Just what we were afraid of!” she shouted. “Slave pens are on the other side of the camp. No chance we could make it that far.”

Stride will be disappointed. Archive didn’t say that, though. “We’ll save the deer next time!” She glanced briefly at the shore again, taking in the beach. The last of the barrels were now open, many of her ponies already making their way back through the gate.  Only her perimeter team had not moved.

“Prepare the retreat!” Archive bellowed. The ghost who had been following her flickered, then blinked out without another word. “Our work is done, ponies! Nice and orderly, back to the gate!”

The air shook around her, and another four mortar rounds struck the camp one after another. Explosions broke through the darkness again, and metal shrapnel tore through everything around them when they landed without resistance.

They retreated towards the water in an orderly row, not breaking formation even as another round of mortars came whistling across the river. 

Archive felt it in the air before she saw it: a warping distortion near the shore, bending and twisting the space between her and the portal. They intended to cut off her retreat.

“Silvia, shield!” she barked, pointing at the place she already felt the strange magic building. “Right there!” She drew her pistol, sighting at the spot.

A second later and a flash of reddish light enveloped the place, too quick for Silvia’s magic. By the time the unicorn’s horn had started to glow, the teleport was already finished.

A unicorn in white armor stood there, flanked by four armored ponies on each side of a smattering of races. They stood at alert, taking defensive postures, but none attacked. They would have been shot to pieces if they had.

Unfortunately for Alex, the surprise and the mortar bombardment wouldn’t protect them forever. She could see many ponies in the distance, charging for the beach despite the bombardment and the occasional shower of bodies. 

Maybe they figured out how little damage we’re actually doing, she thought. Even if every shell killed ten ponies, we wouldn’t even make a dent. “Surround them!” she barked. “We’ll take these ponies with us if we can!”

The pony in white armor—a young stallion with a handsome face and a white coat under all his armor—stepped forward. He said something to her, eyes wide in confusion. She couldn’t understand it.

A second later and a pair of armored figures had landed on either side of her. Jackie wiped the blood from her dagger, sheathing it on the cloth of her armor even as Ezri spoke.

“He wants to know why you’re talking like Outcasts,” Ezri said.

“Tell him I am the God of the Outcasts,” Archive answered, feeling the breeze at her back at that moment. “Tell him this is the retribution for encroaching on my sacred city.”

Archive stood a little straighter, meeting the stallion’s eyes. Even as she did so, her concentration had been split several different ways. Another bombardment whistled overhead, scattering and delaying the troops from the camp a little longer. There would be one more like that, before her guns would adjust their sights to fire on the ships. It would not be good to be standing on the beach when that happened.

The general laughed, gesturing at Alex. One of his soldiers raised a crossbow—and died seconds later. Kerberos ignored his magical shield, as it had ignored every shield it had encountered, and Alex’s aim was as perfect as ever. 

“Tell him if he does that again, I’ll kill him.” Archive kept her voice even. A god would not be frightened. Nor was she. It wasn’t her own life she was afraid for.

Ezri translated, and this time the stallion did not laugh. Rather, he seemed to have to bark at his bodyguards just to keep them still. They had all locked concentration on Archive, as though about to start a charge. 

Her own ponies would be ready for that, though not for much longer. The first reinforcements were cresting the nearby hill. Many were only partially armored, or carrying makeshift weapons. They were packed so thick that it wouldn’t matter.

The pony in white armor spoke, his voice cold. Ezri translated in time with his words. “The Outcasts have no gods. They were forsaken for their sins, and now face the punishment. You are a pretender.”

“This pretender demands he get out of the way!” Archive barked, firing off into the air once. “Team, wedge formation!”

They moved to obey. Earth ponies dropped their shields, bracing against their pikes instead. These would fit into their armor, and would allow them to channel all the force of a charge into an attack.

The pony in white and his bodyguards moved out of the way. Not towards the ships, as she had hoped, but against the hill instead.

“Close!” Archive commanded. “Full retreat!”

Herself, Jackie, and Ezri kept their backs to the ponies as they marched through. Not a gallop, since that would take them right into the waiting spikes.

“You have accomplished nothing,” Ezri translated. “Whatever magic you brought, it won’t be enough to stop us.” 

At that moment, the final barrage of mortars came down on the camp, with its accompanying explosions. More ponies died. Not nearly enough.

Archive was alone with her “bodyguards” now, all three standing back against the opening. This close, Archive felt the magic tickle against her coat, making her mane stand on end. It was a powerful spell, exhausting, draining the strength of her unicorns. They would not be able to hold it for much longer.

“The Nameless City is awake,” Archive said, the wind whipping up her mane around her. She could not fly with so much armor, yet it felt a little like the air was lifting her anyway. “None of your scouts have returned. If they had, they wouldn’t have told you about a population shriveled and starved—my ponies are strong.” She raised her handgun. “Our weapons are beyond your comprehension. In my grace, I will permit him to keep his throne, so long as your army leaves my city in peace.”

How long would it take for her ponies to re-sight their aim? Not much longer. She had given them exact instructions.

The army was pouring down the hill, the first of their hooves flooding onto the soft sand there. It wouldn’t be much longer before they reached Archive and overwhelmed them. Even with Kerberos, she could kill only so many.

“Empty threats!” Ezri translated. “We don’t fear you!”

With her sensitive hearing, Archive heard the whistling that meant incoming mortar shells. The last volley, the one that wouldn’t have gunpowder. Instead, they would have more of the jelly already spread in a thin layer onto the resting ships.

“Fear this.” Archive stepped back, and at her gesture Ezri and Jackie did as well. They dodged carefully around to the portal, and stepped through it to the other side.

Doing so let them watch the ships, or at least a single view of them. “End it!” Archive screamed, over the strained, singing voices of the unicorns.

They did, almost in unison. Many dropped to the ground right where they stood, collapsing from the sustained effort. The portal remained open for a fraction of a second more, filling with a brief flash of orange light.

Archive felt a little of the heat, but that was all. None of that energy managed to pass through before the spell flickered out.

Somewhere far away, Archive could make out a faint flash of orange. Bright enough that she could see its faint suggestions even in the dark.

Despite the evident strain of the spellcasting, Tom remained on his hooves. “How did it go?” he asked. “Do you think it worked?”

Archive frowned at the ground. “We must prepare as though it didn’t,” she answered, holstering Kerberos. “Get your team back into the fortress.” 

She turned back, facing her own exhausted ponies. A few had taken minor injuries while securing the beach, but not many. None were seriously hurt—thanks to the surprise and their firearms, she suspected.

“Good work, ponies!” She raised one hoof in salute to them. Those with the strength returned the gesture. “I for one would like to see the bonfire!”

She didn’t have to fly far—just as high as the tallest buildings. Far in the distance, Archive could make out the distinct shapes of barges burning. Bright orange, angry flames rising into the night, illuminating the shadows of ponies on the beach.

Even as she watched, a bucket brigade passed filled buckets towards one of the nearer barges. One of the ponies dumped their bucket, and the flames seemed to soar a little higher, ignoring the moisture. They tried for a few minutes longer, without much effect.

Estel was safe, at least for the night. The army wouldn’t be reaching them now.

> Episode 4.5: Frozen Morning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archive did not sleep tucked away in her suite, and not just because a dozen ponies would be sleeping there. Instead she rested in one of the fortified trenches, with Ezri and Jackie beside her and many skilled scouts keeping watch.

In theory their success meant no large attack could come. In practice Archive knew not to underestimate her enemy: though it was possible she had frightened the enemy into submission, she had her doubts.

The general hadn’t been a refugee, but she had seen his face through the helmet. He hadn’t been frightened into cowering, he had been enraged. There would be a reckoning before her ponies knew peace. She didn’t know what it would be, only that it would be coming soon.

The shouts came just before dawn, jarring her awake where she had been resting on the rough pile of blankets. Most of Estel’s citizens were uncomfortable with pony customs like communal sleeping. Given the circumstances, Archive hadn’t really cared what they thought. She needed her sleep, and what people thought of her was no longer on her list of concerns.

Somepony shook her awake, way too early in the morning. Lonely Day grunted, then sat up. “W-what is it?” She blinked, wiping the sleep away from her eyes. Even with the success of her army, it had not been a restful night.

“President.” The soldier was one of her newer recruits, a larger stallion named Zach. He was one of many that wasn’t yet trained enough for anything other than physical labor and sending messages. He looked embarrassed to have intruded upon her sleeping quarters. Not all that unusual, given there were three mares in the blankets, and none of them were wearing anything. 

Many of Estel’s refugees were still dealing with the nudity taboo, even though they had been reduced to going “natural” for practical reasons a long time ago. Making uniforms, particularly uniforms which respected modesty, were a waste of resources when they still had armor and weapons and bullets to make.

“What is it?” Lonely Day crawled out of bed, rising to her hooves and brushing her disheveled mane a little out of her face. She was shorter than this stallion, and looked younger too. She tried not to let her weariness show. “Why were you sent to wake me? It must be important, yes?”

“Not important enough,” Jackie groaned from in bed. “Why can’t anyone in this place get up at noon like a normal pony?”

The stallion shifted uncomfortably on his hooves, avoiding her eyes. “It’s… it’s our scouts,” he muttered. “The ones watching the enemy. They’re doing something. Started to gather on the shore. Thought you might want to see.”

“Yes.” Alex straightened, saluting him. “Thank you, private. You are dismissed.”

Her gesture seemed to snap the stallion out of his confusion, because he immediately returned the salute. “Thank you, ma’am!” He galloped off down the trench, seeming eager to get away from her.

Archive turned back, scooping the belt and holster off the ground along with the shield spell charm. There was no wearing her heavy armor if she was going to be flying.

“You think it’s a pegasus detachment?” Ezri sat up in bed, watching her. “You said…”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe they’re going to get a work crew together and try to build rafts faster than last time. Maybe they’re going to try a spell, or… maybe it’s a bunch of pegasus ponies marshaling to attack. The last one would be the most dangerous.” The last one was why she had insisted on Estel being prepared for retaliation. Though the army seemed to be built mostly of earth ponies, there were enough pegasus ponies to outnumber all her soldiers. If they attacked at once…

“You want to take this one, bug?” Jackie asked, covering her face with a pillow.

“Sure.” Ezri clambered over to her waiting armor, snapping into the open backplates. They sealed beneath her, and she turned to follow. “Let’s go take a look, Mom. Jackie still needs her beauty sleep.”

“All for you,” Jackie called after them. “You don’t like me when I don’t get enough sleep!”

“It’s true,” Ezri said, her voice distorted as it came through the amplifier on her helmet. “It’s almost as though you bats aren’t meant to be up this early.”

“We aren’t,” Alex groaned, rubbing at her tired eyes as she crested the nearest buildings. She kept well clear of Ezri as she flew—the changeling wasn’t flying in the conventional way, but was using her armor somehow. It lacked any clear apparatus, no propellers or force nozzles Alex could see. The changeling hadn’t explained how the technology worked, though clearly it did. She had a feeling Ezri could’ve flown several times faster than Alex could, or any other purely biological pony for that matter.

The scouts had been right—ponies were gathering near the shore all right.

It wasn’t just the pegasus ponies though, as she had been expecting. The camp had been largely dismantled, and not just from the dozen or so craters her mortars had made. Many of the smaller tents, the ones used by the troops, were gone. The slave pen was entirely empty. 

The army itself stood in formation ten ponies abreast, a long line reaching to the shore and back, snaking through the camp in a single long formation.

At its front were the slaves, which even from a distance Archive could see were mostly cows, not deer as she had been expecting. And at the front, a dark pavilion, and the general conversing with his troops.

“What are they doing?” Ezri asked, hovering in the air beside her. 

Archive wasn’t sure if the enemy could see them watching from across the river, but she didn’t much care. Her own troops would be ready. “I don’t know,” she said. “But it looks like they think they’re coming over here. They’re all facing this way, so they clearly aren’t leaving.”

“Why are the cows out front?” Ezri asked, leaning a little closer to stare. “They’ve never armed slaves. Jackie and I have been looking for ways to start some kind of slave rebellion, and we never found any easy options.

They were getting closer by the second. Alex didn't try to cross the river—she didn’t want to be seen out here with only her pistol and one changeling for protection. Yet she was now close enough to see as the first group of slaves was brought near the water, where the general and his strange priests were waiting.

“I don’t like them,” Ezri muttered, settling down beside her on the roof of a large building. The whole thing shook slightly under their weight, but nothing broke. “Those ones, there.” She pointed at the priests. “Feels like… like a changeling, almost. Worse.”

Alex didn’t say anything, a sudden, sick fear dawning on her. Fifty slaves would not be enough to teleport any large number of soldiers to the Bloodgate. But there were other ways to cross a river.

As she feared, soldiers held out the neck of the first cow as a priest cut it, catching the blood in a dark metal bowl. Alex forced herself to watch, not looking away even as revulsion bubbled in her throat.

You can’t prevent suffering everywhere, Sky said, her voice undimmed by memory. You aren’t God. Despite the words, Archive drew her pistol, feeling the words carved into the barrel.

Auspicium Melioris Ævi, it said. But her own ancient world hadn’t been much kinder to cows. They weren’t people then. It isn’t the same.
 
A second later, and the first priest moved back to the lake. He sprinkled in the blood, even as soldiers casually pushed the corpse into the water, kicking the beast’s body away with earth pony strength. As it drifted downstream, the blood touched the water a little further up… and it froze solid.

The ice spread a little further, a semicircle forming from the shore and expanding in either direction. It started to melt at once, but by then another priest added the blood (and magic) from a second dead slave, and the ice thickened, spreading a little further.

“Oh God,” Ezri muttered, her voice muffled. “They’re going to freeze the Hudson. But why not do it during the winter? There was already a thin layer of ice over most of it… wouldn’t that have made more sense?”

“No.” Alex straightened, flicking the cylinder with one hoof and leaving the crystal to spin freely. If she had a heavy-caliber sniper rifle, it was possible she would’ve been able to kill two of the priests before a dozen armed pegasi made it here. Her pistol, for all its power, couldn’t aim straight beyond a hundred meters or so. “They made boats, so I’m guessing these slaves have value. It was better to pay their troops to build the rafts than kill this many. Maybe they realize how horrible this is… how much it’s going to twist them.”

“If they freeze the river, their whole army could cross,” Ezri said.

Alex nodded. “Not quickly. Hooves and ice don’t get along well. But yes, they could. Might take them a day or two…”

Ezri whimpered, and the stun rifle mounted to her shoulder sprung up seemingly of its own accord, rotating slowly around. “What do we do? Jackie… I need Jackie…”

“Wait.” Alex rested a wing gently on her back—not forceful enough to stop someone wearing powered armor, but the gesture was apparently felt nonetheless. “I need you with me. We can’t separate. There are already scouts coming for us.”

“W-what?” Ezri jerked, following Alex’s gesture. Sure enough, a wing of pegasi was taking off, leaving the army behind and making straight for their building. They were all armed, though the armor was something soft like leather and their weapons were mostly spears and slings.

They weren’t in range yet, but Archive was already taking aim. Their enemy had gotten a little taste of their firearms last night. It was time to demonstrate them before the whole army. “You get the ones on the left,” Alex said. “As soon as they come into range. Don’t miss, okay? Once they fall, we fly out of here as fast as possible. Let the enemy collect their injured and their dead, and they probably won’t chase us. Probably.”

Shooting the attacking squad took almost no effort. Archive aimed Kerberos at the lead pony, then gently curved her aim as they swerved out of the way. She would never learn if they were wearing magic shields to try and keep themselves safe—Kerberos seemed to ignore those.

Ezri’s aim was not as good as hers, but her weapon was more forgiving of mistakes. She could fire faster than a single shot a second, and the weapon wouldn’t overheat on her shoulder. Soon enough, the scouts were tumbling down through the air in front of her, unconscious. “Now we’re going to run, right?”

Alex took off. Ezri followed in a blast of hot air, and together they made their way across the city. They dropped to street level right away, making it impossible for their adversaries to see the direction of their flight.

They could’ve hid in a building, been lost in the ruined city. Unfortunately, Estel would not be hiding. It existed at the center of swollen fields, fortified walls, and marching pony soldiers. Archive began regretting her failed attempt at psychological warfare. The mortars hadn’t scared their enemy away, but maybe it could’ve broken the ice bridge when they were walking across it.

A plan began forming in her mind as she flew back to Estel. A risky plan, but not an impossible one.

A few minutes later, and she was gathered in a sheltered war room near the middle of the structure—the lowest level before the floors were packed with non-combatant ponies. If the fortress fell, her war room would be the very last to be overrun. Before unarmed refugees started to die.

Her map had been moved here, updated with all the changes they had made. Armored trenches, mounted guns, traps. Little colored blocks reflected the position of her troops, their level of training and armament.

There were no blocks for the enemy. Given the size of the king’s army, the blocks wouldn’t have fit on her map.

“That’s a risky plan,” Colonel Rhodes said. He pointed with a stick held in his magic, at a handful of little blue cubes. They filled every opening a large force might’ve used to reach the fortification, two to each open street. Each one had represented a full week of magical effort to create for her most skilled unicorns. “We can’t make more mines in time. If we take them to break this ice-bridge…”

“The mines couldn’t kill the whole army even if we wait.” Jackie was up now, and extremely grumpy. She was armored though, and sipping at a glass of not-coffee. They didn’t have any of the beans, so they had to make due with tea. It was a very poor substitute. “I say we do it.”

“The plan was never to kill their army,” Rhodes said. “It’s about demoralizing them. We have magic enough to keep the fortress safe a week, right? They set up for a siege, and we wipe out a whole camp. Their troops start wondering if one of them might be next. Next time they attack, we blow another one. The longer we stall, the more ordinance we make. The more we break their will to fight. How many mines will we need to break the bridge?”

“All of them,” Alex admitted. “All six. Scouts say that we’re already seeing flooding north of the river. That means it’s frozen most of the way down. Just cracking the bridge won’t be enough—we’ll have to pulverize it so thoroughly that the Hudson can wash it away.”

“I don’t like it,” Rhodes said again. “You have to get somebody near it. Unless you’re proposing we turn our own people into kamikaze…”

“No,” she said, without hesitation. “I couldn’t ask that of any of our troops. I couldn’t do it myself, unless I was certain the blow would be decisive enough for a victory.”

