Moondust

by Parallel Black

First published 7th of April, 2019

Four weeks have passed since Nightmare Moon's defeat, and Twilight is still in Canterlot...

A lot can happen in a single night. Friends can be made, perspectives can shift, the world can be saved...

Four weeks have passed since Nightmare Moon's defeat, and Twilight is still living in Canterlot. It's a beautiful city with boundless opportunities available to those who chase them, but a certain few things could stand to be improved. The din of rioting voices still echo in Twilight's mind, her mentor is absent, her mother is stuck beneath all the paperwork, and worst of all...

... it is still in the sky.

-----

The starting point of the Triad Verse. Serves as a direct prologue to both Golden Ghost Library and Paint the Town Red.

Set after a thoroughly restructured version of Nightmare Moon's return. Contains occasional dark imagery and mentions of death, but is otherwise safe.

The original draft of this story can be found here if you're interested.

1 - Indulgence

Dull blue. That was the colour of madness. Twilight Sparkle was certain of it.

The quill hovered above the parchment, its tip scanning across symbols and numbers, searching for a place to descend. There had to be somewhere she’d gone wrong. One of these values, or one of those expressions, had to have been miscalculated, or she wouldn’t be having this particular kind of issue.

The ink dripped, but the black droplet stopped before it hit the page, suspended in a tiny pocket of amethyst energy just like the feather above it. With a subtle motion, the drop was whisked back into the inkwell, and the unicorn refocused her attention, only to realise she’d lost her place. The entire scroll was covered head to hoof in scrawlings of the mathemagical variety, and the lines were starting to blur together.

Twilight leaned back and dropped the feather into its pot, letting out a quiet, frustrated sigh. Her posture was relaxed, but the frayed ends of her mane and the permanent scowl on her face told a different story. At the end of the table stood a vase. It was a cheap, shiny thing from the bowels of Manehatten’s industrial center, and its colour had started to fade only a few weeks after purchase. It was the perfect test subject for a colour changing spell. A bright lavender-purple might be nice. The attractive sky blue it once held was edging into the greys, but in spite of her efforts, the colour simply refused to turn.

One of the unicorn’s previous attempts rose into her levitation and unfurled across the desk. Like her current effort, its ends flowed off the sides, and though it too was covered in writing, it hadn’t turned out quite as robust. She compared them. Maybe she hadn’t copied the perfect parts perfectly enough. Most of the calculations were simple, and she was sure she’d written Starswirl’s First Law of Thaumium Growth properly; she knew that one by heart. The law dominated the first third of the scroll, the rest taken up by calculations of a more general nature that represented her own capabilities and the spell those capabilities fed into.

That was how it was meant to go, at least. Twilight looked to the vase again, closed her eyes, and allowed the spiral of her horn to glow once more. A bright, purple field of energy slowly bloomed from it, becoming a wavy, intangible blob atop her head. This time, surely. The previous attempt went back under the table and she read carefully through her writings again. Nothing seemed out of place. For the tenth time that morning she pointed her horn at the object and loosed a small stream of magic at it. The vase’s reflective surface glimmered and shone, almost seeming to move with the energy surrounding it, turning a myriad shades of purple as the laws governing how light moved through space suddenly became confused with the will of a sapient being.

The magic receded into her horn. The vase was still blue.

Twilight Sparkle let out a shout of frustration.

The quill returned, its tip newly wet with ink, ready to correct whatever mistake its master had made. It hovered there, then moved slowly over the parchment, once again scanning for somewhere, anywhere, that looked out of place. Twilight glared at the paper below it, searing her gaze into each and every character, as if waiting for one to look back and let her know where to strike.

Her ears twitched. It took the repetition of her own name and a painful jabbing in the side of her leg to pull her from her concentration. Scowling in a mixture of frustration and self-imposed anxiety, she looked down to see a worried pair of slit pupils staring back.

Her expression quickly softened. “Oh, Spike. Sorry, I didn’t realise you were there. Did you need something?”

“Not really,” the little dragon replied, rising up onto his toes to see what he could of the scroll. “I was just wondering if you were hungry. You’ve been at this all day.” He was taller than the table, but only on account of the large, soft plates of green scale that ran from the tip of his forehead to the end of his short tail.

Twilight blushed as she felt her stomach rumble, realising she had skipped breakfast. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost three in the afternoon. We still have some of yesterday’s salad, if you want?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

Spike trotted off to the kitchen, leaving Twilight with her project. Beneath the table lay three discarded scrolls. This was her fourth attempt, her most “perfect” by far. She hadn’t even been writing Starswirl’s First Law of Thaumium Growth properly in the first two, making use of its shorthoof variant rather than the full equation the old magician had preferred. Another test wouldn’t hurt, but another grumble from her belly finally tempted her away.

The study rooms possessed the largest windows in the school, giving the students on the cliff-ward side a grand view over the mountain edge. Twilight sat beside it, her gaze flitting between the various landmarks of the land far below. The miscoloured summer sky filled most of the panorama, with only a few clouds to be seen. The air was clear enough that the entirety of Central Equestria was neatly contained within the distant horizon. To the left of that stretched the farms and forests of the Eastern Leagues, and the Western Hills rose to her right. Further south, vanishing into the horizon, were the beginnings of the vast, multicoloured fields of the Palette Plains. It was all brought into light and colour by the Sun, but it was all overshadowed by the duller shades of blue covering the top half of the canvas.

The heat flooding through the glass gained a chill, and Twilight directed her gaze at something else. Anything else would do.

The kitchen door squeaked open and Spike waddled out with a pair of bowls filled with chopped lettuce and carrots, along with one for himself containing leftover nachos and a bottle of ketchup. “Turns out, I had some, too!”

Twilight’s mouth curled into a smile. “I can see that. You aren’t planning on skipping meals as well, are you?” The whole arrangement looked ready to spill, so Twilight lifted her bowls out of his grasp and patted the floor, inviting him to sit.

Spike plopped down and tossed the first nacho into his mouth. “No one else seems to eat these, anyway, so more for me! Not that there's much else on the menu right now...”

The little dragon’s demeanour seemed to change. Twilight only gave a light chuckle. “And who was it that put ‘nachos’ on the weekly food stocks?”

Spike licked his lips as he opened the ketchup bottle. “Me!” he replied, filling with an eager sense of pride, before drowning his meal.

“I’ll never understand how you convinced Mrs. Polish to keep them on there.”

He shrugged. “Nopony really said anything. I just snuck in and the next thing I knew we had something new and delicious to have every day. Granted, it’s only me who seems to enjoy their sweet, crispy texture and the way they mush together in my mouth.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. They tasted bland to her pony tongue, and the harder parts always poked at her gums whenever she tried to eat more than one at a time. “Remind me to make a new diet schedule for you. You’ve really been eating a lot lately.”

“You just haven’t tried them with ketchup yet,” Spike responded, waving a tomato covered nacho at her. “Besides, there’s not much else I can really eat in there since Juniper cleared the whole place out.”

“Didn’t we get a new delivery yesterday?”

He shrugged and continued eating. It was always cute to see him enjoying himself, but Twilight couldn’t help but think he looked like a slob in this moment. Maybe he was just going through a growth spurt and needed the extra calories. She looked down at her own meal and felt a drip of saliva escape her lips. She quickly wiped it off and dove in.

To her starved belly the meal was an unwelcome chore. It felt strained, like an already exhausted mare being dragged out of bed to start the day. Twilight hadn’t wanted to get up this morning, though she hadn’t felt nearly as tired last night as she did today. Something was dragging at her fetlocks.

She looked outside again, at the dull, blue sky hanging over them. It wasn’t meant to be that way, to look so grey and depressing, especially when the landscape below was as bright and colourful as any other cloudless summer day. The sight didn’t make sense. It was as if something massive was overshadowing the planet itself, twisting the light before it reached them, adding its own strange element to the scene.

Spike spoke before she had a chance to see the thing floating beside the Sun.

“Hm?” she asked. She blinked away the strange look on her face and managed a smile.

“Are you going to be finished studying soon?” Spike repeated.

Twilight paused for a moment, her thoughts struggling to get back on the right track. She looked to her project, then back to him. “I’m still having some trouble with it,” she responded. “I think I’m getting closer, though, so it shouldn’t be long. Why?”

Spike suddenly looked diminutive, as if he was about to ask for something he knew he couldn’t have. “Well… it’s been a few days, so can we go outside yet?”

A short moment of silence descended. Twilight kept her gaze firmly away from the window, instead meeting Spike’s pleading eyes.

“You said we could leave in a few days,” he continued, “and… it’s been a few days. Right?”

“It has.”

He waited a few seconds before rolling a hand at her, a nacho held between his little fingers. “So…?”

“So what?”

He frowned and leaned forward. “So we can go for a walk today… right?”

Twilight took in a long breath. “I… don’t know about that. Th-there…” She glanced at the table again. “I still need to finish this project so that the Princess knows we’re doing ok.”

“Can’t we just send her a letter…?” Spike asked, one eyescale rising.

“Well, we could, but it would probably just get lost. She never responded to that first one we sent, so the castle’s probably still getting flooded right now.”

“So… can we, or not? I’m sick of this.”

Twilight shook her head sadly. “Not until the Princess says so.”

Spike’s face fell, his whole demeanour crestfallen. He glanced away, then frowned at his meal and continued eating.

They couldn’t risk it yet. They were safe here. Twilight grimaced as she ate some more; the lettuce tasted like it was starting to age. “That stallion came within twenty strides of our doorstep,” she reminded her small, scaly brother. “He could’ve burned the school down if the Vigil hadn’t been there.”

“He wasn’t even doing anything. He was just sitting there,” Spike grumbled in response.

“And what about everypony else? If he came all the way up here, then-”

“I get it.”

“I’m just making sure.”

She’d stolen his appetite along with his hopeful mood, the little dragon now idly dipping a nacho into the pool of ketchup, staring at his bowl. The sight twisted something in Twilight’s chest, but she knew she had little alternative. They were fine here. Even if the deliveries to the kitchens had started to thin out, and even if the taps were starting to buckle and judder, they would still be safer in here than out there. If the stallion had wandered all the way to the upper streets of Middle Canterlot, then what did that mean for the rest of the city? Were the gardens of the nobility getting trampled and grazed? Was there graffiti on the walls of the castle itself?

Twilight shifted in place as she chewed. Her shoulders felt tired and stiff, and that persistent itch between them had been growing worse as her anxiety grew. The noise outside had died down and, last she checked, there hadn’t been as many plumes of smoke rising from the Rabbles.

Just a few more days, then Celestia would return.

“What’re you working on, anyway?” Spike asked, still sounding grumpy.

“Mgh.” Twilight took a moment and swallowed. “It’s meant to be a more academic way of learning how to cast spells.” A pause as her stomach settled. “Something to help me learn new spells quicker by breaking the basic process down into its component parts, and then either changing it or adding to it. Although, I’ve had a lot of trouble so far...” Twilight frowned with annoyance, glancing back at the dull, blue vase on its table.

“So… it’s like you’re learning magic all over again?”

Her aggravation gave way to a smile. The very suggestion filled her with a rush of enthusiasm. “Essentially, yeah! If it works as intended then I should be able to learn new spells at a rate of one per five days or so, if my calculations are correct. Give or take for complexity.”

“Huh, that’s pretty cool,” Spike replied, a small smile on his face. “You learn fast enough already. Celestia will probably be pretty happy if it works.”

“If I can get it to work, at least,” Twilight added. “If I can’t even cast a simple colour change spell using this method, then I doubt it’ll be of much use.” Twilight looked back to her bowls and took another mouthful of lettuce and carrot. One was empty already and the other was halfway there. She’d been much hungrier than she realised. “I need to make sure she knows I'm ok and still advancing my studies, even while the school is closed.”

“Can I help?” Spike offered suddenly.

For a moment she glanced between him and the remaining bowl, wondering why he’d suddenly gained a taste for vegetables. “Oh, I mean… it’s pretty complex, even for me.” Spike’s help was always appreciated when it came to locating the right books and references, but the little dragon was no good with sums. He had a good visual memory, but little of the knowledge or skill needed to make proper use of it. He’d even gained a habit of giving all of Twilight’s mathemagical symbols odd names to help himself remember them, rather than memorise their real, more difficult ones.

Spike shrugged. “I’ve helped out before. You can trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, Spike. It’s just that what I’m doing digs straight to the core of magical theory. A lot of the simpler mathemagical methods don’t apply here, especially since this is essentially an entirely new one.”

She caught a momentary grimace on Spike’s face at the mention of maths, but he stayed the course. “Two heads are better than one...?” he suggested with another, more desperate shrug.

He was giving her that look again; the look of a child trying to work a bar of chocolate into his hooves. Twilight found it rather heartwarming that he would use it for the sake of convincing her to let him take part. She couldn’t help but smile back. “I can’t say no to that face,” she replied. “Come on. Let’s see what we can do.”

She stood and turned to the table, only to feel Spike’s little claws grasp at her back leg. “And then can we go for a walk? Just a super short one to see if everything’s alright?”

Another moment of silence. Twilight felt a chill envelop her forehead, as if she she’d just seen a ghost. It was a wonderful day outside, but the heat would only serve to ripen the bags of trash building up in the streets. The soft, golden light would be glittering off Canterlot's pearly white cobbles and the broken shards of glass that covered them. Nopony would be stopping to enjoy the weather with that thing hanging over them.

“I’ll think about it,” she lied.

Twilight loosened her jaw as she rose, levitating their bowls to the kitchen door. Putting the unnatural shadow of the thing in the sky behind her she returned to the table with Spike at her side. The formula lay there on its scroll, an unholy copulation of numbers and magical theory. Any round of research that required intensive study and practice gave Twilight the motivation to press onward and achieve her goals. Her enthusiasm for the field was self-sustaining in that sense. But somehow, this time felt a little bit different. The formulae almost seemed to stare back at her, inviting her to try again, knowing she would fail.

The quill rose once again, its tip releasing a droplet of ink onto the wooden surface. The vase was shifted well out of sight and Twilight placed both hooves on the table with Spike coming up beside her on a stool.

The unicorn looked calmly at the very beginning of her formula. The long version of Starswirl’s First Law of Thaumium Growth was important for the sake of accuracy. Twilight had little idea of what kind of a pony he’d been, but his refusal to shorten any of his own major breakthroughs into simple expressions spoke of a very stubborn mule with a very straightforward view of the world. Looking at the complexity of what could otherwise be stated as “M=M+TxM”, it was no small wonder she’d had to scrap the other attempts. After getting its details so horridly mixed up that simply wiping the parchment clean and starting again wouldn’t remove the animosity she felt towards each offending scroll, Twilight had finally written the entire sum correctly, or so she hoped. She knew it by heart, she reminded herself. It couldn’t be wrong.

The other major names featured within the numbers were not Twilight’s favourites, but she had nonetheless replicated their contributions to the field. Quilliam and Atruvius had notoriously been at each other’s throats for their entire careers, and countless minor controversies stalked them beyond the grave. Twilight knew less of them than she did of the star-gazer she admired so much, but—

Twilight’s ears perked up and Spike retracted the claw he’d been about to point something out with, and they both looked to the door of the dormitory. The knock came again and, releasing a quiet huff, Twilight popped her quill back into its inkwell and wandered over. The young stallion on the other side was just a postmare, she was thankful to see. She didn’t like being disturbed by others unless it was important, let alone when she was right in the middle of something.

The postmare hoofed her a small but weighty package. Carrying it through the air, the table made a worrying creak as she thunked the box down.

“What is it?” Spike asked, leaning over to give the cardboard a poke.

Twilight gave the package a quick once-over and noted the first class stamp and then the one of royal approval. Not quite royal enough for a golden print, but still very much important enough to handle with care. “I think it’s from my mom,” she replied. She retrieved her quill and swept the ink from it. The wavy field of levitation slowed and solidified, its tip sharpening to a point to turn it into a makeshift box cutter. The cardboard split with ease.

Peering inside, it was as Twilight had suspected; pages upon pages of important documents. Tax reports and written legal requests and disputes for the nobles who lived close to her home in Upper Canterlot. A simple convenience for them, a firestorm back home. The only reason her mother ever risked sending such things to her daughter’s school dorm was because she knew Twilight was the most methodical—and therefore careful—mare in Canterlot. It would also be because the filing rooms back at the manor were likely up to the ceiling with all kinds of official complaints, notices of absence, end-of-the-world sales adverts, and more.

With every word she read, the pit in Twilight’s stomach started to reopen, all thoughts of distracting herself with study peeling away as reality stormed into her thoughts. It felt like her dorm’s giant window wasn’t there anymore, like the gaping abyss of Canterlot Mountain’s cliffs were about to curl back on themselves and climb into her room. There would be no ignoring it today.

Slowly, her gaze drifted to the beautiful view.

It was still there.

From leagues and leagues above it hung, motionless and malformed, as it had done for four weeks now. Staring back with its one pillar-shaped eye, any sign of the Mare in the Moon wiped clean from the heavenly body’s surface. Beyond the pillar, the Moon was as smooth as a billiard ball. It had only been mere happenstance that it hadn’t tried to knock Epona into the metaphorical table’s pocket. At least it felt like it. Supposedly there was nothing to fear now that the queen of the night had been defeated, but the remnants of her landbridge were still there, and so was the Moon itself, unable to continue its journey now that ownership had been passed from Celestia to her sister.

“Twilight?”

For the first two weeks she'd found herself staring at it. The disfigurement adorning the object’s surface was impossible to ignore, and the shadow it cast across its face was a horrid reminder of everything that had nearly happened. Studying was her only respite from the images of black that filled her mind. Landscapes veiled in darkness, creatures in the night, plants dying, society breaking down…

“Twilight, are you ok? Come on.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m ok,” she responded quietly. “I just… got a chill.”

2 - Victory

The mare awoke that day with the scent of apples filling her nostrils.

With Ponyville’s new library still under renovations, the owners of Sweet Apple Acres had kindly offered her and Spike a place to stay the night. She’d gotten up, had a delicious apple pie breakfast, and then promptly realised the motive behind Applejack’s hospitality when the mare’s little sister asked how much money she was planning on granting the farm for doing such a good job.

It seemed her status as a lesser noble was big news in a small town like Ponyville. To be viewed like that was useful when it came to organising the countryfolk, but it was tremendously tiresome trying to reassure them when they thought they’d set a hoof out of line. They seemed to view her as being one step away from the Princess herself, and while that may have been true in a sense, Twilight had only been there to oversee preparations, not direct them.

The first day had been stressful, but thankfully, the celebration came together in the second, and the frenetic panic in the air cooled to an anxious simmer. It was understandable; it was the first time the town had been chosen for the Summer Sun Celebration in decades, and the whole place had been decorated for the event. The smell of baked goods and candy filled every street, streamers and ribbons and all manner of baubles hung from every lamppost and rooftop, and the sound of birdsong could be heard from every tree, some arranged into little choirs courtesy of Fluttershy.

But for all the long lists and high spirits, for all the tasty treats and the satisfaction of a job well done, none of it was at the forefront of Twilight’s mind. Only she knew what was about to happen. Only she knew why the lights went out.

It took mere moments, perhaps no more than a minute, for their world to come crashing down. Without warning, the light of day winked out, leaving only the scattered stars and the big, round Moon visible high above them. Then, with a flicker and a flash, it began. A wave of energy travelled across the heavenly body’s surface, wiping away the iconic Mare in the Moon, bringing every loose pebble and mountain to one location. The landbridge appeared as a bump on the white silhouette, growing to a point and then piercing into the night sky like a giant, twisting stinger.

It was still tiny to the naked eye, but in a matter of seconds the landbridge had stretched far enough into the void that it was now longer than the Moon was wide, and with a turn, it made for Epona. The stinger became a crescent, for a moment looking as if it would land back on the lunar surface before another wave of unimaginable power brought more material to its base. The bridge wound its way further across the sky, a bright, blue dot adorning its tip, coming into view just before it pierced the atmosphere.

It landed with barely a sound, the entire structure creaking to a halt as the end planted itself amongst the trees of the Everfree. Slowly, the world faded back into view as the overwhelming darkness gave way to a moonlit night. Shock gave way to panic, and as a thousand pale shadows burst to life beneath their hooves, Twilight set out to do what she could.

-----

The stack of papers made a soft thud as Twilight placed them beside her scroll, her eyes darting between them to decide which she disliked more at this particular moment. With a wave of magic the scroll was rolled up and its end was tucked neatly into the vase, which was placed out of sight at the side of the room. She pulled a sticky note from the collection beside her bedroom door and stuck it to its rim, marking it as her project so that nopony else would touch it.

She gave a long breath and set her mind into work mode, Spike visible in the corner of her eye, looking ever more dismayed. First came a monthly income report from a furniture company by the simple name of “BBB”. Twilight recalled it was the largest seller of bedroom furniture and styles in Manehatten, but by the look of the numbers the Canterlot store hadn’t made many sales this month. Also in the stack were supporting documents to go with the report, to ensure that the numbers were correct. With a little spark she analysed the print of the signature and confirmed its legitimacy. Twilight quickly did the math, made a slight correction, and marked the report for review. Grabbing her quill she added her own signature complete with a tiny magical enchantment of her own, and placed the documents into a new “complete” pile.

A few similar reports followed, most showing a downturn in profits. Twilight frowned. The Splattershop was reporting an absurd amount of wasted products that could only be the result of theft. Either one of the staff members had taken it upon themselves to repaint their entire street, or the local Vigil station was now using one of its cells as storage for a wagons worth of windigo white and sunset scarlet.

Next came something of a scarier nature; a payout request on property insurance from one of the mansions on the High Brow. Twilight stopped for a moment, eyeing the name of the sender, but was relieved to see it wasn’t her home. Her mother had more than enough on her plate without anything getting stolen. Apparently the Mint Manor had been broken into by a random hooligan, and the mare of the house was requesting an exorbitant reparatory payment for the sake of a broken lock and a few missing dresses.

Her frown deepened. So the riots had spread past the Rabbles, after all.

She rubbed her brow and carried on. There was no point in thinking about the surrounding factors. All she needed to do was add and subtract, analyse and compare. It was a simple job, but an important one, and one her mother had entrusted to her at the exclusion of her other apprentices. So what if every single page showed signs of the chaos in the city? They needed to be done regardless of how she felt.

Twilight felt a dim heat between her shoulder blades, as if the Moon was aiming a beam of light directly upon her. She tensed up and risked looking back at it.

At times like these, when one-thousand years of peace and stability looked like they were about to come apart at the seams, bureaucracy was far more important than most liked to think. Records needed to be kept up to date rain or shine, otherwise the relevant companies and clients would face the repercussions of late tax reports and unsent messages, worsening the economic chaos in the city and leaving the victims of the violence waiting longer for justice.

But as the pile of completed forms grew, Twilight began to slow. Times like these were when her mother needed her most—that much was clear from how large the package was—but she could only frown at the papers as if they had wronged her in some way.

So it seemed even more inexcusable, then, when Twilight piled it all back together and carefully placed the stack in one of the bookshelves. With a flash the stack was disguised as the next four books along. Twilight left the dormitory in silence, Spike following close behind with a worried look on his face.

---

The sky was open to the heavens today. The Sun bore down upon the land, bathing Equestria in an ever so slight golden glow, just visible at the edges of the horizon. The rest should have been a beautiful, bright blue, but ever since the celebration an odd paleness had been inflicted upon this year’s summer, made from the combination of sunlight and moonlight. A dull blue, as one might describe it. With the surface of the Moon now completely smooth—save for the pillar-like remains of the landbridge’s base—it acted as a mirror during the day, taking in the light and redirecting it upon the world, adding its own strange element in the process.

Despite the wintry sky, the heat betrayed the time of year. With the extra source of light, Equestria was bathed in an uncomfortable amount of warmth on clear days like this, thinning the snowy peaks and causing the grass to curl like hairs too close to a flame.

Thankfully, the Moon was just the Moon; nopony would cook under its glare. The misshapen object had preferred a much more direct method of attack.

Twilight leaned against the golden railings, her forehooves dangling over the edge of the city. The fresh air smelled strange after spending so long indoors. It might have been a mixture of the grass and flowers of the mountain trails and the remnants of smoke, but it was still a good kind of strange that revitalised her lungs. Her limbs felt stiff and her meal was struggling to settle, her body once again punishing her for being so dedicated to her studies.

It was worth it. She was used to this. Spike wasn’t.

The little dragon sat beside her with his little hands against the faint magical barrier between the railings and the road, preventing wayward foals from flinging themselves overboard. They were only a block and a half away from the school but he already looked tired. For all her worries about his diet, it seemed she couldn’t keep him cooped up any longer. He deserved better than this, but what choice did she have?

“I hope they’re doing ok,” he said.

“Who?”

He gave her an odd look, as if it should have been obvious. “Y’know, those mares from Ponyville?”

“O-oh, of course. Yeah, I hope so too,” Twilight replied.

Ponyville was a tiny speck in the panorama; nothing more than a collection of yellow and orange dots beside the blue patch that was Saddle Lake. Just beyond it, the vast, dark green of the Everfree Forest flooded the canvas to the east and south, and within that were the sights that made her heart skip.

From the steep, red cliffs of the Macintosh Hills all the way to the endless white foothills of the Dragonbacks, were chunks. Cubic mountains in their own right, arranged in a vague, twisting line travelling center to south and back up north across the map of the country, rising taller than most of Manehatten’s skyscrapers and measuring the breadth of entire villages and more. They were moon dust and pieces of mountain, crushed together by some otherworldly force to create the landbridge Nightmare Moon had used to escape her imprisonment.

