Chapter 1
No wonder the Crystal Empire wants to conquer the world. The North sucks.
Hemlock squinted as she cut through the frigid air. Not for the first time since the beginning of their march into the heart of the Frozen North, she wished she had a pair of feathery wings instead of webbed ones. Regular pegasi hardly felt the cold. Well, neither did she, at least where she had natural fluff covering her hide, but the chill really had a way of biting into the naked membranes of her wings. Wearing nothing but a harness for holstering her knives and a simple saddlebag, which was really more of a glorified fanny pack, didn’t help much in the department of weather protection, either. The unfortunate price of speed and stealth.
Gritting her teeth, she dipped below the dark clouds and scowled as the snow-laden winds attempted to toss her around like a hapless moth and smash her into the rocky peaks surrounding her. She put on a burst of speed and rode the aggressive winds, coming perilously close to jagged mountain rock at times, weaving in and out and between the air currents to avoid collisions.
Princess Celestia had seen fit to raise the moon as the barest sliver of a crescent to cover the movement of her army, but the stars still provided plenty of light for a thestral to see by. Black tors and purple slopes of snow filled her vision as she scanned the mountain pass, searching for the tell-tale green glow of Sombra’s Imperial Guard. Tough bastards to take on in close quarters and practically immune to frostbite, but absolutely terrible at stealth on account of the glowing eyes.
She saw nothing of interest. Only rock, snow and the odd pine tree or two.
Five miles out and satisfied that they had no imminent threats or obstacles to deal with, Hemlock doubled back to deliver her report to Commander Dash. If the weather held out and nopony got wind of their movement, they’d have a clear path to the backdoor of Sombra’s stronghold, and a chance to bury the blasted king for good.
Aside from fighting a belligerent gale and getting bonked on the head by some random hailstone, the flight back to the encampment proved uneventful.
The two thousand-strong legion had set up camp in the valley just before it narrowed up into the mountain pass, waiting until they got word from the rest of the legions marching up to Sombra’s front door before making their move to ambush him from behind. Thousands of tents stood arrayed in an orderly series of lines, dimly lit with yellowish lamps from within. A few ponies patrolled the perimeter, knee-deep in snow.
As she made her final descent, Hemlock spotted a flash of teal light midway up the mountain slope overlooking the encampment.
Her heart rate spiked.
There it is. Again.
Old Sergeant Slipstream used to talk about a mysterious unicorn he’d spotted hiding in an abandoned tower in Canterlot. Probably spying on the city, though she didn’t bear any hallmarks of Sombra’s soldiers. When confronted, she’d vanished in a blaze of teal magic beneath a silvery dome, which Slipstream always insisted was nothing like a normal teleport.
She was a unicorn mare with a purplish-pink coat and streaks of teal running through her darker purple hair. Some inconsistent accounts of her eye colour, being either azure or magenta, and no precise description of the cutie mark aside from something sparkly in nature.
Reports had also mentioned some farmer on the outskirts of Ponyville cargo zone claiming that she’d seen a mare of the same description, fifteen years earlier. That put her earliest appearance at roughly twenty-four years ago, just a few years before the start of the war and Hemlock’s birth. In intervals of about three years, the stranger would reappear in various parts of Equestria, usually near cities or battlefields, and sometimes in multiple locations within the same timeframe. They’d never caught her, and they’d never found anypony in Sombra’s employ who’d divulged any connections to her, not even when threatened with banishment to Tartarus itself.
Hemlock took deep, calming breaths as she angled her flight path up the mountain, willing her racing heart to slow back to a stalker’s pace. She had a chance to capture the elusive spy, and she didn’t intend to faff it up.
The unicorn didn’t notice as she climbed higher and higher, apparently too absorbed in her task of observing the camp with a spyglass from her vantage point. Once Hemlock had gained enough altitude and positioned herself a good hundred tail-lengths at an angle north-east and above the unicorn, she tucked her wings to her sides and dove.
Despite her rapid acceleration and narrow profile, the fierce south-westerly wind curled her trajectory directly towards the mare, roaring in her ears as she closed the distance with eye-watering speed. At the last moment, she spread her wings and braked to keep the collision non-crippling…
And then a green corona blazed to life on the mare’s horn.
