> Reining Butterflies
>  by Aeluna
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cattle all but galloped into their field that morning, bucking and bellowing as if it had been an eternity since they had last been outside. Small calves scarpered after them eagerly, so happy to once again get out into the bright island sun which they had been deprived of for at least twenty-four long hours. Maybe more, even, the poor little drama queens.


The young mare at the gate rolled her eyes and nudged it shut behind the last straggler. The sight of them falling around would have been terrifying for anypony with less experience than she, but she was more than used to the crazy antics of her small herd. It was with that confidence that she then grabbed the bucket at her side, already filled to the brim with corn, and took a few slow steps backwards. After a moment’s hesitation, she shot forwards and leapt. The fence did not so much as brush against her.


She did not waste a second. She sped around the cows and weaved among the calves, throwing corn from the bucket with a small flick of her neck. Such a feeding routine came with ease from many a morning practicing, ever since her days as a mere filly. What with this being her first year in control of her parents’ farm, she wanted to do it right.


With that task complete, she grinned and trotted from the paddock chirpily. As per usual, she carried a certain bounce in her gait as she moved. She flicked her ears idly and swayed her head slightly in time with the soft tune that she had begun to hum. It wasn't long before the cows’ low moos accompanied her quiet performance.


Wait.


She stiffened and spun on the spot, tail clamped. She then stopped to stare at her girls, who returned her attention impatiently. A few snorted or pawed at the ground, whilst the bull began to throw his head slowly. And it was no wonder, she realised with great horror, for every corn kernel and blade of grass had now turned a horrid shade of black. And it was spreading like wildfire, with even her own fur darkening and beginning to disintegrate before her eyes.


“What the-?” she started, suddenly weak at the legs as she scrambled backwards towards the fence. But there was to be no salvation, for the wood had already begun to rot before her eyes, softening by the second. “Mama! Papa!”


She yelped and spun on the spot, suddenly aware of the painful bite of the chilly spring air against her almost featherless hooves. The cows, too, screamed; they charged for the gate, yelling and bucking as they rammed into it heavily. It held for the first blow, but only barely, and at their second frenzied attack it shattered.


And then, in a flare of bright white light, everyone froze in place. The colour flooded back to the world, and hair regrew in a matter of breaths. The posts of the girls’ paddock, too, stiffened and hardened; the cows were sent huddling in the centre, staring at their owner for some sort of guidance.


It did not last long. As she stood there, heaving and sweating and shaking, she could only watch as they realised the corn was fresh once more and began to tuck into it. Oblivious.


Ignorance is bliss, as they say. But she could not feel that relief, for all she could now see in her mind’s eye was the way her fur had literally fallen out before her own eyes.


“Quit it already,” she murmured whilst she clambered slowly, carefully over the fence. It didn't show any signs of what had just happened. “It's nothing to worry about. No one got hurt. It's harmless.”


But no matter how many times she repeated those words, over and over in her head as she fed the hens and the lambs and the goats, she couldn't believe them.


Something was coming—but what it was? No one knew.


She took a deep breath and then released it slowly, drawing small circles in the dirt beneath her hooves. It was cool and still slightly damp from the rain yesterday; in a word, it felt right. It wasn't dry as old bones as it had been a moment before. 


It was right.


She smiled and stood taller as she forced her ears to prick forwards. With easily more determination than it had ever taken her before she then began to trot off, pushing off more with each step than normal. She was a cheerful mare, and one had to keep up appearances.


It was with that thought in mind that she began the pleasant trot into town, revelling in the beauty of the world around her. There was but a slight breeze now, just enough to blow the leaves of the willow trees which enshrouded the mossy rock path. A few small flowers stretched towards her as she passed. Their petals, velvety soft and painted with the bright hues of a world reborn from the clutches of winter, caressed her legs each time she brushed past; every now and then, one would so stealthily tickle just in front of her shoulders and draw a small squeak from her lips, or would otherwise assimilate themselves into her mane and tail as if they had always been meant to be there.


It was not the shortest of journeys, but it was one that she made every day at least. After a few weeks of trotting the same path, it became less of a painful workout and instead could be considered to be a therapy of a sort. Always the same, just as she liked it. She had her little routines, and stuck by them to the letter if she could. If she was to be careless and stray from the norm… Well, things could get chaotic.


Despite the early hour, the marketplace was already beginning to fill. A few mares trotted about with small foals in tow, eyeing the reddest home-grown strawberries and the largest, darkest-shelled eggs, all while keeping an eye out for the mainland delivery; it was the first of the month, a day eagerly waited for by all. It was trading day, when the island’s elders permitted the lifting of the ban on imported goods. 


Since the village’s creation, every islander had taken pride in their heritage; each mare, stallion and foal had come from the same large group of earth ponies. They had fled the Vanhoover rebellions to find sanctuary someplace less dangerous, and to the present day the importance of self sufficiency was still maintained. It was an integral part of the island life and also the reason why every house was still made in the traditional, lacking-in-walls manner. In truth, though, it did work quite well. The island was not a cold place, to say the least; the fact that many ponies clipped their fur at the peak of summer was testimony to that, and even then the midday sun left many passed out on the floor at least once, if not more.


Amongst the slowly gathering crowds, one mare caught her immediate attention. A thin cloak was draped over the entirety of the pony’s body—give it an hour or so, and she certainly would not be needing that—and her hooves were fully covered by knee-high sandals. Such attire should have made her unrecognisable, but there was only one pony on the island with a tail so pearly white as that.


“Hey, Midget!” she called out, a grin upon her muzzle as she waved a hoof above her head. The white-maned mare simply continued on her way without so much as a glance back—but at the second cry of, “Chisana!” she turned around slowly. The mare sent a frown at her, and it was then that the latter realised her mistake. The scar across that pony’s eye was the thing of rumours. 


“I’m over here, calf-brain,” a second pony yelled with a snicker, and she spun on the spot to see a tiny mare trotting up to her side. The small pony then laughed out loud as she reared up so as to drape her forelegs over the taller one’s  back. “That mare who’s now staring at you like you're a complete idiot? That’s Magpait herself, you dolt, Giya.”


She was silent for a moment. “Wha-What?” she uttered, her head snapping between the two white-maned mares. She then backed up quickly, her chest rising and falling so relentlessly that she could have just run a marathon. A massive red blush was plastered across her cheeks as she squeaked, “Chisana, hide me!” and attempted to leap behind. But the smaller mare hardly stood taller than her shoulders, and for Giya to actually have succeeded would have been quite a feat.


“Okay, look, don’t sweat it,” she said as she nudged Giya’s side, turning the latter around. She now was faced away from the mare who watched on in bemusement. “Now, move those hooves… No, no, take it slowly, you silly filly! Keep it cool. Hey, hey, calm it. Magpait doesn’t know you, so just move—hey, steady there—normally. She’ll forget about it, I swear. That’s it, walk on, walk on, easy there…” Chisana grinned and nudged a stray lock of blue hair, deep in colour as the sea at night, from Giya’s face. 


When they got to the opposite side of the market, she began to nuzzle messily through the recently set out stand before her. “Atta girl!” she said as she did so, her eyes focused behind her all the while on Magpait. The mare had since grown bored, it would seem, and had wandered off to continue whatever business she had—just as Chisana had promised. “See, what’d I say, you dopey mare?”


Giya blushed and looked away. She laughed ever so quietly as she drew little circles in the dirt absently. They quickly morphed into crudely drawn calves, of all things, to which Chisana snorted and fell to her rump, squealing as she kicked her hooves in the air in front of her. When she noticed that the taller mare was merely standing still, scowling, she quieted though and stilled. Shen then rose to her hooves slowly and shook the dust from her light grey-brown coat.


Behind them, the stand owner grumbled as Chisana began to drag Giya away, back in the direction they had originally come from. The latter moved with much more tension, now; she flinched at almost all newcomers to the market.


“Seriously, though, filly,” Chisana began, flicking her ears and letting her eyes dart about to and fro, quite evidently on the lookout for something particular, “how do you not know what Magpait looks like? I mean, I know she’s only revealed herself in the last few weeks, but her art is legendary!”


Giya scowled. “Yeah, Midget, I know who she is. Heck, I buy every carving of hers that I find! Well, aha, the ones that I can afford. It's just… I've just… I've never seen her before. And…” Giya groaned and hung her head. “Magpait’s such an amazing mare! She's selfless, giving away so much of the art that she does, and she sounds so modest compared to most of the powerful ponies on this island. But now I've blown any chance I had of getting to know her! She’ll think I'm a freak, Chi!”


The little mare rolled her eyes before she shot towards a half-unpacked stand. “She's an island treasure, filly. You never had any chance of getting to know her!”


Giya was quiet for a moment before she laughed slowly. “Yeah, I guess that probably is true…” she mumbled, trying to control her quivering lip. Before Chisana could pick up on anything, she then brushed her forelock from her face and turned away. “Anyway, I've gotta grab some hay. It's all I came down for, truth be told, so I should probably get on with it.” She began to take a step forwards but faltered mid stride. “Oh! Uh, you still up for the game tonight? Should be fun; plenty of ponies are coming.”


Chisana grinned and flicked her tail. “Wouldn't miss it,” she yelled back with a wave before she lost her muzzle in a pile of rusted old metals and rocks; with a laugh, Giya trotted away to begin her search as well. Unsurprisingly for her, it wasn’t long before she found a suitable market stall. The island’s climate was perfect for making hay, and so it was one of the few resources that wasn't often in short supply.


“Giya,” the farmer said, tipping his hat to her. She, in turn, laughed and began to look over the individual bales, sniffing each thoroughly for mold and tapping the edge with her muzzle, assessing its quality. Bunny hay was what she was after; though the cows and the ewes and the does wouldn't mind the courser stuff, she, for one, was sick of the roughage. If she had to eat hay, it had to be nice—even if it did usually cost her more than she should have been giving away.


“I’m liking the look of this one,” Giya said, giving a nod towards the bale at the end. She nudged it gently, admiring the delicate strands as she fiddled with them between her hooves. She breathed in deeply and then slipped a few small strands into her mouth, letting her eyes slip shut as she savoured them. When she peeked them open, though, she swallowed them quickly and shrunk a little under the farmer’s barely-contained snort.