As the dark queen’s chosen stepping-off point, the Everfree had taken the brunt of the rain. The southern slopes of Mt. Brackenhoof lay beneath the largest one, along with countless unlucky creatures. Its new peak was unnaturally squarish across the top and down the three sides that hadn’t cracked apart on impact, rising high above the trees. A little further south was a smaller chunk, resting atop the old castle, decimating an irreplaceable archeological site along with anyone who had still been in there at the time…

Her gaze drifted back to Ponyville. The town had been spared the destruction by a dozen miles or more, but it had been far, far too close for comfort. As the rainbow coloured lights of the Elements of Harmony died back down, the old castle had filled with an almighty crash, like the sound of a mountain splitting apart. They barely escaped from the ruins before the revived Sun was blotted out once more as massive lumps of stone filled the sky. Of the race back to Ponyville Twilight didn’t remember much, aside from the scared expressions of her new friends and the wild howls of the forest creatures escaping right beside their little vulnerable group.

It was July now, and no matter how hard she tried she still couldn’t get those images out of her head. Of Rainbow Dash covered in bleeding cuts, of those strange monsters Nightmare Moon brought with her, and of the mare herself, her eyes growing thin and terrified as the Elements of Harmony tore her body asunder. It had been a full four weeks since the Unscheduled Night, and she still found herself waking up to look out of her window at the doomsday staring back.

She was just being dramatic, of course. The world hadn’t ended. Nightmare Moon was gone, and from what she had heard, nopony had fallen victim to the chunks of lunar material raining upon Equestria. It was a miracle from start to finish, and Twilight had no idea how to come to terms with it.

“I’m sure they’re doing just fine,” Twilight added. “Applejack’s probably working hard, and Pinkie’s probably throwing a party as we speak.”

Spike smiled. “And Fluttershy’ll be… singing to the birds and stuff? I’m not actually sure what she does for a living.”

“Hm. Maybe she’s a general caretaker for the forest? I never really thought to ask.”

“Well either way it’s gonna take a lot of caretaking to fix that mess,” Spike commented, pointing at the Everfree.

“That’s for sure.” At least it was just the Everfree, she thought. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Ponyville had been destroyed…

Those five mares arranged themselves in her mind, all smiling at her as Pinkie Pie excitedly explained her plans for a Welcome-to-Ponyville party. Twilight frowned. Only Pinkie and Applejack had faces, and of Rainbow Dash she recalled the injuries more than the details. With everything that had been happening in Canterlot, the rest had been jettisoned from her mind. There was only so much room in her work-focused head, and the appearances of random ponies from a market town in the sticks apparently weren’t worth making space for. Nevermind the fact that she had saved the world with them. She was already feeling guilty for leaving her mother’s documents behind, and now she felt another tendril of need threatening to drag her off the edge and back down to Ponyville, if only for a simple “hello”.

After thanking Applejack for her hospitality, and after making sure Rainbow Dash’s wounds were seen to, she had left all too quickly in the wake of the adventure. She had barely even written to them afterwards. She’d sent an obligatory letter to the mayor to apologise for the Summer Sun Celebration having to be cancelled—something Spike had called her nuts for—followed by a general letter to the five mares asking how things were going. She hadn’t heard back, so she had chosen to assume the best, and that was around the time the madness set in at home.

Spike was giving her another look; the same begging expression from earlier. “We’ll go back and visit some day,” she replied to his silent plea. “We’ll see how they’re all doing and try out all those treats and things we didn’t get to last time.”

Spike broke into a grin. “And I’ll get to tell Fluttershy more about my comic books and stuff! And I’ll get to spend more time with Rarity!”

Rarity’s flowing, purple lengths of mane obscured the details of her face, before the colour was traded for moonlit gold to bring Rainbow Dash to the ground. Twilight pushed the corrupted memory aside and forced a smirk. “You and that crush aren’t going anywhere, kiddo.”

Spike quickly hushed her. “That’s what you think, but she has gems for a cutie mark, and I love gems!”

“But do you love fashion?”

Spike’s brow tweaked. “W-well… I could?”

That was adorable. At the very least she could provide an opportunity for them to talk to one another. “I don’t know if she makes anything other than dresses, but I could have her make you a Power Ponies costume if you-”

“Really?!” Spike exclaimed with glee, leaping to his feet.

“Of course! In fact, I’ll send her a letter today… and… I guess we’ll see…” Twilight could feel herself tapering off, her tongue slowing to a stop before she wanted it to. Spike wanted and needed more than that, yet all she could offer him was the half-measure of long-distance contact. The idea of physically leaving Canterlot at this stage was ludicrous. There was far, far too much to do.

Spike seemed to have caught on. The spring was gone from his step and it showed on his face. “Can’t we just… y’know… ask her in person...?”

Twilight felt a lump forming in her throat. “We… shouldn’t. I want to, really, but I need to figure out that casting method so that Celestia knows I’m ok. And I need to help mom with all of her work. I can’t just leave her to it.” Twilight thought back to the first and only time her mother found out her documents had been left unattended and felt a shudder travel through her body. “Speaking of which, I should really see to those papers…”

She trotted up the road, leaving Equestria’s sorry state behind as she aimed for Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns… only to find a baby dragon stuck to one of her legs. “H-hey, come on!” Spike cried, claws digging into her ankle. “We’ve barely been out fifteen minutes!”

Twilight gave the leg a gentle shake. “Spike, w-we’ll go a little ways up the lap before we head back, but I really can’t leave that stuff alone for too long. I can’t leave mom with all the work.”

The grip only tightened. “No, you promised we’d go for a walk! An actual walk! Can’t we at least go to the lake or something?”

Twilight’s face paled. “Wh-what? Of course not! That’s at the other side of the city!”

“So? I wanna walk! I can’t take being inside anymore! You’ve been helping and studying all month, so why can’t we just have one little walk? A-and if Canterlot’s so bad, then why can’t we go to Ponyville?”

“Because of that!” she raised her voice in response, pointing a hoof at the sky. Spike let go and Twilight realised she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” she said, gruffly, and not quite quickly enough. This wasn’t his fault; he didn’t deserve this. It was everything else that needed shouting at. She had to stay here to help her mother, and to help her mentor feel better, to reassure them that it was ok to not worry about her for a while. Celestia needed that time to herself after what had happened to her sister.

There was so much to do. Everything was wrong and Nightmare Moon had only been the start of it. Twilight turned away from the cause to look upon the effect. She could hear the wind whistling between the spires and rooftops, holding in all the fear and frustration that had been pouring out of the city ever since the Unscheduled Night. Faint wisps of smoke could still be seen curling round the side of the mountain from one of the big bonfires in the Rabbles, and even here on the outskirts of the Market District, one could see pieces of litter lining the edges of the streets.

There would be far greater signs of chaos closer to the population centers. They were safe, here on the lap. Twilight searched Spike’s expression for some sign of giving in, but his hard stare only gave way to frustration. She couldn’t risk any harm coming to him, even if he couldn’t understand. “Listen, Spike, it’s dangerous just to be on the lap, let alone going all the way through Canterlot,” she stated, more calmly this time. “The lake’s probably full of trash and Celestia-knows-what, anyway…”

Spike let go. “You don’t know that,” he grumbled, turning away from her. “All I want is to have a nice day out while it’s still summer. I don’t care if there’s stuff everywhere.”

“But-”

He looked back at her. “You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about stuff. I’ve read my entire collection—twice—and I’m still thinking about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t beaten Nightmare Moon!”

“It’s bad enough what happened when I did! The rioting kept me up every night…”

Spike looked around, and held his little arms out. “So?” he asked simply. “I don’t see anything happening now.”

Almost hesitantly, Twilight looked down the road, then up it. This was one of the more popular tourist spots in the city, yet there were only a sparing few groups in sight. Her gaze lingered on the tall, colourful structures of the school. She didn’t know how things were going in other places, but she knew Canterlot’s streets were still dangerous. The noise had died down, but that wouldn’t be the end of it. The terror of the world nearly ending was overwhelming, and many would still be feeling that fear. Some ponies were crazy enough to light fires and destroy things, but most were merely foolish, panicking, thinking the threat was still present.

Once more she felt the light of that unheavenly object upon her back, and with a shuddering breath, Twilight trotted into the empty streets. Spike followed close behind, a little sprint entering his gait before he hopped onto her back. In the end he was right; there was no point in wasting such a nice day indoors. Maybe one canter through the market wouldn’t be too much of a risk. Twilight only hoped they would get more chances like this before Canterlot collapsed around them.

3 - Herding Cats

She awoke that day with the smell of rotten produce oozing into her nostrils. Adding to the faint scent of smoke in the air, some senseless youth had wandered onto the school grounds and set fire to a bag of trash right in the middle of the courtyard. The smell of mushy apples and browning lettuce had flowed right into the third stage dorms, prompting the entire class to hold their noses as they watched the scene unfold through the glass.

The perpetrator was a young earth-pony, perhaps only a couple of years older than them. “He was probably just jealous or something,” Moondancer had suggested with a huff. Twilight held little opinion for the stallion himself, but it seemed clear that what he’d done had been done out of apathy rather than anger. He hadn’t broken anything; he’d just trotted up, dropped the bag, and sat beside the foul smelling flames until the City Vigil showed up - though by that point their mentor had already dealt with him.

Petrification was a punishment normally saved for the worst of crimes, but it seemed the Princess was in a bad mood today in spite of the smile on her face. Celestia stood beside them, overseeing the process in silence. She had looked tired that day, like the weight of the world was upon her. Her actions were drastic, but then again she was in the middle of trying to hold all of Canterlot together, and a random stallion setting fires near her students was the last thing she needed during the one break she’d had from her ruling duties in the past three weeks.

The last few bits of nastiness were swept away as the officers finally managed to lift the statue into the cart. With the situation resolved, the Princess led them to the door of the classroom. They all filtered in and took their seats, but it would be over an hour before their mentor joined them…

-----

Twilight made a double-take as she and Spike passed by the courtyard of the local middle school. A stony face stared back at them, expressionless for its lack of facial features. It was another earth-pony, though thankfully a mere construction rather than a victim of the Princess’ wrath. Upon four strong legs it stood, the golden plaque at its forehooves dedicating it to the army of builders who raised Canterlot’s great foundations from which the city grew, and to those who died in the process.

More than that, it was a sign of the most major event in Equestria’s entire history; the War of the Night. Nightmare Moon’s birth brought decades of war as the very concepts of night and day broke down and the country’s legions were split between its rulers. Crop failures, uncontrollable weather and erratic seasonal shifts had brought the rest of the world to its knees, and Equestria, as the epicenter, had taken almost two centuries of careful management of nature to return things to normal. Canterlot itself was something of a lesson to all those who fought with one another instead of working together through such incredible hardships, but the smears of tomato covering the statue were a statement all to themselves.

Twilight could see a few ponies through the windows, but it seemed none of them had made the effort to come out and deal with the mess. A few rolls of toilet paper had been thrown over the school fences and the statue was wrapped up in makeshift bandages, with a spent roll stuck to its forehead like a horn. The golden plaque had been crudely painted over in bright red, obscuring its message of unity and determination.

Such disrespect of history felt like a slap in the face to Twilight. Times like these were when ponies needed to come together, yet it seemed some were either far too eager to ignore Equestria’s previous victories, or they were ignorant of them altogether. With a wave of magic she cleared most of the mess and removed the fake horn, crushing it with a little more force than she meant to.

“Is everypony just weak these days or something?” she heard herself say. Her jaw felt stiff with an anger she couldn’t quite articulate. It all felt so… unnecessary. Overblown. Nightmare Moon was gone and nopony had died. The only reason left to panic, then, were the chunks of moon dust scattered across the country, and even then, most had landed in uninhabited regions. To Twilight’s knowledge, the only structure that had been destroyed was the old castle, and barely anypony beyond historians even knew about the place.

Spike shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t exactly have much of a reference point to work with.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Why is everypony overreacting so much? Nopony even died!” She motioned again to the statue. “And yet…” How do I even put this into words? It feels like everyone just decided to go crazy. “And yet, look at what they’ve done!”

Spike leaned into her field of view, forcing her to rebalance. “Twilight, I know you’re feeling kinda loopy right now, but it’s just a statue.”

It wasn’t even close to being just a statue. Twilight could feel more righteous fury welling up from inside and she tore her gaze away from the monument. Placing a hoof upon her front, she bundled the anger up and released it in one long, calming breath. The fuzz in her mind went with it, but she looked back anyway. She wanted to clean the statue completely, if only to convince herself that, if it was clean, maybe that would mean the rest of Canterlot wouldn’t be in a similar state.

“You’re right,” she replied after a moment. “If I get distracted by every little mess we come across we’ll end up being out here all day. Can’t waste the sunlight.”

They continued on, leaving the depressing sight for the school to deal with.

It had all sounded so noisy only a short while ago, but now the streets were almost deserted. The local grocery store was still open, but the scent of produce wafted through the air for a few houses further than it should have. The shop was a home-run affair with most of the ground floor converted for storage and the shop floor itself. Through the open front Twilight met the owner’s gaze. For a moment he looked alarmed, but his expression softened as he realised who it was.

“Ms. Sparkle,” he greeted with a nod. “Feeling alright today?”

“Of course, Chestnut. Why do you ask?” Twilight responded, hiding the lingering stress still stuck to her tongue.

The stallion shrugged. “No reason. Haven’t seen you two around lately, figured you were packing up like everyone else.”

She smiled politely. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I have my studies to do, you know that.”

A humoured grin spread across Chestnut’s face, likely recalling the many times Twilight had waffled on at him about this or that. “Sure. You probably have a whole stack of hardbacks calling your name right now, huh?”

A familiar hint of nervousness flickered in Twilight’s throat. Conversation was easy enough when it consisted of little more than dictation of facts and interests. Actually talking about things the way other ponies did… Relax, he’s just telling a joke, Twilight told herself. Just come up with something to say. Bounce off of what he just said and it’ll be ok. She gave a half-hearted laugh. “Enough to teach a whole class of kindergartners, yes!”

The grin withered to the usual lopsided smirk and Twilight knew she had failed again. Dammit. I thought that was a good one.

Chestnut leaned back in his chair, half-hidden behind the baskets of aging apples and oranges. “Speakin’ of teachers, I don’t suppose you’ve seen the Princess lately?” he asked. “I know you’re close n’ all.”

The image of that petrified colt gave way to the Nature Magic textbook only Twilight had still been reading by the time the Princess returned. It had been a week since she had seen her, and as far as she knew, no one else had seen the Princess in that time, either. She had once thought to check with the ponies at the castle, but then she’d had the idea for that new casting method and everything else fell to the wayside. Princess Celestia was the busiest pony in the city on a normal day. With everything that was happening it was no wonder she was tied up in administrative work.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t,” Twilight replied.

Chestnut’s face changed and the atmosphere went with it. “Oh,” he said. “That’s not good. Do you have any ideas why?”

A little, worried frown appeared on her face. “I… I don’t know, sorry.” She hadn’t expected that. The last thing she wanted to be doing was fuelling other ponies’ worries.

“Hey, that’s ok. I don’t mean to pressure you or anythin’.” Chestnut scratched at the short, auburn tuft that was his mane. “‘s just a bad sign, is all. I don’t know how my business is going to survive through next month if things keep going the way they are. Half my customer base has already vanished into thin air and, if you don’t mind me saying, it looks like the Princess has done the same.”

Twilight shook a hoof. “No, no, she’ll be back any day now. She just has a lot on her plate with her sister returning and the riots and everything.”

Chestnut considered her oddly for a moment. “Hm. I’ve heard a lot of rumors goin’ around about those two. One of my friends thinks the Princess isn’t doing anything to fix Canterlot because she never actually came back in the first place.”

Spike leaned forwards. “You mean… from the old castle?” he asked. Chestnut nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what I said to him. Some other folks think Luna doesn’t even exist and that this is Celestia turnin’ on us, or somethin’.”

“That makes even less sense,” Twilight stated. But perhaps marginally more reasonable - though that wasn’t saying much - since Celestia’s sister hadn’t yet made a public appearance.

Chestnut cracked a smile, but it faded fast. “Just sayin’. Bein’ from the Rabbles I can smell when somethin’ bad’s about to happen. Somethin’ longer lastin’ than the riots. Even without any surveys I can tell a lot of ponies are gettin’ sick of the Princess’ handlin’ of all this, and considerin’ you’re so close to her… well, y’now. Stay safe.”

For a moment Twilight’s social interaction-starved mind thought Chestnut was threatening her. It didn’t make any sense to her that ponies of any great number would feel ill will towards the Princess that had built this city and kept the entire country safe for one-thousand years. Even less so given the aftermath circumstances they were living in at the moment. Before she and Spike continued, Chestnut added that it sounded like there were the beginnings of a political movement beneath the Princess’ nose. The last time such a thing had happened was a couple of hundred years ago when the concept of democracy was thrown off the mountainside, along with several political rivals who had orchestrated a major act of arson in an attempt to paint the Princess as a power-hungry monster. Such a punishment was out of the question these days, but ponies were still just as emotional and herd-like as they had been for thousands of years, so who knew what they would try.

“Are ponies really leaving?” Spike asked. “I thought everyone was just staying in, like us.”

“Looks like it,” Twilight replied. “It’s… very quiet compared to normal. This area should be teeming with people…”

There wouldn’t be much of an electorate to draw votes from anyway if things kept going the way they were. As they turned the corner Twilight could see that her favourite stationery shop was closed. Nosing at the gap between the shutters, all the lights were off and there wasn’t a soul to be seen inside. Across the way the mare who ran a small bakery out of her own dining room had placed a lock on the shuttered windows, the closed sign hanging limply from the door knob. A few other little shops in the area were quiet and dark, too. The Market District was true to its name, but it seemed only a small portion of the money stream was flowing today.

Twilight glanced back at her passenger. “Hey, Spike, I don’t suppose I missed a day or two while I was working on that casting method?”

“Huh? Why? What day is it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Either it’s saturday like I think, or it’s actually monday and this is way, way worse than I thought.”

A smile forced itself onto Twilight’s face. No. It’s gotta be saturday. There’s no way I missed two whole days just on one project. These shops are meant to be closed. They’re not- A mournful yell echoed through her mind as she turned the corner, an unwelcome memory glaring at her as it cradled its defeated queen. She had subconsciously made her way round to her favourite library, the one where Quilliam worked, who liked to collect strange and unique books from wherever he could find them. Beyond the ponies in her class, Quilliam was perhaps the one individual outside of the school Twilight considered a friend, and his miniature library of curiousities was never closed.

Whoever had smashed the doors in must have been of the lowest dregs of society to even think of attacking a library. Spike hopped down as they drew closer, neither of them saying a thing. It was always a quiet place with a warm, homely feel to it. Quilliam wasn’t a talkative fellow but he was an excellent listener, and he was extremely proud of his collection and loved showing visitors his favourite novels, guides and tomes. The thought of him getting into trouble filled her with rage and fear in equal measure.

With a flicker of magic Twilight opened the doors, clearing the path ahead of shards of colourful glass. The place was dark, but it had been visibly ransacked. Whatever had been used to smash the doors had been used on some of the shelving and a sea of books now covered the floor. The coffee table in the sitting area was more valuable than the entire building and everything else in it combined, but it thankfully didn’t have a scratch on it due to its composite nature of great oak wood and octite metal. Perhaps it had simply been too heavy to take.

Spike, ever the good book keeper, began moving a few aside and stacking them up. Twilight patted him on the shoulder and lit her horn once more. The room filled with amethyst light and the books rose from the floor all at once. Squinting with the effort, she shook a few to remove any remaining debris, cleared the floor with a secondary wave of light, and collected them all together. Only when the room faded back into gloom did Twilight consider how much time she had just wasted through sheer force of habit.

It was then that she heard the mumbling. Revealed from beneath the pile was a sharp, pale-yellow eye staring fixedly at her from behind a big, round spectacle. The hippogryph had drawn his little wings up to cover himself, but they barely hid his chest. Slowly, Quilliam unfurled, mumbling fading off as he directed his stress into the carpet, his talons digging in as he forced himself to stand.

“Sparkle?” he asked with the tone of a lost child. Whatever had happened he seemed little worse for wear beyond one broken spectacle and a lot of ruffled pink feathers.

Twilight stared at him, bug-eyed. “Are you… ok?”

“Mm,” he grunted in response.

Spike brought himself into Quilliam’s limited field of view. “What happened?” he asked.

“Mhn. They… came and…” Quilliam blinked a few times. His collection possessed a sense of organisation Twilight couldn’t quite understand and the hippogryph’s mind was often in a similar state. “They came and ruined everything,” he answered after a fashion.

“Yes. Who was it?” Twilight asked. As soon as the words left her mouth she could see him trying to curl back up. He looked like a beaten dog, hurt and scared of equines. “Sorry, it’s ok. You don’t need to answer that,” she quickly added. “Just tell me when this happened and I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

Another pause, this time longer. Twilight knew Quilliam could tell the time perfectly well, he just needed to sift his mind back through each hour of each day to find the correct event. “Friday,” he finally responded.

“You’ve been under there since yesterday?” Twilight asked, alarmed.

A tweak of the brow made it through Quilliam’s expressionless face. “Two days. Hours… fifteen,” came the correction.

Twilight attempted to do the same and wheel her mind in reverse, but she’d hadn’t done enough of any note to separate one day spent staring at parchment from another.

“It’s monday,” Quilliam added with a tiny smile, as if he was making sure it was ok to broach the subject.

“You’ve been there since friday?!” Spike exclaimed, causing the hippogryph to flinch.

Oh Celestia no, he’s starved himself, Twilight thought in a mixture of horror and aggravation. I’ve heard of burying yourself in a good book, but- Twilight cut off the belated response to Chestnut’s playful jibe and refocused her mind. There had to be some food for him here. “That’s an extremely long time to go without anything to eat. How about we go to the kitchen?”

Griffons were easy to feed if one knew the simple difference between herbivores and carnivores, but a hippogryph was a different matter entirely. Being an unbalanced fusion, they weren’t quite omnivores and most developed a variety of dietary problems later in life. Wheat and milk products were fine, but anything beyond that depended on the hippogryph in question.

Quilliam opted for ready meals and vegetable pies and not much else. He sat himself down, the slight wobble in his gait becoming worryingly pronounced in his present state. The dark purple patches of feathers that covered his front stuck out with a kind of bodily oil avians weren’t meant to be able to produce, and the lighter shade around them was all swept in a particular direction from how he’d been curled. Even the cute little curve of purple feathers between his eyes looked like it was trying to escape his face.

A set of orange gemstones in the back of the oven filled with magical energy, emitting a warmth that leaked through the gap between the door and the metal. Twilight cracked open one of the pies and smelled beetroot and spinach, a combination so healthy it would make even her stomach turn. She felt a small poke on her leg. “Hey, Twilight?” Spike asked.

“Hm?”

The little dragon patted his stomach. “Think he could spare a pack of hayfries?”

She sent him a scowl. “We can’t do that,” she hissed. “He’s starved himself!”

“I know, I know. I’m just hungry so I thought I’d ask.”

Twilight felt ready to bite his head off for this one. Instead she balled up the annoyance and released it, nice and easy. “That would be extremely rude, especially when there should still be plenty of food-y places open.”

Spike gave a shrug and a small grumble. “Fine.”

The sound of the oven heating up marked it as an older model, generating a noisy, rhythmic juddering that made it sound like the food was being pre-chewed. As Twilight managed to pry off the lid the door was held open for her by a shaking talon. “Quill, you don’t… thank you.” The pie went in, and before Twilight could protest, another tin emerged from the cupboard.

“Meat?” Quilliam asked, glancing at Spike.

The little dragon looked like he was having a moment. He poked his index claws together, a look of desperation slowly appearing on his face as he met Twilight’s gaze. The last time Spike had eaten meat had been when he chewed his way through half of a perfectly cooked lump of ham thrice his size. The smell had long since chased away the rest of the partygoers, and Spike’s impulsive actions made sure the visiting Rover nobility didn’t get to enjoy it either. He’d fallen into a food coma afterwards, followed by a full week of hyperactive and aggressive behaviour, as if he’d skipped straight ahead to the very worst of his teenage years.

Still, he was more responsible now and it wasn’t nearly as much meat. He was also getting a bit too good with those puppy dog eyes to resist. “Just this once,” Twilight stated. “What type is it?”

“Chicken.”

Perfect for a growing dragon, odd for a half-avian. It would do.

Twenty minutes passed without much conversation. Quilliam stared at the table between himself and Twilight, looking every bit traumatised, and she couldn’t blame him. This was his safe place away from the noisy, conversational world outside, and on a lot of occasions it had felt that way to Twilight as well. She couldn’t tell him much, but that one hope was all she had left, in spite of what others may have thought: “Celestia will be back in a few days,” she said, “and once that happens, she’ll make sure this sort of thing never happens again.”

“Speckle Weave.”

“Wh- sorry?”

Quilliam made a motion with both hands behind his head, flipping up an invisible hood. “She was here. They broke in and smashed everything.”

The name sounded somewhat familiar. Something to do with Canterlot’s art scene. “Who is Speckle Weave?”

He struggled with that for a moment, one hand clenching against the table. “She wants my collection. Rona Trough’s manuscript is worth one-hundred and seventy suns. Garland the Green by Ochre Brush, the original version, is worth ninety-five suns.” Another pause. “There are others.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide at the numbers she was hearing. Quilliam had upgraded his collection in a big way since she’d last checked. Owning Garland the Green by itself put him in the upper leagues when it came to collectors, but by the sound of the first price the manuscript was the original, which, while in a notoriously sorry state, held knowledge that had revolutionised agriculture and engineering and by all rights should have been locked away in a vault several hundred meters underground.