Crap!
The mare must’ve either heard her coming or used a proximity alarm spell.
Hemlock shrieked as lightning surged through her veins, but she still slammed into the mare’s back with enough force to knock the air out of their lungs and send them tumbling several yards down the snowy slope. She lay twitching and sputtering in the snow for a moment, but she was up and charging again before the mare had even finished shaking herself out of a daze.
“Wait!” the mare cried, stumbling and flailing as she frantically attempted to backpedal through the thick snow.
Hemlock didn’t oblige.
She tackled her and slammed her bodily into a densely-packed snowdrift. Then, whilst the mare lay on her back gasping for breath, Hemlock reached into her saddlebag with practiced speed and pulled out a suppression ring, which she unceremoniously shoved tightly onto her horn. She then simply straddled her belly and pinned her forelegs to the ground with her own.
Score!
The suppression ring hummed as it absorbed energy from the mare’s spell, and Hemlock grinned when her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
“That’s right, no magic for you. Now, care to explain why you’re out here spying on—”
“You don’t underst—let me go!” the mare yelped.
“That’s not how this works, missy. On the authority of Commander Dash of the Fifth Equestrian Legion, you’re under arrest on suspicion of collusion with—”
The mare gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes shut. A sliver of teal light glowed at the base of her horn, but it never made it past the suppression ring. Its dull hum rose in volume as it consumed an ever-increasing flow of magic. A thick, ugly vein pulsed on her neck as beads of sweat formed on her brow, and she sounded like a strangled rooster.
Hemlock clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Girl, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm if you keep this up. Now, just—”
The ring’s dark metal glowed cherry-red at edges, trailing wisps of smoke.
“Now…” Hemlock blinked. “Uh…”
Cherry-red turned to orange, and then to a brilliant, incandescent yellow. The hum rose to a high-pitched whine.
“Oh, shi—”
The ring shattered, and the concussive blast threw Hemlock off the mare and sent her crashing face-first into snow. She winced as she rose back onto all fours, just in time to dodge and avoid taking a bolt of searing magic right between the eyes.
Bloody guacamole, this mare’s a frigging powerhouse!
The unicorn advanced on Hemlock with bloodshot eyes and smouldering horn, wobbling a little and panting heavily. Her frazzled mane trailed like a dark, tattered cloak in the wind as she growled, “I’m not here to fight, but if you ever do that to me again, I—”
Quick as lightning, Hemlock drew a knife and flung a clump of snow at the mare’s face before lunging. The stun bolt grazed her shoulder, and she hissed as lightning raced through her nerves, but she still managed to nick the mare’s thigh with her blade as she barrelled past her.
The spell hadn’t truly incapacitated her, but after another face-first landing, turning around and sitting with her back into the snow drift was all Hemlock could manage. Raising a foreleg to shield herself from the still-advancing unicorn, she smothered a pained groan and said, “Wait.”
The mare’s horn crackled with magic as she glowered at Hemlock. “Oh, so now you want to wait. Why should I? You never even gave me a chance!”
“Because… that tingly numbness in your thigh? That’s poison.”
The mare blinked and threw a glance at the bleeding slit on her thigh, then scowled as she turned back to Hemlock. “What?”
“Poison.” Hemlock smirked and raised her knife, showing off the sickly-yellow stain on the blade’s edge that glinted in the horn light. “A nasty little concoction of toxins that’ll soon work its way into your heart and leave you permanently paralysed, unless I give you the antidote.”
The mare squinted at her knife for a couple of seconds, but she eventually got the idea. Her jaw dropped as she placed a hoof on her chest, her breaths came out in shallow wheezes, and then she sputtered a bit before taking a menacing step forward with angry sparks arcing from her horn. “You… you little—”
Hemlock forestalled her with an upheld wing and added, “Ah-ah! Before you get any ideas, I’m keeping multiple antidotes in my bag. Taking the wrong one will instantly stop your heart, and taking all of them at once will probably melt your lungs – nasty way to go. So, unless you want to bet your life on a roll of the dice, you’d better do what I say.”