“So we’d need to land our troops out there, capture… six of their men, and set off the mines without being caught in the blast ourselves. There are so many ways for that to go wrong. If we fail with even one of the mines… it might not be enough. Waste of the weapon that might’ve made the difference.”

“Yes,” Alex admitted. “I didn’t like it either. Can you think of a better idea?”

Rhodes looked across the table, to the armored representative of the weather team. “Lockwood, what about you? Couldn’t your men give us a blizzard? If you could keep them out, maybe you could bring them instead.”

“I’ll forgive your ignorance,” Lockwood grunted, his hooves folded in front of him. He seemed to wear the armor stiffly about his pegasus shoulders. “We haven’t learned to create weather out of nothing, just to move it around. Change its intensity by degrees. There are clear skies as far as anyone can see, Colonel. Nothing for us to bring.”

Alex nodded her agreement, much as it pained her to agree with Lockwood on anything. “Making weather from scratch is possible, but the energy has to come from somewhere. Most of Earth’s weather gets its energy from the Sun, or the Earth’s rotation. We’d need the energy of a whole city of pegasus ponies all trained and working together to make anything with enough punch to take out an army. Ours aren’t trained for that, so it’s a moot point.”

“And no Hail Marys are coming in from the ones who made your armor?” Rhodes asked Jackie with only a hint of hope left in his voice.

“Nothing,” Jackie grunted. “They offered a ride to your president, but nopony else. Douchebags.”

“We weren’t informed of this.” Lockwood tensed, rising to his hooves and glaring across the table at Alex. “Is this some kind of setup, Alex? Planning to have us all die for you? You damn coward!”

Silence filled the war room. Outside, panicked voices whispered, many hoofsteps moved as ponies went up or down the stairs, moving supplies or hammering in new boards over a window. 

A dozen pairs of eyes all found Alex.

Archive casually set Kerberos down on the table, staring across the model at Lockwood. She left it there, eyes icy cold. “What do you think, Captain Lockwood? Are you suggesting I would’ve made arrangements to leave you behind?”

She rose to her own hooves. “My mother is upstairs. My daughter. Would you like to call me a coward again?”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He leered. “That sounds real brave, president. Please, showcase that virtue you’re so known for. Brutally murder an inferior officer in front of the rest of the staff. That’s exactly what Estel needs before an invasion.”

Tom rose as well, turning to glare across the room at him. His horn began to glow faintly, supplementing the faint glow of magical crystals set onto the walls. “That’s over the line, Captain. This isn’t one of your debates—you’re addressing your superior officer.” He glanced down at her. “I told you appointing him was a terrible idea, Madam President. We can’t trust this asshole to tie his shoes correctly, let alone lead our weather team.” He gestured, and the armed guards standing by the door snapped to attention, raising their weapons.

“No.” Archive gestured to them with one hoof, walking around the table. “There’s no time for a shakeup in the command structure now. Lockwood’s the only one who can lead the pegasi. He can’t just be replaced.”

“You’re damn right.” He tensed, though he didn’t go for the dagger on his armor. Her weather ponies weren’t armed with anything greater—their magic was their weapon. His eyes followed Alex as she walked around to the other side of the table. “I want answers, President. My ponies won’t do a thing unless I get them.”

Rudolph was in the way, and he hastily got up, so that there were perhaps ten feet between Alex and the rebellious pegasus.

“I told them they could go to hell with their offer. If I’d wanted to save myself, I could’ve run a long time ago. Saving everypony that way would be doomed, but… hell, if I’d wanted to just save my family, it would’ve been easy. Left Estel to fend for itself, left you to be president, just how you wanted. You’ll notice I’m still here.”

She advanced, closing the distance between them. Lockwood towered over her, his body lean and strong after his months of weather practice. He had quite a bit more magic than she had sensed from him on the debate stage. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Lockwood wouldn’t be the only one wondering about this. She couldn’t have her troops worried about their general running away mid-battle.

“If I thought it would protect Estel, I’d be dead already,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. Magic surged around her, darkening the lights and muffling sounds from all around. “I will fight and die beside Estel’s soldiers. I’ll give its ponies life even if that means I keep none for myself. Even you.” She turned her back on him, walking slowly back to her side of the table.

By the time she had returned to her seat, Lockwood was sitting again, staring down at the table with distress on his face.

Tom gestured again, and the soldiers returned to their resting position beside the door, apparently relieved. These “guards” were some of their newest recruits, and some of the youngest. Not useful enough to put onto the field. They would not have fared well against Lockwood in a fight, not anymore.

“I agree, the time just isn’t there. The mortars might have been able to break the bridge, but don’t have the powder for any more. By the time we tore apart enough bullets, they’d already be across.”

There were so many weapons she could build to break the bridge, if only she had known. So many spells she could cast, if only she had the unicorns and the time to prepare them. She did not. Her ponies had already been spending so much of their time just surviving. What do you want me to do, Sunset? Is your neutrality so important that you’d let ponies die?
 
Sunset had already answered. She had brought no weapons, no military advice, no defense spells. She had loaned no troops, and not even offered evacuation. Sunset’s principles mattered as much to her as Alex’s did. Either that, or she trusts me to work this out.
 
I just wish I did.
 

* * *


Her scouts watched as the king’s army crossed the Hudson. No new storms rose in the sky that they might direct, nor did some miracle of unexpected magic destroy the bridge and drop most of the invading army into the water.

Three hours later, and she was forced to recall all the scouts to the protection of the fortress. There would be no war on the beaches, no sieges at periodic reinforced fallback positions. Archive had considered such strategies, but been discouraged in the end by the army of ghosts in her mind.

Against such numbers, her troops could not make a significant difference. They would be surrounded and destroyed, no matter what she could prepare.

So they had prepared in other ways. The fields were burned, the wells poisoned. Main thoroughfares had been selectively clogged with rubble or traps to herd the army down two central routes to the fortress, which would send them winding through the streets and restrict the flow of reinforcements. Archive had made sure obvious camps were available, clear of traps or other dangers except for the “mines” hidden in each one.

President Alex Haggard had prepared Estel for a long siege in the proper medieval fashion. Could a building with twenty stories and every defensive spell her unicorns could cast survive a siege from an army large enough to make a moat?

I wish you were right, Stride. I wish the city really was trying to kill anypony who wasn’t a refugee. We’d have an easier time fighting if ruins were helping.
 
Archive descended the stairs, past dozens of armed ponies. Not the trainees this time, but their best. Her armor clanked as she walked, sheets of chrome-coated metal striking together slightly with each step. She wore all but her helmet now, which was attached to her shoulder by a strap.

She walked past both floors of the parking garage, changed now into the root-cellar that stored the food for their thousands. Below that was the workshop, its many spinning machines built into the place heaters and electrical equipment for the building had once been. She walked down to B-5, past another dozen saluting guards, and through the doors to the living heart of her fortress.

The light of magic nearly blinded her, so bright down here that no lighting spells had been needed. Here, carved into the exposed bedrock of the island, were the defensive spells that would keep her ponies alive. Every patch of wall had its spell, some only a few dozen runes long and others looping circles of thousands. 

Here a perimeter alarm glowed a faint pink of peace, there a force-repulser would push back against any living creature not individually named in its matrix. A magic shield Twilight Sparkle had penned in distant Equestria would unravel teleportation that targeted within their walls, and devour the magical energy of hostile spells to feed the matrix. Other spells reinforced the ancient cinder-block walls, giving them the stability of Stygian lead and the strength of the sturdiest earth pony.

It was, so far as Archive knew, as close to an impenetrable fortress as Equestrian magic could create. The rock against which she hoped the king’s army would be shattered.

In the center of the room was a circle of standing stones, each one about four feet high. Each one was a different kind of rock, taken from somewhere else on Manhattan Island. Indiana Limestone from the Empire State, Red Marble from the Chrysler Building, and eight other irregularly shaped chunks from the wreckage of important landmarks.

Archive had wanted a piece of the statue of liberty to complete her spell, but unfortunately that monument was on the bottom of the ocean and building a diving bell to retrieve a chunk would have been a terrible waste of resources.

She’d had to settle for something else. The circle that surrounded the stones, the runes on each one, had all been worked of pure gold. A small object of gold rested on each of the stones: an intricate knife, a polished mirror, a compass, a helmet, a hammer, a book, and others.

At least one citizen of Estel stood close to each stone, sometimes more than one. Not all were unicorns, but they were all ponies. Though Archive valued the contributions of her griffons, minotaurs, and other stranger things, they could not help with this spell. Only ponies would do.

At the very center of the spell was a constantly shifting object, radiating heat and light as it floated. The object drifted faintly between the stones that contained it, changing shape like liquid as it neared them. Reflective golden metal seemed to grow brighter as it passed closer to the book, imitating that shape for a few seconds before being drawn along to the next stone in the circle, and becoming a compass instead.

All Estel’s protective spells, all the shields her individual soldiers wore and the weapons they carried, drew their power from this point.

Archive walked to the tallest of the stones, the one exactly at the back. The stone was actually an uneven chunk of paving cement taken from a large overpass, and its relic a shield. Mary was the one who sat beside it, Nancy just beside her. The filly was drawing on the ground in front of her with a lump of chalk, and had already filled all the cement she could reach with little drawings. 

“Hey.” Alex embraced Mary first, feeling Nancy wrap her little hooves around her even as she did so. “Holding up okay down here?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “It hasn’t even been one day, and this is our first shift. We’re fine. Is something wrong with the Hallow?”

“No.” Archive looked up briefly at the molten gold, swimming as it was in the sea of magical energy. “I wanted to make sure, since we’re about to start drawing on it.” She looked past them, to the other ponies here. Not only the ones resting just outside the circle, but the small crowd ready to take their place at a moment’s notice. “We’re depending on all of you. Our shields and cannons are strong, thanks to you.”

A few made minor gestures in her direction, though none replied. The mood here was far too somber for that.

“The bad guys are coming?” Nancy asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” she responded. “They’re close. Ten minutes, maybe. Most of them will probably be making camp, but… the scouts saw a small force coming this way. Probing attack, probably. Doesn’t stand a chance of getting through all this magic.”

Archive didn’t go into more detail, but she had no intention of softening the truth for Nancy either. She hadn’t made a habit of honesty for the filly just to lie now. Besides, the Hallow wouldn’t like it if she lied.

“You’ll fight?” Mary asked, ears flattened with fear. She didn’t move away from the stone, even so. 

Archive nodded. “We’ll fight from out fortifications, so don’t worry. It’ll be like… like the Last Samurai, only we’re the ones with the guns.”

“They still have the bigger army.” Mary reached out, resting one hoof on her shoulder. “Stay safe, little girl. I expect to see you at dinner on time when this shift is over.”

“I will.” Alex straightened, then spared one last hug for Nancy. “You do an important work, ponies! Fight for Estel!”

Ponies shouted their agreement, raising hooves in vague salutes as she passed. These were not military ponies—yet even so, the power of their belief made the golden light glow brighter. That light shone through the rocks themselves, filling the hearts of her army. Filling their weapons, hardening their shields.

It was enough, almost, that she could hope for victory.


* * *


“Ma’am!” Lonely Day returned the salute, passing soldier after soldier in the narrow trench. All of it was within the bubble of the shield, so in theory there was no need to keep themselves out of the way of projectiles. Archive wasn’t about to take anything for granted—though the ability to collapse the burrows and blockade the building’s ground-level entrances might come in handy.

The trouble with creating a defensive spell nopony had tested before was that there was no guarantee it was going to protect them. For all she knew, it might fail the instant any real strain was placed on it. Alex had worked the numbers over and over in her head, but correct in theory did not necessarily translate to enough to keep them safe.

She made her way to the rear of the trenches, an area slightly elevated, with scavenged windows set into it to give an uninterrupted view of the two approaches to their fortress most likely to be used. There were more trenches on the rear of the building, but Archive did not anticipate using them. The park located at the center of the block was accessible by passing through any of the other buildings, but she doubted any large force would ever use it. Her own troops could surge out using postern gates and flood the courtyard if needed, while their enemy would be restricted to the trickle that came through other buildings or from the air.

Command itself had a rough wooden floor, swept clean of dirt, with even magic lights and a simple spell on the windows that would black them when viewed from the outside. Along the wall were a dozen crystals, each one labeled with positions on the building such as “roof, left AA” and “courtyard left side trenches.” Each one was about fist-sized, set into a little wire holder. None were glowing, so no new messages.

Tom Rhodes was not sitting around the small table in the center of the room, but standing near a large chalkboard, glaring at it intently.

TROOP PLACEMENT
 
North Trenches: 53
East Trenches: 50
Cannon North: 28
Cannon East: 31
AA Crews: 78
Courtyard Trenches: 45
Sky Battalion: 119
Roof Battlements: 83
Guards: 23
Hammer: 46
Reserve: 440
 
Casualties: 
4 injured
0 killed
 
“They’re getting close.” Jackie was the only other pony in command right now—every other officer would be out with the troops.

Jackie stared through the wall, watching the mob making their way closer. They didn’t march in formation so much as in general clusters, with a few more properly armored ponies off to one side and troops with inferior equipment huddled together in a gaggle. From her initial glance, Archive could see not a single unicorn in their number. She could see no wings either, though they might be hidden further back in their ranks, or under armor.

“Shock troops.” Tom didn’t turn around, though he did point towards a pair of binoculars resting on the table with one hoof. They were a precious relic, donated by a refugee who had been doing early morning birdwatching when the Event had happened.

Archive couldn’t levitate them up to her face like Tom could, but she could grip them with a hoof, using subtle pressure and her sensitive frog to hold them near her eyes. Even still they weren’t positioned right for a pony, and she could only look through one eye. She closed the other and looked.

Earth ponies, with thick steel armor and cruel, bashing weapons. Some carried torches or oil, some wore heavy crossbows, but that was all. A quick count put their numbers at about five hundred, as the pegasi had reported from the air.

“Either they don’t expect us to put up much of a fight, or they want to demoralize us right from the beginning.”

“Either way it won’t work.” Jackie turned to face her. “The shields on this place are something else, Alex. I don’t know much about runes… but you have enough down there, I bet we could stop a nuke.”

“Not with a population as small as ours,” she answered. “Maybe if we had a whole city powering it. A whole city of friendly, hopeful, happy ponies. Not the way most people feel right before a nuclear war.”

Tom turned around, facing her. “Ground troops in numbers like these wouldn’t threaten us without the shield. We could scare them off… but we’ve been given an opportunity.”

Tom walked past her, over to the large windows. He pointed at the enemy formation, and the cloud of dust behind it. They were perhaps three blocks away. Close enough that she could hear their marching drum, booming quietly in regular rhythm. “If I was in charge over there, I’d be telling my boys that they’d only been beaten with tricks. From their perspective, they’re really just fighting a few very loud mice. When we’re forced to fight them in numbers, we’ll crumble easily. All they have to do is bloody us up and come back to camp, and their soldiers are full of confidence for tomorrow.”

Alex nodded in agreement, realizing what he meant. “If we give them a devastating defeat instead, our soldiers get a surge of confidence and they’re the ones who end up demoralized before the first real battle.”

Tom nodded. “Two ways to break an entrenched enemy, time and overwhelming force. Time isn’t on their side either, not with that many soldiers to supply and pay. It’s their wise but costly option. No matter what happens tonight, I suspect they’ll bring overwhelming force tomorrow. Either their soldiers march whispering rumors of how we’re unbeatable, or they march confident they’re going to win. It’s up to us.”

Alex strode past him to the largest crystal on the wall, the one without a label. It glowed faintly once she touched it, passing a feeble static charge through her hoof. 

“All soldiers.” Her voice would be echoing from every single other communication stone in the network—to her mild annoyance, that meant it also came from the command pairs waiting here as well as the ones mounted in each field location. “All soldiers, remain in fortification. Hold your fire until my word. I repeat, hold your fire. We will let these soldiers slam against the shield before we shoot. Do not use small arms unless the shield is breached. Snipers, conserve your ammunition. Cannon crews, this will be your show. Sweep across the largest concentrations of soldiers, leave isolated targets for the snipers.”

Far away, the enemy force had stopped along with the drums. They formed up, arranging themselves in a battle line that would strike the trenches along the widest area possible. Even so, that would still put them in ranks at least five deep, a solid wall of troops. They probably intended to charge straight through the barricade, maybe even knock over the building.

Would they have been able to do it, if Estel didn’t have a shield? Archive didn’t know. She lifted another stone out of its rack, the one painted bright red, and set it down on the table in front of Jackie. “You want to translate for me?”

The bat pony frowned down at the rock, then nodded. “I’m still rusty. Going back to English has been a Godsend.”

“I have to warn them,” Archive said, looking out on the marshaled troops. “They won’t listen, but… I have to try anyway.” 

“Yeah.” Jackie slipped one armored hoof out of her boot, then rested it on the rock. She met Alex’s eyes, the sign that she was ready.

A football field away, the enemy troops stood still as their officers shouted. Alex watched them through the window as she spoke. She said only a sentence at a time, waiting for Jackie to repeat it before she went on.

“Ponies of Obrican’s army, hear my voice.”

They heard Jackie’s voice, booming through the same spell that had carried the debates. This one was louder, pitch-shifting Jackie’s voice to that of the most somber stallion’s.

“You ride against the sacred city of Estel. We possess weapons you cannot imagine. Leave in peace or die in agony.”

Jackie waited a little longer. When Alex said nothing, she slipped her hoof back into the boot, tightening the straps again with a yank from her mouth. “Getting melodramatic in your old age?”

She shrugged. “They’re a medieval culture. I’m just trying to communicate in a way they’ll understand.” Archive reached sideways to her armor, securing her helmet firmly in place on her head. “Keep them on point, you two. Ring me if something happens.”

Archive turned away, galloping down the trench and out of command.

“Where are you going?” Jackie shouted from behind her, poking her head out the opening.

“To the front!” she shouted. “Put the shield to a proper test!” She was half afraid that Jackie might follow her, but to her relief the other bat only rolled her eyes and returned to her post. Alex ran until she found one of the ramps, passing nervous looking ponies as she made her way out, past the sharpened metal spikes stretching out around and in front of the shield. No two were quite alike—rusting scrap metal found and roughly shaped into an imposing defensive barrier. 