“It’s just a bog-standard bale of soft hay, y’know,” he managed to choke out, but he calmed quickly enough. He reared up behind his stall and then leaned forwards so as to rest himself on top of a bale, his hooves folded in front of himself. “But, y’know, whatever makes you happy, kid. It’s yours, if you’ve got the stuff to trade for it?”


Giya licked her lips and stood a little taller, idly taking another mouthful of hay and munching happily as she rubbed her chin and said, “Wha’ oo won fur i?”


The farmer scowled this time. “Well, given that you’ve just taken a hunk out of it,” he said, “I’d best think of something quickly.” He tapped his chin with a hoof, looking her over. When his gaze landed upon her rump and cutie mark, his eyes then lit up. “Course, you’ve got your old mare’s animals now, right?”


Giya nodded, her body suddenly slouched. “My parents aren't doing so well, so… yeah,” she whispered, but that was as much as she would say. After a few moment of silence, the stall keeper then trotted around to the front and dragged the bale down from the counter. He placed it in front of her.


“Well, you have chickens, right?”


“Naturally.”


The stallion grinned. “Got any layers you don't need?”


“I need all my girls.”


There was silence once again for a moment, and the stallion hung his head with his ears fallen. Before he could pick up the bale once again, though, Giya stepped forwards and said, with her voice suddenly quieter, “I've got some young hens that aren't laying yet. Few months old; they should be working soon, but I can't afford to keep feeding them right now. There’s… uh, seven, I think. Maybe eight. How’s that?”


The stallion grinned and began to raise his hoof. “Two birds for a bale? It's nice stuff; you said so yourself.”


Giya shook her head. “No can do,” she whispered with a sigh. “A bird a bale, tops. They've got their whole laying lives ahead of them. And they're good stock. Nice breeding.”


The stallion was quiet, but quickly relented with a chuckle. “Deal, kid,” he said, extending his hoof all the way to shake hers, but she did so halfheartedly. When he took a step back, she then slipped the bale onto her back. 


“Come grab the girls when you've got time—and bring the other bales with you then, if you can?”


The farmer nodded. “Sure.” He fell quiet once again and helped readjust the bale on Giya’s back, getting it into a more secure position. “Kid, I… I'm sorry I brought your parents up. They'll be fine, don't sweat it.”


Giya nodded slowly. “Hooves crossed,” she said, trying to force a smile on her face—but it was instead replaced by a curious gasp a moment later when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something: an old, rusted horseshoe, sat exactly where the bale had been before. She frowned and took a few steps closer, suddenly not even feeling the weight of the bale on her back. There was only this muddy, chipped horseshoe; for that instant, nothing else mattered.


“Hey, kid,” the farmer said, nudging her shoulder. “You alright in there? That’s just a horseshoe.”


Giya nodded slowly, but despite that asked, “D’you ever get the feeling you're missing some really big detail?”


The farmer cocked his head. “Not when I'm lookin’ at an old horseshoe, no,” he said. He scarpered back behind the counter quickly, his face a frown. “Go on, take it. I don't want a rusted old horseshoe on my stall.”


All of a sudden, Giya’s face lit up. Why? She didn't quite know herself, truth be told, but something just felt right when she picked up the old shoe between her teeth. She then beamed at the farmer and squeaked, “Thank you so much!” before she turned and ran off—only to collide head first with Chisana (or, head-to-chest) after. The hay bale fell to the floor with a thud, but Giya at least kept hold of the horseshoe still. 


There was just something… enthralling about it. 


“Giya!” Chisana cried, her face etched with a massive beam. She then whipped her head around and grabbed the roll of paper which was draped across her back, pulling it in front of her where she let it unravel before Giya’s eyes. “Isn’t it amazing?”


Giya forced a smile as she bent down to pull the hay bale back onto her back. She grunted before then saying, “Sure, Midget.”


Chisana pouted. “Hey, Gee! Don’t you see how amazing this is? It’s a real relic, and it only cost me a pearl!”


Giya’s mouth fell open so that her jaw crashed down onto the floor. “A… a pearl?” she repeated, her ears falling. “A pearl!”


The smaller mare nodded frantically so that her white mane was shaken up. When she paused to speak again, her hair was so fluffed up that she looked somewhat akin to a seriously windblown duckling. “Yeah, and I—”


“Chisana! That’s over two weeks’ pay!” Giya huffed and flattened her ears further. “I haven’t even so much as seen a pearl in the last few months! And you went and spent one on… on… What is it, you fool?”


Chisana beamed. “It’s a relic, I told you!” she said, trotting zippily on the spot. “See these runes? Well, they aren’t active as such ‘cos they’re just copies, as in, they weren’t drawn by a runist… Ah! But they’re still spot on, and see this ship here?” Chisana giggled as she pressed her hoof to the canvas. “Well, it’s a pirate ship! And it was powered by runes back in the day, ‘cos they’re scrawled all over the beams and everything! So it must be magic, right? Just imagine what I could find out if the copies around the edge are about this ship? Isn’t that great?”


Giya turned away with a quick swish of her tail. “Wow. Great.” She sighed and began walking away, her legs buckling at first as she adjusted to carrying the extra weight. “I’d rather buy a new cow though.”


“Ha!” Chisana said, snorting. “This scroll could contain the very secrets of runic magic, and you're worried about a cow?”


Giya rolled her eyes. “If that makes you happy,” she said with a smirk. “But that aside, I do need to get back. The girls need some of this hay and I’m starving and—” She stiffened mid stride, her foreleg raised. “Oh. Uh, Chi? Mind coming back to mine and lending a hoof quickly?”


“Giya…” The small mare sighed, but smirked all the while. “What did you forget?”


There was a long moment of silence before Giya even attempted to reply. “I… You see, it’s just that…”


“Spit it out.”


“I forgot to feed the chickens. And the ducks. And the sheep.” There was another brief pause. “Again.”


“Oh, wow. You almost impress me with your forgetfulness sometimes, y’know, ri—”


A short cough cut Chisana off, and both mares turned to the side quickly. They both knew that particular voice, even if Giya had mistaken her earlier on. Indeed, the island’s treasured Magpait stood there before the pair, a warm smile upon her face. Her pink eyes were shining with glee below the black hood of her cape. “Hello, fillies,” she said softly. With an artist’s steady hoof she fiddled idly with the feathers of her right foreleg.


Chisana’s eyes widened momentarily before she calmed down and grinned, raising a small hoof. “Magpait!” she cried. She grinned even more as the mare in question eagerly shook her hoof. “It’s an honour!”


Magpait rolled those bright, almost breathtaking eyes of hers. Why, Giya couldn’t help but wonder, did such a simple action make her legs suddenly feel like they were filled with air?


“The honour is all mine, little filly,” Magpait said, but she then turned her attention to Giya. “I am sorry. This must be a brief encounter, but I had a request to ask of you.”


“O-Oh?” Giya murmured, her breathing suddenly fast. Standing had never been so hard before.


“That old horseshoe you just laid your hooves upon…” she murmured, not quite meeting Giya’s gaze all of a sudden. When she did, her eyes were suddenly burning with a seriousness that did not seem befitting of her previous joy. “Might I have it? I am willing to compensate you, of course!”


Giya gasped. “Oh!” She lifted her hoof and glanced down at the rusty horseshoe which was now sat there. It fitted perfectly and her ears fell—but then she remembered who was asking and gasped with a squeak. It was fine; she could get another. “I, uh, y-yeah! You can horseshoe my have!” Giya laughed and grinned at Magpait, but stiffened when she realised what she had said. She glanced at the horseshoe and her glee fell further as she took a small step backwards. “No, I… I mean, I…”


Chisana snorted. “Excuse my friend here,” she said as she draped her hoof over Giya’s shoulders. “I think she might’ve had one too many bucks to the head from her cows.” 


“Hey!”


Chisana struck out at Giya’s flank quickly, shutting her up. “What she wants to say is, she’ll get back to you. Right, Gee?”


Giya opened her mouth to contest, but she was quick to notice Chisana’s raised rearhoof and instead held her tongue before nodding dumbly. She glanced between the two mares at either side of her and let her ears fall. Sweat suddenly beaded on her brow and she began to fidget on the spot, something which Magpait seemingly noticed.


“It’s alright, little filly!” she cried, beaming. “I only wondered if I could have it; there are other places I can get a horseshoe, after all. Worry not, worry not.”


She turned tail and rose a hoof, waving quickly before she slunk off. She kept to the shadows with her head bowed, not talking to anypony. Giya whimpered as she did so before she spun on Chisana, scowling. “What was that for?” she cried. Chisana merely giggled.


“Did you hear yourself? Horseshoe my have? You weren’t thinking straight!” She snorted. “It’s a rusty old horseshoe but you obviously seem to like it, for whatever weird reason. No point giving it away just ‘cos you suddenly forgot how to speak.”


“I…” Giya frowned and rubbed her head with her hoof, then looking down at the horseshoe. It was, indeed, just a rusty old thing—so why did she feel like it was so special? And, even more, why did her brain suddenly go on strike like that?


“C’mon, girl. You’ve got animals to feed, right?”







“Sir!” a young stallion, his age only barely into double digits, squeaked from a large, marble arch. He danced about on the spot, his eyes flitting from one thing to the next. “Dato, Sir, there’s a ship approaching!”


“Calm down,” a second stallion, a few years his senior, said as he rose to his hooves slowly from his seat at the opposite end of the hall. His face was solemn and lacked any traces of happiness. His lips did not so much as curve at all, and his eyes were nearly void of colour. They were virtually grey, in fact, though a rich-brown tint could just be noticed if one was to stare for long enough. 


But nopony ever did.


“I’ll see to the ship,” he said, his words slow and unenthusiastic. He dragged his hooves as he made his way down to the teenage stallion’s side; when he got there he forced a slight smile onto his face and tried to find some happiness in his heart to brighten his eyes, but his companion only looked away and scarpered backwards. He sighed, his shoulders falling. “Thank you.”