They stared, unmoving.
Then, the mare’s eyes drifted to Hemlock’s flank, to the image on her grey coat – a pony’s pale, slack-jawed skull engulfed in a lime-green cloud of noxious fumes.
“Name’s Hemlock, and the cutie mark isn’t kidding,” she said with toothy grin.
The mare’s horn fizzled out, and she slumped in the snow with flattened ears. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“That makes two of us. You ready to cooperate?”
“Yes!” The mare swallowed dryly and rasped, “I’m not your enemy! I—”
Her words died in a fit of shallow coughing.
“Here.” Hemlock fished a small phial out of her saddlebag and tossed it to her. “Hold it close to your muzzle, then break it and breathe it all in. It’s not the proper cure, but it’ll give you a half-hour’s worth of relief – time enough for us to have a good chat.”
The mare fumbled with the phial for a moment before she snapped it in half and inhaled the vapours that escaped. She held her breath for a couple of seconds, then heaved a sigh of relief as the medicine relaxed the muscles in her constricted air passages, allowing her to breathe normally again.
“Once I’m satisfied you’re not a threat, I’ll give you the rest of the antidote,” Hemlock finished.
The mare gave her a reproachful frown, then nodded. “Okay.”
“You got a name?”
“Starlight Glimmer.”
“Okay, Starlight, here’s the plan.” Hemlock got onto all fours and shook snow off herself. “We’re heading back to camp, and—”
“No!” she cried.
“Aaand we’re back to square one…” Hemlock muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Please,” Starlight repeated, casting an anxious glance down at the encampment below. “I don’t do well in crowded places. And… and I can’t face all of you at once. Not after what I’ve done.”
That last part came out as the barest of whispers, but Hemlock heard it.
She frowned at Starlight. Taking her back to camp for interrogation was the right thing to do. Commander Dash wouldn’t have it any other way.
And yet, something about Starlight gave her pause.
Up close, she matched the description of the vanishing spy, but she didn’t look much older than Hemlock herself. That did not tally with her earliest sighting more than twenty years ago. More importantly, her wavering gaze and haunted eyes hinted at some inner burden far beyond her apparent age. Hemlock had seen that look before, in the eyes of ponies who’d screwed up and gotten their friends killed in action.
Damaged goods. You too, huh?
Hemlock turned her gaze up the mountainside, to a small cave sheltered by a convenient rock overhang that she’d found on her first sweep through the area a couple of days back.
That’ll do.
She could take a couple of security risks if it improved the odds of getting honest answers from the spy who’d eluded the Equestrian Legion for over two decades. Commander Dash would understand. Probably. Depending on the answers she got.
Hemlock pointed up to the cave with a wing finger and said, “Fine. We’ll talk in there. Just you and me.”
“You’re bleeding,” Starlight said.
As if on cue, Hemlock felt something warm trickling down the left side of her neck. She flicked her ears and hissed when the left one stung like a fire ant’s bite. Reaching up with a hoof, she grimaced when she felt a tender, inch-wide hole in the broadest part of her ear. Probably thanks to shrapnel from the overloaded suppression ring.
Starlight gave her a sympathetic wince. “Sorry. I was freaking out.”
Hemlock snorted and waved her apology aside. “Whatever. Mom can’t bitch about me getting piercings since you’ve given it to me for free. Let’s move – you first, and no magic. Remember, you’re still—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” Starlight snapped as she began trudging up the slope.
They entered the cave without incident, and Hemlock ushered Starlight into the deepest corner, away from the icy grasp of the howling wind. They then sat on their haunches opposite one another, with a little crystal placed on the ground between them that glowed with just enough blue light to illuminate their faces. Standard-issue emergency light for Legionnaire scouts.
“It’s not very bright. I can provide better lighting,” Starlight began, but Hemlock cut her off with a shake of her head.
“No magic.”