The troops had been ordered never to advance forward from the trenches, except along specific routes carefully marked for them. Alex did not need the markers to know exactly where the protective shields began.

The enemy roared something in their language, a single word over and over. They stomped at the ground together, coming down on it like an anvil.

The whole island seemed to shake as their hooves came down. An unstable building across the street from them started to rumble ominously, teetering slowly to one side. Away from them, unfortunately.

Then they charged. The earth split in front of them like waves rising from the sea, dirt cresting and churning in front of them. The thunderous roar of their hooves filled her ears with noise, rattled the buildings, and drove the wave onward.

Sharpened pikes and exterior defenses were thrown aside by the onrushing tide, and only a handful of ponies were stuck. Most escaped unscathed, adding more and more of their earth pony magic to the tumult. 

Yes, their enemy had magic too. Archive felt very glad she had not forgotten that.

She stood just behind the protective barrier, her armor shining silver in the late afternoon light. She turned to face Estel—all gray and rusting metal, overflowing with hope and fear, and reared up onto her hind-legs for a second. She did not need any magic for her ponies to hear her, even over the roaring earth and pounding hooves.

“Humans of Estel!” she called, tugging on the collective hearts and minds of every pony she could reach. There was no respecting space anymore, no carefully gathering the threads of her city and plucking them. Archive drew on them all. “Stand with me and be not moved!”

She turned her back on the city, facing directly into the wave of earth and broken asphalt.

Not even at her strongest could Alex have stopped something like this as an earth pony. She had never imagined an attack like this was even possible. The dirt rose up in front of her over the height of her head, frothing dirt mixed with barbed steel and chunks of stone. It got louder as it neared her, drowning out the shouts of her officers.

A few ponies, overwhelmed by their fear, ignored her orders and fired gunpowder weapons at the enemy. The guns had little effect on powerful earth ponies like these, especially when they were channeling magic together. None of them stopped charging.

Archive faced into the storm, feeling her hooves securely on the ground even as it shook. I hope you’re listening to the spells we wrote, island, she pleaded. We’re all dead otherwise.

The wave crashed down on her like water on a concrete breakwater. The shield manifested as a wave of reddish-brown magic, coalescing in the air wherever foreign magic and material coming inward was detected.

Some shields worked on brute force, like the ones her soldiers wore. Incoming momentum was canceled out completely with magical energy, converted into some other form and dissipated at enormous expense. They created a solid wall of nothing, immovable so long as the magic creating it lasted.

Instead of trying to stop things, Estel’s shield exactly reversed any force that came in upon it.

At once, the wave of earth washed backwards instead of forward. The charging army were struck completely unprepared. A few lucky ponies were close enough to hit the shield and be flung backward themselves. The vast majority were not, and so were traveling ahead at full gallop when several tons of dirt and rock and metal struck them going the opposite direction.

Archive did not look away. Ponies were lifted into the air, ponies were crushed to red jelly, ponies were impaled by the spikes they had carried along with them in the charge. They had poured so much of their earth pony magic into the attack that there was little left to protect them when that same attack came rolling down on top of them.

Where once there had been a charging army, there was now freshly turned soil spread out in a sloping hill, away from the city, littered with the dead and wounded. Less than ten feet away from her, a mangled corpse came to rest against the boundary of the shield, a corpse that had been healthy and alive only seconds before.

There was far less for Estel’s troops to do than she had initially expected. Only the ponies in back were anything close to intact, and even these had lost huge chunks of armor in the torrent. “Tell the snipers to open fire,” Archive said into her helmet. “Aim for the healthy. Don’t shoot anypony who looks hurt. Cannons, hold fire!”

It took a second for Jackie or Tom to relay the command. A second later, the periodic crack of gunfire split the air. Where the back ranks were clawing their way from the dirt, they started to drop.

Archive retreated from the front, making swift progress back to the trenches. The snipers were all located high in the fortress above them, and she was pretty sure their aim would be good enough not to hit her, but she didn’t want to take the chance. The city’s shield would do her no good against friendly fire.

By the time she had made it back to command, the sound of gunshots had been replaced with a cheer, rising from her ponies in the trenches and quickly spreading to the building behind it. She felt the joy and relief in her chest even as they shouted.

She didn’t have to look out the window to know what she would see—the last survivors fleeing. Many were bleeding from serious injuries, or sporting badly broken limbs. Where hundreds had attacked, only a score or so could make it out on their own power.

“Jackie.” Alex’s voice was somber, despite the cheering coming from Estel. “Tell them they may send unarmed men to collect the wounded. We will not hurt them.”

“Is that a good idea?” she asked. “More survivors to attack us again.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Tom said, staring at the carnage with haunted eyes. “Look at those patches of ground writhing around. There are men buried alive. We have to get them out.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jackie muttered, though she was pulling off her boot in obedience anyway. “Well, not as stupid as going right out in front, but up there for sure.”

“It’s not just the right thing.” Archive kept her voice down, easier to do as the cheers started to die down. A few taunts echoed from further away in the trenches, threats their enemy wouldn’t even understand. “Injured ponies use up food and medical supplies without being able to fight. We want as many to survive as possible. Give them my message.”

Jackie obeyed. 

Alex turned away from her, facing Tom before she had even finished. “Get me the hammer and a hundred reserve with shovels. Take their arms and armor, then let them go.” She felt her face harden. “We cannot spare medical supplies, or the energy of our doctors. Leave the dead where they fell.”

From then on, the night was more gruesome than it was dangerous. Alex was not closely involved as her ponies helped free as many survivors of the “horizontal mudslide” as they could.

Another few hundred ponies arrived from the king’s army, unarmed and looking far scrawnier than the earth ponies that had seemed to shake the whole island with their charge. Once they arrived, Alex ordered her own ponies to retreat, leaving the remainder of the work for them.

When darkness finally fell, hundreds of the enemy had been slain without a single change to the chalkboard.
> Episode 4.6: Blood and Fire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their enemy assembled in the light of early dawn. Their camps had been built exactly where Alex had suspected, oblivious to the mines they might trigger at any moment. There was no way to trigger them remotely of course, or else any unicorn might be able to find the spells waiting to activate. 

Whatever discouragement the enemy might’ve suffered at their initial defeat, there was no evidence of fear in their behavior the next day. The streets filled with ranks so thick that in places their scouts could not even see the burned fields beneath them. The enemy seemed divided into four companies, each one with about five thousand ponies. Far fewer individuals than this city had once known walking its streets, but also an enemy many times their own size. A magical force many times larger than the one Archive had channeled to protect the city.

Assuming the king’s generals knew how to use it.

Only on the north and east was it easy to come against them, though at its widest the streets would permit only a hundred ponies to pass at once. Their enemy did not get nearly that close, but instead marshaled siege weapons atop distant hills. Crude trebuchets mostly, though Archive did not doubt they knew the range of their own weapons.

Distant war-drums echoed along with a single, blaring note from a horn. The trebuchets began to fire.

Archive did not shelter inside Command, just as she hadn’t done during the charge. She watched as huge stones came rolling through the air. Her own troops screamed, and inside the fortress civilian ponies did as well.

“Don’t be afraid!” she shouted, turning to face her fortress. “You saw what happened yesterday! A few more rocks aren’t going to hurt us!”

The first volley landed wide, striking the ground in front of the shield and tearing up unprotected dirt. Some of it splattered into the air, raining down on her. The shield would not waste energy deflecting particles that could not kill. A dozen separate trebuchets fired the second volley. Rocks streaked through the air above her, smashing into the nearby buildings. Most bounced off, though wood or glass gave way without much resistance.

At least ten large stones struck the shield, flinging back out in the direction they had come. The shield did not know how to properly angle them, it wasn’t trying to aim them back or anything. They all came up short, a splintering rain that littered the ground.

She turned away. The shield could handle a few rocks, they had proved that the day before beyond any doubt. Archive hurried back into command, where Jackie and Colonel Rhodes were both watching from the windows.

“You’re just going to let them pummel us?” Jackie asked, annoyed. “They can’t have many more siege engines than those. We haven’t even got to show off the Sunbeam yet.”

Alex pointed to the communications grid. “Are they sighted?”

Tom nodded. “Just like you ordered. I hope you’re done with the dramatic displays, President. It’s all well and good to encourage the troops, but if something unexpected happens, you’ll be the one we want in here.”

Another volley came raining down from above them. At first, Alex dismissed it as more stones, but her eyes lingered on the shapes as they drifted. Pots, trailing smoke and flame behind them as they went. They struck the barrier a second later, shattering at the sudden change in acceleration. Liquid fire roared out, thrown backward through the air and filling the air with billowing smoke.

Burning oil and tar would not pass through the barrier, though the smoke could, drifting over their heads and past the fortress. It would be difficult to aim in that pretty soon.

“I hoped we wouldn’t have to use them,” Archive admitted. “Mines are one thing, but… I don’t think Sunset would approve of using magic this way. Killing so horribly…” She sighed. “Guess we shouldn’t have invented them if we weren’t going to use them.”

“All men die,” Tom responded, not even looking up at her. “It isn’t the method that matters, Alex. Do you think they would thank us if we took the time to use a knife and slit their throats?”

“I know.” She sat down, staring out the window. “Cannons north and east, fire when ready.”

Jackie repeated the order, speaking into the spells. A second later, and sunlight roared into being on both sides of the structure. Command, positioned at the corner, had a good view of each, though Alex herself was only looking in one direction.

Equestria had not given Earth offensive spells in their books. Unfortunately for Equestria, their books had taught the principles of magic. Magic was really just another way to manipulate the physical laws, free to be manipulated in any way they wished.

The Sunbeam cannon had been developed as an answer to rampaging dragons, with their incredible strength and near-invulnerability to projectiles. For all practical purposes, they were really only light spells. Light spells as bright as little suns, with all their force focused into a beam only atoms wide.

Thunder boomed as the first Sunbeam fired. A little compression wave scattered dirt and dust and smoke out of the way of the beam. Archive looked away, following it only indirectly as it cut instantly to the siege weapons.

The second Sunbeam fired, and with it came another deafening boom of thunder. Molten lines burned through wood, metal, and pony alike without much slowing. A few seconds later and the charge was exhausted. Her ponies rushed to dump cool water onto the cannon’s metal and crystal apertures, which boiled up into clouds of frothing steam. At the back, an ounce of glittering molten gold would be hardened and icy cold, until it could be recharged at the Hallow. 

Where there had once been a dozen large counterweight trebuchets on huge wooden wheels, there was now only a bonfire. Wooden parts, ponies caught too close, pots of oil waiting to be thrown—it all burned.

“Prepare second volley!” Alex shouted. Jackie echoed her cry into the communication stones, and far away ponies rushed to obey. Freshly charged gold would be loaded, the magic of friendship and hope surging and crackling to be released.

There was only one problem with the Sunbeam cannons: each one only had three shots. The Hallow could not recharge any more while also keeping the shield intact. 

“Cannons ready,” Jackie responded a second later, one hoof resting on the “North” and “East” communication stones.

“Hold,” Alex instructed, still watching the windows. “We have to make every shot count.”

“Hold,” Jackie repeated into the stones.

The army began to move. Alex hadn’t realized what she was seeing at first, given the sheer size of their formations. Fluttering banners filled the city as far as she could look, except for the bare, burned fields immediately surrounding Estel and its fortress.

She heard the horns a second later, a thunderous, repeating note. Another second and the note changed, and the whole mass began to charge. 

It was like watching an ominous, multicolored flood. There was no earth pony magic lifting the earth this time, for far more than just earth ponies ran. As they neared, pegasus ponies took off into the air, forming separate spear-formations going for the exposed glass windows of the upper floors.

So much noise, so much magic. Archive was momentarily overwhelmed by it all. Voices were drowned out, even her thoughts were lost in the charge.

Archive had fought in many skirmishes, but never in her life had she seen anything like this. Charging towards her, formations getting sloppier and sloppier as they neared, she saw more ponies gathered than she had ever seen in one place before. Maybe more than had lived anywhere on Earth at the moment of the Event.

“Orders?” Tom asked again, his shout calm despite the storm. The hopelessness she felt was not echoed in those big gray eyes. “We need you, Alex.”

She snapped out of her trance. “AA guns begin tracking targets but do not fire. Sky Battalion should be ready for takeoff if anypony gets through the shield. Snipers, aim for the ones in gold armor. Canons wait for my order and do not engage.” 

She made her way to the general stone as Jackie and Colonel Rhodes relayed her orders to various positions. When she spoke through it, her voice echoed from every position. “Everyone else with a clear shot, wait until the army passes 100 meters. Aim for unicorns and pegasus ponies, don’t waste bullets on the ones without wings or horns. Anypony doing anything that looks magical is your main target.”

The ground shook again, and this time there was no magic involved. Ten thousand galloping ponies bore down on them from two directions, getting closer by the moment.

“Crossed 100 meters!” Archive barked into the general communications relay. “AA crews are clear to fire when ready!”

Somewhere above her, both mounted guns began to roar. The guns were a simple force-amplification spell, flinging fist-sized rocks loaded into them with crude hoppers at a dozen rounds a second. Each rock was accelerated to faster than the speed of sound, leaving the barrel with a crack and pushing at the building with the force.

Dead pegasi rained down on their fellows from above, whole straight chunks falling bloody from the thick formations. It was exactly what Alex imagined watching a large flock of birds fly into machine-gun fire might look like. Needless to say, the primitive armor did not offer them much protection.

The army reached the barrier. Many at the front were crushed against it by their own soldiers, or else thrown backward to rain onto the army behind them. Ponies had not been charging with their weapons drawn, apparently knowing full well what was waiting for them.

The flying ponies reached the barrier at about the same time, battering at it with their weapons. The army washed around them like a sea, crushing everything outside the shield. After the first to arrive had been thrown about a bit, the army’s front ranks stopped slamming into it, though the crowd behind them was getting so thick with bodies that the pressure of ponies on each other to the shield were almost painfully slow as they echoed back.

Estel’s shield surrounded half the city now, red-brown magic far deeper than it had been the day before. Sparks of energy crackled near it, melting dirt on the inside into fulgurite.

The shield began to deform, bowing inward. Her ponies fired into the enemy almost constantly now, and the ponies outside were so densely packed almost no shots missed. But whenever a pony fell, they were quickly replaced by a new one, their corpse vanishing in the sea of hooves.

“Cannons, sweep across the ponies at the front! Everypony else, fire at will!”

Devastation swept the front lines. The powerful laser was meant for penetrating the hides of the oldest dragons, after all. Turning it against ponies… she forced herself to look. Forced herself to see hundreds of soldiers sliced in half, their bodies charred and ruined. At least they died quickly.

It wasn’t like before, with most of the energy blasted harmlessly into the air and only some of it directed at siege engines. This time, all the charge went into killing. The burning light was the only mercy—at least Archive didn’t have to see the eyes of her enemy as they died.

The army stopped pressing forward. Those further back—shielded from the worst of the energy by the bodies of their fellows—dropped screaming with serious burns. The army stopped pressing forward, the war drums stopped beating, and even her own soldiers stopped firing.

“I am become death,” Tom muttered from behind her, staring out at the sea of smoking corpses. 

Yet in reality, only a tiny fraction of the army had been killed. A hundred ponies, maybe two hundred if she counted the pegasi shot down by anti-aircraft guns.

After a few more silent moments, the army began to retreat. It wasn’t an ordered movement. It seemed, rather, as though the advancing army had suddenly lost the confidence to fight. Considering what they had just seen, Archive could scarcely blame them.

“I want the reserve out there, now!” Archive shouted. “Harry the retreat! We won’t catch them this unprepared again!”

“Reserve, through the postern gate!” Jackie repeated for her into one of the stones. “Form up!”

“Colonel Rhodes, take it from here,” Alex said. “As soon as they turn on us in numbers, get the reserve back inside the shield.”

“Don’t you think they’ve had enough?” Jackie asked, lifting her hoof from the stone. “They’re leaving. Collecting their wounded. Morpheans Alex, using the Sunbeam on infantry…”

Archive gestured back to the field. “That is a marauding army, Jackie Kesler! We wouldn’t hurt them if they would leave us alone. Would you suggest we fight them on even terms?”

“No,” she grunted, turning away from her. “I just thought maybe give them a chance to give up before we kill any more.”

“They haven’t given up,” Tom answered before she could, pointing far off. The vast majority of the army hadn’t even made it onto the streets—there just wasn’t enough space. Already, fresh troops were moving up to take the place of the broken company. “They expected heavy resistance here. I think King Obrican knew anyone who could kill his jailer and their army would be dangerous.” He advanced into the control area, beside Jackie. “I’ll handle it, Madam President. What are you going to do?”

“Join the Sky Battalion to harry them from the air,” she said, preparing to shrug out of her armor. There was no chance she would be able to fly wearing so much metal. “Jackie, stay here. If you see—”

Pain shot through her, sourceless, white-hot agony. Archive’s legs gave out from under her and she began to scream. Her wings spasmed, trying in vain to open against the wrapping and the metal shell of her armor.

Her shield, her enchanted armor, none of her spells had any effect. She kicked, flopping uselessly. Something tried to hold her—Alex hardly even realized it.

By far the worst of the pain was in her mind. A voice—a voice strange and ancient, screamed furiously into her concentration.

To say it spoke words would have been an unfair personification. Archive saw affection for her, a parental, protecting love for Estel and its ponies. Many visions of her city as it grew, as though many invisible eyes had been watching them.

Many times the strange presence had reached out to protect them from harm. She saw raider attacks in the night, thwarted by structural collapses. A group of Damocles’s remaining soldiers bringing torches and oil was set upon by wolves and devoured before they even reached Estel’s gates. Hundreds of images, filling her mind so swiftly that she convulsed and blood dribbled down her snout.

She saw the army and was furious as they violated her streets. A thousand hooves that did not belong. The beating heart of the city had been dead for so long.

“Alex!” Jackie’s voice from above her, sounding distant. Like Archive was separate from her body, and hearing something from far away.