A face popped into her head, attaching itself to the name. The Weave Palette was what they called themselves. The current head of the family had been the one to paint the giant canvas that stretched from wall to wall in the lobby of the manor a number of years ago, and he’d brought his two children with him as help. A family with an income and a customer base as enviable as that would have no reason to steal. Twilight couldn’t help but tilt her head in confusion. Quilliam undoubtedly had a certain image in his mind, but whether or not that image was reliable was a question of how badly the event had affected him.

“Quill, that doesn’t make sense,” she began. “The Weave Palette is a family of artists, not librarians.”

Quilliam shook his head, starting to look stressed. “She came back even though I banned her, just so she could steal more and hurt me.”

“They were just thugs, Quill.” She placed a hoof on his hand in support. “These things happen, and I know it’s difficult to process, but it wasn’t her. A pony like her has better things to be doing than… this stuff.” Twilight knew from experience the process that went into trying to justify an unthinkable event. When she had been just a filly, it had been so easy to mentally paint the stallion who had robbed them as some kind of demonic entity who could phase through walls and hurt the ponies she loved, that to find out he was nothing more than a confused old care home patient felt almost unbelievable by itself.

Still, after learning of Quilliam’s latest additions it suddenly made a lot more sense why someone would target him. Collectors existed on the black market, too, after all.

Quilliam made a grunting sound, but gave no comment. Then, he caught wind of the food and Twilight could see the train of thought falling from the tracks. Spike placed three plates between them, two of which had a perfectly cooked pie resting on top. A few moments later he returned with knife and fork, drew up a seat, and carved himself a hefty slice of chicken pie. Glancing at her for one last check of approval, he popped the first chunk into his mouth and immediately looked like he was about to choke on it.

“Easy, Spike. One chew at a time,” said Twilight.

Spike made what sounded like a very tiny squeal as he held his cheeks, eyes shut tight as the flavour filled him up. With some effort he swallowed and immediately grabbed another slice. Twilight looked to her own beetroot and spinach meal and separated most of it to share with Quilliam. It smelled good now that it was cooked; a rich, healthy aroma rose from the plate, completely disguising that of the meat only a couple of hoofwidths away. She took a bite; it was drier than she expected, but tasty.

The meal went quickly, giving them all a chance to forget about the wreck that had been made of the front room. Twilight sat back in her chair and released a huff. The only window in the room was a short, wide thing with frosted glass that one would expect to see in a public toilet, giving a hazy view of the sky beyond the chimneys and rooftops. Beyond that would be the Moon, stuck in place to watch the chaos it had wrought.

The riots were over. Twilight wanted to believe that they were at the tail end of all this, but Chestnut’s words roamed around in her head, lighting up every little hint to the contrary. Another line followed it; a warning from Nightmare Moon’s golden-haired creature. The thought of having wronged someone badly enough for them to seek revenge on her friends was enough to give her nightmares, but Quilliam was still here, so it wasn’t her. “Hey, Spike, could you go upstairs and see if anything’s been damaged?” She looked to her friend. “I hope you don’t mind?”

Quilliam gave a nod and Spike eased himself out of his seat. “I feel twice as heavy as normal,” he whined, hand upon his belly. Before he left the room he looked back, forcing a smile past the discomfort. “Oh, and, thanks dude. That was awesome!”

Twilight smirked after he left. “I’m sorry about his appetite. He’s gotten into the habit of eating more since we’ve been cooped up away from everything.”

Quilliam nodded again, looking at nothing. “That’s fine,” he replied after a fashion. “You look scared.”

“What?”

The hippogryph clammed up and Twilight realised how abrupt she had sounded.

“No, sorry, go on. What do you mean?”

“You… look scared,” he repeated. “As scared as me. You could have looked but you sent Spike instead. Why?”

The reasons flashed through Twilight’s mind, only to be overtaken by the emotional implications of what she’d just done. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Did she think there was something dangerous or stress-inducing up there? In that case, why send Spike into danger? It would be easy to say she just wanted to talk with Quilliam some more, or that this was to make up for carrying Spike around, but neither made enough sense. She was the one who needed to do more paperwork, anyway.

She realised she was looking at the door leading to the front room. When she and Spike first entered, she didn’t know if Quilliam was harmed or worse. Even then, she had chosen to put the books back into order first rather than search for her friend. Likewise, the ponies working at the school were fully capable of cleaning the statue without her help. She was fixing things to fool herself into thinking nothing was wrong, and in that state of mind she’d sent Spike upstairs just in case there was more evidence of the vandalism she so desperately wanted to avoid, without considering how he might be feeling about it all.

“I… um,” she managed before she lost the words again.

The look on Quilliam’s face was that of a kid getting the better of his parent for the first time. His eyebrows were high and his grin was wide, and he looked ready to tell everyone he knew that he’d just managed to leave Twilight Sparkle speechless.

Slowly, the edges of Twilight’s mouth twitched and soon she was smiling as well. A chuckle from across the table lead to them both laughing. Dear Celestia, I’m a fool. “Oh dear, does this make me a horrible person?” she asked.

“Huh?” came Spike’s voice from the doorway.

“Heh, it’s nothing, Spike. Don’t worry.”

“Uh, ok. Well anyway, the upstairs looks ok, I think.” He looked to Quilliam. “Are those dressers meant to be on top of each other like that?”

Quilliam nodded.

“And the exposed beams being used as bookshelves?”

Quilliam nodded with enthusiasm.

“Huh. Cool.”

Twilight hopped off her seat and pushed the chair neatly into position. “Well, if everything’s in order we’d better get on our way. Spike and I are heading to one of the lakes if you wanna join us?” she offered.

Quilliam shook his head frantically. “I don’t want to go out,” he said. “I need to fix the books.”

Twilight and Spike shared a glance. “Want some help?” they said in unison.

A smile flickered across his face and he shook his head again.

“Fair enough. I hope it’s all ok,” Twilight replied. She opened the door and looked back with a smile. “I’ll let Celestia know about this as soon as I get back home. Remember, if you need anything, Quill, I’ll always be here.”

The hippogryph seemed to stare at her for a moment before smiling as well, and he gave a little wave as his best friend disappeared from view.

4 - Lynchpin

From far away Canterlot looked like a glorious fairytale of white and gold spires rising from a set of giant disks, clinging to the mountainside like mushrooms to a tree, but up close its more functional shapes became apparent. In the distant past, when the forces of nature rolled through the sky uncontrolled, a city like Canterlot would have been washed from the mountainside without magical defenses, but Celestia had made sure there were plenty of physical alternatives.

Twilight and Spike were on the incline now, heading down towards the middle of the city. The tiny rivulets carved into the marble slabs grew in width and combined into miniature aqueducts either side of every inward-facing street, which in turn ran into the various fountains and decorative streams along the way. Where the trickle turned into streams, some of the water was syphoned away beneath the marble into the sewer network that prevented Sunflare’s Walk from turning into a raging torrent.

The great red and white road came into view over the shops, the incline finally gaining enough of an angle to make the center line of the city visible. Second only in length to the Canterlot Lap, which wrapped unbroken around the entire city, Sunflare’s Walk connected the entrance at the base of the Rabbles all the way up to the gates of the castle. Visible beyond it was the opposite side of the Market District, which lined the mountainside in a network of white marble and grey stone amongst a myriad of colourful rooftops and park areas. There hadn’t been much in the way of rain lately, but given that the entire city was shaped like a trio of giant, disc-like troughs it wouldn’t take much to cause a devastating flood should every hole be plugged and every underfloor facility be shut down.

Spike wanted to see the lake, but it seemed the lake had come to them instead.

The path levelled out as they reached one of “shelf” estates that decorated either side of the incline in this part of the district. This one happened to be shaped like a bowl. Twilight recalled the names of the streets; Fellspring, Loftspring, Bentworth. Twenty homes and counting, all partially submerged. The small maintenance house just before the well was nowhere to be seen beneath the surface. Given the ill shade the water was turning, the sight was more reminiscent of a clogged toilet than a wishing well.

“What in Equestria happened here?” Spike asked as they walked along the edge of the estate.

“Looks like it’s blocked or something,” Twilight replied. “Maybe a lot of somethings, looking at the damage…”

The Spiralis Well was meant to be a small marvel of drainage engineering. With the nearby streets all slanting towards it in a spiral, the well provided an effective defense against storm waters, though Canterlot hadn’t experienced a large enough storm to fully test it in generations now, so perhaps it simply hadn’t been maintained. A number of workers were busy gathering what they could from the flooded homes, wading in and out amongst the residents to help retrieve their personal belongings.

They watched as they walked. It took until her hooves touched something cool and wet for Twilight to notice she’d accidentally gone down the wrong path. She frowned. She hadn’t even realised she was travelling inwards. “Ugh. I need to stop being so fascinated by what other ponies are doing.”

“I was gonna say, but it seemed like you knew where you were going.”

Annoyed, she trotted back up and found where she’d gone wrong. The estate was surrounded by a single, circular street that fused seamlessly into the main road, drawing one away from the flow of traffic and into the bowl. Continuing on, they passed a pair of carts loaded with furniture, all dry, likely from the homes that hadn’t yet been affected.

“You’d think we wouldn’t have to worry about flooding in all this heat,” Spike commented.

“I know, right? It feels like the ends of my mane are starting to curl.”

Spike laid out across her back, head and tail dangling off either side. It was something that had been adorable when he was tinier but now made him look like a dead thing being carried back to the cooking pot. “That’s ok with me!” he exclaimed. “I feel like laying next to a pool and just taking it all in.”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that once we reach the lake,” Twilight replied, giving him a slight jostle to make him sit straight. “I might just take a bath while we’re there at this rate.”

They continued down, Sunflare’s Walk bobbing in and out of view as they travelled through each shelf. Halfway down, the path levelled out once more into one of the more impressive plazas. It was a major shopping area of the district, featuring a large, circular fountain in the middle whose sides rose into ornate walls, its pillars stretching further to create a stone gazebo over the whole structure. Across the middle was a cross-shaped walkway over the water, leading to a ring surrounding the central fountain which sprayed a constant stream into the pool.

Normally the fountain was full of playing foals and the plaza surrounding it with ponies going about their daily spending sprees. It was nearing half-past four and there was barely a soul in sight. The trash, at least, had been swept to sides here, so it seemed someone was taking care of the place. The small army of market stalls that congregated each day was looking thin, with most of the permanent fixtures remaining unoccupied. Only a middling group of colourful fabric roofs were visible with the rest either stored away inside the wooden counters, or left on top to be used or stolen.

As they drew closer the relative quiet of post-riot Canterlot gave way to the more usual sounds of chatter and hoof against stone. A small crowd was browsing between the stalls, a sight which let a tiny ray of colourful sunlight into Twilight’s heart. Normality was a resource in desperately high demand.

“This is a good sign,” Twilight commented. “At least there are some ponies here. Maybe this means the community is starting to come back together?”

“Is that guy selling a pair of dentures?” asked Spike, pointing at an old stallion sitting beside the fountain. He lacked a stall, having nothing more than a piece of cardboard with “High-quality chompers for sale!” written on the front and a travel bag next to him.

Twilight frowned and turned Spike away, only to spot a mare behind a stall selling what seemed to be the contents of her kitchen cupboards. The pots and pans, rather than the food.

The fleeting sense of security left as soon as Twilight laid her eyes on the set of suitcases the mare was sitting on top of as she plied her trade, and it became clear why some of these people were here. While the watchmaking griffon had her homemade clocks laid out just as professionally as always, and the minotaur smith from Upper Canterlot displayed his works with just as much enthusiasm, other traders’ stalls were covered in random items plucked from their homes. Some sold knick knacks, and others, pieces of furniture. They were leaving.

It was just as Chestnut had said. Looking around, almost all of the shops that surrounded the plaza were shut, some with simple “CLOSED” signs hanging on the doors, others with notices of a more official nature, designating the building as empty to discourage looting. In the second week there had been a small exodus of richer citizens fleeing the riots to their other homes, and now it seemed some of the regular ponies had decided Canterlot wasn’t for them, either. Twilight couldn’t imagine leaving her home, and not just because her family’s manor was located on the richest rise in the city, well away from the panic and disorder. She had a certain aggravated fondness for the clean, white streets and organised park areas of Canterlot. A sense of familiarity that told her this was her home. She didn’t have that many friends here, but living in the dormitory she wasn’t too far from her parents and was in constant contact with the Princess herself; her mentor.

Twilight’s eyes grew from concerned to fearful as she saw the next stall, the thoughts of Celestia and her parents falling to the wayside. The stall was stacked high with books: Magical tomes with large spines and big, intimidating encyclopedias rose higher than the sides of the stall itself, the fabric roof laying discarded on the ground. The mare standing behind it held one of her prized magical manuals, explaining to her earth-pony customer, in great detail, how useful it would be to their unicorn relatives, and that if they didn’t have any unicorn relatives, how useful it would be if they decided to make one at some point.

The customer left with a confused frown on their face, the cream-coated unicorn glaring after them from beneath a pair of thick, red eyebrows.

“Moondancer?” Twilight called as she walked up to the stall.

Much like Twilight, Moondancer was a social shut-in, but in her case it showed. The dark jumper she insisted on wearing looked more ragged and old than usual and her mane was halfway out of the bobble she’d tied it back with, strands of red and violet hanging loose over her thick, black glasses.

She placed the book back on the front of her stall, more with a shove than a respectful slide. “If you’re looking for my collection of Prospian literature, those were the first things to go,” she responded with annoyance ripe in her tone. She was staring Twilight dead in the face but it seemed to take her a few moments to register who she was looking at. When she did, she suddenly looked far less comfortable. “Twilight?”

Two emotions swirled in Twilight’s head as she took in the scene. Panic and heartbreak. Denial came next, only to in turn be overcome by a deep, low-burning rage. “What are you doing?” she asked simply. “You’re not actually thinking of selling all these, are you? This is half your collection!”

Moondancer leaned away. The annoyance on her face slowly reappeared. “So what? They’re just books. The station jacked up the prices so I need to get rid of them for the ride to Vanhoover. On top of that I’ve got my last month of rent to cover.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if her reasons should have been obvious, though she avoided Twilight’s gaze.

Spike hopped off her back and hurriedly gripped the edge of the stall with his clawed hands, pulling himself into view. “And then you’re coming back… right?” he asked.

Moondancer sent him a look that was nothing short of a glare. “No,” came the response, directed at Twilight rather than Spike.

Twilight felt the end of a spear jabbing at her heart as she heard that. She looked down to the book that had been pushed to the front of the stall. It was a copy of Bubble Bloom’s Magic for Fillies. The little, colourful book was something Moondancer had owned for longer than Twilight had known her. It had helped her find her magical footing when she was little and it likely held precious memories.

“You can’t sell these. This isn’t just a book,” Twilight said, raising it into her magical grip. “None of these are just books, they’re literally pages of your childhood!”

A few seconds passed. Moondancer looked between the book and the unicorn holding it, her eyes lingering upon the vibrant, purple-pink aura of magic that surrounded Twilight’s horn. She unfolded her hooves and grabbed the book out of Twilight’s levitation, landing it on the wooden surface of her stall with a quick slam. She sat back down, a smile forcing its way onto her face. “I’ll buy new ones once I’m in Vanhoover. This place has fallen apart without the Princess, so I’m getting out of here before something else bad happens.”

Twilight’s ears went flat against her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Moondancer had always been one to complain about mistakes and things that were out of place. She was OCD like Twilight in that way. She generally left the actual solving of those problems to other ponies, but she had never been the type to back down in the face of an unsatisfactory situation. “But… how can you leave?” Twilight asked. The words came out with more emotion than she intended, but Moondancer’s smile only wilted.

“Just today some asshole tried to steal one of my collector’s edition encyclopedias. That’s how. I don’t know where you were when ponies were rioting in the streets last week, but I stayed in my apartment, and those freaks still threw a brick through one of my windows. I’m moving back in with my parents where it’s safe,” the other unicorn replied, a hint of dejection in her tone. She sat back in her chair and folded her forelimbs, indicating that the matter was closed.

Moondancer watched in growing irritation as Twilight levitated her stacks of books aside, placing them neatly upon the large chest beside the stall. Twilight placed her forehooves on the wood and leaned in close. “No, don’t you dare sit back and say that. You can’t just leave! What about all of your studies and your research projects? What about your future?”

Moondancer gave her an odd frown. “I already quit, Twilight. That's not even the conversation anymore, so keep out of it." She brought some of the books back to separate them. "I don't need you whining at me to 'hope for the best' when that's clearly not on the cards after what the Princess did."

Twilight felt her brow starting to bead with stress as her face screwed up in fury. She stomped a hoof against the wood. “You… why are you being so… so…”

“Logical? Reasonable?” Moondancer suggested. “I’m just keeping myself safe, Twilight.”

“You didn’t plan any of this, did you?” came a little voice from between them.

Moondancer rarely paid Spike much attention. Or rather, she tended to avoid Twilight entirely whenever Spike was around. As the miniature dragon pulled himself up so that he could sit on the stall’s surface, Moondancer’s scowl melted into something far more vulnerable. She visibly leaned back as he leveled his eyes with hers.

“What do you… mean?” she asked cautiously.

He pointed a claw at her. “I mean, something’s off about all this. Everything you’re saying sounds super emotional and react- rea…”

“Reactionary?” Twilight offered.

“Reactionary. So much for logic when you’re trying to sell everything at once.”

She adjusted her glassed and the glare returned in full force. “That’s because I want to be out of here tomorrow, if not today! I don’t wanna spend one more minute in this horrible place, where I could be robbed or killed or burned alive at any moment!”

Spike gave her a confused look. “It’s seriously not that hot.” He frowned. “Wait, you didn’t mean me, did you?”

Twilight nudged him aside. “No, she didn’t, Spike. The heat is just getting to her.” She looked between them for a moment before letting out an awkward cough, attempting to get the knives out of her throat. The moonbeams focusing between her shoulders felt like they were causing her coat to curl. “Look, Moondancer, I don’t want you to leave. You’re one of a very, very select group of people I consider real friends and that’s because you always do things for a reason, after obsessing on them for hours or days beforehoof.” She paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you leave, then I don’t know what I’d do without my best study buddy to hang out with, once all this is over.”

The annoyance finally, slowly, drained from Moondancer’s face. Left behind were a pair of fuzzy, worried eyebrows and a mare who was starting to feel the weight of her own decisions. She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, then found the wrong words; “Why would you need a nobody like me?”

Spike answered first. “Because she’s your friend! Sticking together is what friends are for, right?”

“Yeah… r-right,” Moondancer replied after a pause. “Look… I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t think I want to know.”

Twilight’s brow tweaked in worry. “Nothing’s going on. Nothing’s even happening now, now that ponies aren’t rioting anymore.”

“Then why is everypony leaving?”

“Because they’re still scared and confused, just like us. But I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and help fix things.” She pointed at the other unicorn. “The more ponies who give up, the worse it’ll be for everyone else.”

Moondancer paused again, considering that. She opened her mouth to respond again, only for a noisy gurgle to come from behind the counter. She and Twilight had more in common than being obsessive bookworms. “Uh… what time is it?” she asked with a blush, realizing she had skipped breakfast.

---

The makeshift market folded out of view and they turned onto one of the main arteries leading to Sunflare’s Walk. As large commercial buildings and apartment blocks gave way to corner shops and terrace houses, the canopies of the center line rose into view over the rooftops. Their great boughs swayed in the wind, the stone-like bark covering even the smallest twigs turning each tree into a living monument. They were great oak trees of the old-Equestria variety; larger than most houses towards the base and rising higher than the walls of the castle. The road they bordered was similarly huge, made up of red and white bricks and decorated with an array of gardens and water features as it travelled uphill.

Twilight’s hoof landed on something that felt almost like card, yet soft and ridged. It was a leaf as wide as her head, bluish-green in colour with a sturdiness that had made it a prime material for all manner of uses back in the mists of pony history. The leaf was one of many that had fallen from the great oaks, coating the ground in what almost looked like a deep shadow next to the bright white and rich red bricks. The fact that so many had fallen this early in the year could only mean the trees had been under some form of stress. Twilight had little opinion of whether plants could sense emotion, but it seemed to be a clear response to the goings on around them.

Moondancer had her gaze locked to the boughs far above them. Her chest was stuffed full of her remaining books and floated alongside her in a thin, greyish-pink glow. The aura rippled, struggling with the effort of holding something that was twice its owner’s weight.

“I can help you carry that, if you want?” Twilight asked, noticing the way the light around Moondancer’s horn wavered and flickered. “It looks pretty heavy today.”

“It’s fine,” Moondancer replied, looking back to the road. “It’ll be lighter when I carry it to the train station, anyway.”

“Are you absolutely sure you want to sell all those books? I could help with the train cost if you need money…?”

Moondancer gave her a look bordering on a scowl, but it softened. “I thought you wanted me to stay, not to help me leave,” she stated.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “It was just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t… want your help right now. Not with this stuff.”

Twilight couldn’t think of a response to that, so the walk descended in an uneasy silence. I’ve never seen her like this, Twilight thought. She’s never looked so defeated before. As she rose through the year groups Moondancer had made it crystal clear on a growing number of occasions how she felt about other ponies. Those who could help her with her studies were the only exceptions to this, and among them, Twilight had been the only one with enough patience to stick with her. More often than not, Moondancer wore a frown, but the look of forlornness from that very first day at the school still showed through every once in a while.

Looking around, it seemed the feeling was shared by much of the crowd. Even with everything that had happened Sunflare’s Walk was still the busiest stretch of the city, complete with a wide variety of stalls and traders who had made the trek up the mountain paths on hoof. Behind them, further up the road, there was even a pair of travelling homes whose bold, red roofs stuck out above the throngs of ponies. She felt a random pony brush past her and looked back to the crowd ahead.

It’s busy, she realised. This isn’t what I thought it would be like. There aren’t any broken windows or piles of garbage… She closed the gap with Moondancer again, moving into the wake she was leaving as ponies did their best to avoid running into the giant chest floating by her side.

“I don’t know how my business is going to survive through next month if things keep going the way they are. Half my customer base has already vanished into thin air-”

Chestnut Buckle was the type of pony who knew about these things, using social circles Twilight didn’t even know how to find. He was a straightforward stallion but wise when it came to other ponies. How could half of his customer base have vanished if it was still this busy? He could have been exaggerating, but past his confident smile he had sounded genuinely worried for the future. Still, if there was a chance that he was wrong, that he was only seeing one side of things, or that some parts of the district were simply being affected more than others, then she had to latch onto it and not let go.

“Hey, Spike, how many stalls do you see?” she asked, sensing a way forward.

Spike raised an eyescale but had a look, leaning over one side, then the other, his slit pupils picking out more details than Twilight’s reading eyes could manage. He sat back down. “About… thirty-something, I think. Why?”

Twilight let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been keeping, and smiled. “I guess I owe you an apology. This place is the lifeblood of the entire city; if you’re seeing that many stalls just in this one stretch then… maybe things aren’t as bad as I thought.”

“... Huh.”

Twilight zeroed in on their companion. Moondancer wore that look she got when she didn’t want to deal with other people; a mixture of frustration and boredom that made her look far snootier than she actually was. This means I can still help you, Twilight thought. She trotted up next to her. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go somewhere a bit less crowded?”

“This is the fastest way to the lake,” Moondancer replied.

“Yes, but, well, it’s really busy, and I don’t wanna risk getting separated.”

Moondancer gave her the look now. “You know Lodus Oculus, right? Just cast it on me. We’ll be fine.”

Oh dear, Twilight thought. Lodus Oculus was a spell she had learned specifically for keeping track of Spike during his nightmarish escaping phase. It turned the target, whether it be an object or a person, into a temporary part of one’s mental map, so to speak. It wasn’t quite a third eye, more like gaining a second focal point in one’s vision, leading to constant distraction and potential disorientation for the uninitiated. It was also completely illegal to use without Celestia’s permission.

“Are you… super-duper sure you want me to do that? What if Celestia finds out?”

“Does it really matter what she thinks?”

Twilight felt a flight of panic rush through her at that. “Er, yes it does! Do you have any idea how angry she would be if I used Haycartes’ Curse? This is like that!”

The look turned into a frown, but Moondancer slowed her pace and turned. “Fine, if you’re really gonna be that way about it.”

They passed through the second line of great oaks into an area Twilight was unfamiliar with. Moondancer kept the lead, weaving through streets with her chest in tow and her stomach rumbling in desperation. Things really did seem more normal here. Fewer closed shops, more ponies wandering around, a little more shelter from the overbearing Sun. This was as good a time as any, but without the crowd to get in the way.

“So… Moondancer,” Twilight began.

“Yeah?” Moondancer replied with suspicion ripe in her tone.

“I think things might be ok. For Canterlot, I mean. Lots of ponies left, but, you saw how busy it was back there, and I think trade is still happening and everything, so…”

“So that means I don’t have to leave?”

“Yes. I mean… aside from my own reasons, don’t you think you should be trying to stay and help? I’ll be helping Quilliam fix his library and if I get a break from studying I might help with the clean up in our area.”

Moondancer didn’t respond for a moment. “I’d be ok helping out Quilliam, but there’s no point in trying to fix trash other people made themselves. He got robbed, everyone else got lazy.”