Frowning, Starlight folded her forelegs and sighed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“You’ve been spying on us for over twenty years, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Starlight cast her eyes downward and idly scraped at the ground with a hoof. “It’s a long story, and I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
Well, you’re in luck. I love stories.” Hemlock chuckled and leaned closer. “Besides, you look like somepony dying to get something off her shoulder. You’ve got something eating you up from the inside, haven’t you?”
“How’d you know?”
“Let’s just call it maternal instincts.”
“Okay, you asked for it. Just—hang on.” Starlight’s mouth hung open. “You’re already a mother?”
“That was just an expression, but hey, lucky guess. Also, you won’t get any brownie points for flattery.” Hemlock grinned and motioned with a hoof for her to continue. “Now get on with it.”
“Okay, fine.” Starlight shifted to a more comfortable position and sighed. “Have you ever heard of the Elements of Harmony?”
“Yup. Pretty rocks.”
“Well, where I’m from, they’re more than just gems…”
* * * * *
“—because of what I did, your version of Equestria didn’t have the Elements of Harmony to stop King Sombra before he regained his powers and started the war. This and several other timelines. All because I couldn’t see past my personal… issues. I took my frustrations out on six friends and tore them apart, and Equestria suffered because of it,” Starlight finished.
Hemlock remained silent.
“That’s why I keep coming back, a little farther in time each round. I…” Starlight swallowed and pawed at the ground absentmindedly. “I have to see what happens, that maybe everything will still work out in the end. Everypony has forgiven me in my timeline, but I still have trouble sleeping; I can’t stop thinking of all the lives I’ve ruined…”
Yeah, she’s nuts.
Starlight scowled. “Told you you won’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know that look. You think I’m crazy. My friend makes that same face.”
“Oh, where do we even start? You’re telling me that these six ponies are somehow responsible for stopping, like, ninety percent of all existential threats to Equestria within seven years of discovering their connection to the Elements of Harmony? And that one of them even becomes an alicorn princess?” Hemlock chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to dial it back a bit?”
She got a shrug in response. “Hey, I didn’t believe it either. But testing that theory is what ruined yours and a dozen other parallel universes in the first place.”
“Fine, so if this is an alternate universe, then who are the six elements supposed to be? Gimme names.”
Starlight shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea… I mean, I don’t want to influence what you think of those ponies, once you know everything that could’ve been.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
“It’s also true.”
Hemlock scowled at her. She probably should drag Starlight back to camp for more thorough questioning by somepony with the proper techniques, but a real spy probably wouldn’t have come up with such an outlandishly elaborate and flimsy story when caught…
Then, she frowned when she noticed Starlight peering intently at her. “What?”
Starlight blinked a couple of times, then shook her head. “Nothing. You just remind me of somepony.”
Hemlock stood up and shook herself to get some blood and warmth back into her limbs. “Whatever. We aren’t done yet.”
“How about giving me the rest of the antidote?” Starlight rubbed thigh and winced. The bleeding had stopped, but the area around the cut had swollen up. “I think the numbness is spreading.”
Hemlock inspected the wound with narrowed eyes and shook her head. “You’ll still be safe for a while. Also, I still think you’re lying.”
Just then, the air inside the cave stirred. It swirled around them, tugging at their manes as it rose up to the empty ceiling. When Hemlock looked up, she found no gap in the rock for the air to escape. Then, she felt the air crackle with magic.
She whipped around to face Starlight with daggers drawn in each wing. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not me.” Starlight gulped. “Well, not exactly. I’d set the dimensional gate with an automatic timer for recall, and it will bring me back to my timeline whether I want it to or not.”
“What?”
Starlight gave her a nervous chuckle. “Well, if you want proof…”
With a resonant clang, a silvery, translucent dome inscribed with arcane symbols appeared in the air above them like a gaping maw. Hemlock yelped and tried to dash back to the exit, but it sucked her up into its dark heights with the force of a hurricane, and she went spinning and screaming into the void. Starlight followed, calm and serene as a napping foal.
Hemlock lost all sense of sound, sight and direction for what felt like an eternity. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out.
Then, the world reappeared with blinding light, and she crashed into something soft.