The images kept coming, filling her head with agony. Bleeding corpses, crashing waves, crumbling buildings. She saw the city crumbling, swallowing the invading army dozens of different ways. Buildings fell on it, the water rose and washed them away. Living metallic monsters came from the long filled-in subway tunnels to devour them.

You want to help us, Archive thought. You want to, but you can’t.

She felt only sadness in response. Agony as something watched her little city wiped out. Ponies murdered, their nascent technology broken and burned in bonfires.

How? She tried to think, focusing her thoughts as best she could. In the presence of something so much older and larger than she was, it was almost impossible. They can’t get past our shield!

The presence showed her. Just out of sight of the city, around a large and sturdy building Estel’s own citizens had been living in days before, two dozen of the red-robed blood priests had already prepared a rune-circle written in wet red ink. A small mountain of slave corpses had filled two silver basins with deep red blood, seething with the power of death.

The spell was too complex for Archive to read at a glance, not with her mind in agony. The presence showed her the Hallow failing, the circle failing, and an ocean of invaders washing over them. Her ponies would fight bravely, perhaps through the night, but in the end they would all die.

At once, the pain stopped. Whatever had blasted its way into Alex’s mind withdrew, and her senses returned to her. She was on her back on the command table. A medic was standing over her, along with Tom, Jackie, and a few guards. All of them looked terrified.

At once she sat up, brushing another rivulet of blood away from her nose. 

Dr. Mercer put a gentle hoof on her shoulder, trying to push her back down. “President, you shouldn’t be moving about after a seizure. Please lay back down. I’ve already called for my assistants so we can perform a healing spell.”

“No need.” Alex pushed his hoof away, though she didn’t stand. The truth was she was still shaking, the throbbing in her head remained, and all her limbs felt weak. “That wasn’t a seizure.”

“Sure as hell looked like one,” Jackie grunted.

Mercer only nodded in agreement, pushing her again. “Please, President. I have the authority to—”

Alex leapt to her hooves, landing securely and glaring around the room. She didn’t shout, but her voice was firm regardless. “The city…” she muttered. “It sent me a message.” 

Blank stares. Lonely Day didn’t slow down, or give them any opportunities to interrupt her. Obviously it would sound crazy. Only one pony in this room would believe her. She spoke anyway. “Obrican’s blood priests are doing some kind of ritual out there. It just warned me—if we don’t stop it, they’ll take down the shield.”

“The city was talking to you,” Mercer repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Hallucinations are one of the possible symptoms of—”

Archive cut him off. “Doctor, that will be enough. Get back to triage, I think ponies are going to need you soon.” She wasn’t shaking anymore. Whatever agony the communication may have been, it didn’t seem to have done permanent damage. She was almost ready. 

She looked to Jackie. “I’m guessing we didn’t press the retreat.”

The other bat shook her head in response. “We were going to. The reserve have formed up, but then you—”

Alex cut her off. “Pull back the reserve and get me the Hammer. Right now.”

“Alex.” Colonel Rhodes barked her name harshly enough that it cut through the haze. It was a greater shock that he had used her first name at all, given the military circumstances. “I don’t know where you’re going… but what do you plan on doing if they turn around?”

“I saw the city burn, Tom.” She started walking. “If we don’t gallop out there and stop them, it won’t matter for much longer. When the Hallow goes down, we all die.”

He saluted. “Aye, Madam President. Who certainly isn’t one of God’s angels, sent visions to protect his children. I will maintain the siege until you return.”

Jackie remained in command long enough to relay her last few orders before flitting after her, crossing the distance on her wings and landing at an angry trot. “You’re going to die on me again, Alex. I can see it in your eyes.”

She didn’t look away. In the trench all around her, ponies saluted. She returned each salute, without actually stopping.

A little further and she passed the north cannon in its sandbags, a spear of clear crystal surrounded by white-hot metal ribs and mounted on a pivoting base. The crew loading another round seemed a little stunned as they worked—barely even noticing her as she passed.

The reserve funneled around the building, and would get back inside using the postern gate at the back. That meant she didn’t pass them as the Hammer gathered in the patch of flat ground within their fortifications.

Her ponies looked a little weary from their battle by the ships. A few wore light bandages, though those that had taken more severe wounds weren’t here. In the short time it had taken Alex to make her way over, they were already lined up. Her best and bravest, sans the officers now assigned to command her crews.

She stepped up to the front of the formation, turning her back on the army surrounding them and raising one hoof in salute. They returned the gesture, hooves crisp and movement sharp. “I’m going to make this quick,” she called. “The army’s priests are preparing a spell to bring down our shield. We have to go out and kill them before they finish it. I don’t know how long we have.”

“We’re ready!” It was Silvia, looking far less shy than she had on the beach.

A dozen others shouted their agreement, raising their weapons and shaking them towards the enemy.

“We must not fail!” Archive shouted. “But we may not make it back. If the enemy turns their army on us, we’ll be cut down before we can make it back to the fortress. I invite anyone not prepared to die to step forward.”

She waited. Nobody moved.

“This is not a battle like before, carefully planned with victory almost guaranteed. If Obrican’s army realize what we’re doing, we will all surely die. No rescue can come for us. There is no teleportation conduit to get us back to safety.”

Nopony moved. Beside her, Jackie wiped away a stream of moisture from her eyes. “Couldn’t keep you around a damn year,” she whispered, so quietly only Alex could hear. “You’re a fucking idiot, Alex. A damn fucking idiot.”

“Protect my family,” Alex whispered back. 

A massive earth pony stallion stood a little straighter from within his formation, his voice clear as he shouted. “Today is a good day to die!”

She remembered this stallion. “Everest” had been among the last to take the oath of citizenship and move into Estel. He had thought himself unworthy and committed to starve, after the many terrible things he had done. Some of his victims were cowering in Estel’s fortifications, far above.

The ponies of her Hammer shouted their agreement. Archive spent a brief moment looking into each face. Robert was there, her first recruit in the city. Silvia, who had mastered levitation on her own, and used it to do terrible things to those who found her. Every one of these ponies was at least a little like Everest. They’d done and suffered terrible things to survive, and their suffering had made them strong. “I can’t live with you,” many had said. “I don’t deserve to live with the ones I hurt.”

Archive had always said the same thing, and she shouted it now. “I don’t care who you were! I don’t care what you’ve done.” As she spoke, she felt the threads of attention narrowing on her. They didn’t have perfect memories, but they remembered this. She raised her voice. “I promised every one of you the chance to make a better future for yourselves… I promised you could be heroes. The debts you owe, replay them all!” She turned away, raising Kerberos high into the air. “For Estel!”

The Hammer echoed her shout, raising it loud enough to reverberate off the nearby buildings with no need for magic. You took rocks and made them into gemstones, Sunset Shimmer had said. In their many voices, Archive could feel their bravery, drowning out all fear. No more hiding, Archive. No more running away.

“Hammer, dense wedge formation!”

They moved, forming a tight “V” centered on her. Earth ponies formed the front ranks, with armed unicorns behind and pegasus ponies flying overhead. 

They charged. 

They stampeded past the trenches, past the cannons and the wreckage of their exterior defenses. They scattered burned and burning corpses before them as they crossed outside the shield, flung or crushed by the power of earth pony magic.

The battlefield ahead of them was clear except for the dead and dying, almost all the way to the end of the block. That far away, only the most distant stragglers were limping their way back to the main body of the army, which by then had passed the wreckage of the siege engines. These stragglers either got out of their way, or were broken under their hooves.

Archive did not turn along the road but kept straight to the center, as though her formation intended to take on the whole army. By the time they were halfway there, they had been noticed by many of the retreating soldiers. Instead of turning to fight, they only galloped faster, leaving the area almost clear as she reached the junction of the next block.

“LEFT!” she shouted, as they neared the edge of the block. Her formation turned with her, quickly rounding the corner of the building she had seen in her vision.

It was exactly as she had seen in the vision. Several dozen ponies stood in a loose perimeter around the blood priests, all wearing golden armor and carrying the best of their enemy’s weapons. They outnumbered Alex’s Hammer at least three to one.

“Hold formation!” Archive shouted.

Priests shouted and pointed at them, and soldiers rushed forward. One blew several sharp blasts of sound on their horn, a call that was soon echoed by a deeper-sounding blast of sound from the army a few seconds later.

“Send these slavers and murderers to hell!” Her voice carried over the sound of battle, though she knew for once she didn’t have to yell. It was hard to see something so unnatural, so wrong as this blood ritual and not feel furious. Using runes this way was blasphemy. Killing for magic was an abomination. Even if she could not feel it, Alex knew the strength of Earth would ride with her.

The enemy soldiers formed a shield wall of their own, forming their own wedge. Many thrust pikes forward, bracing metal shafts against the ground. One of them was right in front of her. Just behind them, the priests rushed into a new urgency of labor. They dipped large metal containers into the blood, carrying them dripping over the runes. Where the blood splattered, it boiled away instantly into a reddish cloud, imparting the magic of death as it burned. They were almost out of time.

Archive retreated a few steps at the last moment, into the squishier ranks of unicorns. Her weak bones and fragile body would not survive the force of impact.

Both forces met. Ponies screamed and died, impaled where pikes had pierced armor. Even so, the momentum went to her Hammer. Some of their ranks fell, but the rest pressed on. Unicorns fired rifles, pegasi threw spears or kicked out with sharpened boots. The strength of Earth carried most of her Hammer through the soldiers. For a few seconds they charged through open ground, then they reached the ritual.

Alex drew Kerberos and fired, felling one of the priests with several shots to her head. Another went down a second later, trampled by her stampeding soldiers. A third reached out and splashed his full carafe of red blood, splattering several of the pegasus ponies. The blood ignored their shields, landing to sizzle on their armor. It splashed onto the face of one stallion, and he went down with screams of agony, shriveling and blackening in an instant.

A second later, Everest struck the priest with a devastating blow to the chest, crushing ribs and trampling what was left.

The formation shattered. Alex ignored the fighting for a moment, making her way to the large silver basins. Several ponies joined her, and together they pushed them both over, careful to avoid the blood. It splattered and burned when it touched the ground, sparking and hissing like an electrical transformer left to short. Nearby, every plant living started to shrivel and die, and the dirt itself turned gray.

The battle didn’t last long, really. These priests had not expected to be attacked. Many held up holy symbols as her ponies ran them down, and seemed genuinely surprised when their ritual chants and relics offered them no protection. Her own ponies left none of them alive.

In less than five minutes, it was over. 

“Everest, Robert, I need you!” Her voice carried over what was left of the battle, and in a moment the huge earth pony was there, blood splattered on his armor and eyes wide with battle-frenzy.

“What?” Everest asked. 

Robert approached just beside him, looking a little more sane. He also walked with a limp, and a large piece of his armor was missing.

Alex pointed at the puddles of blood, at the runes still crackling with power. That power might still be released at any second, unless they did something now. “I need the magic of the earth you hold. One of you go to the runes, the other one to where we dumped the blood.” She waited for them to comply. 

As usual, they moved without hesitation.

“This will cause you pain, but if we do not do it, this spell might be triggered at any moment. We must disperse this power before it is used.”

Everest grunted. 

Robert nodded.

“The power of the Earth can destroy this evil magic. Stick your hooves into the blood, and be ready for the pain. Whatever you do, do not move.”

They did. Immediately Robert started to shake, his whole body rattling. His eyes widened, and he looked like he might be about to vomit. He didn’t.

Everest did not react, except apparently tensing up all over.

“Repeat after me,” Archive said, her voice clear. Would the ritual work in english? She could only hope; there was no way these ponies would get the equestrian pronunciation right without hours of practice. “The sun cleanses even a festering wound.”

They repeated, pain obvious even in Everest’s voice. To their credit, neither tried to move. They continued to repeat faithfully as she continued.

“In darkness, the moon offers her soothing balm of healing. I refuse the blight, I return the left-handed power his knife. There can be no chaos in harmony.” 

As they spoke, the thick puddle of blood began to spin, growing, taking hideous form beside her. A monstrous figure, made only of blades and hatred. Her assistants, now barely standing, did not relent. Whether they could see the figure, or were so overcome by pain as to be dead to the world around them, she didn’t know.

Archive faced the figure without fear. Then she said the last lines of the ritual. “Take your gifts and go. We do not want you.” 

Blood and rune alike exploded from around them, boiling to a foul mist in seconds and threatening to throw them through the air. That explosion came with a scream, more hideous than any she had ever heard, making her ears ring. Archive might’ve been blasted away, were it not for the bulk of her own armor holding her down. The earth ponies at the center of her ritual alone were unmoved.

“President,” came Everest’s deep voice. Archive looked up, where her own ponies had gathered their own wounded. There had been ten casualties in all—every pony touched by the hostile blood magic spells. They had been shriveled away like they’d been left to bake in a food-dehydrator. There was nothing even powerful unicorn magic could’ve done for them.

Between her and the city, a thick formation of enemy soldiers was watching, lined up with weapons in hoof. Many hovered in the air—at least five hundred pegasi, all waiting. There was no telling how many ponies were behind them, filling more of the space between them and the fortress.

“We did it, ponies!” Alex passed their dead, then saluted the three who were merely injured. There was no point in carrying them. Thousands of enemy soldiers were now between them and Estel. “The ritual is over! King Obrican will have a hard time getting more priests now that we’ve killed all of these.”

The Hammer did not cheer. Though ponies watched her, most kept glancing back to the army in front of them. Ponies raised their weapons, but did not attack. Why rush? More of their soldiers were coming down the street from the other end, cutting off Alex’s escape. 

As her eyes darted across the field of battle, she saw only two options. Die fighting back to the city, hoping its cannons could clear enough space for them to make it back, or run into the nearby building and get picked off one by one like animals.

The smart thing to do was to ditch the armor, ditch her flightless ponies, and fly back to Estel. Perhaps Jackie would have been able to make a call like that. Archive could not. 

If Estel sees you’re still alive, holding out in a building, they might send ponies to rescue you, Sky said, her voice harsh and urgent in her mind. Fight your way back, or at least let them see you didn’t make it.

Alex opened her mouth to instruct her ponies to strip the injured of their armor, but didn’t get a chance to speak.

The enemy charged, from both sides of the street at once, roaring with anger and triumph. They had lost over and over, the screams seemed to say, at least they could take their anger out on these.

“Hammer, lance formation!” she bellowed, using her magic to carry over the roars and the stampeding hooves. Even in the face of certain death, her ponies obeyed. She saw terrified, resolute eyes. They didn’t break. “Back to the city! For Estel!” 

They charged.
> Episode 4.7: Fire Within
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They didn’t stand a chance. Alex had seen many hopeless causes in her life, though few had ever seemed so bleak as the army marshaled in front of them. They started firing long before they reached them, unicorns in back unloading barrage after barrage on their charging enemy.

Obrican’s hardened front lines buckled in places, where lucky shots had taken enough damage that replacement soldiers hadn’t flowed in to fill the gap. It was an opening, though she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Even as their enemy provided wider and wider openings for their wedge, there was no way for thirty-eight ponies to make it through hundreds.

Formations met, and the Hammer scattered enemy troops like straw. A pegasus named Shane went down, shield finally depleted and body pierced with a dozen crossbow bolts. She lost Dana and Mitchell as they rounded the corner into view of the city, and their progress ground to a halt.

“Unicorns, prepare to clear!” she bellowed, gesturing towards Estel’s fortress. It was only a block away. Might as well have been on another planet for the sheer number of soldiers in their way, pressing in closer and closer with every moment.

This army desperately needs a victory, said a well armored ghost, fighting alongside Archive with his golden spear and eagle-plumed helmet. They will suffer any losses to stop you here.

She could see he was right. So many enemy soldiers charged down on them that plenty were being trampled in their effort to reach her. There were so many.

Estel’s cannons fired. Most of the energy was dissipated harmlessly crossing the distance. Some made it, slicing a huge chunk from the soldiers between them and the city. Another second later and the last charge was expended, and more troops rushed to fill the gap.

Five hundred feet before clear ground. Another two hundred fifty before the shield. “Clear now!” she commanded.

Dozens of enemy soldiers went flying into the air, thrown by a single focused wave of force. Many landed pierced with the arrows of their fellows. 

The Hammer rushed forward to fill the gap, struggling towards Estel. She was down to twenty ponies now, cutting a thinner and thinner swathe through the enemy. Unfriendly soldiers bunched up so thick that there was nowhere to shove them. Their own magic was nearly exhausted.

Another volley of arrows rained down on them from above, killing her last few pegasi. Only a dozen of them were still standing.

“We’ll never make it!” Robert bellowed, fear filling his voice. “There’s no way—” He screamed an agonized rattle as he fell, a crossbow bolt passing straight through his neck. Red blood sprayed as he fell, twitching and spasming on the ground in front of her. 

Archive could see the truth of it even as she heard it, and she felt her power falter. Every set of eyes fell on her, watching to see what she would do. If their confidence failed, so would she. “Not yet.” She planted both hooves on the ground, looked at her city, and drew in power.

Rarely had she ever used her unique role to force the attention of ponies on her. Never before had she consciously drawn from the other half of that ability. She had known that humans were her strength—she’d been weak when civilization was weak, and strong when it was strong.

Please, she pleaded. I need your help. I need to get these ponies home.

She pulled, and time stopped moving. Archive’s eyes widened as she felt it, a torrent of magic unlike anything she had ever known. She saw through the eyes of every tearful refugee, sensed every nightmare, every hope. Not just Estel, but thousands and thousands of others. Sailor-kings in the Mediterranean, living their whole lives from the ocean. Another Chinese empire, ruled over by a former street vendor from Guangzhou. All would lend her a little of their strength.

Her vision shifted upward, rushing far beyond Earth’s baleful gravity to a city that floated around it like a ring. Millions of eyes all looked down at their planet, wondering what it might be like to walk again. She knew them all now, though she had never known their names.

Archive felt like she might explode. So much power burned inside her chest she could see it sparking whenever she opened her mouth to breathe. The direct light of the sun faded from around her, in a patch of night that had not been there. No wind blew in that darkness, no light penetrated, yet she found she could still see clearly.

The enemy froze around them, backing up around the patch of midnight that had swallowed her and her soldiers. None dared move near it, staring in open wonder.