“N-no problem, Sir!” the younger stallion cried. Before anything else could be said, he had zipped out without a trace, only the slight wet marks of his hoof prints betraying that he had been there. Dato watched after him quietly, not even breathing for a few moments.


The stallion acted exactly the same as every other commoner on this Faust-forsaken rock. But it was no surprise; Dato’s heritage and status had that effect on ponies, both of his status and of the lowly.


“Another day, another ship,” he grumbled as he walked out onto the damp wooden dock. He watched in quiet contemplation as the vessel crept closer, gliding through the Sea’s great expanse. She was an intimidating presence indeed, those treacherous waters, but She was also the sole reason anypony had ever managed to settle here without starving. She had provided the settler ponies with oysters, one of the only reliable food sources of the time. Though there was most often enough to eat nowadays, their pearls were still regarded as the one and only form of actual currency. 


Equestrian bits from the mainland were banned.


The ship which had, by now, reached the dock was nothing special. Slightly rusted at the edges and easily in need of a touch up, with its masts equally shoddy and the sails beginning to fray, it was just a bog-standard merchant’s ship.


Its crew, however, had a love for their job which Dato rarely saw in his daily meet-and-greet with the captains; they laughed and chatted happily as they carried the cargo from below deck, and when one pony got tired another would take their place. They took the wooden crates with care, never so much as letting them be jostled once. Many crews would have just flung them from the ship; it was at times like those that Dato watched on in horror as the highly-anticipated, once a month delivery shattered (quite literally) before his eyes. Though, truth be told, he wasn’t worried for himself so much as for the reprications a careless crew would later suffer.


Mainland merchants had a reputation for keeping their bits close to their side, and that was the same when it came to the goods they were trading. It was just a shame that it had to extend to him; for his whole life he had known that the family business would be given to him, but that didn't make him want it, and nor did it make him a popular pony. The majority of the islanders held a certain, to put it lightly, mistrust for the rich.


“This is your dock, sir, is it not?”


Dato stiffened and turned around slowly. Maybe others would have yelped or jumped or reacted in some other manner befitting a shock, but not he. He was beyond such enthusiasm by now.


“Of course,” he replied with a nod. Though his tail was clamped, he at least managed to raise his ears enough to make himself look somewhat interested for the mare who stood before him, a brand new saddlebag draped over her back and tied underneath her folded wings. “Is everything going smoothly with the delivery?”


The mare nodded. “But of course,” she drawled with a flick of her tail. “My crew are very dedicated to their job. And I pay them well.”


Dato’s eyebrows rose into his forelock and, for a moment, he stood taller of his own accord. It was only a moment before realisation dawned on him, however, and he slouched very slightly. A frown formed on his face. “You pay well?” he repeated. She snorted.


“Well, among other… encouragement tactics,” she said with a quick shrug of her shoulders. She flicked her tail again, and this time it made a small whipcrack sound. “But, whatever the case, I am hoping this partnership of ours will be a beneficial one. I have a whole list of ponies who love the idea of homemade, hoofmade products from this oh-so-secretive island of yours.”


Dato nodded. He was quiet for a few seconds before he found a long-buried spark of his burnt out fire. It wasn’t much, and he certainly didn’t feel the excitement he was meant to have at the formation of a new, successful trade deal—but that didn’t matter. He was no actor, but he could at least fake a smile and an almost eager lilt in his voice.


“I’d never turn down a new trade partner,” he said. The mare beamed and trotted slightly on the spot, watching him with sharp eyes. “You must be quite eager to do business to actually go to the effort of finding this place. What with the old curse, and all.”


“Well, that at least explains why my first few attempts at reaching this island were… well, failures. I can’t say I ever heard of such a curse, though?”


Dato nodded as he struggled to contain the sigh which threatened to escape him. Why was. “It’s an ancient curse, back from before our village was formed. It stops ponies who know where the island is from finding it—but it’s finally starting to wear off, which is why we started trading. It’s tough, but a good captain will be able to find it.”


The mare batted her eyelashes. “Well, I do pride myself on being a most excellent captain!” she said, a smug grin on her muzzle. After a few moments she then let her ears fall slightly and she stood taller, her nose in the air slightly as she flicked her tail. “So, I do believe we have a deal to complete?”


Dato couldn’t hold back the sigh this time—but quickly masked it by flicking his mane and trying to grin. “Of course,” he said as he turned on the spot, dragging his hooves back into his office. It was dark and cold inside—being on the seafront, it needed walls to protect it from the icy spray—but he didn’t mind. It tended to fit his mood, anyway, he thought ever so bitterly.


Dato slunk around his desk after pulling out a chair for the mare. He stood and waited stiffly, with as much patience as he could muster under the circumstances. He didn't care much for trade deals, but he had no choice in the matter; it was his business, whether he wanted it or not, and it at least paid the bills. Paid them generously, it should be noted. He didn't want for anything.


Well, anything materialistic, at least—but such was his life. He was used to it.


“I do not intend to be here for long, Sir,” the mare said as she sat down, the action making the chair squeak slightly. Dato winced at the sound, rising slightly from his own seat so that his weight was not on it at all. It only made him appear more eager, that he knew. 


“I second that,” he replied. He let his eyes settle on the mare’s firmly, but she was not the sort to cower from such forwardness. She was a businesspony, as was he. “The delivery is as we agreed?”


“Certainly. And as you will see, I have upheld my end of the bargain, so I should hope you have your trade goods lined up for me in return?” The mare leaned forwards in her seat but, at Dato’s quick nod, rose back up to her hooves and rummaged through her saddlebags. From it she procured a few small documents which she promptly slipped across the smooth, polished oak table. A quill quickly followed. After only a rushed skim read of the contents, Dato then took the feather between his teeth and signed it with a large, cursive D, to which the mare grinned. 


“Done.” Dato pushed the paper back and then fell back so that he was sat on his haunches, his forehooves folded. Some merchants were sticklers for detail; he was only appreciative of the fact that this mare was not.


“Thank you very much, good stallion,” she said with a glance outside. She then trotted to the door and sighed, the sea breeze suddenly making her silvery mane fly around her. “Might I ask, are there any good hotels nearby?”


Dato froze. When he didn't reply immediately the mare turned around and frowned at him, her wings rustling slightly. From his limited knowledge of pegasus behaviour, he could only assume that she was somewhat disgruntled. 


“Nothing to say? I should have expected as much.” She hung her head. “Any—ugh—high class inns nearby?”


Now that was a word he knew. Though he certainly didn't go there for a chitchat so much as to drown his woes for the night.


“There’s always The Barn Inn, just a short trot away? It's probably the most… reputable of establishments here. Doesn't often see merchant patrons, though.”


The mare shrugged. “I am tired of being at sea. A night at land would be good before heading home—and I am ahead of schedule, anyway.”


“And your crew?”


“They’ll be alright on the ship tonight, if you don't mind us docking for that long?” The mare batted her eyelashes and watched Dato quietly, her wings fluffing. He didn't need the encouragement; it didn't bother him. 


“Yeah, sure,” he grumbled, but quickly stood taller again at the mare’s suspicious frown. It was then that his gaze fell on the mare’s seat, and he leaned in to pick up the scrap of white fabric—a scarf, it transpired—which now lay there. “Is this yours, Ma’am?”


The pegasus snorted. “Most certainly not,” she said, beginning to trot out happily. Dato shrugged and placed it back on the arm of the chair, but not before the mare began to leave. He stiffened and then shot forwards.


“Excuse me!” he cried, suddenly realising something he'd forgotten. “I’m sorry; I never caught your name, only that of your business. Uh…” He scratched his chin before finishing, “It was High Tail Traders, was it not?”


The mare nodded. “Yes, that is correct. And I go by Platinum Bit, though I rarely get called that over Boss.” She smiled. “Nevertheless, this deal should go well. I imagine we will be seeing more of each other in the future.”


Dato nodded, then taking a step back and watching as she left. When she had turned the corner and was out of sight, he then returned his attention to the scarf, wrapping it around his neck. It was a light and very slightly frayed thing, not really of any practical use—but something about it simply called to him. It seemed special, though why he felt that way he didn't know.


It looked pretty good on him, though.







The day had passed slowly, or at least Giya thought so, but such had not been a surprise. With the excitement of the game later on—it was only a few rounds of buckball, a mainland game which had been introduced a few years ago by a merchant’s son, but it was a rare chance to unwind—the drag had been inevitable. The joy as the teams assembled in the old cow field, though, was surely unbeatable.


It had been too long since Giya had simply taken an evening off to have fun. It hadn’t been easy, though; her mother and father, ailing and weakened though they were, had practically shoved her into the game and locked the gate behind her.


The whistle shrieked and the ball was thrown up. It rose seamlessly through the air and then plummeted, speeding towards the two waiting stallions. Each shot their partner a confident grin as they raised their rear hooves in readiness and braced themselves on their forelegs. And, when the ball was barely a metre from them, they struck out simultaneously. The larger stallion overshot, but his foe’s aim was true. The ball was sent zipping away from the impact; it sped towards the opposite end of the field where Chisana skipped excitedly, a bucket balanced on a harness on her back. She giggled as she jumped up and give a buck in midair, angling the container just right so that the ball fell into it.


She did not, however, consider the impact of the ball’s momentum. The moment her hooves touched the ground it sprung back out from the bucket, hurtling back towards the other end of the pitch. Half way down, the large stallion reared up and struck it with his muzzle, giving it the extra boost that it needed to just land in an elevated bucket.


“Score!”


Giya laughed from her position, sat at the sidelines. She, too, had a bucket harness on, but she was still drenched in sweat and panting from the last round; Chisana could take her place for now. The game was only designed for small teams and this match was a friendly one all the same. It didn't matter whether the best players joined in, for it was only a means to have fun with each other.