She leaped back onto all fours and immediately fell into a pit. Or off the bed, rather, once her eyes had stopped spinning in their sockets. She spun around, taking note of the room’s bright hues of blue, purple and teal. Crystal walls. Bookshelves. Kites. Toys.
Starlight.
Hemlock found her huddled inside a bubble shield in a corner of the room.
“What did you do? Where are we?” Hemlock yelled, brandishing a knife at her.
“My room. My timeline,” Starlight said. She then tilted her horn towards the window, and it swung open with a creak. “Take a look.”
Hemlock considered simply throwing all her knives at her, but any mare capable of overloading a suppression ring could probably conjure a shield strong enough to withstand a battering ram. So instead, she trotted up to the window and peered outside.
Her jaw dropped.
She recognised the lay of the land. It was the river valley just southwest of Canterlot, the place where Ponyville used to be, before the Apples converted it into a full-scale industrial zone to feed and power Equestria’s legions, surrounded by barren topsoil and filthy lakes and rivers.
Wait. It is Ponyville…
The town hall, the cottages, the farmlands in the distance… Plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys, and a few houses still had yellow lights coming from their windows. The cobblestones gleamed in the moonlight, and she spotted a couple of owls and bats on the hunt. And farther ahead, beyond the rolling hills stood the towering mountain of Canterlot itself.
It all looked exactly like the old pictures, before the war.
Hemlock leaned farther out the window and peered downwards. The room was apparently part of a massive palace made of crystal, shaped like a tree. Other towers and rooms sat on the rest of the tree’s branches, each with windows of their own.
“Believe me now?”
Hemlock retreated from the window, sheathed her knives and then sat on her haunches with a thump. “Could be an illusion.”
Starlight tilted her head. “You think I’m powerful enough to glamourize an entire countryside?”
“You are pretty powerful.” Then, Hemlock narrowed her eyes when another thought struck her. “Or maybe you just brought us back in time. How do I know for sure that this is an alternate universe?”
“Hello?” Starlight swept a hoof around. “Did your version of Ponyville ever have a giant crystal castle shaped like a tree sitting in the middle of it?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”
Silence filled the space between them.
Hemlock’s eyes wandered to the books and toys that filled the room, and a pit opened up in her stomach when she realised just how many months had passed since she last saw her colt back in Los Pegasus.
My little Camphor…
She glanced back out the window, at the pristine, purple night sky and shivered.
I need to go home.
“Take us back,” she said.
“Are you sure you’ve gotten all the proof you need?” asked Starlight. “This spell is tiring and I am not making a second trip to convince you agai—”
“Yes!” snapped Hemlock. “I believe you. Take us back!”
Starlight blinked a couple of times, then nodded and strode to the centre of the room. The bubble shield vanished, and her horn blazed anew with crackling arcs of magic, and a breeze swirled inside the room.
Then, somepony knocked on the door, and a mare’s muffled voice came through. “Starlight, are you in there? What are you doing?”
“Oh shoot,” Starlight muttered.
Hemlock remained frozen to her spot on the floor.
That voice…
The mare knocked on the door twice again as the dome materialised above them.
“Starlight, I’m coming in!” the mare cried.
The door swung open just as the dome began pulling them upwards, and time slowed when Hemlock glimpsed the purple mare barging in with a worried frown.
Deep, purple eyes, the same as hers. Three-toned, straight mane and tail. But she had a different cutie mark, and she had a pair of wings on her back. She also carried herself with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm and confidence. Her steps had way too much bounce in it, and she didn’t have the omnipresent bags beneath her eyes or the bony cheeks.
Hemlock’s gut twisted with longing and revulsion as she rose into the air, drawn into the void once more. Her heart pounded in her chest. She reached out with a wing as if to touch her, but she knew that it was too late.
“Mother?”
And then she vanished with Starlight into nowhere.
* * * * *
This time, Hemlock landed on all four hooves when she came out on the other side.
“Did… did I hear that right?” Starlight worked her jaw silently for a couple of seconds. “Twilight Sparkle is your mother?”
“Hemlock Sparkle. Nice to meet you.” She gave her a mock salute and began pacing in the narrow confines of the cave. “Bloody guacamole, my mom’s an alicorn and the Element of Magic? I guess I believe you now...”