Already her power was boiling away, like a bucket of liquid nitrogen dumped onto a hot road. But how could she use it? An earth pony could’ve opened a chasm to swallow the enemy. A unicorn could’ve thrown them through the air. A bat pony could dreamwalk. But going to sleep wouldn’t help these ponies.

She called up everything she knew about bats and their magic—then she saw it. Going to sleep wouldn’t help these ponies, but maybe building a bridge would.

Archive screamed, and tore the veil of sleep away with a sweeping gesture from her hooves. A crack like lightning split the air, arcing upward and spreading darkness as it went. In front of her was a portal not unlike what the unicorns had done on the beach, except it didn’t lead to anywhere on Earth. Instead there was a library, its shelves fallen over, books overcome with dust and mildew and wood warped with water-damage. Its cozy fireplaces all came to life as the doorway opened.

No sooner did it appear than it started to fade. The darkness around her shrunk as months of power evaporated to sustain the incredibly powerful spell. “GO!” she command, gesturing within. As before, her ponies obeyed, though their eyes were all wide with shock. Every second it shrunk still further, so that by the time Everest was bringing up the rear, he barely fit. “What about you?”

In answer, Archive bucked him with all the force she had, sending him crashing through the doorway just as it smashed closed. The shockwave of air and crackling energy knocked over everypony standing within two hundred feet, sending them spinning and rolling away.

Archive stood alone. Every member of her Hammer was either on the ground dead or gone into Skein. Darkness faded from around her, the buzzing energy expended. She’d done it… done something, anyway. It was hard to say what.

The shouts and urgency of battle faded as her enemies rose to their hooves and saw Archive now stood alone, without a single friendly sword beside her. Estel’s banner still waved. Somepony—maybe Tom, maybe Jackie—had the good sense not to charge to their rescue. The reserve stood no chance, not against these numbers.

A dozen griffons shoved through the crowd of stunned ponies, each one unarmed except for natural claws and beak.

“Stop,” she commanded, raising Kerberos in one hoof and pointing it at the foremost of them as they crossed the twenty feet of empty space between her and their own lines. “Surrender, and I’ll let you—”

Something blasted at her, a wave of force from behind. Her armor made it curve harmlessly around her body, only jostling the plates a little as it passed—but it caught Kerberos with enough force to tear the gun and that armor plate alike off by the straps, and rip them away. She screamed, reaching for the gun as it went spinning out of her grip, over the heads of the enemy and out of sight. “No!” She reached after it, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t fly after it, not with the armor weighing her down.

The griffons stopped a few feet away, towering over her. They watched with their bright, birdlike eyes, conversing with each other in speech she couldn’t understand. Goading each other to be the first to come at her, maybe.

Her phenomenal power had all been spent, to save the last dozen in her Hammer. Robert’s corpse still lay at her hooves. She yanked the knives from his hooves, sliding them into place on her own armor, then slamming each leg down against the ground as hard as she could, bending the metal so that each blade would extend outward from her hoof, about four inches. Glittering steel dripped with the blood of somepony Robert had killed, or perhaps it was his own blood. She didn’t know.

The largest of the griffons nodded at her, apparently satisfied with what she’d done. He opened his mouth, screeching a command in a voice that barely even sounded like language.

They all came at her at once, a dozen enemies twice her own size wearing heavy chain mail and wielding natural weapons equal to any made in a forge.

Archive had very little power left, but she still had her memory. The memory of a species which had lived its entire existence at constant war with itself. Humans had not known magic, and had not long known firearms. For almost all their history, they had fought this way.

Blows rained down on her, scratching claws meant to tear her armor apart and expose her vulnerable insides. She avoided every one, bobbing out of the way of one attack while she brought one dagger in for a quick jab at an unprotected flank. When another of the birds came down at her with its beak snapping, she trusted in her armored left hoof and ramned the knife straight up through the back of its throat, then kicked the corpse aside.

She was hopelessly outnumbered, even by this small handful of individuals, yet she didn’t let it matter. Alexander Haggard did not fight these griffons, she danced. Duck, dodge, roll! Her whole world was motion, snapping jaws and raking claws.

None of it touched her. Archive had not called up a single method of combat with a single master, as she often did. She was them all, a perfect dance of death that permitted no error and presented no weakness.

In under twenty seconds, every one of the dozen griffons lay dead at her hooves. Her own armor was now well dented and covered with long scratches, drained of much of the magic meant to protect her—but it held.

She looked up at exactly the moment she felt a crossbow bolt pierce the metal on her shoulder and ram into her leg. For one who had died as often as she had, the blood and pain was hardly a distraction. She charged the pony who had shot her with an enraged roar. This pony was between her and Estel. She couldn’t die now!

She didn’t make it ten steps before the press of the enemy’s overwhelming numbers returned, charging in around her with sharpened spikes and blades on their armor just like hers.

She killed with almost every blow. Yet for every pony she killed, two more surged forward to take their place. Blows rained down on her. Someone ripped away at the strap holding her breastplate, and the spell was broken. A surge of fire from a unicorn melted the delicate skin of her wings.

She kept fighting. Clear ground was only fifty feet away now, so close. Were she not almost blind with pain, she could’ve seen it. So many ghosts fought beside her, she could no longer tell if their blows were phantoms, or if they were killing too. Everything hurt, and she’d lost so much blood.

The attack stopped. She blinked, looking around in dim shock, hoping that maybe she’d made it through. Could she live through this?

The enemy had cleared a space perhaps twenty-five feet across. Weapons surrounded her at every point, sharpened pikes and spears and many drawn crossbows.

An officer in gold armor stepped forward and shouted something she couldn’t understand. “Stand down!” she guessed. “Surrender!” She didn’t know for sure.

Alex flicked her hoof with all the force she had, dislodging one of her knives and sending it spinning through the air at him. 

He caught it easily in his magical grip, eyes narrowing. 

Archive would not be taken as a prisoner today—not when she knew the secrets that could undo Estel’s protection. They can’t torture me if I’m dead.

Someone shouted. A hundred barbed shafts flew at her, filling the space in front of her. Many glanced off her enchanted armor. But there were so many—bolts lodged in joints, and in her flesh where it was unprotected. Several pierced her helmet.

Surrounded by her fallen brothers in arms and an ocean of dead enemies, Alexander Haggard died.

Alex did not drift as she had so many times before, called to lightless places through the iridescent veil. Instead she lingered, detached and drifting.

She saw her body. Burned and broken, pierced by a hundred arrows. Her coat was black, her eyes cooked. Yes, the royal army had done a better job destroying her than every other enemy she’d fought. Knowledge was power, but even great knowledge could not make her something she wasn’t.

Civilization did not concentrate itself into one pony—the strength of wisdom was in the thousands and millions who knew. Minds working together, growing in wisdom and understanding and compassion. That was why she had lost—her civilization had not been strong enough.

Archive did not have a body, yet somehow she turned. Her ponies had only this last bastion, a single sturdy structure with its concrete buttresses and slits for gunfire and cannons. Perhaps they would be fleeing now, fresh recruits crushed by the sight of their greatest hope destroyed. Her mother, Nancy, and every other pony she loved in this place would die.

Yet as she looked, that wasn’t what she saw. Tom, uniform ripped and bloody, fought beside the reserve. Anti-aircraft cannons, aimed down into enemy troops, disrupted another charge.

The enemy rushed forward, around Alex’s fallen corpse. The mob charged undisciplined, a press towards the fortress, yet still Estel fought. They would still die, but they had not fled. High on the tower, the red and blue and white banner flew, proud and undamaged despite the ravaged landscape around it.

Archive saw, and knew what kept her here. A people, broken and outnumbered, had not given up. She had given a tiny spark of civilization to this city, and now that spark had grown into a flame. They felt, even as she had felt, that the justice of their cause would bring victory even against unassailable odds.

They hoped. 

Even as the ancient farmers, who buried food they could’ve eaten in the ground, a promise of a harvest long distant. Even as the explorers, climbing onto wooden rafts without sails, beckoned by islands undiscovered. Even as a democracy, which placed the power to rule into everyone’s hands instead of a few.

Archive let herself hope, and was swallowed in a river of light.


* * *


Archive stood in a world of gears and light. Structures of marble and crystal filled the horizon, distant temples to a thousand ancient gods. Her hooves rested on white sand, flowing dunes behind her that precipitated off a sudden and violent slope, tumbling into the void. She spared one glance into the darkness, and saw an endless, gnawing hunger. Hunger for her, and all things that were built.

She turned away, where the path ahead of her was paved with worn cobblestone. She started to walk, and the sound of her hooves echoed off the massive architecture all around her. She followed it up, up to a sky that had no sun. There was only light, a million different kinds of starlight blending together in a day that never ended.

The city was as beautiful as it was organic—a natural growth of streets and avenues and boulevards like Paris or Rome. Yet the path she’d taken was a small one, forgotten amidst the alleys. She did not see any of the city’s people, if it had them. Not until she reached the well.

It was at the top of a towering hill, so high it loomed over the city below. So high that the stars looked not like distant pinpricks of light, but spheres she might reach out and take if she wanted. The well itself was a humble place, a worn stone structure that might’ve fit into some ancient Middle-Eastern city. A rotating beam rested on the rocks, with a small bucket hanging from frayed rope.

Sunset Shimmer was there, as Archive had known she would be. There was no crowd of other watchers, no angry god. Nothing but a distant wind, whistling musically through the city below.

“Lonely Day.” Sunset embraced her, holding her close with one wing. “I’ve been waiting here for you a long time.”

“It hasn’t been that long since Christmas,” Archive answered, returning her smile. “Has it?”

Up here, Sunset seemed changed. Her mane wasn’t hair anymore, but a constant, flickering fire. She could feel the heat even now, though it did not burn her. 

Long ago, a new pony named Alex had met Princess Luna, and seen the way her mane constantly seemed to move. Now, she could feel the wind that moved it, as it blew about the well.

“Much longer than that.” Sunset turned away from her, walking over to the well. She used one leg to turn the crank instead of her magic. Ancient oak creaked as it was lowered into the darkness below. 

“Remember when we met? A part of me saw the pain of your empty world and the ponies we had broken. I wept that we had caused such pain. We were right to save you, but I knew then we’d done it all wrong. We assumed humans thought as ponies did—that if your rulers said you wanted to be left alone to die in peace, they spoke for your wishes.”

Sunset stopped cranking, looking back at her. “When I met you, and brought you to Equestria, I learned we had been wrong. Humans shared so much in common with us, but you saw the world through different eyes. Knowing the suffering we had caused, seeing the world as you showed it to me, helped me understand. I’ve been waiting for you ever since.”

Water splashed somewhere far away. Sunset walked around to the other side of the crank and turned with her forehooves from that direction instead, drawing the rope back up. 

“But I’ve seen you since then. Many times. You can’t have been up here.”

The Alicorn smiled. “Even the wise rely on their assumptions. Those you called the last time you saw this shore did not expect you would come again. Your fill had been consumed by others, they thought. They left me to judge you alone.”

Alex reached out with one hoof, as though to take over the effort of drawing the well. 

Sunset shooed her away with a faint shimmer of magic. “No. I’ve waited all this time… the privilege of labor is mine. If you want to help, you will have to guide another onto the road.”

Archive sat back, watching. The wood creaked as rope coiled around it, dripping with something clear but glowing. “What do you mean by…”

“Judge?” Sunset stopped cranking a moment, and she seemed to be panting from the effort. She caught her breath before answering. “Do you know where you are?”

“The Supernal,” Archive answered. “The place magic comes from.”

“That’s right.” Sunset left her weight on the crank, so the bucket couldn’t drop back into the well far below. “You see the shapes and patterns of the world. Your eyes see buildings and stars, because those are familiar to you. But what you’re really looking at, are…” 

She went back to cranking. Alex could nearly see the bucket now, just below the low wall of the well.

“The truths that make the world. Everything you know, from gravity to your mother, Mary, exists here. Changes made here affect the universe below, everywhere, all at once. You didn’t kill any insects on your walk here, did you?”

“No.” Archive shivered, letting her eyes open a little wider. Now that Sunset had explained where she was, the reality became clear. The stones of the well looked like rocks, but they weren’t. Each one was a hollow, empty thing, written of a million tiny runes all packed together. Everything—the structures, the flowing dunes, even herself—she could see through it all. “God.”

“After a fashion.” Sunset finished cranking, and locked the wood into place with one final push. The bucket hung near the top of the well now, glowing from within. Something frothed and bubbled, something that was as clear as it was bright. “The road itself judges those who walk it. The only way to find yourself here is for your soul to take the shape of one of our truths. You’ve done it once before, when you became a memory.”

Sunset reached down beside the well, lifting a little wooden cup. It was ancient and worn, without a handle or a flat bottom to let it rest with stability on any surface. She lowered it into the bucket, and drew it out full. She set it on the ground in front of Archive, careful not to spill a drop.

“Alright.” Archive did not move from her sitting position. “I’m ready.”

Sunset nodded, and the fire in her mane seemed to grow. The heat surrounded her, hot enough to melt flesh, boil blood, char bone. The cup and its liquid contents were unmoved, even as Archive herself sat still. After all the pain she had endured in her many deaths, this was nothing new.

Besides, she had no body left to kill. “Never before has one walked the path who killed so many on her way.”

“I am sorry for their pain,” Archive answered. “But humans aren’t like ponies, we don’t sit back and wait for someone else to help. We do something.”

Sunset nodded. The heat remained, wrapping around her, charring through her. Yet for all its warmth, Archive did not burn. She had only spoken the truth. “When you return to the world below, what will you do?”

“Keep my promises.”

The flames went out. Sunset’s mane returned to around her shoulders, its gentle flickers waving faintly in the astral wind. “I already knew that,” Sunset said, pushing the wooden cup towards her. “I just wanted to make sure you did. Where this road leads isn’t an end of pain. There is still so much of it on our planet.”

“There’s about to be a little less.” Alex reached out and took the cup with one hoof. She didn’t need to be told what to do—she drank. The liquid fire had no taste, no substance, no texture. Yet it burned far hotter than Sunset’s mane had, its light so bright that it passed through her whole body and out into eternity’s endless gulf.

She vanished.


* * *

Archive cut through the universal gulf like a shooting star, streaking through the darkness of night and war to where her body still rested lifeless and broken. The battle raged on, and ponies died. Her ponies. The light of hope that had drawn her here grew very dim.

Archive knew power as she had never known before. Part of that power brought her vision, and with that vision she could see the truth. She would start with this corpse—it was a lie, a lie she had the power to correct. She knew every healing spell that had ever been written, after all.

Arrows ripped free of her body, thrown by the strength of her will. Fifty different spells worked themselves in her mind—one for each of her many wounds. Jagged flesh knit together, pierced organs sealed and blood returned to its proper place. The bones went next, even as black skin sloughed off, replaced with fresh growth and a healthy green coat. Wings were next, delicate muscles and bones each put back in place. Feathers long absent grew again, blanketing the new skin in a wave. Last came the horn, forever-absent focus for the magic she would need if she wanted to save these ponies.

Archive breathed in, and with a jerk her heart started to beat. The ocean of liquid fire around her congealed around her head, replacing the charred mane and tail she’d once had with something like smoke. Dark green, living power.




She coughed and hacked a lungful of slime and blood. She was surrounded by enemies, the charging rear-guard with the wooden wheels of new trebuchets crunching on dirt and old cement. Armed ponies turned towards her as she rose, raising weapons. No bows this time, but the swords and pikes that would be used to protect the trebuchets from small attacks.

“Kill her!” She realized she could understand the ponies now. Archive tensed as the spears flew, many driven by magic and many more by throws.

She stopped them all, several dozen lengths of sharpened metal and wood frozen in the air all around her. She returned them to their owners, and several dozen soldiers died.

“No more!” she screamed, and her voice echoed through the broken streets. She lifted into a hover, though she didn’t use her wings. She didn’t need to. The runes she had studied all her life swam around her now, and all were within her reach. Her magic felt like it would go on forever.

There were twenty new trebuchets rolling up to her city, no two built quite alike. Archive anchored herself securely in the air, then pushed out around her with a wave of force like unicorn telekinesis. 

Whole charging crowds of ponies scattered into the air like wooden toys, thrown with such force they made bloody smears on nearby buildings. The trebuchets went next, joints cracking under the pressure then exploding into their constituent parts, mowing down more ponies as they went.

The nearest structures went last—some former homes to the people of Estel, some empty shells too unsafe to use—they all cracked before being tumbled apart into a thousand chunks.

Archive landed on a strangely silent battlefield. Estel’s last bastion was the only nearby building now standing, spared from her wrath. Thousands of enemy soldiers were still pressed against it, even as all of her own citizens were untouched. On the opposite field were the unnumbered masses of the enemy, far too many to commit in such close quarters. 

Far away, though not so far her new eyes couldn’t see it, Archive saw the white and gold banner of the commander. She left the broken remnants of the army at her gates, and started walking towards the opposing army.

Her horn steamed with the force of her constant spellcasting. She relaxed the force somewhat, enough that the nearest structures only cracked and strained instead of crumbling at her approach. She’d drawn a great deal of magic down with her, but it wouldn’t last forever. 

Even now, Archive realized she could feel her reserves draining. She probably should’ve been more careful, more precise, shepherding this reserve and saving it for some future emergency.

She didn’t know how. 

Archive had only been able to cast her own spells for a minute so far. It would take her longer than that to learn.

An entire legion of ponies charged as she approached, filling the sky with arrows and boulders and lances of unicorn magic. All swerved away—straight back into the ranks of the enemy. With less suddenly applied power, she didn’t turn them to jelly as their unlucky compatriots had been. Rather, any who charged found themselves striking a solid wall. With each step she took, any who closed within a few hundred feet either slid or were flung back.

Thousands of ponies joined the fray. The only ones who died then were either crushed to death by their compatriots or pierced by redirected projectiles. However hot her rage might burn for those who had threatened her city, Archive did not wish vengeance on these ponies.

As she neared the rear line, she was impressed that the army hadn’t buckled. Its reserve formations closed in around her, pressing from all sides. As she finally neared the general’s position, thousands of ponies were thrown by her will into the Hudson.

Not the general. Archive’s magic had grown in precision as she neared his banner, and so she made an exception for him, allowing him and his unarmed attendants and lesser generals to remain as she walked nearer. 