Caught up in the action of the game, it wasn't until the play paused for somepony to climb up and retrieve the ball from the basket—being an island of earth ponies could sometimes have its challenges—that Giya took note of a strange pony lurking at the outskirts of her fields. She frowned and shrugged off the harness quickly and, after checking that the players were still occupied—they were—she leapt over the fence and in the stranger’s direction. In the dimming light of the sun it was almost hard to make them out, or such was the case until she got closer. By the time she was a few metres away, her grin had fallen and a scowl was plastered on her face instead.


“Dato, isn't it?” she spat, ears pinned. He nodded quietly, but did not say a word. “What reason do you have, coming all the way out here?”


Dato’s head sunk slightly so that his pale yellow mane, the same colour as sun-soaked sand, fell into his eyes. Giya could only snort at the feeble, timid display and she struck at the dirt with her hoof. It was the hoof with the strange horseshoe on, she noticed idly.


“I knew there was to be a match, and heard the commotion,” Dato began. Not once did he meet her eyes, though perhaps she could not blame him. “I wondered…”


Giya snorted loudly. “Don't tell me you wanted to join us?” she snapped, a suddenly cold humour in her eyes. “Don't think I don't know what you and your lot are like. You're all the same, you high-horse merchants.” She stomped her hoof and then took a step closer, eyes narrowed. Dato, taken aback, yelped and scrambled away from her. “Why would we let you join in our game? These occasional nights off are all we have to look forwards to, really… Why would we let somepony like you spoil it?”


Dato hung his head and turned away, but stiffened at her repeated loud snort. Before he could say anything, though, she hissed, “Get off of my land.”


He did as he was told without question. Once he had gone, Giya snorted once and stomped her hoof triumphantly—but found herself suddenly lacking in enthusiasm for her game. She let out a small sigh. It was as such that she found her hooves carrying her slowly, slowly from the fields and back to the house; when Chisana paused mid-match to ask where she was going, she only cried back, "I’m beat!” and crept away. Giya couldn’t help but cringe at the dull thud which then sounded when the ball then collided with the smaller mare’s cheek.


But still she continued on her way, moving each leg robotically. One, two, three, four. Breathe. One, two, three, four. Breathe. It quickly became a slow, rhythmic pattern which let her lose any interest she may have had, her brain shutting down. So much so that, when she nudged her way through the light front door to her parents’ home, she barely even noticed their worried calls of “Giya?” as she walked past. Instead, she merely carried on as if they were not there. She all but fell through the beaded curtain which separated her room from the living space, then collapsed on her rug. And then she simply lay there, still.


“Giya?” A somewhat croaky voice sounded as the curtains parted a few minutes later, to reveal an old mare. Her brow was furrowed and her teeth ground together ever so slowly. “Baby girl, are you alright?”


“Mhmm.”


“Are you sure?”


“Mhmm.”


The old mare took a slow step backwards, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears. “The game was for all of you, you know. Not just the others. We wanted to see you having a good time, baby girl.”


Giya shrugged and buried her muzzle deeper into the cover, slowly rubbing the rusted horseshoe which now lay in front of her. “Mhmm.”


There came no response but a small whimper as the old mare backed away slowly. Giya’s ears fell at the sound of the departure and the silence that she was then left with—but it didn’t last for long. Indeed, when she eventually moved a few minutes later and opened her heavy, tear stained eyes, she came to realise she was no longer alone with her bleak thoughts.


For a small creature, no larger than her hoof and cream in colour, with a single patch of brown on its belly, now floated before her. It made no sound, and only regarded her with quiet curiosity. She, in turn, eyed it carefully before letting out a breath and looking away—but, when it turned out to be more than a simple hallucination, she could barely contain her scream. In a flash she bolted upright and slammed herself against the wall, reared up and forehooves striking through the air. The little creature made no attempt to move, though, and merely smiled.


“Hey, hey, it's okay!” it chirped, wagging its tiny little tail. “I'm not going to hurt you! In fact, I’m here to make your life more exciting!”


Giya snorted and bared her teeth ever so slightly. Her green eyes flashed at the same time, a fact which the little creature didn't miss. It floated away from her slowly, paws raised as if in surrender.


“I’m only here to help you become a superhero!”







Dato sighed as he slipped into the cool water of his swimming pool, just as he did each night. But today, it did not give him the relief it so normally did. Something was wrong.


It was a few moments before he realised what, exactly, the issue was. The fine white scarf was still wound loosely around his neck, just about avoiding the water. He yelped and scrambled back, reaching up to take it off—but then a quiet voice interrupted him.


“If you want to be popular, you might not want to do that.”


“Wha—?” Dato began, spinning in the water. It was a quiet whistle which actually got his attention. “What are you?”


Something small, not so unlike the island’s native red pandas but rounder, looked up at him with dark, chocolate brown eyes. “I’m a pamilya. One of… seven, I dunno? But that's not important now. What is important, mate, is that I can give you powers. And I've never heard of a mare who could turn down a superhero coltfriend...”


Dato scratched behind his ears, kicking slightly away from the edge of the pool. The ends of the scarf got damp, but that didn't bother him particularly. “This seems like a scam,” he eventually murmured, after a few minutes of consideration. The little pamilya merely shrugged its shoulders.


“Eh, whatever. How am I meant to be scamming you, anyway? I've not asked for anything in return for my awesome powers yet.”


“Uh…”


The pamilya snorted and held out a paw. Dato batted it away quickly, though a tiny spark of hope flashed in his dulled eyes. The little creature leapt at the chance immediately. “You feed me, and I give you magic powers to save the island. You’ll be the most popular pony here. What d’you say?”


The little creature floated closer slowly until, with a whimper, Dato didn't really have any choice but to give in and hold out his own hoof. The pamilya’s paw was smaller than the nails which held his horseshoe on. “Well, I've got nothing to lose,” Dato eventually grunted. The little creature grinned—and then promptly fell from the air to snuggle up in the stallion’s mane.


“Great! You've got a good life ahead of you now, Mate.” It yawned loudly, then let its eyes close slowly. “And soon as you get me something garlic-y, I’ll explain how it all works. I like garlic. But until then, magandang gabi, Dato. G’night.”


Dato kicked his legs through the water slowly, stunned. Numerous times he attempted to open his mouth to speak, but to no avail, or at least until something caught his attention.


“Hey, little panda thing! How do you know my name?”


The only reply was a snore.
> Chapter One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon slipped into the sky gracefully that night, her stars waiting on her eagerly as they shone through the darkness. They hadn't been this bright in a long time, and for the villagers of the island it was a sight they simply had to see. A rare, breathtaking display of nature; Princess Luna had certainly outdone herself.

But for two young ponies, the show up above was not so interesting. For a now unenthusiastic  Giya, especially, there were more important matters to be dealt with—such as the little cream creature which had now curled up before her, grooming its fur with its paws. It had hidden under the rug whilst she had —most reluctantly, it should be noted—eaten her supper and was now dusting itself off. It didn't grumble or complain, to give it credit, and merely watched the mare with a contemplative frown on its face.

“Are you alright?” it eventually asked, ceasing its grooming to fly a little closer. In response, Giya only opened her eyes and followed its every move, her ears folding back against her neck even further. 

“Yeah. Sure,” she mumbled, rolling over so that she faced the wall. After a moment, the little creature then flew up higher and floated closer to her. It landed by her muzzle, smiling.

“You're not happy,” it said, and a small blush grew on its cheeks when Giya flinched. “Sorry. I… I'm really not gonna hurt you, y’know?” 

There came no response but a half hearted flick of a tail.

“Look, I… I don't know what’s got you sad, but—”

At that, Giya stiffened a little. “Dato,” she snapped, her teeth grinding together. “He’s a merchant, living the high life while the little ponies like me struggle to eke a living at the bottom of the pile.”

The creature was quiet for a moment. “Jealousy, then?”

Giya shook her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position. The fur around her eyes was soaked from the tears which no longer fell.  “No. I just…” A sigh escaped her lips. “Tonight was meant to be a break from all the work. My parents aren’t well, but they did everything for me so I could play buckball—but then he showed up. Wanted to join in our game, supposedly. And I just… The nerve of him!” She stood up and snorted. The little creature was quiet, though its eyes were slightly wider in fear. “He could pay somepony to play with him, and pay to win as well! And yet he dares come down to our game, wanting to join in with us! Us, the common peasants!”

The little creature drifted closer. When Giya didn't flinch away, it placed a small paw on her shoulder. “You know… he could have been genuine. There's always the possibility, even if he doesn't seem like that sort of pony.”

“I doubt it. They're all the same.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell over the room before Giya flattened her ears once more and flared her nostrils quickly. “Why am I telling you this, anyway? Who—what—even are you?”

The little creature grinned and looked as if it had perked up instantly. It seemed to almost bounce as it moved. “Oh, I’m a pamilya!” she began, as if such a fact was the most obvious thing in the world. Giya raised a skeptical eyebrow, though it was hard to see through her forelock. “We grant powers to ponies! Make you into superheroes!”

“We?” 

The little pamilya blushed. “Sorry, I should've explained better. There are a number of pamilya, and each of us grant a different power! I give you the power of creation, and my opposite gives destructive powers.”

“Your opposite?”

“Oh, right. So, we pamilya come in pairs, so to speak. Each of us has a yin to our yang; that is to say, our partner is essentially our opposite. So, you know, the name.” The little creature shrugged. “It's quite fitting, actually; our creator named us all in pairs as well, so my opposite is called Luku, whilst my name is Lumikha. And might I say, it's a pleasure to meet you, Giya!”

Giya frowned. The heavy weight of her depression had now been fully lifted, replaced instead with a cloud of curious confusion. “Woah, woah,” she whispered, holding up her hooves. “Your creator? What do you mean? And, hey… are you some sort of stalker? How do you know who I am?”

Lumikha laughed. “I get so ahead of myself…” she murmured—Giya assumed she was female—and placed her paw on her forehead. It was just about big enough to cover the small brown print there. “I’ll tell you about our creator in time—though, indeed, we weren't born like you ponies. But for now… well, I think this is overwhelming enough, based on your expression right now! And, as for your name, you are my Chosen; the pony who was destined to be my partner in fighting evil and supervillains! Of course I know who you are, silly!”