Most ponies would’ve taken that as an opportunity to crow and rub it in her face, but for some reason, Starlight chose to sit back and let Hemlock process the new information in peace.
Or maybe she’s just floored that her friend has a kid in another universe...
Either way, Hemlock appreciated the silence.
Relative silence, at any rate. The weather had mellowed out a bit since then, but she could still hear the wind moaning out there.
She trotted up to the mouth of the cave and gazed outside, to the snowy valley that housed all of her brothers and sisters in arms. Thousands of ponies brought together for a single purpose: to defeat the Crystal Empire and put an end to Sombra’s reign.
Where would we be without that?
She trotted in circles, paced back and forth. Her head felt cluttered and unwieldy, filled with hundreds of tantalising possibilities.
Hemlock had never given peacetime much thought. Sure, the older guys spoke of happier times and how much they were looking forward to things going back to the way they were, but she had never known what it was like to live without the shadow of war constantly looming over her, to always be ready to cut and run when the sea of spears came for her home. Once she had gotten old enough to carry a spear of her own and stop running, that only changed into being ready to charge into the sea of spears when commanded to. And the fires, they never went out.
But now, she knew that an entire world existed beyond her own, and possibly others, that the Mad King hadn’t managed to turn upside down.
What would it be like to live in one of those?
What if—
Hemlock forced herself to stop pacing. She then massaged her temples, pushing those unhelpful thoughts aside.
No.
She had only one world, and that was the one right in front of her. If she wanted to live in a happier one, she still had to fight for it until it was a better place.
“I raise my blade in service to Equestria. My duty is eternal, never-ending, until my Liege release me, or death take me,” she whispered.
When she trotted back into the cave proper, Hemlock found Starlight right where she’d left her, amusing herself by fiddling with the light crystal.
“I still can’t believe you’re Twilight Sparkle’s daughter,” said Starlight.
“Shouldn’t you already know that? I thought you’ve been spying on us for ages.”
“I can’t keep tabs on everypony. I know that two of the Elements are serving in the legion, and another two are still working in the industrial zone, but I lost track of Twilight.”
Hemlock sat down next to her. “And what’s so unbelievable about Twilight having a kid?”
“Well, I know it’s a little mean, but I just can’t imagine her getting together with a thestral stallion and,” – she then made a vague gesture with a hoof – “well, you know…”
“Having sex?”
Starlight made a face. “Yeah, that. You’re also nothing like her.”
Hemlock snorted. “Well, you clearly know a different version of my mom, all right.”
She unstrapped her saddlebag and placed it on the floor. She then pulled out a small flask and offered it to Starlight.
“Is that the antidote?”
“Nah. You don’t need any.”
“What?” Starlight glanced at her swollen lump on her thigh and frowned back at her. “But it’s still numb!”
“And it’ll wear off in a couple of hours. I’d already given you the antidote to deal with the suffocation and paralysis.”
“But, you said—”
Hemlock gave her a fanged grin. “I lied.”
Starlight scowled and snatched the flask from her with magic. She then sniffed the contents and gagged. “What is this? It smells terrible!”
“Cinderbug extract in apple cider. Something to keep you warm.”
With a shake of her head, Starlight offered it back and deadpanned, “Pass. I’ve got a heating spell.”
“Suit yourself.”
Hemlock took a swig from her flask and closed her eyes. The thick, bitter fluid burned all the way down, but once it reached her belly, pleasant, tingly warmth began spreading out from there to her extremities.
They sat together for a while, listening to the wind. Starlight got increasingly fidgety as the minutes ticked by, and she eventually broke the silence with a huff.
“So… can I go now?” asked Starlight.
“Yeah. But something tells me you don’t want to. Not yet, anyway,” Hemlock finished.
When Starlight’s eyes widened, Hemlock chuckled and added, “You look like I used to when I’m waiting for the drill sergeant to flatten me for screwing up. You said Twilight’s your teacher, right?”
“Yeah.” Starlight flattened her ears. “She wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing.”