“What about the community?

Moondancer turned on her. “What community? You don’t even take part in the community. I don’t take part in the community, either! Why should I have to stay behind when I could be safe with my parents?”

“Well that’s what I’m saying! You don’t have to leave in the first place; things aren’t as bad as we thought, so it won’t take as much effort to return everything to normal.”

“Really? Do you know that for a fact?”

Don’t hesitate. “I do,” Twilight lied. “And once that’s done you can come back to the school instead of abandoning your studies.”

“I’m not going back to the school, Twilight.”

“Wh-”

“Neither are Juniper or Amethyst, and you know damn well why.”

“W-what?” I didn’t even know they’d left. Then again, she hadn’t seen Moondancer herself leave, either. It must have been when she was in the depths of study, ignoring reality. “They… you’re overreacting. It’s not that bad. You saw how busy it was!”

Moondancer stopped walking and placed her chest down. Twilight could feel a storm coming. “Celestia didn’t do something to you, did she?” the other unicorn asked.

Twilight felt the memory of her mentor’s hoof holding up her chin and instinctively rubbed the area, where the little cut from Nightmare Moon’s blade should still have been. “All she did was apologise.”

“She did a hell of a lot more than that to us, Twilight, but I’ve spent every day trying not to think about it, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” She looked back to the road ahead. “As for Canterlot, we’re screwed if we stay here, anyway. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have divine protection from everything that could possibly go wrong in my life, and judging by how everypony is acting, I’m definitely not the only one. The only thing I can do to get away from all this is to literally get away.”

Twilight felt her ears twist back. “There are so many more options than that! It doesn’t have to be so final. Things aren’t that bad. Why won’t you listen?”

Moondancer stomped a hoof. “No, we’re fucked, Twilight! Do you want me to prove it to you? Because I can. Easily.”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but Moondancer’s chest had already left the ground and she was on her way out into the open once more. As she started after her friend she could feel Spike’s claws digging in as he held on. She was thankful for Moondancer stopping the argument before it started, but Spike had heard more than she wanted him to already. She’d been able to shrug off her dazed state that day as nothing more than general fatigue, telling him Celestia had left in a rush over hearing news of Luna’s condition. That was part of the truth, at least. No doubt he would have questions on his mind, but the answers were something a young child should never have to deal with…

5 - Herdmind

Her coat burned.

Like some great beast, Canterlot Mountain had risen from the horizon, shimmering purple in the sunlight and crowned by a hat of cloud as the train made its way past the hills and over the bogs of Asherby’s southernmost reaches. The trip through the tunnels that spiraled up within the mountain’s vertical slopes had been scary, but the darkness gave way to the bright, white and gold streets of Canterlot, now more than just a fantasy on a piece of paper.

And now she was here, in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She had dreamed of this day ever since she had first learned of the place, and she was ready to do her best. It was only now, with her family on their way back to Vanhoover and the Princess out of view, that she realised how lonely she felt.

The filly placed a tiny hoof against the ceiling of her chest and pushed. It stayed firm, her own cutie mark-themed lock keeping her sealed inside. She lit her horn again and looked around for some way out. Her spare clothes muffled her attempts at movement and the edges of Bubble Bloom’s Magic for Fillies jabbed into her side. She’d read it countless times; there wouldn’t be anything in there that could help her.

It had been the noblefoal; the filly with the freckles and the warm smile. She’d greeted her, complimented how well-prepared she was, and then willed her into the chest as her smile turned into something more predatory. Moondancer had never seen dark magic in person before. For all she’d read about its uses she had never considered how it would actually feel, let alone that she would be too emotionally unprepared to keep its will in check. She could sense the residual energy watching her, preparing to drag her back into the darkness if she somehow escaped. It was studying her state of mind, but there was little she could do to quell the fear when it finally struck her that she was trapped.

Her coat felt like it was burning where the aura touched her. Images of fire filled her mind and it all came back at once.

Her screams drew the attention of others. She even heard the loping hoofsteps of the Princess reentering the room, but the first face she saw as light broke through her darkness was purple. Twilight Sparkle broke into a beaming smile, but a giant, white wing drew her away as the Princess raised Moondancer from the chest in a soft, golden glow.

Her coat burned.

-----

“Are you coming or not?”

The path led them east, toward the internal edges of Middle Canterlot. It was a raised road that overlooked Sunflare’s Walk to their right, the mountain looming to their left in all its great majesty. Its dark, purple-blue stone released a near-invisible haze into the air around it, causing the surface to shine in the sunlight. The added moonlight strengthened the effect, making it look like a full on mirage outlining the mountain’s form. The tiny white lines that travelled down its face had grown to become the network of aqueducts that kept the city hydrated, their shapes apparently wavering in the odd effect, even with how close they were.

Moondancer shifted her shoulders as she walked. A dull pain throbbed between them, and the very edges of her shoulder blades felt almost like they were experiencing pins and needles. It was the sort of burn one got when exercising, but Moondancer never needed to do any heavy lifting. She thought for a moment on one of her anatomy books for an answer, only to recall the sight of her bones reappearing from the maelstrom.

She refocused herself to get the images out of her head. Her chest floated by her side, its colourful lock shimmering under her levitation. Her aura was growing thin today, making the chest feel twice as heavy as it already did. She must not have had as large a dinner last night as she thought. Her stomach grumbled again. It didn’t matter, really. It was just another annoyance to deal with. The only thing that mattered was getting out of here.

Yet another annoyance wandered into view; the biggest thorn in her side so far today. Twilight Sparkle looked like she was about to say something, judging by that look on her face which she only got when she saw a problem she could solve. It usually only looked mildly aggravating, but today was not the time for it. Twilight opened her mouth to speak, likely to offer to carry the chest again, but Moondancer stopped in her tracks and set it down on the cobbles, breathing a quiet sigh from the strain.

“There. Look at that,” she said, pointing up at the mountain.

The other unicorn and the dragon on her back followed the hoof to see something that absolutely did matter. Canterlot Mountain was far too steep to provide much in the way of natural streams, let alone for an entire city, so much of the rainwater had to be brought in manually. Around the peak swirled the giant ring of collected vapour that normally shrouded it in permanent gloom.

“You see how thin it looks?”

Twilight squinted at the ring. “Kinda. Why?”

“Even when it’s small you can usually see it really easily, but it’s practically pure white today.”

The edge of the ring stretched a good distance past the false peak. It should have been an obvious darker shade against the brighter blue of the sky, but now the two blended together in this perpetual twilight. “Are they not...bringing in enough?” her friend asked.

Moodancer gave her a look. “No. They’re just having an extended break from work, like everypony else,” she replied dryly. “I’m guessing you haven’t had any water problems yet?”

Twilight and Spike both shook their heads.

“Figures. My pipes are already juddering and stuff. We’ve had shortages cropping up all over the Rabbles for the past couple of days. It’s turning into a big problem, but maybe it hasn’t reached Middle Canterlot yet. They’re shutting off a bunch of fountains in my area and I hear the earl is thinking of starting a rationing program.”

The other unicorn frowned. “Is it really that bad? Don’t they just need to collect more clouds?” The thought visibly clicked. “Oh. But maybe they can’t with the extra heat evaporating more than usual…”

“It gets a lot worse than that,” Moondancer continued. “You know Blitz Wind? He came to Canterlot right after the riots started and enacted a curfew, and he brought a small army of Royal Guards along to enforce it, so now the Rabbles is teeming with them.” She looked back to the ring. A distance below it, obscured by the curve of the mountain, would be Canterlot’s weather factory. Tasked with turning collected rainwater into a usable flow, the factory normally released faint, colourful plumes through the center of the cloud ring, creating an interesting formation from the right vantage point.

“He’s up there, in the factory,” Moondancer added. She looked to her friend and got to see the surprise fill her face.

“Why is he there…?” Twilight asked, sounding concerned.

“To keep the factory running, at a guess,” Moondancer replied. “Unless he’s the one causing the shortage, of course.”

“He’d never do a thing like that,” Twilight responded without hesitation.

“Are you sure? From what I’ve heard he’s gotten lazy. Either he leaves settlements without enough guards, or he leaves the guards without enough money.”

That gave Twilight pause. Moondancer knew this kind of thing would suck to hear, but it needed to be said. Twilight had known Captain Blitz Wind before she even joined the school, consistently beating him at chess and accidentally turning herself into a prime candidate for the Communication and Transfer division after showing a keen have-your-cake-and-eat-it sense of tactical logic whenever the pegasus shared his stories from the front line. That had been up until a number of years ago, when something in him changed. His training methods grew harsher and his mood grew sour, turning him into the kind of pony one couldn’t even look in the eyes without feeling a sense of animosity.

Twilight finally responded. “He must have a good reason for being up there. He’s not the kind of pony who would try to profit from a crisis.”

Moondancer shrugged. “Who knows? How long since you last spoke to him?”

The frown deepened. She was treading thin ice here. “A long time,” Twilight admitted, looking away. “But I know he’s a good pony. I’ve never heard about him straying from the rules to this extent.”

“And maybe he hasn’t. If the workers aren’t willing to keep things running smoothly around here then I’m sure a military occupation will do it. It’s not like that could ever end badly.” Moondancer gave her a moment to think on that. “And what’s worse is that, from what I hear, he’s doing all this without the PA’s go-ahead, which is ridiculously illegal.”

“Well, the Princess must have instructed him to instead. It wouldn’t make any sense otherwise.”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t make any sense. You need to brush up on your legal-ese, Twilight. Celestia doesn’t have the authority to meddle in Canterlot’s day-to-day business, even less where basic utilities are concerned. If she actually gave the Royal Guard direct permission to take over the weather factory then that would infringe upon the Pony Authority, which would set the Vigil against the Guard and all of Canterlot against the princess.”

Twilight paused again to think. She took longer this time. “How do you know all this?” she eventually asked.

I don’t, but if I can’t get through to you with blunt facts then exaggerations will have to do. A grim little grin appeared on Moondancer’s face. “Because you can read a changeling by its cover, Twilight. A high-ranking member of the guard doesn’t go through a - very public - descent in reputation and then do this kind of thing without some kind of goal behind it.”

“I still think he has Canterlot’s best interests in mind. The Princess has a lot on her plate right now. I know it’s not right, but it only makes sense to make sure vital infrastructure keeps working at a time like this.”

The princess doesn’t have anything on her plate, you damn moron! Moondancer made to respond but Twilight raised a hoof to stop her.

“And just so we’re clear, that’s just my opinion on this specific case. I’m not making any kind of grand statement about the way the law works or anything like that.”

The grin turned into a smirk. “Yeah, great. You realise he could’ve just told people not to use as much water, right?”

Twilight gave her half a smile. “I guess.”

They continued on. The path gradually sloped downwards again as the west-to-east tilt of the city overcame the inward tilt of its aqueduct-like shape. The shops were starting to give way to stout residential complexes filled with low-income families and singletons renting their first home away from home, such as it was, judging by the blocky, un-Canterlot style of construction. As they ventured further downhill the streams either side of the road started to show signs of the chaos to come, with odd bits and pieces of trash resting at the bottom of the miniature troughs.

They were heading towards the area that served as the transition between Middle and Lower Canterlot; the Terrace Gallery. Moondancer had one place in particular she wanted to show Twilight that would really hammer her point home. From here the black spires of the Octenic Hall could be seen standing high above the other buildings, with the softer, brighter arches of Sunflare’s Theatre right beside it. Her goal was gold and white, smaller in stature, and likely still smoldering.

Her stomach rumbled again and her chest slipped from her grip.

“Moondancer? Are you ok?” Twilight asked as she rushed to her aid.

Moondancer shrugged her off, still holding her middle. “Agh…” That one hurt. This was probably a sign she’d pushed herself too far today without any food to back her up. She knew from experience that, as tempting as it always was to just keep reading when her body was literally starting to die on her, it was never worth the stomach pains in the end. For a while she’d thought she had some kind of health condition, prompting her to buy a series of equine biology books to sort things out, only for Quilliam of all people to point out that she was repeatedly starving herself.

“I’m ok,” she reassured her friend. “Y’know what? I think we should get some food. I’m right in the middle of my bad habits again…”

“I can see that.” Twilight looked over to the chest and raised it with her amethyst glow. “I’ll carry this for now, if that’s ok?”

Moondancer’s gaze lingered on the cutie mark-themed lock, now wreathed in another’s magic. “Yeah, fine. Whatever…”

---

The construction of residential blocks down here were always focused towards the center line of the city as the population density of the Rabbles overcame the majesty of Sunflare’s Walk. However, even here the edges of the city were considered high-class areas. On one side home buyers had the incredible view of Central Equestria to enjoy, while on the other there were various attractions both natural and constructed in and along the mountain cliffs. This had led to a long strip of the Canterlot Lap becoming known as the Golden Mile for its abundance of shops and homes that were an order of magnitude wealthier than those only a few streets further inward.

One of the first that truly made use of its prestigious location was a jewelry shop with a shiny, golden facade and strengthened glass that shimmered in the sun and moonlight. The latest customers had turned the road outside into a beautiful pattern of bright reflections, leaving a jagged new entrance in their wake along with a few wide bands of red paint all the way around the outside of the former corner shop.

The three of them eyed it cautiously as they passed, as if one of the robbers was about to burst out at them. They made their way around the shards of glass and away from the ugly sight, only to find more signs of vandalism further up the road.

“What is that smell?” Spike asked as he held his nose.

“It smells like… off cabbage, or something,” Twilight replied.

“It smells like the Rabbles,” Moondancer stated. “It’s a lot worse down there than this. Everyone’s scared to go outside so all the cafes are losing stock, which is then left where they put it because the litter pickers are refusing to work out of fear of the gangs. And then there’s the water problems. It’s not just the sinks and baths that are drying up.”

“Meaning…?”

Moondancer looked her friend in the eye, recalling a putrid stench that had persisted for hours on end, wafting down her street. “Let’s just say a lot of ponies are being arrested for not being able to flush their own toilets.”

“That’s… horrific.”

“See why I wanna leave now?”

Moondancer felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling up as Spike leaned towards her in his seat. She trusted Twilight with her chest well enough, but not that fire-breathing creature. “If ponies are actually doing that, and they can’t get water from the taps, wouldn’t that make the lake the perfect place for them to ‘go’?”

The two unicorns stopped in their tracks.

“Well, we’ll see when we get there,” said Twilight, in an all too measured tone.

“Uh, no!” Moondancer exclaimed. “They’ll be pooping in the rivers like fucking cannibals! It’ll be washing off the side of the city to fertilise Equestria!” It was like some kind of disgusting joke; wealth raining from the sky was only meant to be a metaphor for the nobility’s arrogant philanthropy. If word got out about this, it would only strengthen the stereotype of Canterlot citizenry being a bunch of uppity pieces of equine shit.

Despite her feelings being abundantly clear, Twilight continued on, bringing the chest in tow. “Hey, wait, are you for real?” Moondancer exclaimed.

Twilight sent a frown back at her. “Well we have to make sure. Spike’s been waiting to see the lake for the past hour.”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, but sure,” Spike commented.

Moondancer grit her teeth but felt forced to follow her friend. It wasn’t like she had any money to spare for lunch anyway. Her scowl moved from the back of Twilight’s head to the dragon riding her like a steed. He looked tense. The sight had always been a bewildering one to her. For the first week of attending the school she’d convinced herself that Spike was nothing more than a plush toy and that his baby-like gurbles and cries were all in her head. Then, she told herself that he was nothing more than an enchanted plush toy, or at most a fully golemised one. It took her a good few months to finally accept the fact that her new best friend regularly spent her time around the most dangerous creature in Equestria, treating him like he was part of her family.

It was no wonder, really. Save for Celestia herself, Twilight was the most powerful mare in the whole school, teachers included. It only made sense that a dragon would feel at home with a pony who could tame it.

She imagined Celestia’s maw filling with teeth and her feathery wings falling away to reveal a scaly membrane underneath, and she shook her head to get the bad thoughts out, adjusting her glasses. She wouldn’t have to think about any of that soon. She could convince Twilight to leave just as she’d convinced Juniper that the princess wouldn’t chase after him if he quit his studies. As far as she could tell from her own experience, she’d been right.

They passed more gold-adorned shops, though a fair few of them looked to have been stripped of their prestige. The smell of wasted produce followed them, slowly giving way to the scent of grass, flowers and a feeling of moisture in the air as the end of the street widened into the Canterlot Lap. The marble slabs turned into a short set of steps that bordered a long stretch of the road, past which was a large, relatively flat area where the grass grew freely and the water was fresh.

They stepped up and the bright blue lake finally came into view. It was packed out.

The lake alone was practically surrounded by a crowd of ponies. Entire family groups flowed to and from the shores carrying buckets full of water as if they’d stepped back in time to before plumbing was a thing. On top of that, the grassy fields encircling most of the lake were brimming with activity as well. In the distance, towards the grand waterfall, was what looked like a massive party, if the thudding music and the writhing, cheering youths were anything to go by. More were milling about or eating grass, presumably to escape the cesspool that the Rabbles had become, and some were simply sunbathing in the extra heat. There were a number of makeshift stalls and a carriage trunk sale taking advantage of the crowd. The whole scene was an alien melting pot of apathy and desperation, and Moondancer wanted nothing to do with it.

“This is… way worse than I thought it would be,” said Twilight.

Even Spike cringed, his defined brow ridge scrunching his face into something only Twilight could love. “Yikes. Looks like there’s still some space left if we want to sunbathe or something?” he suggested.

Twilight looked more than a little hesitant. “In front of all those ponies? I was looking forward to bathing, but there’s a lot of people already doing that, too…”

“Well, the other side of the lake looks better. We could go there?”

“Spike, I don’t think we should be here. It’s way too busy, and I think some of them might be using this in place of a proper bath or shower.”

Spike stood up on her back, the cringe turning into a frown. “Hey, come on, we just got here! We can finally enjoy the weather if we just go right to the mountain!”

Twilight remained calm in spite of the rising tensions. “No, Spike. Who knows what could happen with so many desperate ponies in one place? This is exactly what I was afraid of when we set off.”

The dragon’s chest was starting to heave and he grit his fangs in frustration. “But you promised!” he cried.

Twilight merely frowned back at him. “No, I said we’d come here and see what it was like. We didn’t know it was going to be this busy! Besides, I can’t leave you alone in this crowd else you might get lost.”

Spike looked like he was about to explode. Moondancer watched in horror as he tightened his grip, pushing Twilight’s face up so he could yell down at her, “I don’t get lost anymore! I’m not a baby!”

“Stop it!!”

They both looked at her, startled.

Moondancer felt beads of sweat forming on her brow and she quickly adjusted her glasses. “L-let her go!” She set herself and lit her horn, ready to try and levitate the dragon away from its would-be owner.

“Moondancer, what are you doing?” asked Twilight.

Spike brought his hands away and waved them in front of him. “Hey, woah, I wasn’t going to do anything!”

“Yeah, right! I saw the look on your face!” Moondancer sneered in response. That look of petulant fury, of a kid who still only thought about himself, who didn’t know that hurting others was wrong. She could see ruffled fur where Spike’s claws had dug into the back of Twilight’s jawline. If he were bigger he could have caused real damage.

“Moondancer…” Twilight began, placing the chest down on the grass. “Whatever you’re about to do, don’t. I don’t know what you think was about to happen, but it wasn’t.”

The sweat turned cold as she watched this. Twilight had lived most of her life with Spike and didn’t seem scared by this sort of thing, but from the outside it was plain to see the flash of anger on Spike’s face. Just because he hadn’t properly lashed out yet didn’t mean he never would.

And yet the sight of her chest cast an air of doubt on the situation. She looked back at them. It must have felt terrifying, and yet Twilight’s grip on the chest hadn’t wavered for even a moment. Maybe it was just a strength thing and she’d still been surprised. But then her tone of voice had been perfectly measured, as if she was giving the telling off to an insolent foal instead of a baby dragon.

“Wh… what part of that was ok with you?” Moondancer asked, horn still lit.

Twilight’s face had turned into a deep scowl. “The part that happens literally all the time, but that you never get to see because you’re permanently afraid of him and haven’t gotten to know him after all these years. Are you thinking straight?”

She was perfectly fine. Spike had burned both of them before, but only she seemed to see sense afterwards. An image of Celestia came to mind again, this time wreathed in flame, and the aura around Moondancer’s horn faded away. There were bigger hills to die on than this. “I’m… f-fine,” Moondancer replied. “I just thought he was…”

Twilight raised her eyebrows. “What? Attacking me? You’re an idiot, Moondancer.” She stomped a hoof. “Seriously, you’re an idiot! Spike is my little brother, he would never do that!”

“He’s a dragon.”

“No. None of that. Apologise!”

Spike hopped down onto the grass and closed the gap between them. He may not have been fully grown, but she could still see the flickering of fire behind his slit pupils and the corpses of cattle littered around her family’s farm. Before she knew it he’d poked a little claw into her hoof and she lurched back as if stung, letting out a small cry.

“Moondancer, he’s just a baby. Apologise and let’s get lunch over with.”

Her lips quivered and her stomach growled. She opened her mouth to respond, but her tongue hesitated. It didn’t matter. He was just a dragon. He could take it. She didn’t understand why Twilight felt so strongly in his favour when she was only trying to defend her.

Before she could say anything, a voice called over to them. “Excuse me,” it said. It was a stallion wearing the grey and white of the City Vigil, complete with the hat of an officer, an unused set of manacles and a whopping stick. “Is that a dragon?” he asked, coming to a stop between them, eyes on Spike.

Spike looked back with worry, Twilight with frustration. “Huh? Yeah?” he answered.

The officer breathed a fake sigh and subtly motioned to his equipment. “I’m going to need to ask him a few questions. Is that alright, ma’am?”

“Wh-what…?” Twilight asked with a frown.

“The PA has just outlawed dragons in public spaces, but I’ll overlook that since the law only just came into effect. I just need to know where he was on certain nights.”

“What do you mean ‘outlawed’?”

“Exactly what it says. From now on, dragons need to be kept indoors for the public’s safety.”

“But… but he’s not dangerous. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Twilight stated, the frustration in her posture giving way to panic.

“I’m not saying he has,” the officer replied. “I just need to know where he was on the third and fifth of August, then I’ll be out of your mane.”

“He was… with me, studying.”

“Studying?”

“Yes. We’re students at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. He helps me.”

He raised an eyebrow and stared at Spike for a moment. “Is that true? What kinds of things do you study?”

For once, Spike looked truly out of his depth. They were such simple questions and yet he looked as if he was going to melt under the pressure. “Uhh,” he stammered out. He glanced between the officer and Twilight. “I don’t… do I have to?”

Moondancer watched the officer’s neutral expression give way to one of the fakest smiles she’d ever seen. This guy wasn’t just inexperienced with deadly creatures, he had no idea how to not look like a creep around kids, either. “Relax, I’m just doing my job. There’s been a series of arson attacks all over Lower Canterlot, so we strongly suspect that a dragon is responsible.” He looked back to Twilight. “If you’d allow me to ask him a few questions in private?”

At least they’ll both be out of sight for a while, Moondancer reasoned. Maybe he’ll get flambé’d instead. As much as the Pony Authority liked to pretend there was a separation of rule between it and Celestia, it was always clear who was in charge. When Blitz Wind strode through town his guards seemed to settle in a little too easily considering the Vigil were the ones who were meant to be keeping everything in order. Compared to the Royal Guard, the City Vigil was just as bad when it came to heavy-hoofedness, but with the added air of pomp and arrogance that came with thinking one was acting outside of the princess’ jurisdiction. They weren’t all bad and they weren’t all lazy - certain parts of the Rabbles tended to turn officers into soldiers, after all - but to accuse a baby dragon who was practically glued to Twilight’s leg every waking moment of every day of arson felt beyond stupid.

“He’s just a baby,” Twilight replied. The frown was returning. Moondancer could see her friend preparing herself, but if recent events had taught her anything about the other mare, it was that she was incapable of acting against authority.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am,” the officer droned.

“He’s not even a dragon, you fucking idiot.”

The officer tilted his head in Moondancer’s direction, the smile vanishing. “Excuse me?”

Moondancer pointed a hoof at Spike as if trying to poke out his eyes. “He’s a salamander, not a dragon!” she exclaimed. Coming as close to touching him as she could stomach, she pointed to the green, fin-like ears that hung lazily from either side of his head. “See these? They’re gills! And look, do you see any wings on his back? Not a dragon!”

“Salamanders are fire elementals.”

Moondancer rolled her eyes, various factoids about gigantic lizards flitting through her mind. “Yeah, but they don’t make fire! If you paid attention in class then maybe you would know that.” Her eyes narrowed again, sending a death glare past his cap. “And look; an easy way to tell them apart is the lack of horns. Dragons use their horns to break out of their eggs, so how did he do it?”

The officer frowned and let out another fake sigh. He looked between them, once again settling his gaze upon Moondancer. “Look, if you aren’t telling the truth during an emergency, then-”

“If I’m not telling the truth?” she interrupted. “You can’t even tell a lizard from a fire-breathing monster!” She closed the gap between her and the officer’s noses, her face screwing up in fury. “Spike hasn’t breathed a lick of flame in his life, and he doesn’t even have enough stamina to make it to the Rabbles and back without us, or are you going to accuse us as well?” She glanced to Twilight now. “Do you even know who that is?”

“M-Moondancer, wai-”

“That’s Twilight-fucking-Sparkle, Celestia’s personal protege! She’s the most powerful and influential unicorn in the school, and she doesn’t have time to be treated like some criminal! If she tells Celestia about this harassment then you’ll be out a job! Now do you have any other questions or are you looking for trouble with the princess by threatening her best students?”