Giya blinked a few times before her head swam. “Overwhelmed is right,” she whispered. “I could have sworn you just said something about fighting…”

Lumikha nodded rapidly. “Super villains, yeah!” she finished. “I mean, we weren’t originally designed to make ponies into superheroes, but here we are anyway!”

For a moment, Giya felt her curiosity spike and she leaned forwards slightly. She was hasty to draw back, though, and she kept quiet—but the world around her was not in such a calm mood, it seemed. Through the still nighttime air, a shrill scream reverberated. Giya leapt to her hooves immediately, but her suddenly terrified expression so perfectly countered Lumikha’s confident grin.

“It’s time, Giya!” she yelled, throwing her little paws up and wagging her tiny tail. “You just say let’s hunt, and I’ll transform you! But I—”

“What?” Giya reached out and grabbed Lumikha’s ear gently between her teeth. She quickly turned her upside down and poked her gently with a hoof, a small smile gracing her muzzle at the indignant squeak which then sounded. “Hunting? Why would I ever say that? I’m a pony, and let’s hunt is somethi—woah!”

The exclamation was not exactly quiet, but Giya’s shock was great enough to at least muffle it so that all she could produce was a breathy cry. Lumikha, too, squealed. She immediately became a blur and sped towards the shiny new horseshoe, but when she crashed into it no thud came; rather she morphed with the metal so that it flashed bright white. The nails were quickly replaced with small patches not unlike the one on Lumikha’s forehead. A leopard print against the shiny silver of the shoe itself, if one had to describe them.

Giya’s hooves lifted gently up from the floor and flashed a bright green, magic engulfing them entirely. Before her very eyes a pale cream material formed from thin air, splotched with warm brown rosette markings. As the aura progressed up her body she whimpered and thrashed slightly, but she could not find the confidence to speak or call for help. Not until the magic fell away, at least, to leave her clothed in a full-body suit which, it seemed, had elasticity enough to keep in one piece with any movement. The mask covering her eyes was a cute touch, she noted—but then she couldn’t help but yelp when she noticed that which they were hiding.

Her eyes were fully green, as if she were a cat.

But by this point, she could hardly remain surprised for long. She had just been talking about hunting supervillains with the tiny, magical creature which was now hiding in her horseshoe, after all.

“What in Tartarus is going on tonight?” Giya whispered as she turned to the side, glancing over her new suit. It was plain and simple, lacking in any adornments aside from the small belt which wrapped around her waist. Off of it a tri-blade boomerang hung. It was silver in colour, just like the horseshoe, but the leopard print splotches on it were all bunched up around the middle.

A second scream rang out, and in that instant Giya suddenly felt a cascade of courage the likes of which was enough—overwhelmingly so—to make all four of her strong legs unsteady. The power that she felt…

Giya trotted to the window and threw it open, revelling in the cool breeze which hit her in the face. The slightly salty air rejuvenated her, making her stand taller and flick her tail happily. But she had a job to do; that much was obvious, what with her supposedly being a superhero now. It was as such that she hopped up onto the window frame and took a long, deep breath before jumping out into the garden. 

She acted as if on instinct, her body somehow knowing just what she was meant to do. In one fluid motion she flung her head back to grab the tri-blade boomerang just as she broke into a heavy gallop, then taking it from her mouth so that she held it in her forehoof. With a powerful push from her hindlegs she leapt into the air and began to spin it as fast as she could; she hadn't known what to expect, but it was undeniably the right idea. Indeed, such a hunch was proven when the boomerang’s blades flashed a bright white and gave off a small pulse of light, after which she was sent zooming up into the night sky.

She tumbled on the light breeze, her own shrill scream merging with the increasingly loud cries of the ponies she was—supposedly—tasked with saving. Her heart thundered in her chest and she flailed about in the air, kicking her back legs wildly. She was an earth pony, not a pegasus; she wasn't meant to be up here!

She stopped spinning the boomerang not long after and gasped for air when she crashed back down to the ground. It was not a huge fall, but it was a good ten metres at least. Maybe more, even. Whatever the case, she couldn't help the whimper and sniffle that escaped her from the twinge. 

She rose to her hooves slowly and eyed the boomerang which now lay on the floor, eyes narrowed. She walked forwards cautiously, careful with each hoofstep so as not to make her body ache any more, and picked it up with as gentle a force as she could. With it held in her hoof, once again, she then rose into a rear so that she was stood upright. She tentatively spun it once.

Again came the brief flash of white light, and Giya so nearly lost her nerve at the sight of it. But she gritted her teeth so that they squeaked and pressed her ears against her neck, as if doing so would release some of her tension. She then spun it again, once, twice, thrice. As she did so magic poured from it, encasing her body as she began to float upwards. 

No, no! Enough! She bit back a yelp as she immediately ceased the spinning, falling back to the ground. She couldn't do it! There was no way—

A massive scream sounded, louder than any of the others. It was in that moment that Giya’s blood ran cold and her muscles stiffened, for that was a cry she had heard many times. Usually of excitement, not terror, but there could still be no denying it; it was the scream of none other than her best friend. 

She had to do this. She would never make it to Chisana on hoof—it was at least a mile away, but perhaps more—but she was the only one who could save them.  And the only means to get there was to go directly—which meant she had to fly.

“Breathe. Breathe, Giya.”

She hardly had time to pause before her forehooves began mechanically turning the tri-blade boomerang. Her body jolted from the floor and she screamed as she was thrown around uncontrollably, but she couldn’t waste time in hesitating. Instead she ground her teeth and closed her eyes and sent out a silent plea to the Gods, praying that one might hear her. She then spun the boomerang faster and tilted it slightly. It took all of her strength to squint open her eyes and not cry out again when the magic threw her to the side.

It was like nothing she had ever felt before, she soon realised. She was only a few metres above the ground, if that, but the cool nips of the wind against her underbelly made her shudder and each little tickle from water—individual droplets carried on the late night breeze from the sea—sent tingles down her spine. With each second that passed she felt her heart rate steady and level off and her body, too, relaxed. Her rear legs hung limp below her as she spun the boomerang slowly in her forehooves. A moment later, when a sudden rush of confidence flushed through her, a strong grin appeared on her face.

She tilted the boomerang ever so slightly and yelped as she was jerked backwards. Returning it to the horizontal position, she took a deep breath and then adjusted it slightly once more so that she slowly, slowly crept forwards; when a small gust of wind licked at her side, instinct seemed to kick in. Only a small flick of the hoof was needed to keep her creeping in the same direction, only slightly thrown off course. It was a success which made her laugh with glee and made her eyes suddenly darker, bolder, stronger. And, without even having to think about it, she put in a single, stronger spin and shot forwards and up, not quite steady but in control enough to laugh with newfound confidence.





“Some tea, sir?”

Dato nodded his head once, but did not immediately answer. Instead, with his short tail tucked between his legs—as it so often was—he walked over to the already crackling fireplace at the opposite side of the room. There, he sat down on the large fur rug which waited for him, already set up by a servant with all of his record-keeping books and quills, and folded his hooves beneath him. A small smile graced his face as he did so, the warmth from the flames falling over his body in a blanket of calming orange light. He then smiled at the small filly who stood in the doorway. 

“That would be much appreciated, Kalaro,” he said. When his attention was then forced to business, however, his cheerfulness vanished.

The space was dark and cold, not like most houses on the island; the thick stone walls which kept out the blazing heat were a sign of his family’s wealth. It was the ancestral house, after all. And that fact was constantly forced down upon him, and upon anypony who dared step hoof in the house; there was a sense of grandeur about every room, from the dining halls to the kitchens to the servants’ quarters. There was to be no escaping it, for sure.

More than once Dato had found himself pitying the poor unicorn elite of Canterlot, living out their—presumably miserable—days on the mainland. Though he did not care for the unicorns’ laziness—it was a trait all earth ponies despised—he could always sympathise with their situations. His house, though akin to a castle or temple by the island’s standards, was supposedly a mere mud hut in comparison to the mansions over there. It was hard to imagine, but undeniably true. Dato had seen firsthoof how overdressed many of his clients were, and many of those were merely the not-so-rich middlemares as opposed to the actual businessponies who controlled vast trade empires. It must have been awful for them.

But then again, maybe not. He let his mind wander back to how Platinum Bit had conducted herself earlier and snorted. She certainly wasn't as displeased with her situation as he was. And then there were those lucky ponies like the farmers and the blacksmiths, only just getting by but at least doing something they loved. They played games together at night, chatted by day, and generally led happy lives. Oh, how he longed for such simplicity; they never appreciated how lucky they were.

But he had work to do. With a grumble he reached out with a hoof and began to pull the first heavy record book towards him, his leg brushing against the soft fabric of the scarf. He had forgotten he had been wearing it, actually—a fact which he would not be doing again, it seemed, considering the glower which rested on the little face floating before him.

“Sheesh!” the little pamilya cried as it shook itself so that its fur stood on end. It then wetted a paw with its tongue and smoothed the hair back down, its tail flicking to and fro all the while. Its eyes, the darkest shade of chocolate brown imaginable, followed Dato without fail. “Do you realise how stuffy it is in that scarf, hiding from that slave of yours?”

Dato’s ears fell and his teeth ground together. “None of my staff are slaves,” he bit back. “They are servants; I pay them for their work. I would never stoop so low as to—”

The pamilya rolled its eyes and held up its forelegs. “Slaves, servants, it doesn't matter to me,” it said. It then plopped down on the floor, kneading its tiny stomach with an equally small paw. A low rumble could be heard. “Ugh. I thought you were gonna order me something garlic-y?”

Dato fiddled with the feather of the quill between his teeth. “You told me to get you some garlic,” he interjected, his voice flat and emotionless. “I never agreed.”

“Whatever. I need some garlic, ‘cos as much as it pains me to say this, you have work to do.”

Dato sighed and hung his head, the nib of the quill then falling into the ink. He drew it out slowly and then flipped the book open, turning a few parchment-like sheets quickly. When he pressed the tip to the paper, though, he found the numbers and words would simply not come to him. He drew back and tried again. Once more he could only make a single splodge of ink.