Hemlock took another swig and belched. “Wanna know what I think?”
Starlight averted her eyes for a moment, then nodded.
“Are you a god?”
Starlight raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“Demigod, maybe?”
“Uh, not that I know of?”
Hemlock narrowed her eyes. “Then you’re full of shit.”
Starlight’s jaw dropped.
“You think you’re responsible for all that’s wrong with my world? I call bull.” Hemlock stretched her right wing out and extended her wing fingers one by one as she rattled off her points. “You’re not the one who made King Sombra think that conquering Equestria was a wonderful idea; you’re not the one who stabbed General Shining Armour in the back when we had the chance to destroy the Crystal Empire before it corrupted the North; you’re not every single mare and stallion who chose to drop their weapons and desert when we needed them to stand strong and hold the line; and you sure as hay aren’t the ones who refused to see the danger and do anything about the Crystal Empire’s gathering army before it was too late.”
“But—”
“I’m not done,” she snapped. “It took a whole lot of bad decisions and screw-ups to get to where we are today. Yours might be the one to set it off, but there’s still plenty of blame to go around for everything that happened after that, so don’t go hogging it all for yourself. It reeks of an overinflated ego.”
Starlight’s frown deepened. “But, don’t you get it? If I hadn’t tried to force the Elements apart, none of you would’ve needed to make those terrible decisions in the first place!”
Hemlock felt a headache coming on. What she said was technically true, but it also felt so wrong. It sounded more like something for the eggheads to think on and faff about. That book on philosophy had been a nightmare.
“You trying to tell me that you and the Elements are more important than the rest of us combined?”
“No, of course not!” Starlight huffed. Then, her gaze drifted down to the floor. “But still… you guys are still suffering because of my mistake, even if it’s compounded by everything else that followed.”
Hemlock rubbed her temples as she attempted to parse her logic. “If I farted right here, and a quarray eel bursts out of the ground because it smelt it and decides to eat you, are you going to hold me responsible?”
“Uh…” Starlight blinked, then shook her head. “No, not unless you knew the quarray was there and did it on purpose.”
“And did you know that the world was going to Tartarus just because the Elements aren’t around to protect it?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then quit bitching about how you’ve doomed a dozen worlds. You didn’t know!” Hemlock facehoofed and groaned. “You said your friends had already forgiven you, and I don’t know if you really deserve it or not, but it sure as hay sound like you need it. So you’d better suck that forgiveness up like a big girl and stop beating yourself over it. Don’t insult your friends by throwing it back in their faces.”
“It’s not their forgiveness I’m worried about…” Starlight murmured.
Hemlock tilted her head. “Oh, so it’s my forgiveness you want. And, what, everypony else’s in this timeline, too?”
Starlight kept her gaze firmly on the floor.
“Well… shit.” Hemlock scratched the back of her head and bit her lip. She then frowned at Starlight and asked, “Are you sorry about it?”
“Yes.”
“Got any plans to do it again?”
She gasped. “Of course not!”
“Well, okay then. I forgive you for being a selfish, overgrown filly with anger and abandonment issues. Get over yourself and go home. Forget about everypony else, unless you want to spend eternity explaining and apologising.”
“But what about—”
Hemlock sighed and flicked a knife out. She then stalked closer, twirling it in her wing fingers whilst Starlight backed away with wide eyes.
“If you want, I could slice an eye out right now to make it even, or maybe two if you think that’s how much you’re worth, but what would that accomplish?” She then sheathed her knife and threw her hooves up in the air. “Nothing but to… to put a mark on a scoreboard that literally nopony but you is keeping!”
Her words echoed within the cave. Starlight didn’t retort, and the moaning wind soon filled the silence that remained. Her eyes watered, and she sniffled as she wiped the tears away.
Shoot. Maybe I went too far?
Eventually, Starlight murmured, “I’m trying to be a better pony, but sometimes, I still see the wasteland that Twilight showed me. I can’t stop thinking about the other timelines. What would you do if you were in my place?”
Hemlock thought about it for a moment, then muttered, “To be honest, probably the same thing as you. I’d need my friends to forgive me and somepony to slap some sense into my head.”