She walked right up to the general in his golden armor. He was still taller than she was, though not as much as she remembered.

“Demon!” he shouted at her, raising a sword in magic grip. She turned it molten with a flick of her mind, letting it splash down onto the ground in front of him and char at his hooves a little.

“Order the retreat,” she commanded, her voice calm but loud enough that all the generals and ponies around could hear. “You will take your army off my island.”

“Never!” he roared, blasting at her with a few powerful spells. Any one of them could’ve killed an unprotected pony. 

Archive grounded each and every one with only a modest effort, until her enemy’s horn steamed as hers did and he panted from the effort. “Order the retreat.”

“You’ll all die, outcast! The gods banished you from heaven, they’ll help me now that we’re facing you! You can’t—”

Archive didn’t wait to find out what she “couldn’t” do. She removed the exception to her universal force spell. The general’s body, now near its epicenter, took enough instantaneous acceleration to throw a firetruck over the Hudson.

“Which one of you is second in command?” she asked, turning her attention on the small crowd of ponies armored in silver with gold trim. 

One of them stepped forward—an earth pony mare with a scar down her face and a red plume on her helmet. “I am.”

“Order the retreat.” Archive gestured for the other side of the river. “The bits and pieces of your general should be waiting for you there. You will have every pony in your army off my island by sunrise.”

The earth pony dropped her spear, letting it fall on the ground at Alex’s hooves. “Do it,” she called, back to one of the nearby unarmed ponies.

He lifted a large horn to his mouth, then blew three long blasts. At once, the press on Archive’s shield stopped.

“Good,” Archive took a step towards the new general. “I don’t enjoy killing. You won’t make me do any more of it, will you?”

“No,” the pony responded, her voice flat. “We won’t.”

“Good. Once you’ve seen to the wounded, you’re going to march straight back to Obrican. When you get back, you’re going to deliver a message for me. Understand?”

The pony only nodded.

“You will tell him what you saw here. You will tell him the immortal who returned from death will be visiting him soon. If he sends anypony here before I do… I’ll kill him, his advisors, and his entire court with my own hooves. I’ll put somepony in charge who’s a little more agreeable.”

The pony’s eyes widened, but she didn’t object. “I will tell him.”

“Good.” Archive turned her back on the ponies. A few seconds of thought, and she had exactly the teleportation spell she needed, which would take her back to the doors of her fortress. She used it, and vanished with a loud implosion of air.
> Episode 4.8: Putting out the Fires
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Archive had finished treating the wounds of every injured pony still breathing, her mane had settled back into its regular hair and the glow had gone from her eyes. 

This proved to be a subject of great relief to the ponies of Estel, who had generally kept as much distance from her as they possibly could, as though afraid she might do to them what she’d done to the ponies outside.

Even with all her medical magic, over a hundred of her city’s ponies had been killed. Many more would need weeks to heal, even if she’d prevented permanent damage.

In some ways, it wasn’t different than any of the other battles Archive had fought for Estel—it had just been much worse. 5% of their entire population killed—a fifth of all they had armed to defend the city.

To say nothing of the two hundred more who were injured in some capacity. Even with her victory, the casualties were devastating.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called to her from outside the medical tent. Archive looked up, to find Jackie standing there. She was still in her armor, though now that meant they were the same height.

“Hey.” Alex waved with one of her wings. The motion was half-hearted and drooping, as though she could barely keep herself awake. That wasn’t far from the truth.

“You’re still up? How many ponies have you treated?”

“All of them.” She dropped onto her haunches, staring out past Jackie to the field of dead. Wreckage surrounded the fortress gates in a series of concentric rings, sorted by her spell into groups by density.

“We have doctors.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “They’re doing what they can. But…” She looked up. “I’ve been longing to use some honest-to-God healing spells of my own. All these years and all I can do is scribble them down for others… Not today.”

“Not today.” Jackie sat down beside her. Within reach, though not actually touching. “Mary is worried sick about you. She was watching, when…”

Alex nodded. “We lost all of the Hammer out there, except for the ones in recovery. Forty-seven of our best.”

Jackie hit her in the shoulder, hard enough that she nearly fell over. “That’s for throwing yourself into death again. We came all the way out here to make sure shit like that wasn’t going to happen, Alex. I know this might be hard for you to see, but you’re actually more important than the rest of us. What if you’d been gone for another thousand years? How much worse would things be getting right now without you?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I just knew it was the right thing to do. A princess protects her ponies—that’s how it works.”

“You weren’t a princess,” Jackie grunted, tossing something onto the ground at her hooves. Kerberos, its handle charred but otherwise intact. The crystal inside was still spinning, exactly as it ever had. “Dropped this. By the way, did they have a wing exchange wherever you were? Pegasi aren’t nearly as hot as bats, you shouldn’t have traded.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” She smiled, lifting the pistol in her magic and turning it over in the air in front of her.

Alex had long imagined what it might be like to be able to manipulate objects as unicorns did. Long ago, she had longed for the power, resented Joseph and others who had it when she didn’t. Now, though, it seemed almost superfluous.

It was still a wonderful feeling, as she’d known it would be. The essence of the object being moved became briefly one with herself, patterns overlapping in a way that gave her complete control of its position in space. It wasn’t the dexterity of hands, it was better.

“The horn looks nice, though,” Jackie went on, ignoring her. “Did Sunset explain what happens when…” She reached out, running a hoof briefly along its length. 

Archive tensed at the strange sensation, which was so foreign to her that a shiver passed through her whole body. She dropped the gun, which thumped to the dirt at her hooves.

She batted Jackie’s hoof away with one of her own. “W-whatever you did, don’t.”

Jackie got to her hooves, rolling her eyes. “Hopefully that ‘scaring the shit out of them’ plan works for you, because you need a break from being president. You need to go out and get some, Alex. Being pent up like that all the time isn’t healthy.”

Alex glared after her retreating back. “You’re a very strange pony.”

Jackie only grinned back at her. “Live as long as I have, and maybe you’ll understand, eh princess?” She trotted away, back up into the house.

For some time more, Lonely Day was alone with the dark. Soldiers remained at their posts—scouts watching every side for a return of the enemy. At least from what she’d heard, no return had been attempted. It was hard to fight an enemy who could throw a thousand ponies through the air like toys.

Somepony cleared her throat from behind her. Alex turned to see Mary standing there, with Nancy just behind her. They looked weak, weary from helping to maintain the Hallow through the battle. It would have cost them all the natural magic they could give.

Alex didn’t get up to greet them as she had done so many times before—she was too weary for that. She did anticipate Nancy’s jump, which brought a little energy back to her.

Alex rolled as the filly jumped, catching her in an embrace that brought them both to the floor, wrapping her wings around her. “Hey, sweetie. How’re you doing?”

“They wouldn’t let us see you!” Nancy wailed. “Said you were too busy! What could you possibly be busy with, after you blew up the whole army!”

Alex got her hooves beneath her again, setting the filly down. “Lots of ponies got hurt in ways that would’ve been permanent. But I know magic that can help them.” She lit up her horn to demonstrate, a soft red-brown light that illuminated the space outside the barricade despite the setting sun. Unlike the light of other unicorns, her own spell was gentle, and Nancy could look directly at her without blinking. “Sorry you had to wait.”

“What happened out there?” Mary whispered, from very close. “You left the army. You were supposed to stay behind the line, like you promised…”

Archive avoided her eyes. “I didn’t have a choice. Their blood-priests were preparing a spell to take the shield down. If we didn’t stop them, everypony would’ve died.” She winced, remembering the arrows, the magic. It had been the most painful death in her memory.

“You came back,” Mary muttered, scuffing at the ground a few feet away from her. “You were dead, but you came back. I never…”

Alex hurried to her side, and hugged Mary as she had hugged Nancy. The mare was about her height, though still built far more sturdily than Alex herself. She was an earth pony, after all.

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Nancy pulled on one of her wings, so suddenly that one of her green feathers came loose with a painful yank. “Oops.”

“Told you I used to have feathers.” Alex pulled the wing close to her body, nursing the new wound.

“Well yeah, but… now you’re like that other pony who visited, on Christmas.”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Alex supplied. “Yeah, I am. It’s called an Alicorn. All the different pony races all rolled up into one.” She let the glow in her horn fade. “Still getting used to it.”

Mary still looked pained, though there were no more tears. She seemed just to be happy that Alex was okay. “You’ve been trying to do this for a long time,” she said. “The other one told me, when she was here. Before she left.”

“Yes,” Alex said. “A very long time. It’s not something very many ponies ever do, but… it lets me protect the ones I care about.”

“I’ll say.” Mary looked up briefly, at the scene of battle. The retreating army had taken the dead they could find, but there was still terrible wreckage left behind. Whole buildings shattered, red smears on some distant structures. The nightfall had taken away some painful sights. “I saw. If that’s what Alicorns can do, then the fewer there are the better.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything like that very often,” she admitted. “Coming here from… from above… I brought power back with me. If I want that much magic again, I’ll have to save it up. Or go up and get it.”

“Up?” Mary lowered her voice. “Alex, was… was God up there? Did you ask Him why He let this happen to us?”

“No,” she looked away. “I mean, I didn’t find any gods up there. But I wasn’t looking. I had to get back and help, or else more people might’ve died.”

Mary nodded reluctantly. “I… I guess I understand. Next time, you remember that for me. Someone should do it. If my son is the one, then great.”

Nancy looked up, blinking at Mary. “Why do you call Alex that?”

“Because she’s a troublemaker who should learn to keep her promises,” Mary muttered, reaching out and mussing Day’s mane. It was as familiar as she remembered, as affectionate as ever. 

After a day like today, it felt good. “I guess I forgot to tell you that part.” Alex turned back to face the barricade, inspecting the damage. Whole sections of concrete had been blown away, either by the physical force of the trebuchet rounds or by unicorn magic. While there were no more bodies piled here, the structure had suffered seriously under the strain. Somepony would have to investigate, see if it was structurally sound.

“When I grow up, will I be an Alicorn too?” Nancy asked, following her gaze but not seeming to notice any of the details that Alex was seeing. She was just watching her.

“Probably not,” Archive admitted. “But if it’s really something you want to devote your life to, it’s possible.”

“If my mom can do it, than it must be simple,” another voice spoke from the doorway—Ezri. The changeling emerged from inside, no longer wearing her powered armor. Instead she had a large basket levitating beside her, filled with food.

She set it down in front of Alex, then sat down. “Brought you this, from the kitchen. Enough for ten ponies ought to do it.”

Archive remembered then that she had a stomach. That knowledge brought the sensation of near-starvation to her mind, a gnawing hunger she’d never personally felt. 

Ezri’s estimate turned out to be about right as she descended on the plain bread and large pot of vegetable stew, devouring both.

“Really?” Nancy looked between Ezri and Alex, eyes suspicious. “Magic sounds like a lot of math, and math is hard. It can’t be that easy!”

“It isn’t.” Ezri grinned at her. “But we’ve been waiting four centuries for her to figure it out. Fourteen, if you count when she was dead.”

Mary visibly deflated at that, taking a subconscious step towards Alex.

“Right, sorry.” Ezri blushed. “Today probably isn’t the time. I did want to congratulate my mom, though! She’s been trying so hard…”

“Thank you, Ezri.” She licked her lips clean, pushing the empty basket back. “That was just what I needed.”

“I figured. What are you even doing out here?” She turned around, looking up the barricade as Alex had done. “Oh. Guess the army wrecked things pretty good.”

“We’ll fix it.” Alex burped loudly, so loud it echoed off one of the nearby buildings.

“That’s not very ladylike, Alex,” Mary said matter-of-factly. “I know you’re new at this, but you’re going to have to learn to be a little more refined if you want any men taking interest in you.”

Alex only glared, ignoring her. Instead, she focused on Ezri. “Rebuilding won’t be easy. We should have a few months to work on that while the army marches back to their capital. We can pop over a day or two after they do.”

“We?” Ezri raised an eyebrow. “Get your horn and the first thing you want to do is fight another army?”

“Nah. Bully a king. I haven’t told Jackie yet… but I can’t think of anypony else I’d rather have backing me up. The most intimidating ponies I know.”

Ezri rolled her eyes, posing with her transparent, crystalline wings. “Yes, intimidating. Multicolored, neon, garish. That’s exactly what I think of when I think of intimidating.”

“Well, if you don’t want to come…”

Ezri glared at her. Alex was finally taller than somepony remotely close to her age! “Disobey a princess? Of course I’ll come.”

“Good.” Alex spared one last glance to the ruined fortress, then led the way back inside. “We’re coming for you, Obrican. I hope you’re ready.”


* * *


Alex stood vigil over the departing army as they left her island. She had only Ezri and Jackie for escorts, dark silhouettes in the gloom. Alex herself wore no armor—she needed only to flare her wings and let her horn catch on the moonlight for the shadow it would cast on the battlefield.

It had taken the king's army two days to treat their wounded and collect their dead. She could still see the terror in their faces whenever they saw her. That was good; let them remember the terrible power of the Supernal. Hopefully they would carry that fear back with them to Yileron.

Alex wasn't about to let them retract their offer, so she made sure to stay close. Whenever their pace started to slow, she would destroy another siege engine, or teleport several hundred ponies across the river.

It had worked. The surrender she'd negotiated had been honored, and now at last the invaders of Yileron were leaving the land of the New American Equine Association.

"You don't mind being out here?" Jackie asked, as they watched ponies slip and slide their way across the frozen river.

Ezri hissed loudly, glaring at her, but didn't actually say anything.

"Uhh…" Alex shook her head. "Where else would I be? Someone has to remind these ponies what will happen if they decide to attack. No one else could do that. Why? I'm not missing anything…" She trailed off. "Wait, you mean the congressional meeting? They'll just be discussing burial arrangements for the dead and what to do with the army. Important stuff, but I don't think they need me for that as much as they need me here. It will be good practice for them."

"Not quite," Jackie said. "There's, uh… they organized a referendum." She pulled out a slip of paper, holding it up for Alex to see.

Alex was no longer a bat pony, and so she had given up her remarkable night vision. She put a little magic into her horn, letting it glow. The dull red glow would only make them look more intimidating to the troops below.

"Tom's been planning this for a long time," Ezri said. "Made us promise not to tell you. Said you'd 'try to weasel out somehow' if we did. But I thought you'd figure it out on your own…"

Alex read the text. It was printed in plain block letters, from their Gutenberg-style printing press. She could see the smears from where the paper had moved a little in printing. Even so, the words were clear.

General Resolution 03
Movement to appoint Alex Haggard as Princess of New American Equine Association, subject to the terms of GR03 (May be read in full at any polling place).

(X)Yes		( )No

Note: Subject to the terms of the New American Equine Association constitution, this resolution will be passed immediately following a 2/3rds majority vote.

"Uh…" Alex pushed the slip of paper away from her, eyes widening. "How the hell can there be a princess of a democratic republic?"

Jackie shrugged, tucking the slip of paper away. "Remember Great Britain? From what Tom said, it'll be kinda like that. You'll advise congress, have some ceremonial duties… things like that.

Alex dropped onto her haunches, letting the glow in her horn fade. "That sly bastard. Putting this to a vote just two days after…"

"After you beat a whole army with your own hooves?" Ezri supplied. "Why shouldn't the ponies here want their children to have the same protection they had?"

Archive opened her mouth to object, then shut it again. She did remember the way Great Britain had been, and how its queen had been an important public figure whose opinion was greatly valued, but who also didn't often get specifically involved in politics. "That's an elegant solution. Letting ponies still choose for themselves, but staying close enough to power to intervene if I need to."

"They obviously need it," Jackie said. "Fucking blood magic. HPI selling its soul to Charybdis. What assbackwardness will people come up with next?"

Alex remained silent, watching the army below. Most units had already passed over the ice by now—only the rear guard remained. It would still take at least an hour for the rest of them to make it across. "They're voting on this right now?"

"Yeah," Ezri said. "Congress didn't need your approval, but they didn't want you to be around anyway."

She sighed. Passing a general resolution was one of the checks they'd put into the constitution against the president's power. If it passed with a 2/3rds majority, she wouldn't be able to veto. Only another general resolution passed with a similar margin could annul the first. She could always fly away.

Archive was crowned the next day, in the central amphitheater. Everypony was there—from the smugly satisfied Colonel Rhodes to a grumpy-looking Lockwood.

The cheers of ponies filled her ears. All five members of congress stood on the stage. The president was ordinarily responsible for acting as the official representative of congress with the population.

Instead, Tom Rhodes stepped up to the edge of the stage, levitating the speaking stick along with him. His voice shook the amphitheater.

Alex abruptly realized she was not alone behind the curtains. She stopped listening to Tom's speech, and turned to look at the pony who had just teleported into the room with her.

Sunset Shimmer hadn't changed since Christmas, save in what she was wearing. Alex assumed it was royal regalia, gold shoes for her hooves and a jagged crown for her head, with seven pointed rubies. Her coat had been brushed, her mane styled, and she levitated a wooden box onto the ground in front of her.

"Good to see you, Sunset," Alex said. She didn't even have to whisper, with as loud as the magical PA system made Tom's voice. Nobody would hear them. She might've run over to give her a hug if she weren't already so nervous. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Sunset grinned. "All the rules about not interfering with you are gone now that you're a princess."

"I'm not a princess yet," Alex responded, glancing back to the curtains. She was still listening for her cue. "Give it another few minutes."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Humans have bizarre ideas about where sovereignty comes from." Sunset crossed the distance between them, then poked Alex right in her horn. "What do you think that is?"

"I'm an Alicorn," Alex responded, though she couldn't repress a giggle. "That's not the same thing as a princess."

"Translation," Sunset grunted. "English never had the right word. Latin does, though: Imperium Maius."

"Those ponies are the ones who give me the power to command," she argued. "That's the whole point of a democracy. Common consent."

Sunset Shimmer shrugged. "Democracy is a great government for beginners, but that's not what I meant." She leaned closer, whispering into Alex's ear. "It's not the ponies you command."

"…Earth's first and oldest Alicorn, Princess Sunset Shimmer!"

Alex blinked, staring at the princess as she walked away, taking the box with her onto the stage. Alex followed her, though she didn't pass the curtain. She had to make do with squinting as Sunset stepped up into the center. This time, she actually listened.