The pamilya laughed. When Dato let out a held breath and turned to frown at him, however, the sight of it rolling on its little back in mid-air brought a small, rare smile to his muzzle. He put the quill down quickly and sat straighter. “You mentioned that I have work to do?” he prompted, pulling the little red panda closer to him. It ceased its chortling to stare at him with a large, barely contained grin. Its eyes were dark brown, not so unlike Dato’s own, but somehow they seemed to shine brightly in the dark room all the same when it nodded.

“I sure did,” it said before it folded its paws over its tiny chest. “Don’t like it, though, ‘cos it tires me out so bad.”

“And what, exactly, is this ‘it’ you speak of?”

The pamilya shrugged and looked to the wall. It then floated up into the air and looked about, as if lost. “Ugh. It’s very dark in here, y’know? Where’re the windows?” It snorted. “I mean, why have you got these walls anyway? This island is so hot normally, or at least, that’s how I remember it. But, I guess lots of stuff changes when you skip centuries, but—”

Dato coughed quietly. “You were telling me wha—wait. Skip centuries? You can’t be saying…”

The pamilya nodded quickly. Its tail flicked contentedly and grinned, revealing two tiny—but lethally sharp—teeth on the bottom of his mouth. “Sure. I’m a centuries-old god, you mortal peasant!” it cried, throwing its paws out dramatically. Dato snorted, and the little pamilya winked. “Well, the centuries old bit’s correct. The god part… well, I grant magical powers, which is pretty much the same. And with that scarf of yours I, Luku, the pamilya of destruction, shall transform you into the stallion of legend: Ailurus!”

Dato sniffed the scarf around his neck once. “I appreciate the offer,” he began, “but I struggle to see it. Prove it to me. Give me these powers of yours.”

Luku rubbed his eyes slowly and yawned. With his tiny paws, he then placed one on his forehead and fell back so that he lay on his back, his chest rising and falling over-dramatically. He let his eyes slip shut and kept them closed momentarily; he opened them slowly once before they closed once again.

“Oh, my poor, aching stomach!” he cried, his paw now rubbing the jet black fur of his underbelly. A small whimper escaped him. “I wish I could help you, Dato, but I simply have eaten nothing—nothing—for hundreds and hundreds of years! I hardly have the energy left in me to open my heavy, heavy eyes… To transform you? Why, it might kill me!”

Dato let out a breath. “Right,” he murmured before he pushed himself up onto his hooves. With the rear, he knocked the books out of the way—just as some shrill sound caught his attention. His ears pricked and swivelled immediately but, aside from that, he did not move. Rather, he let his gaze trail upwards to the ceiling and he snorted quietly, before he attempted to continue on his way. He was stopped, though, by the little pamilya when it zipped in front of him, hovering in midair with a suddenly panicked scowl on its face.

“Well, heck,” he whispered to himself. “Lumi’s gonna kill me…”

Dato took a short step backwards. “What?” he grunted, his tail slightly flagged in surprise.

“Nothing, nothing!” Luku hastily cried, his tiny paws  waving in front of his face. “I’ll have to just suffer in silence for now. There's no time to explain though! Just say ‘rings on’, and I’ll transform you! You’ll know what to do from there—but your power, destruction, is only good for one shot. So make it count, got it?”

Dato shook his head. “You told me I'd be popular if I did this. How is destruction going to help ponies accept me?”

Luku grumbled and fiddled with his claws. “It's not the power, mate,” he said, head shaking. “It's what you do with it that makes you a good pony, right?”

Dato was quiet. The outside world, however, was not; the air was pierced suddenly by a chorus of screams. And in that instant, Dato knew what to do.

Such exhilaration hadn't flowed through his veins in many a year. Dato chortled, a rare sound, and stood taller than before, his usually-hunched back complaining at the action which it had forgotten it could do. With his nose to the ceiling, he reared up. His forehooves struck through the air. And, before doubt could settle in his mind, he closed his eyes and yelled, “Luku! Rings on!”
> Chapter Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Giya’s hooves met the ground with a painful jolt. Almost instantly her forelegs buckled and she fell forwards. Her muzzle smashed into the ground. Dirt shot up her nostrils so that she leapt up and reeled backwards, snorting in distress.

“Ugh!” she hissed, flicking her head wildly and blowing out air repeatedly. After a few more tries, she then sighed and relaxed her body. She fumbled hastily for her boomerang; when her hoof landed upon it, she hooked it quickly onto her belt and began to look around. Suddenly, after all the commotion, it had gone quiet.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Perhaps she should have just stayed at home.

And then she heard Chisana’s scream again.

She gasped and reared up, then threw herself into a full gallop. She tossed her head and she leapt over loose rocks and pebbles, stumbling with every other step. But Giya carried on, her hooves tearing up the rich but dry dirt beneath her. A cloud of dust blew up in her wake.

Giya knew where she was headed. She had been close by that same morning: the Commons. Just past the market, it was the hub of the island.

She tore through the semi-wilting copse which enclosed the Commons, zipping around the trees with a newfound agility the likes of which she had never known before. She was clumsy by nature; this was truly liberating.

The trees thinned out quickly, Giya’s unfaltering speed carrying her through in record time. Another scream sounded over the thundering of her hooves; it was somepony else’s this time, but the sound still made her blood boil with unexpected fury. Whoever was behind this would pay—though she hadn’t quite worked out yet how she would stop this miscreant. A skin-tight all-in-one suit and a tri-blade boomerang would not usually be her choice of armour and weaponry. But this new determination spurred her on.

Giya skidded into the Commons just in time to hear a tremendous roar. The sound caused a massive barrage of wind to strike her, knocking her from her hooves so that she was hurled backwards. She shrieked but acted instinctively; she angled her body downwards and slammed her forehooves into the dirt below. She then  forced all of her weight down onto her legs, digging them deeper into the ground and giving her enough force to maintain her grip. 

The bellow died out not long later and the winds eased. With a yelp Giya fell to her stomach and cringed, a new pain sparking momentarily. Her fore legs now throbbed painfully. It seemed that the Fates seemed to think she hadn’t already been through enough.

Slowly, Giya forced her wobbly legs beneath her and rose up onto all four hooves. She then shook herself off gently and took a deep breath in. The cool air flooded her lungs and released a soothing chill into her chest, letting her relax a little.

“C’mon, Giya…” she whispered quietly, a small smile growing on her face as she began forwards. She faltered mid-stride. “Oh, for the Stars’ sake! Now I’m talking to myself?”

Another roar, even louder now and throwing up an even stronger wind, knocked her from her musings. It came from behind this time and was so powerful that she was thrown off her hooves. She hurtled upwards, shooting through the treeline. The view up here really was amazing. After a moment, however, she then plummeted, gravity having regained its hold upon her. She fell at an angle, heading straight towards the commons. The huddled, trembling crowd watched in terrified awe as the earth pony mare seemingly flew down towards them.

Giya hissed at the bite of the wind and fumbled for her boomerang, grabbing it quickly and spinning it hastily in her hoof. She was thrown off course almost immediately by the sudden velocity change. An ancient tree’s colossal trunk met her in the air; she grunted as her body wrapped itself around the wood before gravity snagged her once more and she fell, completely out of control and still a good way up in the air.

She couldn’t help it. She screamed, knowing full well that this fall would break every bone in her body. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. And then it happened. Her rump connected with something hard and she quietened, the pain surprisingly less than she had expected. After a moment she then let out a breath, knowing full well that it was her last.

Wait. How come she was still breathing?

Giya tensed her body, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But nothing did. And so, with a shaky breath, she squinted her eyes open and looked down.

It was a horrifying sight. Below her, a heavy-duty bamboo pole shook ever so slightly. She gulped and glanced to the side. No, not a pole; it was a trident. The prongs had impaled the tree at an angle, catching her mere milliseconds before she smashed into the ground. Oh, Stars.

How had it gotten there? Giya frowned and then turned her head again, looking hesitantly up to the handle of the trident. The sight that met her eyes made her gasp; a stallion floated down towards her, using a neck scarf as a parachute and grinning smugly.

He was a superhero too, it seemed. Just like she herself, this newcomer was clad entirely in a one-piece outfit, his being simpler than her own; it was two-toned, with a rusty-red top half and black for his rear legs. His mask, too, was that same lovely shade of brown, but with the exception that it was coloured white around the edges. His eyes were simply freakish, just like hers; they had developed an unnerving lack of white and were entirely brown in colour.

Giya shuddered.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise!” the newcomer cried, balancing on the tip of his trident’s handle. “The name’s… uh, Ailurus.”

Giya narrowed her eyes a little as she held out a hoof slowly. “Panthera,” she greeted with a nod. The way his eyes lit up at the sound of her voice, however, made a smile grow instantaneously.

“Well, isn’t that swell,” he barked. He guffawed loudly. Without hesitation he then bounced once on the tip of his trident and cried, “Hang on there!” before it shrunk in front of Panthera’s eyes; she hugged the tree for dear life, gasping. When she turned to face the stallion, however, her angry remark was lost when she saw how comfortably he swung from a branch a little higher up, kicking his hooves idly in the wind.

“Thanks a lot,” she snapped, but her words didn’t sound as grating as she would have liked. Ailurus, too, snorted before he stabbed his trident into the tree branch and clung onto the pole. It extended quickly, lowering him without trouble; when he offered her a hoof with a smile, she scowled quickly and batted it away, retorting with, “I’m a superhero too, y’know!”

Ailurus raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, Lady Panthera?” he asked, spinning around on the handle as if dancing. His tail flicked. “Care to prove it?”

Panthera did not have a chance to respond, though. Instead, the ground a few metres away exploded as if smashed with something massive; the quietly watching crowd screamed and scarpered for the tree line. Ailurus and Panthera shared a quick look.

“You ever done this before?” Ailurus suddenly asked, stopping his fidgeting. Panthera shook her head—much to his dismay. Despite that, though, a surge of confidence rushed through her. She could’ve sworn it originated from her hoof, though how she knew that she couldn’t say.