The officer’s expression only got worse. Of course. To a pony lacking enough critical thought to suggest a baby-anything could have dealt any significant damage during the riots, her words would come across as a genuine threat, and lazy ponies like him were nothing if not litigious. “She doesn’t mean that, really,” Twilight cut in, putting herself between them but pushing more against Moondancer than the stallion. She put on her nice voice. “I’m sorry, we’ve been walking for half the day only to find the lake packed full of people, so to have you come out of nowhere with that sort of thing… y’now? She’s just been stressed lately with everything that’s happened.” A tense moment a silence. She placed her forehooves together, the nice voice gaining a desperate smile to go with it. “I promise that I always keep a close eye on him; you don’t need to worry about him wandering off or doing anything crazy.”

The stallion made no effort to hide his glare. He dusted himself off. “Right. I’m glad to hear that, just keep in mind that he needs to stay away from the thoroughfares and markets from now on. Also, if you aren’t here to collect water then please move along. The lake and field are for emergency use only for the time being.”

With that, the officer disappeared back into the crowd. Moondancer could feel the anger dying back down, but when she looked over to Twilight, she didn’t see a smile. The other mare’s face was wreathed in fury as she glared at the back of the officer’s head. Maybe I’m underestimating her, she thought. It could be true, at least where Spike was concerned. The little gremlin was like a brother to her.

“Apology accepted?” came a chipper little voice between them, breaking the silence.

Twilight met her gaze, the uncharacteristically harsh feeling fading. “Me, Celestia’s most influential student?” she asked, a small smile appearing on her face. “That felt like a little much, but I appreciate what you just did.”

“Your welcome.” Moondancer rolled her eyes at them both. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I just wanted to get that guy off our backs. I can’t stand ponies like him who take advantage.”

“Well I appreciated it,” Spike offered with a shrug, holding out a tiny hand.

Moondancer pulled away. “Well don’t. I don’t like you, I just hate them a lot more. The Vigil has been stepping over the line every chance they get and I didn’t wanna give him the pleasure of getting away with such bullshit.”

Spike simply smiled as he hopped back up onto his ever-faithful steed. “Good enough for me.”

They wandered back down the steps and the mess that was the lake vanished from view, though the distant music of the party still thrmmed through the air. The Golden Mile stretched either side of them, high-quality shops in full polish and busted hinges. Most looked to have been left alone, but the ones that weren’t stood out like sore hooves. Moondancer recalled the odd experience of wandering down the shopping lane she normally frequented, seeing all the broken glass, upturned bins and even a couple of burnt trees. This was nothing compared to down there, and yet all the City Vigil did was shout at people.

“They get worse every month,” Moondancer muttered, half to herself.

“I’m sure I could have sorted things out if it came to questioning,” Twilight replied. “I could’ve probably done what you did with the whole ‘studying under Celestia’ thing. The Vigil may not be the Royal Guard, but they still respect her influence.”

Moondancer looked away with a grunt. “Probably. Like half of them are changelings though.”

“They’re not all like that. That guy just seemed like an idiot.”

“No, literally, half of them are changelings. They’d probably try to keep you as long as they could as soon as they caught wind of how much you love her.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Is… this another one of your conspiracy theories?”

“Says Twilight “Mare in the Moon” Sparkle?”

“Tou​ché, but still, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

“It would if I explained it to you.”

“I’ll pass.”

Moondancer felt a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. “Notice how he only showed up as soon as you beat me over the head with how much you love nachobreath back there?”

Twilight gave her an annoyed prod. “Hey, no weird stories around Spike.”

“Speaking of me…” Spike began, holding one of his ear-fins, “are you totally sure I shouldn’t be able to breathe underwater? I-I mean… there’s sea dragons, and I don’t even know what these things are for.”

Twilight smiled back at him. “Whatever they are, they aren’t gills, Spike, and I don’t recommend testing them out just to make sure. You already hate bathing as it is.”

“Literally everything I told that guy was pulled straight out of-... my head,” Moondancer stated.

Spike leaned over again, receiving a short glare. “But you aren’t the only pony to say that! When me and Twilight went to Ponyville, Rarity said I wasn’t a dragon as well!”

Twilight gave a scoff worthy of a spoiled noble brat. “She didn’t say that! She just… asked why you were shorter than she was expecting.”

“But dragons aren’t even supposed to breathe magic.” His voice was gaining a whine, like a kid who’d just realised he had missed out on a school trip to the Badlands.

“Dragons growing up in the wild don’t breathe magic. You can do both.” She gave him a nuzzle on the nose. “Don’t worry! There’s literally zero chance that you’re not a dragon, Spike.”

Moondancer watched as their noses touched. If she were a less paranoid mare she would have fallen for him ages ago, like the mares who talk about nothing but stallions and babies. Looking at Spike, she could see how his defined brow and cheeks, his sharp claws and fangs, could develop as he grew, until he became just as terrifying to look at as any other adult dragon. They needed a lot of meat to survive, too.

Dragons in the wild usually don’t rely on gems or nachos for food, Moondancer’s brain pointed out. It would take a dedicated factory to produce enough of either for an adult Spike. Their hoard isn’t usually made of comic books, either, the voice on her shoulder continued. She wasn’t sure if it was a baby-obsessed pegasus or a changeling wanting to see him chew her up. Whether it was an eight-headed spear or a twisting lance, the blunt truth was poking her directly in the neck.

She could feel something slipping, and it suddenly became difficult to look at the baby dragon. He was, after all, just a baby. A baby who had never burnt anything without sneezing first and constantly looked to his sister-mother for reassurance, who had access to magical, non-harmful breath after growing up around ponies, and who seemed to be vulnerable about his status as a real dragon like a colt his age would be about not having a cutie mark. He wasn’t like the one that had trapped her family in their home as it feasted upon their livestock. He was just a stupid kid.

“Sorry,” Moondancer muttered.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get something to eat.”

6 - This Monster

Her hooves burned.

It had been such a cute sound; Twilight’s strange, talking doll had been having a sneezing fit all day. It had sounded cute enough to bring a smile to her face, but the true purpose of the action had become clear as soon as she’d gotten close enough: Spike was practicing.

Now she lay here in the corner of the room, surrounded by her classmates who stood like statues, watching to see if she would die or not. She could barely feel her forelimbs, but what little sensation made it through was painful like nothing she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even think. That was a real dragon. She’d been fooling herself for months now, but that was a real dragon, riding on her best friend’s back and reading books right alongside them, learning about them.

A dragon didn’t need to know anything about ponies - it only needed to know how to breathe fire. That would be enough.

The tiny filly slowly eased herself up, her hooves feeling like they were crumpling like paper as they braced against the soft carpet, and she looked for her friend through the layers of tears. She couldn’t see anything past the others. Was she ok? She’d been sitting closer when Spike attacked them. Was she dead? Was her best friend dead now because of that thing she thought was a living plushie? Would it be her fault for not warning her how dangerous dragons were?

The Princess emerged from behind the others and she stared too. For a moment, Moondancer thought she was going to be left there to fade away with the pain, but her surroundings turned golden and the pressure on her aching, useless hooves lifted away. Celestia spoke some comforting words and Moondancer found herself breaking out into a bawl all over again. The pain slowly ebbed as the Princess stroked her mane, until she was cradled like the foal she was and the world around her slipped into a comfortable darkness.

When she awoke the Princess was nowhere to be seen and neither was Twilight. Sitting there with its claws clasped over its chest was the dragon, staring at her with its giant, green eyes, fanged mouth opening to finish her off.

She screamed and cried until someone came to find her.

-----

The road gradually sloped away from the natural area to their left, but the crowds came back into view as they ascended a set of large, curving steps that served as the very edge of the long stairs, past which the rooftops were once again backed by solid stone as the field met the curving wall of the mountain. From here the outlet of the lake could be seen flowing into a brickwork tunnel that would spiral down inside of the rock to run alongside the train line running parallel to it. Thankfully there was a grate of pure octite covering it, but Moondancer nonetheless shuddered at the sight, imagining the pitch black of the tunnel, followed by the sound of a train’s wheels racing past inches from her hooves as she fell.

“Moondancer? Are you coming in?”

“Huh? Yeah.” Moondancer rubbed her eyes. She needed more sleep than this.

The cafe Twilight had chosen was an ornate affair of marble designs and shaded windows suited to the untimely moonlight. It stood raised off the road to overlook the lake and the line of ponies travelling to and from its edge. Most of the families were mere commoners and didn’t have the cash to spare for such a fancy place, but Twilight had assured her she could cover it. It honestly looked like something that belonged in Upper Canterlot.

The inside, too, was fairly high-quality, though not high-strung. With a deep blue carpet and walls that slowly faded from white at the bottom up to a darker blue, the place looked almost like an open observatory with its scattering of tiny crystals embedded into the arched ceiling, mimicking the stars. The braziers lining the walls were pointed at the floor, giving the place the look of a quiet study with how the light reflected off of the tables. It could have been a nice place to come and read had she known about it sooner. Meadow View was the restaurant’s name, though there wouldn’t be much grass to see between the throngs of ponies just trying to survive.

Moondancer reclaimed her chest and slid it carefully underneath their chosen table beside one of the windows. The table was a very hard wood that had been polished to a shine, like something one would expect to see in a mansion, and the seat was solid but comfortable and had a few gaps in the back to account for tails and wings. Despite the fact that the staff were dressed like a bunch of butlers, the place didn’t seem too bad.

She looked back at the host behind the counter and felt another small chill running down her spine. He carried himself with a practiced professionalism and his clothing seemed free of any stray fur, but his eyes were small, yellow and suited to glinting in the moonlight, and his sharp teeth carved his long face in two whenever he smiled. He was making conversation with Twilight about something before he motioned to the table with a stubby, black claw, followed by a polite bow.

“I didn’t even realise there were any dogs in Canterlot,” Moondancer muttered to herself.

“He didn’t realise there were any dragons,” Spike replied as he clambered up onto his seat like something climbing out of a well. He sounded more confident now that he thought he was her friend. “Apparently his sister was eaten by one,” he added with more of a hush.

“Uh-huh.” Par for the course up there, Moondancer thought. The dog had a light-grey coat - fluffier on the shoulders and cheeks and less jagged around the lower jaw; a clear sign that he was a Dust Dog of the northern regions. He must have come here seeking the chilly atmosphere of a mountain city, only to find hordes of chubby herbivores waiting for him. She recalled a story her father had told her of when her great-grandfather fought off a pack of his kind trying to raid the farm. Meat products seemed a magnet for carnivores, even if those meat products were still capable of screaming for help.

Twilight trotted over looking happy with herself for having made a new friend. “Here you go,” she said, sliding a couple of menus onto the table. “So, you’ve never been here before, Moondancer?”

Moondancer shook her head. “I don’t really go out much.”

“Well I can guarantee this place will be better than school lunches.”

“Ugh,” Moondancer grimaced. Carrots and lettuce lost all their flavour when they were mashed into paste. “I’d rather eat paper than that stuff.” She unfolded the menu and glanced over a few of the options. Much to her annoyance, it was all drinks. “Do they have a menu for the actual food?” she asked.

“Hm? Yeah, they take drink orders first and then the food afterward. It shouldn’t be long before we get served.”

“Alright.” There were all the usual options like concentrated fruit juice and overpriced tap water, alongside a few more interesting and expensive options like wine, stonebud milk, and something involving the sap of a cherry blossom. Despite its location on the cusp of the Rabbles, this was definitely a place Canterlot nobility would enjoy.

A happy, measured trot signalled the arrival of the waitress. She was a middle aged unicorn with the kind of well-kept mane one would expect from a place that took style this seriously. “Can I get anything for you three?” She nodded at Moondancer, but smiled at Twilight and Spike. They probably knew the staff by name if they were regulars.

“I’ll just have a couple of waters, please,” Twilight replied.

“Can I have the stonebud milk?” Spike asked Twilight instead of the waitress. Twilight nodded and the waitress wrote it down.

“And how about you, miss?” she asked.

Moondancer quickly glanced over her options again, settling on the burgundy-coloured bottle. She definitely felt like drinking herself into a stupor at this point. Maybe that would help get these annoying thoughts about Spike being anything other than a monster out into the open. She imagined herself stumbling home through the dodgy backstreets, surrounded by the increasing sense of desperation of the Rabbles and thought better of it. “Just orange juice is fine,” she replied.

The mare nodded with a forced smile, jotted the selection down, and trotted back to the kitchen. Perhaps her frustration had come through a little too heavily in her tone.

The shadow on the sundial should have been just about turning to the evening, but the light of day still streamed in through the window. From where they were, the light had to bounce off the mountain first before entering the building, painting their table in a very dusky grey-pink-blue. The lake had a similar effect going on, with its waters appearing to shine oddly.

Moondancer frowned as her gaze drifted further towards the mountainside. From here it was clear that the party they had heard was no small affair. There were well over one-hundred ponies moving around in front of a makeshift stage that was playing host to some band or another.

“Didn’t that Vigil guy say the lake and the field were for emergency use only?” she asked.

Twilight leaned forward in her chair to get a proper look. She raised an eyebrow. “He did.”

“What a massive bag of pony sticks.”

“Mhm.” Twilight sat back. “So… are the ones in the Rabbles like him?”

Moondancer nodded. “Officers like that are everywhere down there. Their new favourite thing is to stop random people and try to implicate them in whatever mess happens to be nearby. It’s like a game of connect the dots to them.”

“Has anyone actually been arrested because of that?”

“Oh yeah, a few people. They’ll take any chance they can get to make things worse.”

Twilight seemed to stare into the distance for a moment, though the only thing visible through the window from her current angle would be the mountain wall as it curved back towards the edge of the city. “Sorry,” she said after a fashion. “I didn’t want to believe things were as bad as they are, but after everything I’ve seen… I get where you’re coming from. There’s so much vandalism up here in Middle Canterlot as it is. If it’s actually even worse down in the Rabbles then I don’t even know what to say, other than that I wouldn’t want to be living amongst it.”

“Sure would be nice if leaving was the easy option. I think I mentioned it to you before; the price of train tickets has been artificially inflated to keep people from getting away. I don’t know if it was the station or the princess that did it, but that’s why I’m trying to sell some of my collection and pay up before they decide to increase it again.”

“I hadn’t heard about that. Is it true that one of the supply trains got attacked?”

“Yep. It was only like five ponies though, so they all got caught. Security is a lot tighter in general now.” She paused. Should I tell her this part? she asked herself. She’ll hate you for it, said the changeling on her shoulder. It’ll be funny though, its pegasus twin suggested. “It’s normally pretty relaxed and friendly, but they even caught the fake ticket I got a couple of days ago.”

Twilight’s eyelids flipped open like she’d just found what an infant Spike had left in the class’ cookie jar. “What?!” she exclaimed.

Moondancer smirked. “What? I bought it fair and square, just not from the right vendor.”

“You’re lying,” Twilight stated, pointing a hoof at her.

“Nope.”

“You’re messing with me.”

Moondancer couldn’t hold back the grin, and it gave way to a short bout of laughter. “Of course I am! Holy crap, Twilight, you think I’d get involved with that kind of thing?”

She was lying, of course. The prices hadn’t increased, Twilight was just rich and had no sense of perspective. Getting out of Canterlot by train had always been expensive. As for the ticket, it had been sourced from the only changeling in the city Moondancer knew she could trust. The bug-mare ran an apothecary as a front for less legitimate practices. Those practices consisted of little more than a printer with a couple of magical addons to make convincing forgeries. Lots of potential, but not much of a customer base due to the big spenders staying far away from the stinky underparts of the city.

Moondancer recalled the sensation of creeping doom weighing down upon her as she watched the conductor and a guard stare at the ticket for just a little too long, before the latter landed a great big fine on her head for trying to take the easy route. She had a number of worthwhile books in her collection, but she had a feeling it wasn’t going to be enough. If worst came to worst she could try to sneak through with a real ticket without paying the fine, or perhaps buy a glamour and pose as a different pony. If even that didn’t work, travelling several hundred miles north on hoof was always an option, assuming she didn’t starve.

Twilight held her face in her hooves. “Oh my god, why would you say that? I thought for a second you’d gotten yourself in real danger.”

Moondancer chuckled to herself, her smile falling away. “There’s still the problem of the rent. Until I sell more of my books I’m pretty much stuck.”

Twilight placed her hooves back on the table and gave her a tired look. A smile appeared on her face and she suddenly found it difficult to look her in the eye. “Um… I guess I could help,” she suggested.

Moondancer raised her fuzzy eyebrows. “Are you sure? There’s always the hoof path if I don’t have enough…”

Twilight snorted. “No! I wouldn’t make you do that if you’re intent on… leaving.” She paused again. “I get it now. I still really think you should stay, but if your area is getting that bad then this is probably safer… unless you wanna move up into the Market with me?”

An image played across her mind of Celestia’s dour, empty eyes gazing upon her students like they were a group of brainless rabbits. You don’t get it at all. You don’t want to get it, but if you’ve acknowledged how much this place sucks then I guess that’s enough. “Blitz’ guards will probably be extending their curfew further into Middle Canterlot at some point, assuming the princess doesn’t murderise him for it first, so that would only be a temporary fix.”

Twilight offered a sad smile. “I see. Well, after we’re done here I guess I could buy some of those books?”

“Don’t you have enough as it is?”

Twilight gave her a look of innocent bewilderment.

Spike responded for her, “Better for the books to go to someone you know will take good care of them.”

“I guess.”

The gentle clinking of ice against glass signalled the arrival of their drinks. The waitress placed a bottle of orange juice and a pair of tall, fancy glasses of water filled with ice between Twilight and Moondancer, and what looked more like a small bowl of soup in front of Spike. The broth-like substance was grayish in colour, complete with its namesake halved and stuck onto the side of the wide mug like a lemon slice, its other half laying on the saucer beneath it. It looked like something that had been fished out of a drain.

“Is it normally this colour?” Spike whispered, looking understandably worried.

“It’s a lot better than it looks,” Twilight assured him. “Take a sip first, though, it’s got a pretty big kick to it.”

“Will you be having anything to eat today?” asked the mare. Twilight nodded and the waitress left to fetch the menus.

“There we go. It won’t be long now,” Twilight said with a chipper little smile.

“I feel like my stomach is shrinking,” Moondancer replied before taking a few big glugs of juice. This would help, at least. It was fresh, but it had that over-refrigerated quality that made her want to chew on some grass to make sure it went down properly. The flavour kicked in, lighting up her mouth and throat. She’d needed this more than she realised.

Twilight started on her water, tonguing one of the ice cubes into her mouth. “So…” she began, mid-chew, “what’ll you do once you reach Vanhoover?”

“I’ll be making my way to my family’s farm.” Another sip. “Assuming I remember how to get there. I literally haven’t gone to the actual farm since starting at the school.”

“Huh. Has your family visited you here, at least?”

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah. You’ve met them. Multiple times.”

“Oh.”

“This is actually pretty good timing. My sister’s getting married soon so I’ll be there for that.”

Twilight’s face lit up. “Oh! That’s awesome! Who’s the lucky stallion?”

Moondancer shrugged and grinned. “Some guy she met late last year. He might be enjoying his freedom right now but if you’ve ever met my sister you’ll know he’s going to be under a short leash pretty soon. He got her pregnant while they were dating so our dad is pretty much forcing them to go through with it.”

Twilight’s face only glowed brighter. “You’re going to be an aunt?” she asked in amazement.

Oh no she’s actually doing this, Moondancer thought. How could one sound so obsessive and yet so common at the same time? “Eheh, yeah. I guess I am, which sucks because I hate kids.”

Twilight grinned, no doubt imagining what a tiny, squealing clone of Moondancer would look like. “My mother was like that too until she had my brother.”

Spike placed the two halves of his stonebud together. “Can we add conversations about pregnancy to the list of ‘weird stories around Spike’?”

Twilight shook a hoof. “Oh come on! Foaling is one of the most beautiful things in the world!”

Moondancer found herself groaning in disgust right alongside him.

The little dragon stared at the stonebud for a moment. “Ponies come from eggs now,” he stated, before popping it into his mouth. He immediately realised the kind of image he’d just created, sending a look of alarm in Moondancer’s direction. “Urhm… I didn’m meam dat.”

“It’s ok,” Moondancer replied with half a smile.

Twilight still had a look of glee on her face. She clopped her hooves together. “Look at you both! It’ll be so great when you’re finally friends!”

A trio of menus floated their way onto the table. The waitress gave them a smile and a nod, and waited patiently for them to make their choices.

Twilight opened hers. Her eyes reappeared over the top of it. “Oh! Moondancer, what if we did something before you go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something for you and Spike to do together for a change. Maybe we could… y’know, help you push past it before you have to say goodbye?”

“I-it’s fine, really,” Moondancer replied, hiding herself behind her menu. Staying any longer than absolutely necessary wasn’t on the cards. There were plenty of interesting choices one would expect from a restaurant; steamed vegetables covered in a fruity sauce, a thick, nutty stew with chunks of softened carrot, cucumber flavoured ice cream… “What’s wormroot pie?” she asked.

“That’s one of our mountain farm specialities,” said the waitress, eagerly. She looked like she’d had a few herself. “It has a very veggy kind of taste thanks to the turnips and beets, with an added flair of apple-pepper from the Palette Plains.”

“I see.” Her stomach growled, audibly. It sounded like a decently hearty meal. “Hm, fine. I’ll go with that, can’t be worse than a ready meal.”

Twilight looked mildly surprised by the choice, but then she wasn’t the one dying of starvation. The other unicorn flipped to another page in her menu, lit her horn, and engraved their choices onto a thin surface of magical energy upon the tabletop to show the waitress. Then she leaned over to spy on Spike, as if making sure he was doing his homework. “What’re you thinking, Spikey?”

Spike scratched his chin. “Hmmmm…” He looked to her for approval again, a lopsided smile on his face. “Since I had that chicken pie earlier, do you think I could have the… cheesy beef soufflé this time?”

No. The previous conversations all faded from Moondancer’s mind, replaced by the underlying fears she’d well and truly managed to keep under lock and key for once in her life.

He’s just a kid, remember? said the pegasus on her shoulder. He’s definitely not going to tear you to shreds, said the changeling on the other. He was going to eat beef and he was going to enjoy it. He was going to grow too large for gems and snacks to sustain him. Not yet, said the pegasus, but soon, the changeling added. He’ll get a taste for meat and then he’ll come for you for hating him for his entire life, and Twilight will keep making excuses even as he turns you into-

Moondancer adjusted her glasses. Like a blood vessel bursting in her eye, images of herself as one of those red piles filled her vision in immaculate detail. She could even see the parts Celestia had been kind enough to cook beforehoof. She shifted them again. Maybe they weren’t on right. Maybe she’d used up too much magic today to sustain the enchantment and the bad thoughts were going to break through, and Spike was going to see her at her weakest. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that. She was stronger than this and he was just a stupid kid who had accidentally doused them both in flame back when he couldn’t control his third lung. She didn’t even need these anymore.

“I… don’t think you’re ready for beef just yet. I’ll get you the molten loaf if you want?” Twilight suggested.

Spike threw his hands up in the air. “Yay!” They came back down and his gaze met her’s, and he froze.

“Moondancer? What’s wrong?” her best friend asked with a frown.

Moondancer’s eyes went even wider for a moment. “Huh? What?” She looked away and shifted her glasses once more. No good. “S-sorry, I just have to… go to the… somewhere. Somewhere else.” She got down off the chair but messed up the landing, one forehoof slipping from under her. Not quite enough to let her fall, but more than enough to look suspicious. “I’ll be right back. I feel sick.”

With her companions and the waitress all staring at her with worried eyes, Moondancer left her seat and made for the toilets. The carpet switched to grooved tiles and the artistic, subdued style of the main room vanished in an instant, replaced by stark white and grey walls, the colour draining from her vision as the blood drained from her face.

The Moondancer in the mirror looked like she’d been fished out of a lake; her hair was an oily mess trying to escape her bobble and her woolen jumper - which she seriously regretted wearing on a day like this - looked frayed and in need of a wash. Her whole body looked like it was in need of a wash. Taking the spectacles in one hoof she gently placed them to one side of the basin and doused her face in cold water. She could feel the same sensation she got whenever she laid down in bed starting to creep over her, when the ceiling began to breathe and the walls began to bleed.

She looked to her glasses as if expecting them to explain themselves. They had been a gift from Celestia herself. Moondancer had been making promising progress in catching up to the other students, but after Spike’s accident she receded into her own tiny, dark world under her bedsheets. She didn’t speak beyond a gibbering, reassuring chant she’d long since forgotten, and she held the covers around her tightly enough to affect her breathing, worsening the sensation of danger.

Not even the princess was capable of breaking her out of it. She’d almost resorted to sending a letter to her parents, but that was when she’d found the glasses. Apparently they once belonged to the former captain of the palace’s Medical Bay, used as a way to block out the horrors they had experienced in their time on the field. She recalled the sense of terror as the sheets lifted away, soon followed by a soothing blur flowing across her vision, blotting out the horrible images and letting her see what was right in front of her again.

Unlike Twilight, the spectacles were the only gift Moondancer had received from Celestia, but they had been more than enough. Her studies sped up, her friendships improved, and she was even able to look at Spike without feeling the urge to cry or puke out of fear. She rubbed her brow and put them back on, feeling that familiar wave of soothing calm flow through her thoughts, hiding away all the nasty things that snapped at her heels.