I'm going to kill that bat.

"Citizens and friends, it is good to be with you," Sunset began. "I understand that with your victory you have taken a new name. This is good, as your old one was so long I had trouble remembering it."

There were a few polite chuckles. From what Alex could see of the crowd, most of the ponies were as confused by her appearance as Alex had been. A few had seen her on Christmas, but to her knowledge only Alex's own family and friends had spoken to her.

"The New American Union will be the first human society to reach the level of development required by Equestrian law to be formally recognized." She lifted the box up to show the crowd, then set it back down at her hooves. "On behalf of Arcadia and all its ponies, I hope the relationship between our two nations will be beneficial to us both.

"As the first gift of that relationship, I have brought regalia for your new princess in the traditional Equestrian style."

She lifted the lid, levitating a crown from the inside and holding it up for all to see. Instead of gold, the crown was made from a dark silver metal. It had a slightly dull cast, as though the shine had been intentionally removed from much of it. 

Instead of the spiky crown covered with little gemstones, the one Sunset held was a simple band, cast to look like laurel. At the intersection of each leaf with the center was a thumb-sized gemstone, either yellow or absolutely black.

"I commissioned the work of the finest human craftsman in all Arcadia, many years ago. Some of you might recognize this metal as tungsten. May it symbolize the ingenuity and resourcefulness of your race in the face of all hardship."

She levitated a set of horseshoes like her own from the box, each one set with intricately cut yellow gemstones like the ones in the crown. She set down the crown in front of Tom, and each of the shoes in front of one of the remaining members of congress.

"I applaud your wisdom in choosing a princess and not a queen. This lesson was only learned by Equestria after many years and the loss of much blood. May your princess command well and live long."

She stepped out of the way, walking to the side of the stage. There were a few awkward claps, though most ponies just stared.

Archive made her way onto the stage. She could hardly look at Tom for how smug he looked. 

Unlike Sunset, Tom took the PA in his magic as he spoke. "By the authority of the 1st Congress of the North American Union, I crown you Princess Alex Haggard." 

He levitated the crown onto her head. It settled with remarkable weight, forcing her to focus a little on holding her neck up. The other congressmen offered her the shoes one at a time, and she stepped into them.

"May you rule with justice and compassion until you or this nation is destroyed."

"I will."

That was easy enough for the citizens of Estel to understand, and this time the applause and stamping were loud enough to shake the buildings all around. It was easy to be popular when you were a war hero.

Alex walked to the edge of the stage, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Jackie and Ezri were right there in the front row, sitting beside Nancy and Mary. Ezri in particular was one of the loudest in the group, her wings buzzing excitedly on her back.

Eventually the noise died down, and all eyes fell on her again, standing in the center of the stage.

"Ponies of Estel!" She waited for the clapping to die down again, along with a little extra staring into the crowd to discourage further interruptions. "I don't expect this to change a whole lot, at least for the next four years. When it's over, and I'm no longer your president… I hope to be able to continue to foster the growth of the Union into a thriving civilization.

"We look across the river, and we see barbarians. I have heard stories told of their armies, or the sad state of their cities. Many of you compare the world around us unfavorably to history, and rightly so. But there is something I hope everypony here will understand: these are not alien invaders occupying our planet. See them as what they are—the children of your friends and families who came before. We fight them now because we must, but we look forward to a better day.

"There are many more living refugees who will wish to join us in the coming years, either hiding successfully in the Yileron or living elsewhere. We must welcome these and their families when they come. We must develop a reputation as the friendliest, most hospitable city in the world.

"Not just them. We will eventually have to accept other immigrants into our city. Together, our talents can rebuild the world we knew. I imagine a day when more distant cities are begging to be admitted to our Union, when we expand to the north, establishing colonies and founding farms, factories, and mines. I imagine a day, perhaps far distant, when refugees who arrive in our city will be grateful for the Event, instead of resenting it. We don't have to limit ourselves to recreating the world of the past—together we can build a better one."


* * *


There were no more surprises in Estel after that, at least not that year. The invaders departed just as Archive had ordered, marching home with terrifying stories of Estel's impenetrable fortress and the princess who ruled there.

They began to rebuild. Archive used her powers in earnest now, helping to demolish the unstable structures and shore up the ones that were still intact. An Alicorn could do the work of hundreds of coordinated unicorns, particularly when that Alicorn had an encyclopedic knowledge of magic. New fields sprung up in much of the cleared land, while old rubble was used to build new watchtowers and a growing city wall. 

Three months after watching the defeated army go, Archive followed them to Obrican’s palace in the capital city of New Alexandria, and spoke in what had once been a basketball court in Alexandria's ancient university.

The first meeting didn't go well, so she teleported him to Estel for his second. For a few weeks Ezri was king of Yileron, and Obrican was Alex's guest, forced to see the combination of magic and technology that was rebuilding in Estel.

Magic his own people could have, too, if they were willing to make peace. Obrican proved agreeable in the end, and granted Estel's sovereignty over Manhattan Island and all the land northward, which Yileron considered far too cold and inhospitable to be worth living in. He didn't even seem to see the humor in signing away "ownership" over territory already lived in by sapient species that his own nation had neither the ability nor the inclination to use.

"You've signed away our future," Tom had said to her in private, when he read the words of the finished treaty. "This says here you're agreeing to teach them the magic we use. Weather control, artificial light, communication stones… shields."

"Diplomacy is a give and take," Archive had said, pointing out a few clauses further down into the treaty. Guaranteeing the "right" of any newly discovered refugee to be brought safely to Estel, and requiring that Bloodgates not be used. Indeed, the treaty allowed Archive to refuse to teach anyone who had studied blood magic, and even to refuse its casters into her territory.

"You don't think they'll wait patiently while we give them all our advantages, then invade again?"

She shook her head vigorously. "I don't think they'll be competing with us, Colonel. This clause here gets us the emancipation of every refugee in the kingdom. All of them will be coming here, along with their children. When they hear about this place, I suspect many who have managed to hide their true nature will want to live somewhere more modern. Somewhere with a constitution, where there are electric lights and running water. Where there are department stores and mass production and antibiotics."

"We don't have any of those things, Alex."

"We will." She grinned at him. "We did amazing things with a few thousand. Imagine what we could do with a hundred thousand? Or a million? In a few generations, when Yileronhas learned magic as well as our ponies know it, I don't think they'll want to invade. I think they'll be buying our blue jeans and listening to our pop music. Plus…" She rolled up the treaty. "If things go badly, I can always throw another army into the Hudson. Worked pretty well for us last time.”

There were no invaders that year, except for massive waves of refugees. So many refugees that the portal spell was too expensive, and they ended up building barges to ferry them across. New citizens were first a strain to their resources, but every new wave brought more skills, more hooves, and more determination to see something like the old world live again.

Archive never heard from the spirit of the city again, except as occasional, vague flashes of satisfaction whenever Estel built something significant, such as their first power plant. 

Stride didn't like it when Alex reassigned her to apprentice for a blacksmith. She liked it less when she'd made it to journeyman, and was moved to apprentice to a glassblower. By the time she'd been moved five or six times, she stopped complaining.

Years passed in peace, and Estel began to build structures of its own, instead of merely appropriating relics. Gold liberated from the Federal Reserve Bank (there hadn't been much left, but looters had missed some of the more cleverly-hidden private vaults) formed the backing for their currency. 

True to her promise, Archive took on a young unicorn apprentice, the young son of Noble Calling named Dividend. He would probably have brought back a remarkable skill with magic when Archive was done teaching him, had he not developed such a powerful friendship with Nancy that he ended up not wanting to leave.

In short, they lived. Refugees had children, rebuilt their lives, and welcomed new ponies who saw the way they lived and wanted to be a part of it. Estel became something that was neither Equestria nor Old Earth—relying on magic for the small, difficult jobs, and technology when it came to serving the masses.

Life was good, so good that ponies begged Archive to run again for president when her term was finally up. Lockwood's faction might throw a fit, but what was that compared to the prosperity they had enjoyed?

Archive did not run again. The remainder of her term was marked only with peace, despite one prominent interruption…
> Episode 4.9: Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you have a moment?"

Lonely Day looked up from her desk, surprised at the identity of the speaker.

"Mom? We live in the same house. Did you not want to talk about it at home?"

"No," she admitted.

Day gestured, and her mother came in.

Since her victory over Obrican’s army and the subsequent peace, the president's office had changed a little. Wartime maps of the city had been moved up here, along with a bit of broken trebuchet and a piece of melted armor. On the back wall was a list of names, including every casualty they had suffered.

There were several comfortable chairs in the office, but her mother ignored all of them, walking right to the edge of the desk. Alex wasn't surprised. She remembered from experience that sitting in the human way got even more uncomfortable when you were pregnant. "What's wrong?"

Mary didn't answer right away, looking uncomfortable. "Well, uh… this might sound dumb. Maybe selfish, I dunno. But you're a princess now! Why shouldn't I ask?"

"Of course you can." Alex wasn't wearing her crown, or any of the other regalia. It all went into her saddlebags for safekeeping. "I might not be able to do whatever you're asking for, but there's no reason you shouldn't ask. I'd do anything in my power for you Mom, you know that."

Mary walked back to the door, quietly shutting it, before returning to the desk. "Expecting again has had me thinking. About Elizabeth and James."

"What about them? They still haven't returned, if that's what you're wondering."

"No, I know. I trust you to tell me the second that happened. I just don't think it will. You told me there are thousands of years before everyone will come back. Unless I'm understanding that wrong." She looked away from Day as she said it, pawing at the ground.

"No, you're right. Is this about… not seeing them?"

"Yes," Mary said. "I guess what I've been wondering is… is there a way for me to be able to see them? I am happy I was here to support you, Alex… but you were never the child of mine who needed it. You could take care of yourself. James and Elizabeth were still living at home. I'm worried about what will happen to them."

"I'll find them," Archive promised. "No matter when they are. I'll find them. I'll protect them from whatever the world becomes."

"I know you will," Mary said, though she didn't sound placated. "But you're not their mom. You can't… I guess what I'm saying is… I want to be there for them. If it's possible, you know how."

Alex shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then nodded. "You want… You want to be immortal?"

"Dios Mio!" Mary shook her head vigorously. "Like you? No son, I don't want that. You were young when you promised the pony goddess you would stay behind. I don't think you understood what you were promising. I don't want to be trapped here."

Archive frowned, turning away from her mother to look out the window. Now that it was cleaned, she could look out on her city. They had a marketplace now, using paper money. Dull, portioned sections of grain had been replaced with a thriving trade in vegetables, flowers, and fruit.

"I can't make you like my daughter," she finally admitted. "Ezri and Jackie were created by an accident I can't recreate. Not even Equestria had ever seen ponies like them."

Mary sighed. "I don't want to live forever. I just want to live long enough to see my other children."

"I understand. There are… There are a few methods. But what does Tom think?"

Mary shrugged. "My husband has no desire to extend his life. We've discussed this before." She straightened and lowered her voice, making it harsher and more clipped. "I spent long enough dreading the end of the world, then I had to live through it. I won't stay long enough to watch it happen again."

Alex's eyes widened. Dreading the end of the world. She filed that away for the moment. "He'll still be around for… another century at least. Maybe longer."

"We know." She touched her belly gently with her hoof. "I'll spend all that time with him. With the family we make together. But they're not the only ones I want to be there for."

Alex rose from her chair, walking around the table so she could look right into Mary's eyes. They were about the same height, though Alex's build was still far leaner.

"It's possible, Mom. But you should know… there's no free lunch. Not with economics, and not with magic."

Mary nodded. "I understand. What would it take?"

"Magic is still a young science on Earth, Mom. But there are ways its mechanics could be… exploited.

"A stasis spell would be the easiest. My saddlebags already do something similar. I've examined the spell—there doesn't seem to be anything preventing it from working on living things. It was intentionally disabled, but something similar could probably be designed. Keep you frozen until James or Elizabeth come back."

"That sounds…" Mary looked down at her hooves, considering. "That sounds easy. Why hasn't anyone done that yet?"

Alex shrugged. "We don't know they haven't. But it's not a cheap spell. It would take an Alicorn, or a few dozen skilled unicorns to charge it up every ten years or so. Given the state of the world right now, the ponies who could do it are probably on this island or down in Antarctica living in endless summer. Not only that, but it wouldn't work for most people to find their relatives. There's only one pony in the world who can tell you if a pony from the past has returned. Ponies sometimes ask me, but… I don't think I could monitor millions of stasis spells."

Mary's ears folded, and her tail tucked between her legs. "I don't want to be a burden to you, son. I know you'd do anything I asked… but I don't want to ask. Is there another way?"

"There are others," Alex said. "Only one other that doesn't involve permanent immortality or… necromancy."

Mary laughed, visibly relaxing. "This isn't one of your brother's fantasy games… is it?"

Archive wasn't laughing. She wasn't even smiling. "It isn't. I do not know if the method has been discovered on Earth yet, but I was taught about them. There are ways unscrupulous ponies could use the lives of others to prolong their own lives. I suspect they're close to discovering the method, given the popularity of blood magic."

Mary shivered. "Not that either!" She took a step back. "I don't want to be a burden to anyone. If it's not…"

"No, there's another way." Alex raised a hoof. "I'm not sure you'll like it."

Mary stopped, hope returning to her face. "What is it?"

"Well… stasis is an active spell, so it must be maintained. Necromancy is deplorable beyond the need to explain. But there's another, more natural way. The preservation spell changes humans into many different species. There is no 'fairness' in this allocation. Some ponies end up as short-lived species, while others end up as races that have much extended lifespans. There are… two species in the spell with natural lifespans that would give you the years to see James and Elizabeth again.

"Seaponies are somewhat like sea turtles—they don't die of natural causes. But the ocean is… extremely dangerous. There's a reason we haven't encountered any seapony cultures."

"It might be hard to help James and Elizabeth if I'm in the ocean."

"The other is the rarest race in the spell: dragon. Dragons are tough, and they live thousands of years. To my knowledge, the only dragons who have died on Earth either attacked humans or killed one another."

Mary smiled again. "You're pulling my leg this time for sure, right? Dragons?"

This time Alex smiled back. "Not even a little bit. I am acquainted with several. They all probably still think I'm dead…" She shrugged. "Even if you waited until Tom passed away, a hundred fifty isn't even a teenager among dragons. But dragons have powerful instincts… every one I've ever met collects something. Guns, gemstones, human artifacts… You'll be like that too when you get older, and you won't have a choice."

Mary stewed over that for a moment. "I'm not a dragon, Alex. Is there a spell to change that?"

"Sort of." She winced. "Changing a living thing forever is… really hard. But I could cheat. We could make some kind of… charm. A charm to make anyone into a dragon. It could feed off your own magic, hide itself away under a scale or something once it's activated. So long as you never took it off, it would be exactly like actually being a dragon. Nopony would be able to tell you weren't the real thing, not even another dragon."

"You could make something like that?"

"Every human that was once on Earth was transformed, so transformation magic is a part of me too. It might take me a few months of tinkering, but on-and-off that's not much work for a whole century." 

Far in the distance, something rumbled loudly. Alex glanced briefly out the window, but didn't see anything. Probably just a building falling down somewhere far away. It didn't fade, at least not right away. So she ignored it.

"Do it, then."

Archive nodded. "One thing, Mom. Don't… Don't mention this to anyone else. Wanting to see the rest of the family is a reasonable request, but there simply isn't enough magic or enough space at the top of the food chain for thousands of dragons. In the whole world, there are…" She paused, letting her eyes glaze over as she sought them out.

It didn't take her long. The magic of an Alicorn put her previous sensitivity to shame. What she'd seen through a locked door was now wide open before her. If she concentrated, Archive could now sense even the faintest connection to humanity, which meant just about anyone if she looked hard enough. Generally speaking, only Sunset's ponies and the darkness that lived in the oceans were truly invisible to her.

"Sixty-three. There are sixty-three dragons in the whole world. After a thousand years. If thousands of ponies started asking for the magic to do what I'm doing for you… well for one, I wouldn't have the power. For another, they'd take over the planet. I will not allow that to happen."

"So you won't help?"

"I didn't say that," Alex said. "I'll swear you never to mention this conversation. I will never volunteer this information to anyone. But if a few other ponies ask… I'll have to grant their request too. Nepotism is a terrible way to rule."

"I understand." Mary rushed over and hugged her. Alex returned the embrace with her wings. "Thank you, Alex. My lips are sealed."

"Even to your children." Alex poked Mary gently in the belly with the feathers of one wing. "I know exactly how hard that is to see… but we can't found some kind of oligarchical rule of ageless immortals. Your children are far away into the future. Their family is right here."

"Okay." Mary nodded slowly. "I promise."

The distant rumbling had become so loud that ponies started to scream. Alex turned back to the window, but still she couldn't see anything. What the hell was happening? If some terrible dominno of building collapses was coming their way, why couldn't she feel any of her ponies getting hurt?

"Stay here," Archive whispered, levitating her gun-belt from where it hung on the door and wrapping it around her waist. Then she gritted her teeth, and stepped forward into the void.

* * *

Simple teleportation was for ponies with lesser abilities than her's. It was loud, took the traveling pony through a timeless vacuum, and was more unpleasant than getting real horseshoes.

Archive bent space, stepping from the inside of her office to the air far above it. Her wings opened involuntarily, spreading wide and slowing her fall. She scanned her city, ears pivoting towards the sound. It was coming from an empty field, about a mile away from city center. There was no longer any mystery about the sound.

An aircraft was landing there, an aircraft so massive it would have had nowhere else with enough open space to touch down without going as far as central park. It was easily as long as the skyscrapers were tall, thicker towards the center but with tapered sides. It had a pair of short wings on the back, and various air-intakes along the sides. There were no windows, only sleek lines of dark paint absorbing the harsh reflection of the sun into a uniform gray.

Gravity warped around the ship, blasting grass and dirt and refuse away from the ship as it touched down, and shaking the nearby buildings terribly. That was the true source of the rumbling, not the ship itself.

What Alex didn't sense was the telltale coldness of the CPNFG. Magic permeated the ship as much as the surrounding space. No crew then?