She then sucked in a breath through her teeth and sighed, and then scooted over to sit right beside Starlight. She was shivering, so Hemlock wrapped a wing around her shoulder and said, “I’m no shrink or egghead, but this kind of worrying you’re doing right now is like pointing hooves at each other when arrows are raining from the sky and arguing about whose fault it really is for getting caught in an ambush. If you’re really hung up about it, be a useful pony instead of wishing for more punishment. We can all worry about that in the afterlife – if there is one.”
When the silence threatened to stretch on again, she added, “You know, if somepony offered to ‘fix’ our timeline, I’d turn them down in a heartbeat.”
Starlight’s eyes widened. “Really? Why?”
“Well, after my uncle died, my mom had grief sex with one of his soldiers and had me, so I do kind of need the war to happen in order to exist…” Hemlock chuckled wryly when she saw her horrified expression. “Also, I got knocked up in the Legion, and that’s how I got Camphor.”
She smiled at the memory of Camphor squealing and gurgling with delight as he batted at her muzzle with his tiny hooves. She remembered nuzzling his warm little belly, feeling the tickly scratching of his tiny wings on her cheeks as he giggled and squirmed.
“Cute colt. You’d love him to bits.” She then tightened her grip on Starlight’s shoulder and locked eyes with her. “He means the world to me, and if we do this right, he’ll never have to see a battlefield in his life. And if anypony tries to ‘correct’ this timeline and take him away from me, I’d cross the cosmos itself to open them up and feed them their own liver.”
Starlight gulped. “Ev—even if it means that others have to suffer?”
“Yeah, I know. I’m such a bitch, but you’d understand if you ever have a foal.” Hemlock released her and gave her a pat on the back. “Bottom line is this: forget about our timelines. This one belong to us now. It belongs to me, my buddies out there and everypony you can’t and never will see. We’ll sort it out. You just go home and deal with your own problems like a normal pony.”
More silence, again.
Then, Starlight took in a shuddering breath and said, “I think I’ll take that drink now, if you’re still offering.”
Hemlock grinned and passed her the flask.
Starlight took one gulp, and her pupils instantly shrank to pinpricks. She forced it down with a grimace, and then burst into a fit of coughing and sputtering. Hemlock thumped her on the back and guffawed as she panted and stared at the floor.
“Good stuff, eh?”
Once Starlight had stopped coughing, she straightened up and whistled as she rubbed her midriff and forelegs. “Wow, that’s… actually not bad. Nice and toasty. Except for the taste, I feel like I’m in a spa.”
“What does sparring have to do with it?”
Starlight blinked. “Uh, never mind.”
Once again, they lapsed into silence. But this time, it felt just a little less cold and tense. Maybe it was just the drink, but Hemlock thought she could see some of the shadows leaving Starlight’s eyes, too. They’d probably never disappear entirely, but at least she didn’t need to let them crush her.
Maybe I should look into becoming a shrink once the war is over…
Starlight chuckled.
“Something funny?”
“Yeah. Twilight’s always lecturing me, and now her daughter’s getting in on it, too.” Starlight rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m a terrible friendship student.”
“Some swords just need more sharpening than others.”
“I guess.” Starlight gave her a nervous smile and rose to all fours. “I think I should be getting back. Twilight’s probably freaking out, and I can’t put her off any longer.”
As the air in the cave stirred and crackled with magic, Hemlock gave her a parting thump on the back before beating a hasty retreat to get out of the dome’s suction range. Once out on the mountain’s slopes, she heard air whooshing into the cave, followed by a flash of light that illuminated its interior. Then, silence. Nothing left but the wind.
She stayed there for a while, sorting through everything that she’d seen and heard, wondering if any of it had actually happened.
On a whim, she reached up and felt the ragged hole in her left ear.
Okay, so it’s real.
Another minute passed.
They’re going to think I’m nuts, aren’t they?
When no magical solution presented itself to her, Hemlock shrugged and took to the air. Dawn was approaching, and she had a long report to deliver.
Oh, the commander’s going to love this one…