Mere moments passed before they returned. She adjusted them, making sure the handles were resting comfortably behind her ears and the bridge was sitting just right over her snout. No change.

“Shit.”

Had she simply run out of magic for the day? She released a stressed breath. The last time this had happened the princess had been there to give her a boost, but Twilight didn’t even know about the enchantment, let alone the event that had warranted its use. As much as she cried and suffered, Moondancer had never wanted anyone to see her as someone who needed help. Her lack of magical versatility was already enough to prompt random students to come up to her and attempt to “help her” with the absolute basics.

She couldn’t let Twilight see her like this. Not a chance.

Right on cue, a purple face appeared on the far side of the mirror and Moondancer flipped round to see her friend entering the room. Twilight looked hesitant but gave a hopeful smile when she saw her.

“Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just feeling a bit… awful from not eating anything.”

Twilight trotted closer regardless. She glanced at the tattered mare reflected in the mirror. “Are you sure? You looked like you’d seen a ghost. You’re not in pain or anything, right?”

Yes, now leave me alone. “No, I’m fine, Twilight. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Twilight didn’t seem to know what to say, so, after some hesitation, she simply turned around and left. That was when Moondancer saw the other face peeking through the door.

He can smell your fear, said the changeling, jabbing its spear against her neck.

She brushed at her shoulder. A freaking gopher could smell my fear, Moondancer’s more measured mind responded. The images had faded slightly while Twilight was here, but now they were back in full force, and Moondancer found herself frozen to the porcelain surface, gaze fixed on her own eyes behind the lenses with a fire throbbing between her shoulder blades.

“You’re not ok, are you?” came a little voice from the doorway.

Slowly, she looked back to the little face in the mirror, then to the real one. Spike somehow looked even more worried than Twilight, his deep brow line making a meal out of the expression. He stood half-hidden by the doorframe, the only thing stopping him from coming in being the female symbol beside the entrance.

The giant, crimson face of her nightmares took on a lavender sheen and she shook her head, removing her glasses to rub her eyes again. “Why are you here?” she asked.

Spike stayed quiet for a moment. “Because I was worried,” he answered simply. “You looked really scared back there.”

“No I didn’t,” she replied with grit in her tone. “It doesn’t matter. Leave me alone.”

Spike glanced behind him before setting one foot beyond the threshold. “But it does,” he half-whispered. “All I did was mention the word ‘beef’ and now you’re in here!”

Moondancer turned on him, fury filling her face. “Oh for Sleipnir’s sake, don’t!”

“I’m not eating it!” Spike continued, taking another step. “I’m getting something else that isn’t even meat! You don’t have to be afraid!”

Moondancer didn’t respond. She felt more vulnerable now than she had all year, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Spike’s encroaching proximity. Her ever-present weakness stared her in the face in the form of a pair of lenses, reflecting the pallid light of the restroom. It wasn’t as if she could have done anything when she was just a filly, or even when she was bullied by mere ponies. If only he was lying right now, then he’d just be the snivelling little reptile she’d always convinced herself he was.

But insults wouldn’t get her anywhere at this point. As much as she hated to admit it, she could feel a layer of the darkness clouding her subconscious slowly starting to peel away. She would be out of Canterlot soon. This was likely to be the last chance she would get to speak with Spike without Twilight there to hear it. There were bigger hills to die on, after all.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weird kid, Spike?”

“Er… sure?”

“‘Cus you’re with somepony who hates your guts, and yet you’re still standing there. You’re not worried I might try to flush you down the toilet or something?”

He snirked. “Twilight would do the same thing to you.”

“Of course she would, which means you can do whatever you want with her around.”

Spike raised an eyescale. “Uhh… is that really how you see it?”

“Am I wrong? Twilight’s practically the most powerful unicorn in Canterlot. Literally no one can hurt you so long as she’s with you.”

“I mean… have you met her? She doesn’t let me do anything by myself. She doesn’t even trust me to collect groceries on my own yet.” He gave an awkward smile. “Mostly because I can’t help myself when it comes to snacks.”

“Just one more virgin sacrifice and then I’ll be out of your manes,” spoke the older, fatter Spike in Moondancer’s head. “Uh-huh. So she doesn’t trust you to keep her safe. It’s only the other way around?”

“Uh, I guess? I’d never… flame someone on purpose.”

Moondancer realised how cold her forehooves felt against the porcelain and she brought them back to the ground. “You haven’t done that since, at least.”

“That was an accident.”

“I know. Don’t remind me.”

“Sorry.” He fumbled with his hands for a moment. “I just wanna… make things ok, y’know? I don’t want you to be afraid of me forever, especially not if you end up leaving for real.”

He thinks the same way? Moondancer thought. The imaginary pegasus on her shoulder, now looking lonely, raised its hoof and brushed its lance against her, That makes everything easier, doesn’t it? You don’t want to hate him anyway.

She brushed her other shoulder with an annoyed frown. “Let me ask you something: Do you ever wonder what’ll happen in a hundred years when Twilight isn’t there to help you?”

The question took him off guard, but he mulled over it. “I don’t like thinking about that,” he replied. “I sometimes wonder what I’d do if I was bigger, at least. I mean… it would probably be fun, but I mostly just think about how I’d get around if I couldn’t fit through doors and stuff.

“Is that it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how would you feed yourself at that size? There aren’t enough gems in Equestria to feed every dragon.”

“I know… I don’t really know what I’d do about that.” He paused for a few seconds, glancing at her with the same look of approval-seeking he gave Twilight. “I’ve never liked the thought of eating meat, but… it’s good. I don’t wanna think about where it came from or, like… how it was made.” He held his ear-fins. “Maybe I’m not really a dragon in the first place, like you said. Maybe I can just eat fish.”

Moondancer felt her eyebrows rising. “You’ve thought about all of this, then?”

He nodded.

She considered that for a while. “Good.” He sounded mature for his age, the way he handled these concepts. She considered telling him what Celestia had done to his much-loved sister, but there was no way he’d keep the fact that he knew from Twilight, and then she’d be after her no matter how far away she travelled. Moondancer removed the glasses once more. The sensation of hot breath flowing over her returned slower than usual, and the image of a bleeding window was rendered still and old rather than a feast in progress.

“You have to promise not to tell Twilight any of this,” she began, looking him in the eyes. “If you break it, then I’ll break you.”

“Whoa, geez, ok. I was gonna make a dragon promise but I guess I’ll stick with ‘don’t hurt me’.”

From out of nowhere, Moondancer felt a bubble of laughter erupt out of her throat. She quickly shut her mouth but she could feel the edges curling at the mere thought. Why was this so easy? Why was he so open and friendly about all this? She had shown how much she hated him by virtue of his very nature, and yet none of it seemed to phase him.

The imaginary voice of fear landed back on her shoulder, trying desperately to come up with something that would make her hesitate and doubt that this was the right way to go.

She brushed the bugger off again and let out a long breath. “For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be strong, but I took ages to learn the basics. I wanted to become like Starswirl the Bearded just to prove to the universe that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, and then like Garland the Green when I realised I could make plants grow a little…” She sank into her thoughts for a minute. “Then, one day, the Great Dragon Migration passed over our farm, and… all my stupid illusions were thrown out of the window. I needed professional help after that, and a little while later I was accepted into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns on a fucking ‘special needs’ pass. My parents thought that would fix my magic and that being away from the farm would help to deal with the trauma, but you know how that turned out.”

This was a lot all at once, but Spike listened patiently to every word she said. “That’s… actually awful,” he replied. “Do you really think being at the school didn’t help? Not even a little?”

She shrugged. She had gotten stronger and her soon-to-be-sold book collection had benefited in a big way, but compared to most of the other students… “It did, I guess. Being away from home was definitely a good thing, but there were a lot of times when I wanted to see my parents and couldn’t. That’s part of why Twilight was such a beacon of goodwill amongst all the stupid teachers. She always had time to teach me what they couldn’t.” She glanced away from him. It felt as if she was admitting all this to Twilight herself. “She had everything I didn’t; happiness, skill, wealth, the approval of the princess. She even had the very thing that had ruined my life and treated it like a pet.”

“Brother,” Spike cut in.

“Not the point. Twilight was pretty much the solution to all my problems, but then, last week happened, and since then she’s…” She pursed her lips and stopped herself there. “No weird stories around Spike,” Twilight had reminded her. She would have to sugarcoat this more than a Snowdough Factory donut. Spike was already tilting his head in curiosity. He’d probably heard a thing or two about what happened, but given that he was fully on his sister’s side about staying in Canterlot, it seemed clear Twilight had kept the truth from him. The morning after, Twilight had almost convinced her it had been nothing but a dream, but everyone else in their class begged to differ.

The images of her home surrounded by carnage slowly gave way to a classroom occupied only by black marks spread evenly across the floor, as if only their shadows had arrived in attendance. No, she thought. This is enough for now. Even if the Moondancer that had entered that room hadn’t been able to make things right with Spike, whatever amalgamation of magic and artificial thought she was now would.

“Whatever. I’m sorry,” she said. The words came out far too easily, as if in insult to everything she had ever done to him. This was as easy as it could have been, had she not been such a messed up bundle of insecurities. “I’m sorry for… treating you like the other one for all this time. I thought all dragons were the same; just monsters with different levels of intelligence.”

Spike took another few steps closer, a small, hopeful smile on his face. He held out a hand again and Moondancer, hesitantly, put her hoof within grasping distance. The sensation of his tiny claws against her skin felt alarming for a moment, but it soon became clear that his grip was weak and the ends were blunt.

His hand felt warm compared to the chilly room around them. What a fool she’d been.

7 - That Monster, Too

Of all the threats in the city, Maredusa was easily the scariest. Her gaze could turn ponies to stone while the snakes in her mane drained their magic, powering her up and leaving a trail of statues in her wake. She skulked through the shadows and the sewers in search of her prey, more monster than mare.

Spike traced a claw along one of Maredusa’s snakes. He didn’t really feel like reading today but there wasn’t much else to do while Twilight was keeping him under lock and key. That was fine. Today had been quieter so far, but even from here, where the only view was of Equestria and the open sky, he could still see the faintest of fogs rolling past the dormitory from the number of fires that had been lit. At least Celestia was back. That meant things would go back to normal soon enough and it would be safe to go outside again.

The comic was vol.3 of an ongoing series which introduced Maredusa as the long-lost sister of the Mane-iac. Shining had taken offense at the character but she hadn’t bothered Spike up until today.

He closed the book. He didn’t want to think about ponies getting turned to stone right now, considering the Princess had done just that less than two hours ago. What was perhaps worse was the look on the stallion’s face. Spike had always thought getting petrified would be a terrifying thing to experience, yet the guy had just stood there, staring at Celestia like a brick wall as it happened. It gave him the creeps.

Celestia, too, seemed weird. She had just shown up on the doorstep of the higher learning dorm and announced that class was back in session. She had sounded enthusiastic at the time, but her demeanor changed as soon as she stepped in, as if the light outside had been showing them a different person entirely. She walked in slow, loping strides with her head lowered and her eyes staring straight ahead.

Spike sat up, wrapping his little arms around his knees and looking out of the window again at the Moon hanging in place far above. As worried as he was, he knew it would only take a little time. Celestia would sort things out and Twilight would be there to help her. She was dedicated to her work in a way he couldn’t understand, but he had faith that this would all blow over without much issue.

The door eased open and a unicorn walked in. Her coat was lavender and her curtain-like mane was a dark blue with a pair of purple and pink lines running through it. Even her cutie mark was the same, and yet as Spike stared at the mare approaching, something deep down was telling him to run. It was as if a stranger had just entered the room.

“Hey, I’m back,” said Twilight Sparkle with a friendly wave.

The feeling faded, his sister emerging from the stranger. He blinked, then frowned at himself. What was that?

-----

Spike strode back into the restaurant’s main room with a big grin on his face. He had finally broken through and made Moondancer his friend, or at least as close to a friend as possible. He was fine with that as long as she was fine with him. She had finally looked at him without even a hint of fear in her eyes, and that small gesture meant the world.

Everything Moondancer had just told him whirled around his head like a miniature typhoon, pushing thoughts about Canterlot and comics to the side for the time being. Before they left the restroom he had asked her what kinds of animals she had on her farm, and subsequently made a promise to never eat beef, even once he was an adult, and no matter how tasty it might be. Countless ideas ran through his mind of things he and Moondancer could do together now that they were friends, until they were inevitably overcome by the scent of food.

The food was already on its way to their table. The dog guy carried two meals beneath circular covers, while the waitress levitated the third under a much more rectangular one, likely containing a loaf hardy enough to survive a trip down the mountainside and end up just as edible as it had started. That was to say; extremely hazardous. Ponies didn’t have the sharp, crystal-crunching daggers suited to the natural draconic lifestyle of grinding through solid stone to find scraps of shiny stuff, assuming the books he’d read about his kind were true.

The dog placed his dishes down and gave them another bow, and the waitress gave him a smile as Spike climbed back into his seat. He smiled in return. He liked her and all, but he got the feeling she found him more amusing than adorable. Margery Tub, he reminded himself. Twilight tended to be the one who chatted with her, leaving him as the kid left to his own thoughts. He was only mostly ok with that, provided there was something to eat to help distract him as he quietly listened to every word.

Margery looked to his newest friend as Moondancer took her seat opposite Twilight. “If anything’s wrong don’t be afraid to let me know, ok?” she said in a profoundly motherly tone. She must have seen the state Moondancer had been in before she fled the room.

“Uh-huh. I’m fine,” Moondancer responded, giving her a look.

The older mare’s positivity was unbreakable. She placed the last dish down, her emerald tendrils of magic coiling around the knub atop each cover. One by one she revealed their contents; A steaming hot bowl of vegetable soup for Twilight with a couple of pieces of bread as a side, wormroot pie for Moondancer, which looked and smelled a lot better than it had sounded, and finally, a full loaf of perfectly cooked froggy bottom bread that would feel like chewing wood to a pony. Hidden within were veins of melted iron, poured in-house through the mixture to create “paths” through the meal which Spike liked to follow to the bundle of iron that often collected in the very center.

As the staff left them to it, Spike could feel a sense of elation filling the air beside him. Twilight clopped her hooves together. “So… is there any reason you two were looking so happy?”

Moondancer looked away and held her tongue. Spike saw his chance. “We’re friends now,” he answered as he managed to ease a chunk out of the loaf. Moondancer gave him a scowl and he zipped his lips shut with a wink.

“Really? That’s great!” Twilight exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t say ‘friends’,” Moondancer elaborated. “Just… not enemies anymore.”

“I never saw us as enemies, anyway,” said Spike.

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine now, is what I’m saying.”

“That’s so great, Moondancer! I’ve been waiting for this for literally years! I was getting worried you’d leave without setting things straight.”

Moondancer suddenly looked as vulnerable as she had in the restroom. She kept her gaze away from Twilight’s, one hoof covering the other. “I mean… yeah,” she admitted. “It’s a big weight off my back.” She looked Twilight in the eyes now, and lingered there. There was still work to be done here. There was still something she wanted to say, but for now, her gaze turned to the delicious pie under her nose and she practically fell upon it, taking a big bite out of the middle like a pig at an eating contest.

Spike took a long sip of his broth-like milk stuff and chewed at the edges of his loaf, revealing a few strands of iron. The stuff was still hot - how they formed it without the bread melting into sludge he had no idea - but it was tastier than a freshly baked scone. The ends of the exposed metal bent between his teeth before snapping off into chewable chunks like an extremely hard taffy.

Twilight started on her soup as well, taking much more polite slurps and giving it a little mix with the spoon. “Do you want the bread?” she asked. “I’m not actually that hungry.”

“Sure!” Spike eagerly grabbed them and started dunking them into the murky stonebud milk. The stuff had tasted bitter at first, but it was a lot nicer than it initially looked. Every time they came here he thought he’d found something nasty on the menu, only for it to turn out to be tasty anyway. The lake may have been a bust, but at least Meadow View was always a treat.

He looked over to Twilight and his smile faded quickly. She looked lost in her thoughts; the bad kind. She’d done this often before she started on that spellcasting project, but she had never told him what the problem was.

“You ok?” Spike asked.

Twilight looked up, surprised. “Huh? Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.” She leaned down to slurp at her soup and quirked her eyebrows as she spotted Moondancer’s plate. She had eaten all but one slice of the pie and was resting back in her chair with an uncomfortable look on her face.

“You must’ve been starving,” she commented.

“I feel like death warmed up right now,” Moondancer replied as she patted her belly. “I seriously need to stop doing this kind of thing to myself.”

“At least you’ll have access to a healthier diet working on the farm.”

“Mhm.” Moondancer leaned forward again, steadying herself against the table as if she’d just gained a hundred pounds. “So,” she began past the air trying to bubble its way up her throat, “I wanted to ask you something out of- ump -curiosity.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“What would you do if you left Canterlot as well?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Like, if you had to leave as well. Putting all the stuff aside about helping out, where would you want to go?”

That’s an easy one, Spike thought as he remembered the scent of baked goods wafting through every street as he and Twilight wandered through Ponyville. Even the air had felt different; healthier, plant-ier, maybe a little bit smelly with the nearby farms. Unless he wanted to raid Rarity’s stash - which he would never dream of - then gems would probably be harder to come by, but the existence of Sugarcube Corner alone made up for it. “Ponyville,” Spike answered without hesitation. “I wanna taste Pinkie’s cupcakes again.”

Twilight smiled knowingly at him. She gave it some thought. “I guess I’ve always wanted to see what Canaria is like in person,” she answered.

That took Moondancer by surprise. “Huh. Not even somewhere in Equestria?”

“Nope. I’d wanna be somewhere I’ve never seen before. Did you know the skies around Griffendel are so turbulent that the capital is sometimes covered in storms for more than a week at a time?”

Moondancer smirked. “I hear they don’t control the weather there, so yeah.”

“I think it would be really interesting to see how they manage to deal with having so many floods and tornadoes.”

“I don’t think you’ve been reading the same travelbooks as me, but ok.” She sat back. “If I had to go on vacation somewhere I guess I’d make it Cabérico because I’m not a crazy pony who wants to look at tornadoes. They apparently have some of the best beaches in the world there.”

“Is that the place where everything’s made of crystal?” Spike asked. Years ago, back when he was still learning to read, Twilight had let him leaf through a travel guide whose bright colours had caught his eye. He recalled the name vividly but few of the details.

Moondancer nodded. “I’ve read that the jungles don’t have any shadows because of how everything is reflective. Apparently even the shorelines are partially crystalline, and certain places require ice-breaking ships to get through.”

“That’s a pretty cool choice,” Twilight replied. “But what about the heat?”

“I’ll just wear a dress for once in my life.”

“But they don’t have climate control there, either. What if there’s a freak heat wave and you’re out in the open?”

This place is sounding better and better by the minute, thought Spike.

Moondancer snirked and rolled her eyes. “Tornadoes and heat waves. You’re an adorable idiot sometimes.”

Twilight smiled. She shifted in her seat and hummed in thought. “Ok, my turn. What if you had to stay in Canterlot? What would you want to do?” she asked them both.

Moondancer’s reaction was far less positive than Twilight’s had been. Her mouth opened for a moment before she frowned in thought, casting her gaze back outside at the lake. Spike finished off one of his bread pieces before resting his elbows on the table. “If it were me… no, wait. If I were a unicorn I’d study magic. I don’t really know what else there is to do aside from eating out or going to a library.”

Twilight gave him a worried look. “There’s plenty more to do here than that. There’s theatres and museums, the stadium in the Cloud District. There’s the bowling alley near where Moondancer lives. Lots of places.”

The stadium sounded enticing, but Twilight had never been very good with busy public spaces. For some reason it made her panic. When it came down to it, Spike knew the only thing he wanted right now was to be somewhere other than Canterlot; there was too much misery here and not enough places to go that they both enjoyed. Ponyville would be different. Before their visit he’d never once considered how much he wanted to simply run as fast as he could through a wide open field, feeling the unmown grass bristle against him as he went, and the soft ground underfoot. Compared to that, the stony streets of Canterlot had become no different to the wood flooring of the indoors, and he felt stifled as a result.

Spike raised an eyescale as he chewed his loaf. “How come we never go?”

The look on Twilight’s face made it clear she’d been caught out. “Um… I guess I’m always just… busy. Busy with work and studying. Even eating and things takes time out of the day. Sorry.”

If there was a way to get another little break from all the book work they could make another visit and see how everyone was doing. Twilight had promised they would go back to Ponyville someday. Spike just didn’t know if that meant next month, next year, or longer.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked, tilting her head.

“It’s nothing. I get it. I just… wanna go somewhere else for a while, y’know?” An idea popped into his head. “I get that you’re going to be busy helping Celestia, but… since all you’re doing is paperwork, do you think she’d let you do it from somewhere other than Canterlot?”

Now Twilight raised an eyebrow. “You mean like… moving somewhere?”

Spike shrugged. “It wouldn’t have to be permanent. Just a… er, temporarily moving where we live so that the mail gets sent there instead of here? Is there a way to do that on vacation?”

Twilight frowned as she thought. “There’s probably a way to do that, though with Canterlot’s services the way they are, I’m not sure they’d be happy having to deal with a special exception on top of all the normal mail. How long were you expecting this trip to last?”

Spike awkwardly patted at the table. He wanted it to be permanent, or at least last a good while. Maybe a couple of months to see what it was like? However long it ended up being he knew it would be more fun than staying here. “Until everything stops being on fire?” he answered. “You could still help Celestia like you want to, but we won’t have to worry about being in the middle of it all.”

She thought again. Spike could almost see the objections on her face and knew what kind of answer he was going to get. “Spike,” Twilight began, predictably, “as much as we could both do with another vacation, I wouldn’t want to put any more stress on the system. There also might be ponies who object to having their personal information leave the city, even if it’s only temporarily. Plus, if anything happens then Celestia will protect us!”

“So when are we going to Ponyville again, then?”

Twilight looked panicked for a moment, no doubt remembering her promise. “When all this is over, we’ll go back for sure.”

“Will we?” he asked again. “Do you promise?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“You should probably just go now instead of waiting,” Moondancer cut in, still looking outside. “Things are only going to get worse before they get better, so maybe you shouldn’t be forcing him to stay just because you want to help out.”

Twilight looked put out by that. “You want to help too, don’t you, Spike?”

Spike shrugged. He didn’t, but it would be fine so long as he didn’t need to do any heavy lifting or ‘deep cleaning’. “I guess,” he answered, uncertainly, “but only if you promise that we’ll go to Ponyville right after everything is ok here.”

“I promise,” Twilight repeated.

She sounded genuine, yet he only half believed her. For as skilled as she was in organisation, Twilight had a habit of letting frivolous things like talking to people, having fun and not starving, fall through the cracks in favour of her latest list of research subjects. It had taken enough effort just to get her to bring them to the lake, so leaving the city entirely was perhaps more than he could hope for.

The conversation ended and he and his sister went back to eating. Spike chewed away a chunk of the bread and closed his teeth around an exposed vein of iron. It tasted the same, but this stuff felt a lot softer than that one time he’d tried to gnaw on a lamppost. Maybe he was just stronger now. A familiar image came to mind, of himself in however many years, rising high above the buildings as he strode down the thoroughfare getting greeted by everypony as some kind of hero. Sometimes he was on two legs, sometimes on four, sometimes he imagined himself as a dragon-sized pony with leathery wings and fiery breath, right on cue for that tiny pang of worry to ruin the fun.

He rarely thought about what Twilight would be like in those situations. When she did appear she rode on his back as he currently did on hers, taking part in the festivities and soaking up the crowd’s adoration right alongside him. She never looked any older than she did in reality. Spike couldn’t even imagine it. Slowly, the crowd went silent and the giant pony looked under his hoof to see what he’d stepped on. Spike’s chewing slowed to a stop, glancing between Moondancer and his bread as the uncomfortable thought played out in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy treats like the molten loaf for long. At some point he’d need a truck full for every meal. There was no way the Princess would tolerate him eating as many gems, and the thought of having to dig for his own minerals felt a bit alien to him. Dragons had only one renewable source of food: Other living things.

He recalled a bedtime story Twilight’s grandmother had told him. It was one of those “scare the foals straight” kinds that usually involved evil rabbits and melting witches. A pair of ponies wandered too far from home into the mountains. They got lost. One died, neither returned. He shuddered. The story had made him cry, so Momma, in all her wisdom, had reassured him that carnivores were much more resistant to Gaia’s Abandonment when they resorted to eating other sentient creatures. A good grandmother she’d been, a good babysitter, less so.

The dragon in his head doused the streets in flame, its eyes going feral and its mind going blank. Spike buried himself in the loaf, his teeth contacting the little lump in the center. He gave it a lick, his tongue rough enough to drag against its surface, leaving it shiny and even more appetizing looking. Maybe he could become a raider, swooping into quarries and lumber yards and gobbling up all the tools and machinery to get by. That would be better. It was either that or live in the Badlands where he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way as he dug endlessly for food.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

He flinched and looked up at Moondancer, but was relieved to see she was looking at his sister instead. He didn’t want anyone getting any weird ideas about his potential futures, least of all her. Lying? he thought, looking to Twilight. She had stopped mid-slurp and was giving Moondancer a quizzical look.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Moondancer poked at her remaining slice. “Since when do you ever go on trips that aren’t for the sake of research? What possible reason could you have to leave Canterlot when you already have everything you could possibly need with none of the downsides?”

“Well… it’s not safe here. You said Blitz Wind is planning on extending his martial law into Middle Canterlot.”