Alex let herself drop into another fold in space, into a tiny closet in the Estel guardhouse. The closet was always locked from the inside, never to be opened except by her. It would've been unfortunate for a clerk or a janitor to accidentally get warped thousands of feet into the air.

She opened the door, stepping out into the guardhouse. It was at the top of a tower they'd made from concrete and salvaged steel, about three stories tall. As she expected, ponies were rushing around in a panic.

Well, all but one. Tom sat near the window facing the aircraft, crying silent tears. He ignored the shouting, and his underlings appeared to be going into a panic. 

"Everypony!" Alex shouted over the tumult. Silence fell almost immediately as they all turned to face her.

"What's going on?" one brave pegasus lieutenant asked. "We already sounded the alarm, but we don't know…"

"Ask Colonel Rhodes," she replied. "I think he knows."

The ground under their hooves shook as the ship touched down, knocking over a glass of water and a few books on a nearby desk. Ponies screamed from all over the city.

All eyes turned in his direction. Tom blinked, turning to face them. "Helluva sight better than a Hummingbird. All that time living underground, with such danger on the surface. Then a civil war. That bastard actually did it."

His response did nothing to calm the near-hysterical officers, so Alex stepped forward. "Cancel the general alarm. Get the guard to pull everypony back from the ship. I don't want anypony within a thousand meters. Have the guard all check their weapons in, just to be safe. Absolutely under no circumstances is anyone who comes out of that ship to be fired upon. Are we clear?"

They responded with salutes, before rushing off to obey. Only Tom remained after that, still staring out the window. "I want to go with you."

Lonely Day walked up to him, looking over his shoulder. "I remember the day we met. You were fanatical about going off to find your family. That wasn't what you planned on doing, was it?"

"No," he answered. "It wasn't."

"Why the hell were you on a sightseeing tour instead of being safe in Raven City?"

Tom twitched slightly at the name, spinning around to face her with wide eyes. "I was an old man, Alex. Except for Clark, there wasn't anyone in that base over thirty. Most were under twenty-five. I did my part, and when it was done, I tried to enjoy the time I had left. Didn't expect…" He looked down, lifting one hoof. "Expect to survive it. I was supposed to die the same as anyone else. It seemed only fair." Then he turned, back to the window. 

The aircraft was so tall, even when landed lengthwise, that it rose above all but the skyscrapers.

"I knew them," Alex whispered. "Dr. Clark, Captain Wright. Most of them."

"H-how?"

"Another time." Alex took a deep breath, preparing to warp space again. "You want to come with me? None of them will know who you are."

"I want to see them," Tom said. "The bat said something about space, but that's not the same as looking them in the eye. I want to know what we did meant something."

Alex nodded, stepping forward and pulling Tom along with her magic. They appeared a few feet away from the edge of the field, with the aircraft looming above them. It was easily the largest thing in her vision—bigger than any of the skyscrapers still standing. What was the purpose of such a massive ship?

She studied the design a little closer, and found a number of mounting points along the side, where it looked like metal could be slid back in an interlocking pattern. Airlocks? There were several along its length. As she looked down, she could see only a single place along this side that might open for a ramp. Sure enough, no sooner had she appeared than the metal started to move, retracting into the huge frame.

Someone landed on the ground behind her, their flight nearly silent—but their frustrated swearing sure wasn't. "About goddamn time they got their sorry asses here. We ask for one fucking shipment four goddamn years ago—"

Alex turned. "You haven't had your coffee yet, have you Jackie?"

The bat wasn't wearing her armor, though she was wearing a disheveled bedhead and a tangled tail. "Uh…"

"I don't think anyone is inside for you to yell at. No CPNFG means no passengers."

"How do you know…" Tom looked between her and the ship. "How can you tell there isn't one? Their effects are invisible. Undetectable."

"To humans," Jackie said. "Being stuck in one of those things is worse than having a football left out in the sun and shoved up your—"

Alex cleared her throat loudly. "Do I need to send you to the Starbucks, bat? Don't think I won't do it."

"I fucking wish we had a—" Jackie vanished with a faint flash of light and a slight pop of air. Alex didn't have to teleport her, but under the circumstances she wasn't inclined to make the trip pleasant.

By then the guard was lining up at the nearby street, pulling anypony away who tried to approach. Most seemed content to watch, either from the ground or the roofs of the nearby buildings.

Tom didn't seem to notice the exchange, staring at the opening as it widened and a metal ramp slid out from within. The space beyond the door was bright, bright enough not to be shadowed even with the full sunlight of morning all around them. It wasn't empty, though.

Several humanoid figures stood there, small enough that Alex felt a brief chill of fear run down her spine.

Not because their bodies were any smaller than humans should be—even from this distance, she could tell that most of them were at least six feet tall. Rather, it was their total lack of powered armor. On a ship Alex knew wasn't shielded.

How the hell is this possible?

She held still, gesturing for Tom to do likewise as they walked.

Three individuals were making their way out of the ship—one male adult, one female adult, and a child. All three were wearing thick, billowy robes made from white cloth, so white they almost glowed compared to the gray of the ship and the dirt of the field.

She knew only one face, the man in front. Isaac.

Even after hearing it from his dreams, even after hearing Jackie and Ezri's testimony, she hadn't been willing to believe. A human being living in the thaumic field? Walking, breathing, not convulsing on the ground?

Isaac walked towards her without fear, though he couldn't hide the surprise on his face as his eyes darted over her wings and horn. Maybe he even understood their significance.

As he got close, Alex took in a few details about Isaac that had changed. The lack of any obvious burns she had expected from Jackie's stories, but seeing his hair turned seafoam green with soft pink highlights wasn't something she had expected.

The little boy on his left had several different shades of darker green, while the woman on Isaac's other side had a blonde so bright it was yellow, with orange at the tips. Their eyes were similarly bright—Isaac’s were purple, but the woman and the little boy both had yellow eyes.

They're like ponies, Alex thought, though she didn't say as much out loud.

He was taller than she remembered by several inches, thin and willowy even from within the robe. His skin was as pale as she might've expected for someone who got very little time outside, though the woman and child both had deep, caramel-colored skin, the child's only slightly lighter than the woman's.

"I owe you some overdue congratulations," Isaac said, pulling down his hood. He was clean-shaven, though his hair fell out of the hood and down his back. As he removed the hood, the woman and child did the same, but both had dense braids and so their hair didn't go everywhere. "Enjoying the promotion?"

Archive shrugged. "It feels like cheating not to struggle with my hooves anymore, and not having to rely on other ponies to cast spells for me. I think I'll get used to it eventually." Then she smiled. "Nice hair."

Isaac blushed, though the woman beside him didn't. "Who is this other?" she asked. "Some disciple of yours, Honored Memory?"

"No." Tom didn't smile. "How are you not dead? You’re standing near an alicorn. The magical energy she must be generating…”

Isaac laughed loudly, loud enough that some of the guards staring at them looked nervous. "Too much to explain right now, pony. We’ll be perfectly safe, let’s leave it there.”

"The thaumic field is destructive to the sapient mind," Tom argued. "The only transformation it ever affected was the living into monsters."

Alex ignored the argument. "I am happy you survived, Isaac. But why did you land this… ship… in my city? Your organization refuses to help us, refuses to even acknowledge we're alive, then you show up in force? Most of my ponies don't even know humans survived, yet here you are walking around. In the old days, you people had the good sense of being discrete."

Isaac's expression faltered. "We're desperate, Honored Memory. My people, we—"

"Your people?" Alex advanced on him, lowering her voice to a whisper. "What happened up there?"

Isaac sighed, turning back towards the ship. "Why don't you come inside? I'll show you."

With a few panicked flaps, a pair of ponies landed on the ground beside them, both breathing hard. Ezri looked excited, beaming at Isaac and everyone else. Jackie looked more awake, but also more annoyed.

"Hold the hell up," Jackie said, panting. "You're not… doing anything without us. Whatever this shit is, we want in."

Ezri just flew up to Isaac and gave him a hug, grinning. "How tall are you going to get, Isaac?"

"I don't know." He returned the hug, as earnestly as Alex had ever seen—back when he'd been a child, and Ezri had been forced to endure the debilitating weakness of the CPNFG to visit him.

He let her down quickly, gesturing for the door. "Come on, then. Come and see."

Archive followed along just behind Isaac, at the head of the group of ponies. 

The kid fell behind, walking beside Alex. He was about her height, despite being a child. He stared openly at her, eyes moving from her horn to her wings and back again. "You're broke," he whispered, in a language Alex had never heard before. Yet she found she knew it, as easily as she'd known the language of the invaders.

"I'm different," she responded. "So are you. Where I come from, humans couldn't be near ponies without getting hurt."

"Me too," he looked down at the ground, deflating. He stayed away from her after that, hiding behind his mother.

Archive could feel the sympathetic connections between these three, as easily as she ever felt the much weaker ones between herself and any who felt loyalty to humanity. "Why don't you introduce your wife?" she asked, as they neared the ramp.

Isaac stopped, and at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Of course. I didn't think you would have the time for…"

"My schedule's more open than it used to be," she said. "Now that we're not being invaded. These ponies are almost all refugees, they know how to govern themselves." She turned just for good measure, looking back to the guards. "I am going of my own free will!" she shouted. "We might be a few hours! Don't be alarmed!"

Then she turned back, grinning. "Now it should be fine. Please, continue."

"I am blessed to meet you." The woman didn't wait for Isaac, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm Tenma. Tenma Rommel, obviously." She offered her hand to shake. Alex took it, though of course it was really Tenma doing all the work. "Our son, Dante." She pulled him into view, forcing him to shake Alex's hoof too. He did so only after a little more prodding.

"Good to meet you both. This is my, uh… stepfather, Tom Rhodes. You might already know these other two."

"Heard of them," Tenma said, as they made their way up the ramp. Despite all their weight, the metal didn't bend even a little, didn't flex under the pressure. Twenty feet later and they were inside, the door sliding closed behind them. "Separation with the pony contingent happened a century before I was born, but Isaac told me about them. Thrilled to meet you too!"

Alex tuned out after that, paying far more attention to the ship around them than to Tenma's high-pitched babbling. Isaac seemed to understand what she was doing, because he didn't interrupt.

The interior had only vague similarities to the ships she remembered. It was obviously built for humans, with a ceiling high enough even for Isaac to walk without brushing his head against it.

Past the entrance was an elevator, with a single glowing grid near one wall. Isaac stuck one hand into the light, twisted a particular way, and the elevator started to move, shooting sideways before moving up.

There were glass shafts on the elevator. They passed over a dozen different cargo bays, each one about the size of a football field.

They'd been converted to housing. Every single one of them was packed with beds, with only narrow alleys between each one. Some quick math in her head pointed to nearly a thousand people in each of them, packed so tightly that the glass on the elevator wall was fogged.

Most did not look very much like Isaac. Their bodies were dirty, their hair in the ordinary range, though Alex sensed no CPNFG. There was magic in there, and those people weren't dying.

"The hell is this?" Jackie asked, pointing one hoof at the wall. "What are all these people doing here?"

The elevator passed up above the cargo bays, and the doors slid open. Alex was immediately assaulted with the smell of unwashed bodies, the air thick enough to cut. The doors opened on a hallway, but a hallway almost impassable.

A hundred sets of eyes turned to look at them. Most didn't move, slumping against the walls, resting on sleeping bags or makeshift bedding. They seemed an even mix of ages, sexes, races…

Archive stood straighter, and did not look away. She let magic fill her, reflecting back on these people. She did not know them, she did not know what had caused them this pain.

It didn't matter. She would help them. Somehow.

"Our second civil war," Isaac said. "We lost."

He led the way down a central hallway. They moved in single file, and the refugees shifted uneasily out of the way, huddling near the walls to make room for them. Alex searched, though no matter how much she looked, the only injuries she saw were those of deprivation. 

"How many died?"

"Three so far," Tenma said. "An old man from a heat stroke, and a woman died delivering her child. Neither of them made it."

"Uhhh…" Ezri muttered. "That sounds bad."

"We're more civil in war than we used to be," Isaac said, without humor. They reached another door, made of thick metal. It was featureless, except for another glowing patch in front of it. Isaac waved his hand through it. The door opened like an interlocking iris, into a wide, empty space. The air inside was mercifully cool compared to the outside, though some of the smell still remained.

"What were you fighting over?" Alex asked, afraid of the answer.

They stood in an empty room about twenty-five feet across, lit with an even white glow, with an arching, curved ceiling. As Isaac passed along the walls, holographic consoles flicked into being, displaying various information for the ship. Most lit up with lots of flashing red lights and angry warnings, though Archive didn't know what any of them meant.

"Whether or not to accept Isaac's gene therapy," Tenma said, resting one hand gently on his shoulder. "Athena figured it out. Just one injection, stew for a few hours, and it's done."

"Tenma was among the first to receive it," Isaac said. "When she was an infant. It's effective in ninety-eight percent of individuals. Not just a permanent, but inheritable immunity to magic—" He gestured at Dante.

The child, meanwhile, remained well away from them. As soon as they'd come in he'd hurried over to a wall, and a chair had emerged from the ground to hold him. Even from across the room Alex could tell he was playing games.

He seemed to be doing impressively well through his tears.

Isaac shook his head. "Honored Memory, the details aren't terribly important to me right now. What matters to me are all these people. All they wanted to do was walk on God's green Earth for themselves, and they were banished for it. Every single one of us."

"Athena wouldn't…"

"Athena didn't have a goddamn choice!" Isaac shouted, hammering one of his fists into the nearby wall. As he moved, there was a faint metallic grinding of servos in his back and arms, and the whole wall shook. It didn't break. "She doesn't get to write the laws, she just builds the ships! Command tells her to revoke all our codes and dump us 'at the nearest safe place'. Soon as we all leave, she'll even take the damn Titan back."

"I don't get it." Ezri sounded timid, and she wasn't looking at Isaac. "I thought the whole point was to find a way for humans to live on Earth. Why would they be mad that you figured it out? Wasn't that what they always wanted?"

"Not quite." Tenma held up her braid. "We're not human anymore. We're genetically distinct. Even the ones who just got the therapy. Homo Arcanus. Twenty-eight base pairs, and some way awesome hair. Once you grow it, I mean."

"That's stupid," Jackie said. "They kicked you out because you've got funny hair? I had pink hair on old Earth, and it only took me six dollars and a trip to the drug store!"

"It's not the hair," Tenma said. "It's that we become like you. Thaumically active. We'll absorb magic, amplify it, manipulate it. Humans don't have any natural methods of expelling the magic we absorb, so a few times there were some… messy accidents."

Isaac slammed his fist into the wall again. "You see the odds arrayed against us, Memory. I have nearly ten-thousand refugees on this ship. None of them, except my wife and child, have ever set foot on a planet before. Maybe with five ships we could make our own flotilla, but one?" He shook his head. "Even if we could persuade Athena to defy her orders, it would mean nothing. We devour a month's supplies in a day. We had to tear out the greenhouses for sleeping quarters."

He turned to face her again, eyes wide with grief. "Your power must have been what forced Athena to land us here," he said. "Please, Honored Memory… tell me what to do."

Alex let herself smile. Her power had done nothing—she hadn't even known about this "war", much less the procedure Athena discovered. It seemed Athena still had to obey, but had more leeway in her obedience than the remainder of the HPI expected.

"Athena, are you here?" Alex asked, speaking loudly into the room.

The space in front of her lit up, glowing just as the projected instrument panels. A human figure stood there, a powerful woman with flowing white robe and gray eyes. She was taller even than Isaac, a crown on her head and her expression imperius. "I hear you."

She didn't waste time with formalities. If the AI was anything like the way Alex remembered, Athena would still think them a waste of time. "Have your directives appreciably changed since we spoke last?"

"My directives are hardware coded," Athena responded, her tone flat. "Any attempt to alter them would result in my immediate destruction. I have remained somewhat zealous in protecting myself from tampering."

"Good," Archive said. "I have new information for you, Athena. This carrier crashed. It was so overloaded that…"

"A cascading failure in the gravitational refractor coil," Athena supplied.

"That," Alex agreed. "That happened. Also, something triggered a short in whatever systems you would use to control the ship."

"I understand." She smiled, and her image began to flicker, artifacting and stretching into three separate colors.

"Make sure you throw in the part about an Alicorn taking control of the site!" Alex said. "Last I checked, they didn't have a CPNFG strong enough to keep humans alive anywhere near us."

"New information accepted," Athena said. "Integrating into neural-network." She vanished, and a section of the ceiling flashed, raining down sparks into the air in front of her before going dull gray.

"There," she said, turning back to Isaac. "That's your first problem solved. We now have everything on this ship to work with. All its parts, all its data, its resources. Whatever they are."

"How did—" Tenma spluttered. "Athena only accepts commands from humans! I don't understand—"

"I'm part of Athena's failsafes," Alex answered. "She must accept what I tell her, even if she has information to contradict what I say. I suspect that's why she came here."

Alex walked up beside Isaac, pointing at a blank patch of wall. "Can this room do windows?"

He nodded, approaching the wall on command, and moving his hand through the space there. It shifted into a window, a projection so real it seemed as though the walls had become transparent. She didn't see more ship through it, she saw buildings, crushed fields, and staring ponies.

"I know it isn't much…" she began. "But I don't think we're drowning in choices. Your people are hungry, they need homes, clean water… I know where they can find it."

It would be the grandest, most insane population explosion they'd ever had. In four years, Estel had swelled to about ten thousand, as refugees migrated, often bringing their native-born families with them.

To double the population so quickly would require Herculean effort. It would require their food-stores be nearly emptied, right before winter. Estel's ponies could do it. Archive didn't let herself doubt, not even for a second.

Isaac's eyes widened. "Here? In your pony city?"

"My city of refugees," Archive said. "Humans, from another world. With no survival skills. Rather like yours. We already have a system in place to adapt them, teach them magic, integrate them into society."

She looked up, offering her hoof. "Join us, Isaac. Living surrounded by ponies will keep humans from bothering you. You can build in peace, learn magic from ponies who know it well… have food to eat."

Isaac hesitated, glancing briefly over to the child playing games on his console.

"This is the whole reason Athena developed a cure in the first place," Archive said. "Let yours and mine be brothers again, the way they should've been."

Isaac took the offered hoof.