“Nope. But we’ll learn on the job, right?” she called before throwing herself from the tree trunk and catching the wind. It was sloppily done, but she landed without hurting herself any more, at least. Ailurus was in quick succession, slipping down his trident before cantering straight to her side.

“Course!” he yelled, throwing his head in glee. A dust cloud blew up behind the pair as they shot back into the clearing, newfound courage and determination in their veins.

A monstrosity of a pony stood before them. It was huge, with its ears brushing the topmost trees even when it stood on all fours. It was entirely transparent, too; only the glare of the light against its skin allowed it to be seen. When its hardly-visible eyes landed upon the duo, it reared up and bellowed. The tallest branches snapped from the trunks with a cacophony of cracks. The huddled hostages screamed when one landed mere inches from them.

“It’s looks like it’s made of glass!” Ailurus yelled. He thrust his trident into the ground and catapulted to the side, barely missing the shards of glass that tore through the air towards him. Panthera was slower; the ends of her mane were cleanly shaved off.

“What are we supposed to do?” she yelled, throwing her head to the side to grab her boomerang. She lobbed it towards the beast; it whistled through the air and smashed through its rear leg, sending it crashing to the ground with a boom. More fragments were sent flying; had Ailurus not thrown himself towards the hostages and knocked them out of the way, they would have been torn to shreds.

“Are you alright?” Panthera cried loudly, skipping on the spot as she tried to dodge the torrents of glass. Ailurus was quick to react; he leapt to his feet and galloped back to her side quickly, just as the beast vanished into thin air.

“Where’d it go?” Panthera cried, spinning on the spot. Ailurus, too, hissed and backed up to her; their backs met and they stood up on their rear legs uncertainly, each watching attentively.

“I have no idea,” Ailurus replied, stabbing the air dporadically with his trident. “It’s just vanished!”

“It must literally be glass,” Panthera reasoned, spinning her boomerang on her hoof. Just at that moment the beast reappeared halfway through a pounce; she screamed and threw all her body weight at Ailurus, knocking him away as the beast smashed into the ground and splintered. But, as the duo stood again shakily, the impact’s toll showed. The ground crumbled away beneath their hooves, swallowing them up whole into a dismal abyss of darkness. Up above, a tree fell over their entrance so heavily that dirt fell from the roof of their new prison.

Panthera hissed and pressed herself up against Ailurus. Before she could say anything, though, a warm orange light flickered feebly on the walls. It tried again, and again and again—until a roaring flame burst into life, crackling warmly.

It was a sight for sore eyes, to be true.

“What is this place…” Panthera whispered, cautiously stepping away from Ailurus. She rose a hoof and pressed it to the cold, damp walls of the tunnel; amidst the mold patches, crudely painted images could be seen. Ponies gathered all around the walls, in small congregations and at tables, fires and buildings. They laughed gaily as foals pranced around the outer edges. The old paint had run and faded over time, but the meaning behind each image was clear. It was a scene of unity. That had always been the virtue of the islanders: loyalty.

“What are these?” Ailurus whispered, pulling a torch from the wall with his mouth and lowering it to the base of the rock paintings. In the warm light numerous inscriptions could be seen, carefully carved to a minute level of precision; they were flawlessly written runes, each glowing faintly at the caress of the flames’ glow. They seemed to make up sentences, written in straight lines below each individual illustration as if telling a story.

“Wow,” Panthera breathed quietly, tracing a single rune with the tip of her hoof. Just after she had done so, she hissed and scarpered backwards, waving her hoof and cringing. The rune had suddenly turned a bright white colour, as if searing hot. “Argh! After all this time, I would’ve thought Chisana’s warnings might have stuck!”

Ailurus turned to her quietly, murmuring, “Pardon?”

“Sorry,” Panthera said, blushing slightly as she gingerly touched her hoof back down to the rock floor. “My friend is obsessed with runes… I would’ve thought I might’ve actually taken note of some of her warnings! But—“ She scratched the back of her neck slowly, “—I guess I never did, huh?”

Ailurus snorted slightly. A massive grin was on his face all of a sudden. “Obviously not!” he chirped, but his attention quickly diverted to the painting behind her. Unlike the others, this one was obviously special; the entire wall was dedicated to a perfectly formed, only slightly faded depiction of a number of large, equine-like statues. At the base of each a pony stood, holding hooves with their peers next to them and with their eyes closed. They looked in such a state of bliss that they could have been sleeping—with the exception of one, Ailurus noted.

“Look at this,” he whispered, pointing down at the farthest painting. It was the most faded of the lot, and the gender of the pony depicted could not even be guessed. In fact, their entire face seemed to have somehow dissolved away. Regardless, it was easy to see from their posture—from the hunched back to the slightly fallen ears and dragging tail—that they had been far from at ease that day. Even if they did hide it well. “Isn’t this strange?”

Panthera nodded, leaning in closer. “Whoever this was, they were a grumpy soul,” she said, snorting. When she took a step back and got a better look at the painted statue behind the pony, though, she took a sharp breath in. “Ailurus… look at this!”

Ailurus pushed her out of the way. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however, a massive roar sounded and heavy thudding sounded above; dirt and rocks tumbled from the ceiling, plummeting towards the pair. They fled immediately back to the hole they had entered through, using their boomerang and trident respectively to launch from their little cave. It caved in right before their eyes, the priceless relics smothered.

“That statue…” Panthera uttered, spinning on the spot in terror with her boomerang at the ready, waiting for the beast to attack again. “It was this thing, wasn’t it?”

Ailurus nodded tentatively, trotting on the spot in just as skittish a manner as she. “It was smaller than this, but… yes, I would say so.” He gulped deeply and suddenly found his legs frozen in one position, unable to move from fear. “And that means some pony is controlling this thing with magic… and can bring inanimate creations to life as deadly monsters.”

Panthera whimpered quietly, but quickly tried to regain her composure. “But there were so many statues…” she whispered. Her ears fell, and both she and Ailurus suffered a momentary lapse in movement.

A scream sounded behind, accompanied by Chisana’s cry of, “You two! Get outta the way!”

But the massive, glass fore hoof smashed into them before they even knew what was going on, and they were sent hurtling right across the commons and into the centuries-old trees waiting there quietly.

For a moment, all the pair could hear was buzzing. Their vision was another matter; there was nothing but blackness. As their senses returned to them, though, the true cacophony of the situation made itself known. With squinted eyes, Panthera looked up and watched in awe as the hostages grasped any courage they had left, clinging onto the great beast as it showered them in shards and shavings of glass. They cried out desperately in the direction of the pair, but Chisana’s call was the only one that could actually be understood.

“Whoever you are, please, help us!” she yelled, crying out as the beast flicked its tail in an attempt to dislodge her. Despite the droplets of blood which beaded on her skin from the contact, she did not let go. “We’re on this thing! Just attack where we are! We’ve gotta get this thing down, or it’s gonna kill somepony!”

Panthera couldn’t tell if she’d ever seen her friend so serious; so desperate to help. With a nod she pulled her trembling, bruised and bloodied body up to her hooves, unhooked her boomerang and then heaved Ailurus up too. He gave her an appreciative smile and, after a few seconds, managed a confident little grin. In fact, he looked as if Revelation Day—only the best day of the year—had come early. His eagerness was infectious and she, too, smiled wider. A small blush grew on her cheeks, though she had no idea why.

“Let us show this beast that you don’t try to mess around with us on the job!” he yelled, then rearing up. He winced and fell back to the ground immediately. He shook his head in distress. He then unhooked his trident too and nodded once at his partner; she nodded back, and that seemed all the communication they needed. They threw themselves into the brawl, battered and bloodied though they were.

Time to end this.
> Chapter Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It should have been fragile, but the monstrosity was strong. It bellowed and roared as the villagers clung onto it; it only took a few incredibly heavy strikes from its fore hooves and tail to bat them off like pesky flies.

Ailurus and Panthera snarled in synchrony as they, too, were sent flying. They tumbled across the ground uncontrollably, dust choking them up as they went. When they finally came to a halt, they had but milliseconds to roll out of the way and leap up before the beast’s hoof pummelled the ground where they had just rested. It withdrew with another roar and took a few steps back, head lowered.

The monster snorted and pawed at the ground a few times before throwing its massive body forwards in a gallop, plowing directly into Ailurus’ side. He screamed. Panting, he then shook his head and began to shift himself about, stabbing his trident into the ground and making it extend so as to help him stand. He whimpered quietly, his wounded leg elevated.

He knew better than to take out the massive dagger of glass.

“Ailurus!” Panthera cried, leaping aside to avoid the beast’s lunge. Its teeth scraped along her back, drawing a hiss from her. But she galloped to her partner’s side all the same, eyes wide in horror when she saw the damage that was done.

“I’m fine,” Ailurus hissed, his eyes almost shut. His breathing was short and sharp and his tail was clamped. His attempt at a smile ended up being more of a grimace of pain. “Don’t stop. We’ve gotta beat this thing!”

“How?” Panthera yelled, eyes then shooting wide as she heard the beast’s heavy hooves thundering closer. She grabbed her boomerang in one hoof and wrapped the other around Ailurus, shooting to the side with a powerful spin just before the beast could strike. But, as it skidded past, she noticed something.

For the briefest of instances, just before it completely vanished from sight again, its chest glowed the brightest of orange.

“Its heart!” she hissed, spinning on the spot. Her ears flicked rapidly, listening for any misplaced scuffle or breath that might give away the beast’s position. But there was nothing. “When it reappears, we need to strike its chest.”

Ailurus nodded. “We’ve got nothing else to go on,” he grunted, pushing away from Panthera slowly. When his wounded hoof landed on the ground, though, the leg buckled under his weight and he fell to the ground with a small groan. He stumbled back up, ears fallen momentarily. Before his partner could question it, however, a newfound glee shone in his eyes and he smirked.

“I’m deadweight like this,” he said, nodding to his hoof. He gagged slightly but pushed the thought aside. It was a fight in itself to simply ignore the pain. “So let me be the bait. When the beast comes for me, hopefully it’ll show itself. And then you use your boomerang to go for its chest.”