Moondancer raised a bushy eyebrow and tilted her head, which she only did when she wasn’t taking an argument seriously. She didn’t normally do it to Twilight. “Oh? Now it’s suddenly dangerous to be here?” she replied. “I thought you said Celestia would protect you. Since you trust her so much and considering you were the only pony she even spoke to after what happened, I have absolutely no reason to think you might be in trouble here. Why would you leave?”

“We’re only talking about a short trip.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

Spike could almost see the air between them starting to boil under the sudden stress. Where had this come from? One minute they’d been having a nice conversation and then out of nowhere the intensity from earlier that day had bubbled right back up. He raised a claw. “Hey, uh… is everything ok?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” Moondancer replied, “I’m just calling Twilight out on her bullshit.”

“You really need to wash your mouth today, Moondancer,” Twilight commented.

He frowned. This didn’t feel warranted. He had his doubts about Twilight’s reasoning, but he trusted her a lot more than this. “We’re going to Ponyville pretty soon, right?” he asked.

Twilight glanced between them. “Of course. We’ll go as soon as we can, but not before we help out a bit first. It wouldn’t be right to just leave the city as it is.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Moondancer looked Twilight in the eyes again, and lingered once more. They narrowed. “What’s wrong is that Twilight’s rearranging deck chairs on a sinking airship. I’ll bet anything that Canterlot is way more messed up than either of us realise, so the idea that having one more pony and a baby dragon to help out is going to make any difference feels ridiculously desperate.”

“The offer’s still there if you want to bunk with me after your pay off your rent, rather than leaving straight away?” Twilight suggested. She reached across the table, only for the other mare to draw herself back. Twilight was looking worried now. “Besides, Vanhoover will probably be just the same as here. Manehatten, too.”

“I’m not going to Vanhoover, I’m going to a farm two-dozen miles east of Vanhoover.”

“Where there’s less of a guard presence?”

“House Roughtop is our guards. Yaks are a lot scarier than ponies.”

“My point still stands. You’re just as capable as any other unicorn-”

“My years of intensive study have truly paid off.”

“Moondancer, quit it!” Twilight exclaimed. “I’m being serious here-”

“No, you aren’t, you’re lying through your teeth so that you can keep pretending any of this is a good idea.”

Twilight scowled. “How is it wrong to want to help out? The Princess can’t do everything by herself!”

“The princess who hasn’t shown her face in public since that press hearing nearly two full weeks ago? She won’t be doing anything at this rate.”

“She’ll come back!”

“It’s been almost seven days since that ‘visit’ she gave us and there haven’t even been any rumors from the castle. It’s literally all conjecture. Ponies are starting to think Luna’s dead, and I think I might be one of them because it would explain basically everything.”

Twilight’s eyes darted at Spike, then back to Moondancer. “No talking about death around Spike.”

A smirk appeared on Moondancer’s face. “It’s fine, he can take it.”

“Uh, no? He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t have to think about that kind of thing.”

He didn’t let the frown show on his face. In spite of her usual protectiveness, Twilight had told him everything when she returned from the Everfree Forest; what was left of Nightmare Moon, the image of the castle being flattened with the dark mare and her accomplices apparently still inside, and even a lengthy description of a dead manticore whose body had been drained of all life, being cradled by its mourning mother. He set the feeling aside for now. “Why are you guys even arguing right now?” he asked. “You’re just going around in circles.”

His statement didn’t go over as planned. “As you can see, Spike’s more mature than you think,” said Moondancer with the tone of someone showing off a well-trained pet. She pointed an accusing hoof at the other unicorn. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t want to think about it, because you’re still worried that you’ll be blamed for it if Luna is dead. The only reason you’re staying in Canterlot is so that you can receive punishment if that ends-”

All at once something snapped and Twilight rose from her seat as she landed both forehooves against the table surface. She stared daggers at her friend as if she’d just declared war, yet Moondancer barely even flinched. That would have been worse - Moondancer was always calm when she was confident she was right - had the intensity in the air not changed to something so alien.

If Spike had hackles they would have pricked up at the feeling he was getting from the mare beside him. For a moment the sensation of residual magic flowing off of her body vanished along with her familiar scent, and Twilight Sparkle suddenly became a stranger. It felt as if she was there in body only, her presence scrubbed clean as if someone else was staring from behind her eyes.

“Twilight…” said Spike, leaning away from her, “what’re you doing?”

Another moment passed and she was back, his sister reemerging from wherever she’d gone. Twilight mouthed a word as the rage melted into worry. She looked down at her bowl of soup and the little spill she’d caused and slowly sat back down, shifting in her seat as if her joints were bothering her.

“I’m… sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Across from her, Moondancer stared. She sat back in her chair, looking satisfied for a few moments before she let her mean-spirited smirk fall away. “That was worse than I thought it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight repeated, staring into her bowl.

“Yeah, sure. You don’t see me smashing tables in rage. I think this proves that you’re staying in Canterlot for Celestia’s sake, not for yours or for Spike’s, let alone the city. So much for the community. Oh, and there goes your argument about keeping Spike away from violence, too, so good job.”

“It’s fine,” Spike spoke up, shaking his head. He wasn’t fine at all. Whatever this was he wanted it to stop… but at the same time he needed to hear it from Twilight. That reaction all but proved Moondancer’s words correct, or at least that she had struck a major nerve, and if Twilight was keeping them here out of fear… His frown deepened as he thought. Why would she be afraid of the Princess for something she wasn’t even guilty of? She hadn’t seemed that way, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about being worried. He recalled the look on Twilight’s face as she emerged from the forest - those wide eyes, that strained mouth - were just the same as on that horrible night.

If she was keeping them here to make sure Celestia and Luna were ok, then she was probably putting herself through an obsessive hell thinking about it. No wonder she’d been so focused on her new spellcasting method; it was a distraction from the city, which in turn must have become a distraction from thinking about Luna.

Twilight said nothing. She mopped up the spill with a napkin, staring at each bit of cooling liquid as she no doubt attempted to create another layer of separation between herself and the truth.

“Is everything alright?” came a motherly but authoritative voice from behind them. Margery Tub trotted up to the table, eyed the little soup spill, then the stressed look on Moondancer’s face. “I was told there was a little ruckus going on…”

“We’re fine,” Moondancer responded gruffly. “She just kicked herself against the table.”

Margery looked between them. She could clearly see something was wrong here. “Well that’s not like you, Twilight. You should be mindful these days with all the mess piling up out there.” When Twilight didn’t respond, Margery’s forced smile wavered and she turned away. “If everything’s fine then I’ll leave you to it. Just be sure to finish your meals before you go; prices are only going to go up, after all.”

“Out of all your friends she’s somehow the weirdest,” Moondancer commented once the older mare was out of sight. “Too normal.” She looked back to Twilight now. “Are you actually going to say something so that we can have this over with, or are you just going to keep lying to all three of us?”

Twilight finally folded up the napkin and dropped it into what remained of her soup, but kept her eyes to the table. She looked tired. Not quite stressed, but sad. All the bad thoughts she’d been keeping locked away looked to have been forced to the front. “It’s…” she began, “um… I guess… the way I see it is that Celestia must have known Luna was going to come back, and that’s why she sent me to Ponyville. The others and I…-” She winced. “-we succeeded in stopping Nightmare Moon, but as for what happened to Luna… I don’t think that was what Celestia was expecting from me.”

“How is it on your back if there were five other mares with you?” Moondancer asked, carving her last slice in two.

Twilight frowned. “Because as far as I know they didn’t receive orders from the ruler of our country. It’ll be my fault, completely. I don’t-” She flashed a glance at Spike. “-I don’t know why it ended like it did, but I still feel like it was my fault. Maybe I… I don’t know. Maybe fear or anger affected the spell, getting rid of the bad parts instead of purifying them.”

“It’s possible. I’ve read that emotions and intentions can have an effect when it comes to Divine Magic.”

“I… didn’t know you were into religious stuff at any point?”

“I wasn’t. It’s just that the only information you can find on Divine Magic is divinely stupid and wishy-washy.” Moondancer took a bite of the half-slice. “Anyway… I take massive issue with the fact that your fear is what’s keeping you here when literally everyone else in our class is leaving because of the very same thing.”

“What are you saying?”

Moondancer pointed the pie-tipped fork at her. “I’m calling you a weirdo, Twilight. If you found a giant monster in the wild, would you be the only pony left screaming in terror at it after everypony else has run for the hills?”

Twilight pursed her lips, looking confused.

“The ‘giant monster’ obviously being Celestia in this scenario. You’re scared of what she’ll do to you for what ‘you’ did to Luna, despite the fact that you weren’t the only one who did it, and despite the fact that Celestia never even mentioned it last week.”

“Well… I doubt she’d want to talk about it.”

Moondancer let out a sigh. “Seriously, Twilight, get out while you still can before she actually decides to take you up on that offer. I don’t think any of us want to know what she’ll do if Luna is actually dead.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why? Because you know you’re wrong?”

“Moondancer, please.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Twilight, I give a shit about you, and I don’t want to see you get eaten or anything just because you felt guilty for stepping into some monster’s lair. That’s a stupid way to go and it puts Spike at risk as well.”

“None of us are in dan-”

“How’s your scar?” Moondancer asked suddenly. In a single beat her tone changed and her frown deepened.

“Wh- excuse me?”

A few seconds of quiet descended upon them. Moondancer gently removed her glasses and placed them on the table. A subtle shudder was the only sign she gave of whatever was happening underneath. “How’s your scar?” she repeated. “Show me. Is it healed yet?”

Twilight glanced between her friend and the glasses, then idly rubbed her chin. “You won’t even be able to see it from there…”

“After what Celestia did to us, my vision has literally never been better,” Moondancer retorted. “I only wear these because they’re comfy now.” She pointed a hoof at Spike. “Show him.”

Spike looked up from his loaf, now holding it by a pair of exposed protrusions. Most of the bread encasing the metal had been chewed away, bringing the creepy, tendril-y innards into sight. “Huh?” He looked to his sister. Twilight was doing her best to hide her chin from view, making it look like she was simply scratching it or something. What was this about now? That little, vertical scar on her chin had been Twilight’s only injury in her fight with Nightmare Moon - though apparently it had been gained when the dark queen placed her blade against Twilight’s neck rather than during the fight itself. It was disquieting to look at with the images it brought to mind, but Twilight had grown used to it as it healed, and it served as something of a battle scar to remember the adventure by.

Twilight met his gaze. Her hoof moved slightly, but she kept it in place until he reached up and moved it for her.

It was gone.

After the Unscheduled Night Twilight’s coat had grown back quickly so Spike had assumed it was simply hidden, but now there wasn’t even a subtle parting of fur. Why hadn’t she told him about this…?

Moondancer sat back in her chair and folded her legs. “So you just straight up didn’t tell him anything. I’d love to say I’m surprised, but I guess stressful situations show you who ponies really are.”

Spike’s brow tweaked as the questions began to circulate. “What is all this?” he asked, pulling away again. The little mark had been important, but maybe Twilight had been happy to see it gone, considering how hard she’d tried to ignore the world around them for days on end recently. Maybe that was why she hadn’t told him. “When are we talking about? Moondancer wasn’t even in Ponyville, right? When did Celestia heal your scar?”

“Do you wanna tell him or should I?”

“Moondancer, don’t. I’m warning you.”

Now Moondancer rose up from her seat, fury filling her eyes. “I may be one to talk, but I don’t want to see a kid put in harm’s way just because his sister-mother thing can’t get over her own problems! You’re keeping him here without even telling him what happened to us last week, aren’t you?”

The air changed and Spike’s imaginary hackles stood on end one more. The feeling faded quicker this time, Twilight re-covering her healed chin as the edges of a smile switched back to a look of horror. “He… doesn’t need to know this. Please stop.”

Moondancer looked to him now. “Do you want to know or not?”

Spike looked between them, utterly bewildered. None of this made sense. Why was Moondancer implying Celestia had done something bad to them, when they were talking about a healed scar? “Wh- when did it happen?” he asked his sister. “When did she heal it?”

“She didn’t,” Moondancer answered for her. “She did to us what Twilight did to Luna.”

The implications hit him and the image arrived fully formed, of Twilight and Moondancer standing amongst the Everfree trees, Celestia flying high above them, allowing a giant piece of lunar material to fall upon them as revenge for what had become of her sister.

Anger flashed across Twilight’s face. “It’s not like that,” she growled. “That’s not what she did.”

“Then what happened?” Spike whined, pulling on a foreleg to get her attention. “Why aren’t you telling me?”

Moondancer looked eager, like this was just a game to her. She opened her mouth to respond, only for Twilight to raise a hoof to silence her. “Don’t answer that,” Twilight commanded.

“Then you do it,” Moondancer replied, opening her forelegs to offer her friend the floor. “Instead of forcing him to stay here with a monster like Celestia, ready to burst out of the palace and kill us all whenever she feels like it, Spike should get to decide for himself, this time with all the information.”

Twilight said nothing for a while. She cast her gaze to the napkin floating in what remained of her soup, and let out a long breath. “I’m not going to do that,” she responded, bitterly. “And if you tell him instead, then you can forget what I said about helping you.”

That hit a nerve. Moondancer’s smirk wavered, then fell, and she drew her hooves back. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, thinking better of it as she went back to her pie in a glum silence.

Spike looked between them, the stress making him clench his jaw. “So… you’re not going to tell me…?” he asked.

A look of pain crossed his sister’s face. “I will when you’re ready,” she replied. “But it won’t be her call, and it certainly won’t be in a crowded restaurant.”

How many years would that be? For all her words about keeping him away from talk of violence and death, he vividly recalled the description of what the Elements of Harmony did to Nightmare Moon; rendering Luna little more than a burnt-... He stopped the train of thought before it could go much further, but Moondancer’s comparison made it through, and he imagined them both emerging in perfect health from a pair of blackened lumps on the ground. Was Celestia really capable of such a thing? Was she capable of causing such harm in the first place?

He looked to Moondancer’s glasses which were still resting on the table, forgotten as she enjoyed what little remained of her pie, and then back to where the scar should have been. The little, blank area suddenly gained a new meaning as he considered what must have happened: If Moondancer’s vision had “never been better” and Twilight’s scar was suddenly healed, did that mean other little nicks and bruises had been fixed as well? If Celestia could do that, then why hadn’t Luna shown up in public yet? Was the damage somehow worse than what Moondancer was implying had happened to them? Was it different because it was Divine Magic? Was Celestia somehow not already “divine” enough to fix what had been caused by something literally called the Elements of Harmony?

He needed more information, but it seemed Twilight had made her decision, however much she clearly hadn’t wanted to. For a moment he considered simply asking Moondancer again if they got another chance to be away from Twilight, but his sister wouldn’t want that. Whatever Celestia had done to them, it must have been bad enough to keep it a secret. By that logic it must have been even worse than what happened to Luna, considering what Twilight had told him.

“Did it hurt?” he heard himself ask, half under his breath.

Twilight glanced at him and shifted her shoulders as if they were growing stiff. “We’re both fine, Spike. That’s all that matters.”

8 - Vacancy

This would do it.

Twilight squinted in the darkness, her horn providing light to make up for the dimming crystals in the chandeliers above. They didn’t get replaced as often as they should, here in the restricted section of the Royal Library, bathing the bookshelves and dusty floorboards in a permanent sapphire dusk.

Her own amethyst glow provided enough to make out what she was reading: A translated version of a book from Roamia, concerning an easy method of creating golemized objects and individuals.

“Haycartes’ Curse” it was called.

She had heard about Haycartes’ Method and had been more than eager to use it once Celestia finally allowed her to start learning Spirit Magic. Until then, she could only read and imagine. That was, until today. She was powerful, and she was more than ready to show off what she was truly capable of. Then maybe the Princess would allow her to really start exploring her potential instead of being trapped on the absolute basics of Nature Magic.

The filly frowned, recalling the sight of the plant her best friend had managed to grow. She had felt happy for her at first, before realising her own flower had barely even emerged from its seed. She didn’t understand. The others seemed to manage it so easily, yet no matter how much effort she put in…

She refocused her mind. If she couldn’t match Moondancer in body, she would leave her in the dust in spirit, and an easy to use but complicated to learn spell like this one might do the trick.

The spell revolved around the concept of “intent”. In other words, the meaning the caster placed into their chosen drawing or line of text took precedent over what that image or phrase actually meant. By that logic, the crude tracing she’d created of the stallion’s portrait would, in theory, bring to life a mimicry of René Haycartes.

Twilight grumbled to herself as she noted the energy toll keeping a manifested being in existence would take, only to remember she was still better than Moondancer in magical endurance, if not physical. This would work. This would prove for certain that she was more deserving of Celestia’s praise, that losing a mere spelling bee wasn’t the end of the world, that she could achieve far greater heights than what Nature Magic could offer.

She pushed the book aside and placed her drawing in front of her. The light of her horn grew brighter and she focused upon the picture, imagining who she wanted it to become, and all the things she could learn from Haycartes in all his experience and creativity.

A chill filled the air and the little filly felt like death was upon her. The light around her horn lost all of its colour and she fell to the floor.

-----

She couldn’t let him know.

Not a chance.

She couldn’t let him know how worried she’d been about Celestia, for the cloudy look in her eyes, or the way she moved and spoke as if she’d left her conscious mind back at the castle.

She couldn’t let him know that the Princess had vanished again for an hour before starting the lesson, only to throw their textbooks aside with wild eyes when she returned.

Celestia only wanted to protect them, after all. She didn’t want whatever had become of Luna to happen to them, too.

“I’m sorry,” she’d said, while cradling Twilight’s regenerating chin in her hoof as the rest of her being was pulled screaming back from beyond the veil.

Twilight felt her chin and wiped the last of her soup away, feeling nothing but smooth skin and a soft coat against her hoof. Ever since Spike’s little sneezing fit years ago, much of her front-right leg and some of her neck had this odd, uncomfortable feeling to it. The skin had still felt ever so slightly stretched after it had been healed. It hadn’t hurt for very long and the feeling was easy to ignore, but it had been something of a signature of their relationship. She loved Spike like a mother would her foal, and there was almost felt a sense of pride in having such a large sign of his growth to carry around with her.

Her coat was healthy and the flesh beneath was unblemished. Every magical mishap, every bruise, every scar. That tiny nick near the base of her horn from when she’d first hatched Spike, that ever so slight dent on the side of one of her ribs from when Shining had accidentally pushed her down the stairs, and the first hints of vision problems from her years spent staring at pages. They were all gone. She was as perfect as the day she was born, and it was all thanks to her mentor.

It was all thanks to her, that every tiny sign of her life thus far had been scrubbed out of existence.

It was fine. Really. It was better than staying dead, though anyone with half a brain would say that. No one knew Celestia like Twilight did, and thus, no one appreciated her like Twilight did. She truly had only wanted to protect them, to teach them something that would help them stay alive longer. Whether that was some kind of healing or defensive spell, or something more worthy of an alicorn, Twilight had been too hasty to learn. Once the textbooks were out of the way, she asked a simple question about Luna and then Celestia… lost her temper.

“Ponies are starting to think Luna’s dead, and I think I might be one of them because-”

It would explain basically everything.

It had to be the reason, and yet Twilight found herself unable to accept it. If Luna was really dead, then what did Canterlot matter? What would Equestria matter to a mare who had just been reunited with her only living family member, only to immediately lose her in such a horrific way?

The old castle came to mind, and the charred corpse that had become of its only ruler. The mournful wails of Nightmare Moon’s golden-haired subordinate filled her head, haunting her, hounding her. Maybe Luna had been more than just a sibling to some. The creature had cradled the black husk, the top layer of ash rubbing off on her bare skin as she held the dark mare close.

It hadn’t been immediate, that much was obvious. Luna had healed for two weeks, and then something had happened that turned Celestia straight from the caring Mentor into the wild Alicorn, casting aside the authoritative Princess in order to preserve the friends she had left, procedure be damned.

And then, Twilight had opened her big mouth, and whatever had taken place in the palace must have come rushing back, and the room turned into fire. She was the most foolish mare in Canterlot - not just for her lack of understanding of others, but for her patience in the face of such…

A big frown spread across her face, but she pulled it back. She couldn’t let it show. She couldn’t let Celestia see her sad at this point, else what would have been the point in bringing her back? Celestia had apologised, had vowed to do better, and had fixed every single little imperfection in her body just to sweeten the deal. She hadn’t needed to do anything like that; coming back at all was enough. Being forgiven for being such an idiot was ok. Being forgiven for the horrid eagerness she’d felt when she killed Nightmare Moon… that would have to come later.

Celestia had teleported them to the entrance, only for Twilight to find herself pulling against her friends in spite of her aching, spent body, and in spite of the sounds of mountains shattering overhead, practically begging her mentor to let her back in, to let her “help”.

It had definitely been her fault. She never wanted to feel that way ever again. To feel the rush of revenge; of righteous fury as if she was some kind of god in the flesh enacting judgement upon an evil creature.

The one called Peace hadn’t seemed evil, with the way the tears burned her cheeks as she attempted to bandage the black lump in her golden mane.

“Twilight… are we going or not? I’m seriously getting nervous here,” came Spike’s voice, bringing her back into the moment as he tugged on a leg. She realised she had stopped at the entrance.

Moondancer’s complaints sounded like they were finally coming to an end behind them. The other unicorn left the staff off with one final, angry humph before she stomped past them and exited the building, the anger still fresh in each step. Only after she took that final bite did she find the hair trapped inside her pie: A big, thick, pale hair that had an unmistakable canine sturdiness to it. What followed had more than likely ruined the experiences of everyone else in the restaurant as Moondancer yelled in fury at the dog who had been their host, waving the hair in his face. He had looked even more horrified than her.

She sped up to keep pace, Moondancer once again carrying her bulky chest at her side, her greyish-pink aura looking vibrant once more. “I swear this doesn’t normally happen,” said Twilight, apologetically.

Moondancer eyeballed her. “Why’re you apologising for them? It’s not your fault; that fucking dog put one of his disgusting hairs in my food. You were going to pay for it anyway so why would I blame you?”

That was a relief. “Right, of course. Sorry. Did they say anything about making up for it?”

“Mm-hm.” A small smile broke through the fury. “Along with today they offered me my next meal for free. Heh, as if I’m ever going to use it.” She laughed, mockingly.

“My milky-soup stuff was good, at least,” Spike commented, somewhat quietly.

“Your pony-egg soup?”

“Yup.”

The conversation ended before it really began. The day was peaceful but a cloud hung heavy over their heads after the argument Moondancer had dragged her through. It hadn’t even really been an argument, more a string of accusations Twilight had no idea how to respond to. She wasn’t used to being drilled like that, let alone without having a chance to organise her thoughts first. Putting her hoof down had felt like the only option left. The words “I’m not going to do that,” still stung in her mouth. She frowned to herself. She wanted desperately to reassure Moondancer that things would be ok, but instead…

“How’s your scar?”

Twilight glanced at her little brother. She had practically walked the conversation into the brick wall that was Celestia, when for a week straight she’d succeeded in keeping what had happened a secret. Spike knew. He had to, after that mess, but he still walked with a smile on his face, glancing between Moondancer and the road ahead. Maybe he was still happy over making a friend out of an enemy and that would overshadow the tense argument that had followed. She needed something that would take his mind off it all, to get the ideas out of his head.

Go to Ponyville, she thought. It’s the easiest solution, and the most efficient one, too.

But that brought too many negatives with it. Staying here and showing Spike that everything was going to be ok would be better, or at least, it would once Celestia finally returned.

It really was starting to feel like a long time now.

Another vandalised storefront came into view as they turned off the Golden Mile.

For the third time that day the world felt like it was fading from view, like her perspective was sinking behind her own eyeballs, back into her mind where the truth could still hurt her. Her legs kept moving, her lungs kept breathing, and her thoughts kept going, all without her input.

What a selfish liar you are, she thought to herself.

The moment passed and it all came back. Twilight felt the rounded cobbles underhoof and the sensation of heat in the air, the low breeze bristling softly through her coat. The sky was gaining the beginnings of a colourful tint that would herald sunset, appearing an hour or so earlier than it should thanks to the fact that nighttime had technically already arrived.

Spike took a step closer and she ducked her back a little from force of habit. He hopped on, sparing his smaller, softer feet the stress of the irregular terrain, and got comfy as they continued down the road, heading back towards the center line without much of a destination in mind.

“Where to now?” Twilight asked.

Moondancer shrugged. “I’m heading home, but we’re pretty close to somewhere I wanted to show you if you wanna tag along for a while?”

“Sure.” This was bound to be yet another depressing sight, but Twilight knew she only had so many chances left to spend time with her best friend before she went. With that prospect hanging over her, she would go wherever Moondancer wanted to. “Are you going to be packing?” she asked, almost cautiously.

“Yeah, probably. Why?”

“I guess I could help if you want? We could trade some books while we’re there if that works for you?”

Moondancer hummed. “Yep. Works for me.”

The little pain blooming in Twilight’s heart gained thorns. Even after everything Moondancer had said, those simple words felt like the final confirmation that she was going. This could be their last day together, and they had spent most of it arguing with one another instead of just enjoying the other’s company.

Her gaze drifted back to the Moon. On this street the unheavenly object was stranded in full view, reflected in the little, decorative pools situated between each shop. She turned her attention back to the road ahead and the signs of the unrest from the previous week. “I wonder if Juniper and Amethyst are still in the city,” she mused. If her favourite study buddy wasn’t going to be here to help, maybe one of the others could. “It would be nice to say goodbye to them, too.”