Panthera took a step backwards and raised her hoof quickly. “What? No way!” she snapped, stomping it loudly. A breath of air brushed over her ears as she did so; she shuddered and spun around, boomerang at the ready, but nothing made to strike her.

Ailurus snorted. “Look, we haven’t got a choice. If you can think of a better plan then great, but we’re fighting an invisible monster here.” A warm breeze tickled his shoulders and he cringed, flinging his head around. But again there was nothing. “Look at us. Are we being jittery? Or is this thing right behind us? We don’t know!”

Panthera frowned. “I…” she began, looking about wildly. But there was nothing to be seen. “You’ll keep your trident at the ready, right?”

Ailurus’ ears pricked forwards and he smiled. “Of course,” he said, grinning. ”I’m not giving up these superpowers just yet!”

Panthera nodded and smiled as well, though it was forced and wobbly. “Okay,” she breathed, then turning away from him so that he was facing her flank.

Her eyes darted all around, desperately searching for anything that might betray the beast’s whereabouts.

There was nothing but the quiet moaning of the wind.

Panthera gulped deeply. She stepped forwards slowly, tentatively. Her nostrils flared and her ears flicked in all directions. Every little rustle or snap made her hiss and shoot around, boomerang held at the ready. Whenever her hoof touched down against the sharp point of a stray rock she leapt to the side and reared up. Her hooves sliced through the air dangerously, but there was nothing there.

Panthera stomped a hoof heavily and snorted. “Oh, come on,” she hissed, flicking her side with her tail. “Get a grip!”

And then she froze. Her ears twitched and she turned slowly, eyes rapidly widening as she watched the beast gradually appear behind a chuckling Ailurus.

Everything went into slow motion; her head acted of its own accord and she flung the boomerang without even thinking where she wanted it to go. It zipped through the air like a dolphin in water, spinning so quickly that it was just one big, circular disk of death. It smashed into the glass chest of the beast as it dove towards Ailurus, mouth opened in readiness to clamp around the stallion’s body.

The glass shattered into dust the instant that it met with the boomerang and the beast faltered mid-jump. It roared loudly just before its body smashed into the dirt below, mouth engulfing Ailurus in one bite.

Its body shattered against the rock solid dirt beneath it. Daggers of glass rained down upon Ailurus and he screamed in agony, even as he shot away from that spot by extending his trident. He landed in a bloodied heap a few metres away, thrashing and crying. Panthera froze almost immediately and, as she grabbed the boomerang back in between her teeth, she began to turn towards him.

He knew. Somehow, he knew. Through his pain he squinted his eyes open to meet hers. He still writhed and spasmed on the ground, but he was just about able to stay still long enough to jerk his gaze towards the reforming mass of glass. When Panthera didn’t immediately move, he moved his head so as to nod at it again, screaming as he did so.

She stole a glance towards the beast. Its legs had reformed by now, the remaining shards sticking themselves together to make fragmented stumps. Its muzzle, too, was slowly materialising again, the teeth in its mouth sharper now; they were almost canine in nature.

Panthera stole a quick glance at Ailurus, bile starting to rise in her throat as she watched him gasp and cry out in agony.

“It’s fixing itself again!” came a cry from the huddled together onlookers. It had been a stallion at the front of the group that had spoken. He held two trembling fillies under his forelegs, both of whom were visibly pale. “Can you stop it?”

Panthera gulped. The head had fully formed now and the body was well underway; there would only be a few more moments to strike before it presumably struck again. “I think so!” she shakily called back, but her eyes were stuck on Ailurus. “I think I know what to do! But somepony, please help him?”

She rose a shaking hoof and pointed to the spasming stallion on the ground. The onlookers were quiet, each glancing from him to the beast and back again.

And then a colt stepped forwards. He was tall and gangly; a young tee; the healer’s son.

“I’ve got it,” he cried, zipping out from the pack and galloping in a wide circle to Ailurus’ side. He knelt down next to him and then cried, “I’ll do what I can! But you’ve gotta stop that beast!”

A surge of confidence flooded Panthera at the colt’s unwavering gaze. She nodded quickly, then spun around so as to face the beast. It was still. She let out a breath.

Then the massive eye twitched. The nostrils snorted. Its ears flicked while its lips parted slowly, drawing in a rush of air.

And then its eyes flew open, staring straight at her unblinkingly. It didn’t move. It just lay there, breathing slowly and staring. And still it stared, the mare and monster locked in a challenge to see who dared to move first.

Panthera charged straight into its chest.

The beast gave a yell and leapt to its hooves, roaring as the glass of its chest cracked. It then reared up and made to slam its hooves down atop Panthera’s body.

She hissed and fell to her belly, rolling to the side at the last millisecond. The hoof slammed into the ground with such force beside her head that the glass there fractured too; a few shards were shot outwards from the impact, nicking her ears so that warm blood trickled freely down her cheek.

Panthera ground her teeth and leapt back up to her hooves, flinging her boomerang towards the monster’s chest before she skidded underneath its belly. Its head chased her, shooting around at such a speed that its weight was thrown to one side. Its left hooves were pulled from the floor. With a shriek it collapsed to the ground heavily, toppled off-balance. A massive cloud of dust was thrown up when ground met glass.

Coughing, Panthera waved a hoof in front of herself quickly. She ground her teeth, every muscle in her body burning. But she was so close. She couldn’t muck up now.

There!

Through the slowly-settling haze, she saw the tell-tale glow of the beast’s chest again. Without even thinking she charged directly towards it, hurling her boomerang with as much force as she could muster. But the beast, whose body was cracked and battered but mending rapidly, didn’t suffer as much damage as she had hoped.

It rolled clumsily back onto its stomach and snapped viciously at her as she skidded past. Panthera shrieked but carried on, leaping into the air so as to snag her boomerang before hurling it again. This time the glass of the monster’s chest splintered a little more, but with each hit that it took it seemed to grow tougher.

Panthera let out a cry of frustration, grabbing the boomerang with a hoof this time and throwing it heavily once again. The beast was stood again now, though, and raised its heavy foreleg unbelievably quickly. It slammed its hoof directly into her body, sending her flying backwards until she smashed into the ground with such a force that her legs really should have been broken. As it was, she screamed but at least managed to stand incredibly unsteadily.

She rose her head definitely and threw her hoof into the air so as to throw her boomerang—but there was no need this time. As the beast lumbered forwards, Panthera watched in a mixture of horror and amazement as a massive bamboo pole smashed straight into its chest and then shot through the other side of its back, just behind the shoulders. The beast collapsed in mid leap, rolling dangerously quickly towards her. And then it skidded to a stop across the dusty floor, laying still as the shards that now strewed the common began to creep ominously back towards their owner.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Panthera hissed, shaking as she stepped forwards.

She stumbled and tripped, yelping as she went. But still she carried on, because somehow, she knew exactly what she had to do.

Almost as if somepony was whispering commands in her ear.

The beast snarled at her as she wobbled closer, her head held high. She only hissed in response, her body searing with pain. But adrenaline kept her going, trudging onwards. And then, after avoiding a well aimed snap from the monster’s teeth, she spun unsteadily on the spot and sloppily slammed her rear hooves into its faintly glowing chest.

The glass fractured with an audible crack at last and Panthera’s hooves struck the glowing rune, piercing it.

A massive screech sounded, the noise so high-pitched that every gathered pony fell to their chests so that they could cover their ears with their hooves. And then, in a blinding flash of white light, a surge of power flew out in all directions.

The beast’s body disintegrated on the spot. A few nearby ponies screamed in pain as their bodies were racked with a current so great that fur crackled visibly. Manes and tails gained an ethereal effect, like flames enshrouding the cowering, spasming ponies involved.

And then, with a gentle fizzing sound, everything went calm once again. Everypony gasped and slumped where they lay, drawing in deep, slow breaths of the hot summer air. A soft breeze meandered through the trees, whistling quietly as it went.

Panthera rose to her hooves slowly, her legs trembling slightly. She stepped towards the now minuscule pile of ash, her gaze fixed upon the warm orange glow of what must have been relic fragments. With bated breath she then reached out and scooped them up slowly, collecting them in her hoof before holding them up to eye level.

The fragments crumbled into dust, just like the beast had moments before. And then the breeze swooped in, snagging the powder from her and dispersing it around the common.

What a sight for sore eyes it was.

The gathered ponies, tired though they were, gasped in awe as they watched the events unfolding before them. Tendrils of faintly glowing air brushed over the damage, and everything that the wind touched began to glow the same warm hue that the relic had. And then, once every bit of damage had been marked, there was a flash of warm light.

Panthera threw her hooves over her eyes quickly to shield them, the light so bright that it was painful. When she opened them again, however, she found herself feeling suddenly uneasy.

Everything was perfect again, just the way it had been. The trees didn’t have a single missing branch and the dirt of the commons looked as if it had never been trodden on. And, standing just in front of her, a massive statue of a pony—made entirely of glass, but with two small blue gems for eyes—stood silently. It smiled, and when the sun bounced off of it just right it almost looked alive.

It was definitely the beast from before. Now, though, it looked positively angelic.

If you were to ask Panthera, though, none of that could compare to what happened next.

Just behind her, Ailurus stood up slowly. His battered body was perfectly clean and uninjured once again. Nopony would ever have guessed that there had been a massive hole in his hoof mere moments before.

“Woah,” Panthera whispered, glancing about herself quickly. “This has gotta be a dream.”

She turned away from Ailurus, feeling ever so slightly dizzy now. The group of ponies, too, looked utterly lost and baffled.

Ailurus laughed. He trod up to her side slowly, gingerly, but he didn’t limp at all. “The rest of the islanders are never going to believe us, are they?”

Panthera snorted and shook her head. “Nope!” she cried, beaming. And then she turned to him, holding out her hoof. “But we’ll show them, right?”

Ailurus laughed and rose his own hoof. He then said, looking thoroughly thrilled, “Pound it!”

And Panthera laughed again, clapping his hoof with hers. “Pound it!” she agreed. She then went quiet for a moment before she stood taller and added, with a wink, “Partner.”

And nopony could miss the beam of sheer joy that graced Ailurus’ face then.