Admittedly, she had mostly ignored the others throughout her time at the school, only saying “hi” and “bye” and “how is your research going?”, almost every day. With her meagre stores of social energy spent talking to Moondancer, she’d left the others with nothing more than a cycle of feigned interest. It had only felt right to smile and greet them even if she didn’t really get to know them, but now that most of them had so suddenly left…

“As far as I know, Juniper’s already back in Berry Bond,” Moondancer replied. “He left pretty much… um, on the day. Amethyst, I don’t know, so maybe.”

The threat of not helping her leave seemed to have been a more lasting scare than Twilight had intended, judging by the momentary look of discomfort on her friend’s face. “If any of them are still here, maybe I could rally them together to help out with the clean up?”

“That’s thinking extremely positively, but I guess I won’t stop you if you wanna do that. I say leave the mess to the ponies who caused it. They’ll just litter all over the place again if they aren’t punished.”

“Hm.” Twilight ran through a list of her classmates most likely to help. “Do you know if Sea Swirl is still here? She used to have a hobby of tidying up the school grounds.”

“No idea. I think I saw her a couple of days ago, at least. Not sure how she’s going to help you, though. She’s never been great at basic levitation, and that’s coming from me.”

“You’ve been lifting that heavy chest all day, haven’t you?”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, because I have to. I’m pushing myself.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I hope things work out for you,” Spike offered.

“Huh?” Moondancer looked back at him, surprised. “Of course they will. It’s not like I’m going back without any plans in mind.”

He leaned over to her, and for once she didn’t shrink away. “Are you actually going to work at the farm itself?” he asked.

Moondancer released a long breath. “Most likely. I may as well use what little Nature Magic I have at my disposal to help out.”

“Makes sense.”

The ride got a little smoother as the cobbles switched back to large, smooth slabs of marble. The shops looked in better condition here and most were still open and serving customers. Twilight heard a familiar grumble behind her and could almost mime the next words that were spoken.

“Hey, Twilight…?” Spike broached.

“Yeah?”

Spike pointed to one of the more colourful shops on the street. A large picture of an ice cream cone was plastered over the front window; likely the owner’s cutie mark. “Could we get something from there?”

Twilight gave him a look. “You just ate, Spike. You’ll feel sick.”

“I know, but it’s still super warm and my mouth feels really dry after all that iron. I think I can feel the bits starting to rust in my belly, too…”

Twilight smiled knowingly, seeing straight through him. “I thought you liked it hot. I’ll get you something small if you ask really nicely.”

Spike clasped his little hands together and gave the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Pleeeeease!”

He’d been getting good at this. Twilight chuckled and glanced to their friend. “I’ll be right back, Moondancer.”

“Get me one, too,” the other unicorn called after them. “I’ll take the cost off whatever you give me for the move!”

“Sure thing!” Twilight lit her horn as she neared the door. While Moondancer hauled her entire book collection around by the strength of her own will, Twilight had forewent physical means of carrying items for a while now. There were just a few little issues left to smooth out.

She felt a dull pressure under her skull, just to the left of the base of her horn, where she’d blown the end off of one of her aether veins. The vein tapered away into nothingness, spiraling out of the Material Layer and onto the other side of the coin. A few moments passed before the aura surrounding her horn started to lose its vibrant purple sheen, slowly turning an oddly pearlescent grey as something entered her network from the other side.

Convenience, she requested. The aura rippled and jumped to a spot a few hooves away from her horn, and as a cold sweat passed over her face, the air began to bleed.

It began with a drip, growing to a half-frozen stream, gradually oozing into their reality, bringing with it a deathly chill and a tiny point of light that rotated around her horn like a bee around a flower. This was Spirit Magic, Neutral Magic’s more economic cousin. Rather than a simple matter of input-output, Spirit Magic was more like an investment: The user requested something, and then the “payment” was taken from their reserves over time. One could do incredible things with it, so long as one didn’t ask for too much.

The crack widened, the air seeming to splinter and stretch as the portal opened. What used to be a money pouch floated out of the hole, its fabric turned stiff as stone and the coins within cold enough to sear themselves to one’s skin if touched directly.

With the bag floating next to her, they went in. A little spurt of fire from Spike softened the bag, allowing Twilight to ease one of the coins apart from the fused clump they’d become. A single moon was placed on the counter, and a trio of cups of vanilla slushie were passed over in return, along with a few bits in change. Spike held onto the slushies and licked his lips, while the coins went straight into the pouch. The bag was slotted through the crack and back into Twilight’s personal pocket space. The hole closed back up as she trotted away from the shop, the half-visible goop slowly receding.

“You’re seriously using Spirit Magic for that?” asked Moondancer as she spotted Twilight’s horn.

Twilight looked embarrassed like only a star pupil could. The greyish aura around her horn and her tiny, sparkly companion were still there, and would remain in place for most of the day. “Yeah. I… wanted a safer way of carrying my money around.”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “How did you even do that…?”

Twilight felt a rush of excitement at the question. The entire process lined itself up neatly in her mind, complete with talking points and imaginary slides to help with the presentation. “I started researching dreamwalking last month,” she began with a big smile. “I wanted to see if I could develop my own-”

“Shorter explanation, please,” Moondancer interrupted. “That wasn’t just some scrying spell; you literally just opened a hole in reality for the sake of carrying your money around. Why go to that much trouble?”

Ah. That was a slightly more difficult question. Security? That would be good enough. “I… guess I could just get a bit crystal or a magically secured container, but I figured using the Spirit Layer would be a surefire way of never losing it, plus, this means I never have to carry anything around with me, assuming I can fix the temperature problem.”

Moondancer glanced at her bulky chest and placed it down, letting out a small breath of relief. “That’s so over-the-top it’s not even funny,” she commented.

“It is pretty crazy, even for you,” Spike added.

“Spiiike, you’re not helping,” Twilight whined.

He shrugged and slurped at his slushie. “Thanks anyway. I wouldn’t have begged so hard if I knew you were going to use Spirit Magic.”

“That’s why I got myself one, too, so that it would be worth the effort.”

Spike couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Aren’t you tired?”

She smiled and shook her head. His concern was understandable. A few months back, when she’d dared to use Spirit Magic for the first time since fillyhood, she’d fallen unconscious for an entire day from the strain of losing so much energy in one fell swoop. The second, she’d thrown up multiple times as the chill of the Spirit Layer crept through her body for hours on end. After all that suffering she’d found a sweet spot that matched her natural output rate, paying off the energy cost at a steady pace without having to worry about the ill effects. Getting used to the cold had certainly helped.

She looked back to Moondancer. “This pocket space is something I’m planning on using for my thesis later this year.” At least Celestia wouldn’t have to worry about her if she showed how far she’d progressed in spite of the situation around them. “Reliable material is pretty hard to find when it comes to the more advanced stuff.”

“That’s for sure,” her friend echoed. “Everything I’ve read talks about the whole ‘astral projection’ nonsense and the movement of the stars.”

“I could always give you some help if you need it?”

“Pfft, literally impossible for me to learn,” Moondancer replied bluntly, taking her slushie into her levitation. “I figured out Nature Magic after reading a freaking poem, so if the official textbooks don’t do it then nothing will.”

Twilight smiled hopefully at her. “You never know, it might just take the right nudge to break through?”

“It’s fine. I’d rather not get possessed anyway.”

“Cam thaf happem?” asked Spike, mid-slurp.

“Of course not,” Twilight replied with a chuckle. “You’re thinking of Dark Magic. Spirit Magic can only affect a vessel that’s already empty.”

“Like my cup?” He motioned to the little plastic tub in his hand, having already finished the treat.

No, like a golem, she thought, her smile fading. “Technically speaking, I guess so. Though normally it’s used on something that’s intended to be alive, not inanimate objects.”

She shuddered, prompting Spike to hold on a bit tighter. “How does it feel?”

“Still pretty unpleasant,” Twilight admitted, feeling the chill throbbing from the tip of her horn like a tooth surrounded by ice cream, “but I should be fine with how warm it is today.”

In truth, she could barely feel it, but some things were best left unsaid. It was good that they both believed her first use of Spirit Magic had only been a few months ago. That secret kept her guilt in check over what had happened so many years back, when she had so foolishly decided to learn from her betters in the worst way imaginable.

Haycartes’ Curse was the grim cousin of the famous philosopher’s spell. It involved creating a physical representation of a chosen image or phrase, granting it all the qualities a naturally occurring or artificial equivalent normally possessed. Seven-hundred years ago the spell had brought the world to its knees as endless streams of identical soldiers filled the ranks of armies and fake wealth overloaded every kingdom’s economy. Its creator, Haycartes himself, must have lain on his deathbed knowing the pain he had wrought, and that he - or at least some imitation of himself - would be there to witness the fruits of his research again and again, for as long as his face was portrayed and as long as his name was remembered.

Twilight recalled the overwhelming sensation of pain and dread that filled her mind when she woke up the following morning. Of seeing her parents’ scared and bewildered faces watching her as she opened her eyes, of the bleeding sore to the left of her horn, and of the occasional Prench comment from the stallion sitting across from her bed. The stallion himself had brought her to the nearest guard and made sure she was alright, but she recalled the look of animosity in his eyes, directed at this stupid filly that had committed a truly unforgivable sin.

A golem had no soul. That meant it had nothing to look forward to when its time came. Normal golems were simple-minded, friendly creations made to serve a specific goal, and were often tied to their user’s will. Those created through Haycartes’ Curse, however, were far more complex.

With every fibre of their artificial being, they thought they were real.

Twilight rubbed her healed chin again and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Too little empathy had caused her enough trouble throughout her life, but too much philosophy could drive anyone insane.

9 - Ponysonification

They carried on. Twilight could hear Spike slurping at his slushie practically between her ears. He must have been angling to look at the Moon in the sky ahead of them. She took a sip of her own and was met with a cold and ever so slightly pasty sensation, flavoured like some berry or another. It was hard to tell past whatever else had been added to it.

The white disc and its growth loomed as they made their way down the avenue, the road widening into one of those places travel agencies liked to use on postcards; the Terrace Gallery. Serving as one of the transition zones between the lower and middle sections of the city, which housed the bulk of Canterlot’s population, it was fitting that this was where most of the city’s places of worship were located. Even from here at the top of the gallery one could see the eight black spires of the Octenic Hall piercing into the sky like silhouettes.

Just as Moondancer had said, the fountains this low in the city had been switched off. The big wall of water that once bordered one side of the road now looked strange and out of place without the sunlight glinting off of its flow, and the bucket’s worth of sunset red paint that had been dumped into the trough below it didn’t exactly add to the effect. The pools that it would have flowed into were empty, leaving statues of various sea creatures exposed to the open air. Each one was of a pair; a mother and child, a classic depiction of Gaia.

Before the temples began, the shops opposite the water wall gave way to some impressive administrative constructs. One or two looked like the bog standard office complexes, but the majority were of a much grander nature. Most had some symbol or another to show which group they represented. One bore a pitch black anvil, another a red sun, another appearing to stand on a set of brick stilts just to look different.

When it came to faith, Twilight’s interest was purely academic. The idea of subscribing to one deity or another felt like taking sides in an argument for which she had no ammunition. Theological concepts were intriguing and the stories made from them were grand and varied, but as for the religions they had spawned… it just wasn’t for her. Too many ponies, too many requirements, too easy to offend.

The office buildings looked out of place here, the smooth, decorative slabs turning into mosaic-like patterns toward the edges of the road, before being interrupted by walls of concrete and metal that looked like they belonged in Manehatten. The way the symbols headed each door made them look like corporate logos rather than anything that held genuine meaning. Functionality only made sense for administrative organisations, Twilight supposed.

An image came to mind, of one of the unused rooms of the manor being slowly emptied of its contents. Paintings depicting legendary figures and any number of Octenic heirlooms and crafts were carried down to the cellar, their places taken by desks and chairs, drawers and typewriters, as her mother’s company claimed yet another room.

An earlier memory appeared, this time of her great-grandfather from when she was only just old enough to remember. In one of his faith-fuelled episodes he had taken the first of the typewriters to enter the manor and tossed it out of a window, defying the prospect of a single inch of the home he’d built being used for such mundanity. Just as Sleipnir had supposedly forged the world from fire and Sunflare had painted it with colour and life, the old stallion had built his fortune through his own skills as a craftsmare, working with his wife to create lasting pieces of finery and furniture, all styled after the ways of his chosen god.

Twilight wondered what he would think of the manor now. Even Shining’s old room had been converted into another office. Her mother would never take hers without permission first, though it had been a while since she’d visited, and the worry occasionally bubbled at the back of her mind. An image played through her thoughts of her old boxes of toys and the books she’d had to leave behind being carried out, the walls turning grey and sterile, a nameless face working where she’d once played and learned.

At least the garden would always be there. The overgrown, ladybug-infested garden where the family grave rested. Whenever Star Chasm went too far trying to drill his work ethic into his great-grandchildren, Momma had been there to balance things out, providing a safe, warm place to retreat to when the big words started to fry her brain. Followers of Gaia tended to be good at that, Twilight had found.

The chirping of birds filled the air as the office buildings came to an abrupt end, derailing her train of thought. Aside from the surrounding bushes and trees the field looked like little more than an undeveloped patch of land with how it connected seamlessly to the grassy areas downhill, with the slabs turning back to cobbles, then to dirt. The sheer variety of colourful flowers and leaves gave the area away as being Gaia’s little home on the strip. Rather than a temple, the devout followers of the Mother of Life preferred the open air. Beside a statue of a mare and her foal Twilight could see a small gathering taking place. An earth-pony wreathed in flowers and aged robes was showing a school group how to plant a flower. Twilight cringed as she spotted a tiny, red dot on one of the petals; the place must have been crawling with those horrid little things.

She felt Spike’s grip on her mane tighten as they passed by the green area. He must have been thinking about Ponyville again. She made a mental note of visiting home sometime soon, so that they could wander through the dense foliage and play hide-and-seek like they used to. That would take his mind off it.

Almost inevitably, the family grave came to mind, and Twilight imagined that her own name had already been added to it. Maybe it was already too late to take that much needed break. The aura around her horn pulsed and a chill ran down her spine. The sensation met that spot between her shoulder blades and the warmth radiated back into her body, like wandering out into a bright summer day. She didn’t recall anything between the fireball and the hoof on her chin, but that odd itch had been there ever since Celestia revived her. Perhaps one of her vertebrae hadn’t been fully reformed, or perhaps it was a spirit anchor, where Celestia’s magic flowed in to maintain her golem’s existence.

She pushed away the worrying thoughts. Whatever the truth turned out to be, it wouldn’t change who she was to Spike. Of that she was certain. She took another slurp of her slushie, grimaced, and tossed it into the nearest bin.

Feeding the garden’s stream was a curved building of every shade of blue. It was covered in little water ducts that spiraled down its face, making its dedication to the gods of the sea obvious. Judging by the symbols surrounding the entrance it seemed the designers had intended it to be for all the sea gods, all in one place. Twilight was no designer herself, but she had enough sense to know that putting multiple adversarial deities under one roof was asking for trouble. At least the building itself looked nice, even if it stood out like a sore hoof.

The road widened again as a couple of side paths connected to it from the city proper. Just ahead the grass area surrounding the district began, as the road twisted left to go downhill, running past various other places of worship. Before the turn came a pair of lines of pillars that extended all the way across the road, connecting another large, dry fountain pond to the entrance of the next temple in the line.

“Here it is.”

Twilight followed Moondancer’s pointing hoof and felt her breath catch in her throat.

The marble pillars lead to an entrance adorned from top to bottom in golden decals that were now twisting into messy shapes and fusing into one another, revealing blackened stone underneath. The entire front face of the temple had caved in to reveal the state of the inside. A number of followers were trying to clear the rubble at the front, while a team of workers from the royal guard were busy piecing apart the weakened ceiling within. Like much of Canterlot, the structure was made mostly out of marble, but its insides were a mixture of formerly rich wood and a wide variety of golden details, through which the fire had torn.

Religions went through different periods as they aged. The writings changed, the meanings got confused, and the depictions of their gods altered as time passed and each faith influenced the next. Even the titans of old whose meanings were so fundamental had a long and storied history of changing appearances, styles and practices. The same could not be said of Prosperism. At around six-hundred years of age it was one of the youngest on the stretch, but in all that time it was said that not a word had been lost of the original texts, with the religion standing for the same set of ideals as when it began.

It probably helped that the title of Equilibrium had been held by an alicorn for the religion’s entire history. A god for wealth, chance and ambition made sense in this modern age of prosperity and advancement, but it seemed the faithful of Canterlot had finally gotten sick of having Prosper’s draconic avatar in their midst.

They trotted closer and the wreckage only got worse. The pillars closest to the entrance had been damaged by whatever had taken place, with the last pair having collapsed outright, partially burying the giant, golden statue laying before the gaping wall. Its wings were bent out of shape and only a sparing few colourful gemstones remained in its chestplate and shoulderguards, the eyes a pair of empty sockets staring up at the dull, blue sky.

Twilight recognised the figure as Athena, one of Prosper’s “Five Judges”, each of whom represented an aspect of the greater god. Prosper himself was known more as a concept than as an actual figure, with the Five Judges speaking with one fifth of his voice and possessing one fifth of his abilities and knowledge. Of what Twilight recalled about the faith, Athena was meant to be the grandest of the five; the final step of personal growth and ambition needed to reach whatever a Prosperist considered to be their highest goal.

Moondancer wandered right up to the statue and idly poked at one of the twisted wing ends. “Kinda funny how the only one to fall to the riots was the goddess of prosperity.”

Twilight recalled reading about this in the newspaper. It had seemed a world away then. “This is actually horrible,” she stated, lacking anything more profound to say.

“Uh-huh.”

She thought of what Equestria had gained from its victory against Nightmare Moon; a barrage of giant lunar chunks, and yet not a single life lost. A divine miracle, one might say. “I’ve never thought of faith as a reliable teacher, but it would certainly be in-character if she punished Canterlot for this,” she commented.

This would be a difficult thing for Celestia to fix, relatively speaking. This was an issue of culture and tradition, rather than the fickle fluctuations of the market. It would take time for Canterlot and other places to accept Prosperism like it had other religions. Some considered it to be an insurgent faith based on materialism and conflict, something at odds with Equestria’s culture of creativity and tradition, and grimly suited to the dragon that represented Prosper’s golden child.

Moondancer looked at her like she was insane. “What?”

Twilight took a step back. “Y-y’know? Because Prosper is the god of chance and wealth and things like that, and this is his… no?”

“Don’t start talking like a crazy pony, Twilight. I make a point of keeping them away from my home.”

Oh geez. Twilight wanted to say it had been a joke, but that would have probably been disrespectful.

“Excuse me, is that a dragon?” came an authoritative voice.

“Oh god no.”

Twilight turned to the mare who had appeared at the entrance. She certainly didn’t look like an officer, at least. “We’re just passing through, we’re not causi-”

“Oh gosh, it is!” the mare exclaimed. She trotted out and straight past the statue with a big smile on her face. Her dark-cream robes flowed as she walked and her bobble bounced behind the winged circlet of coins in her mane. She was a rich gold, fading to a plainer white at the hooves; a sign she hadn’t had the chance to refresh a cosmetic enchantment. “Aren’t you just a cutie!” She glanced between Spike and Twilight, inches from her face, looking absolutely overjoyed. “Can I pet him? His colouration is so unique. Is he a swamp dragon, or something else?”

Too close, too close! thought Twilight as she took a few steps back. The words “he’s a dragon” frantically dumped themselves on the tip of her tongue, only for her to register what the mare had actually said. She didn’t actually know for certain. She didn’t even realise colouration meant much when it came to dragons. “He’s…”

“A magical dragon,” Spike answered with pride, undeterred by the mare’s forwardness. He hopped down and puffed a little cloud of purple-green fire into the air to demonstrate.

The mare’s eyes sparkled at the sight and her “look at the cute puppy” expression turned into one of intrigue. She tilted her head as if to hear him better, her eyes growing wider and her smile getting bigger. “Oh my. He- You can speak?”

Spike’s smile wavered. “O-of course. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s wonderful!” the mare exclaimed. She looked back to Twilight and seemed to notice to look on her face. It was odd for a complete stranger to react so positively towards him. Most ponies gave him weird looks followed by wide-eyed surprise once they realised what he was. “Ah, sorry if I’m being a bit coo-coo. It’s just I’ve never seen a dragon in Canterlot before; the fact that he’s able to speak so fluently as well made me forget myself.” She coughed into a hoof, holding the other one out for Twilight to shake. “The name’s Winter’s Break. I’m the Decidime here at Lady Athena’s Canterlot temple, or at least, what remains of it.”

I guess it only makes sense for someone working under Athena to like dragons, Twilight thought. She shook the hoof. “No worries. I’m Twilight Sparkle, and this is Spike and my friend Moondancer. I’m a magic student.”

Spike waved hello before poking at the statue’s golden chest. “Hey, is it ok if I ask a really stupid question?” he asked. “Isn’t Athena meant to be a mare? Are female dragons always this muscular?”

Winter’s smile only broadened in spite of the state of her temple. “Oh my, you have quite the vocabulary for such a young drake. As for your question, Athena is a warrior among warriors, even among female dragons. She represents power, wealth and victory.”

“Neat.”

“I take it you’re an enthusiast? About dragons, that is,” Twilight asked. “Were you some kind of out-in-the-field researcher, or…?”

Winter’s nodded. “A bit of both. I used to work with dragons all the time back in Asherby, and I love the scaly things. Even so, it was rare to see dragons fluent in our language, let alone a baby.”

Spike thought on that for a moment. “So it… is weird that I can talk?”

“Well, yes and no.” Winter’s motioned to the middle of her neck. “With Equestrian it’s all about the tongue, while Isthmian is all in the throat. I like to say it’s what poetry is to a belly laugh, so older dragons usually struggle to learn pony-speak.”

Spike’s smile grew. “Huh. Cool, so I’m weird in a good way!”

She chuckled. “Yes!”

This Winter’s Break was clearly an expert. That she had arrived from Asherby was a clear sign that her experiences and the knowledge she’d gained from them had all been first-hoof. “Are you from Wintercore, by any chance?” Twilight asked.

Winter’s nodded. “That’s the one!”

Of all the families in the chilly expanses of Asherby, none had tamed the land and its dangers quite like House Wintercore. They were beast masters by tradition and were said to live in harmony with the likes of dragons, timberwolves, monstrous gulls, and the manticore’s larger, sturdier northern relative whose mighty claws doubled as farming hoes to pierce the hard ground.

The rest of the mare’s life story practically slotted into place. She had left a home filled with creatures she loved for a role serving the greatest dragon of them all. This was a mare who knew what she wanted and was willing to make hard choices to reach her goals. Seeing Spike must have set off all sorts of positive memories.

Alas, the here-and-now was far less cheery. Moondancer stepped past the statue and into the shade of the half-melted awning that was now fused to the marble. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dragon that did this?” she asked, likely committing some kind of heresy in all her casual disrespect.

Winter’s Break gave her a momentary look. “I’m sure word would be all over the city if a dragon attacked Canterlot,” she responded, sounding worried but patient. “My Dice tell me is that it was ‘the biggest minotaur they’d ever seen’, but I didn’t hear a thing until half the temple was ablaze.”

Twilight looked up at where the last two pillars once connected to the arches, then to the intact ones going down the line. The ones leading up to the entrance had messy slices carved out of them, rising and deepening until they reached the entrance, as if whatever had done this had grown as it charged forwards. That wasn’t the work of a few intolerant radicals with a few hammers and a fire spell.

“Hm. So you’re saying it could’ve been a magical attack, rather than just vandalism?” Moondancer asked, echoing Twilight’s thoughts.

Chestnut’s warning came to mind, about the riots only being the beginning. This sounded like something that had been premeditated. Transformation plus a silencing spell? Twilight thought with a frown. The latter was relatively simple, but the former would have required a high level of skill. Even she was barely at the beginnings of learning how to cast transformation spells, and even then, turning a pony into a giant minotaur while scaling its strength in turn took a lot of energy and likely a decent plan beforehoof. She looked to the inside. What had been rows of benches were now just ashes mixed in with messy lengths of charcoal. “Do you have any idea who could’ve done this?” she asked.

The mare’s positivity faded away and she looked between Twilight, the floor, and the statue of her demi-goddess. Suddenly, it was as if she was in mourning. “No, I don’t, or at least I haven’t heard anything that makes sense,” she replied with a brief smile.

“How could anyone miss this?” Moondancer asked. “You’d think the guard or the PA would get off their butts for a change for something on this magnitude.”

“I won’t hide my frustration, but given the entire city was suffering at the time, I won’t blame them for not catching whoever did it.” Winter’s Break turned back to the gaping hole. “For now, we’re going to have to gut the entire building and hope we can secure the funds for renovations.”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “I thought you guys were meant to be rich.”

“W-well, normally it wouldn’t be a concern, but I’m afraid the temple’s coffers were breached during the fire.”

“Oh.” Moondancer’s face changed. “That’s definitely not suspicious at all.”

“Moondancer-”

“It’s just that, you said your underlings said it was a giant minotaur, right?” the unicorn continued. “Judging by the pillars, I could believe that… unless the fire came first and the attacker came afterwards… then they might’ve mistaken what they saw.” She wandered back out and placed a hoof on the statue again. “If I know anything about dragons it’s that they love gold and treasure. I’m guessing these gems didn’t just go-”

“Hooves off,” the mare commanded with a frown. “Please, it’s disrespectful.”

Moondancer held her hooves back defensively. “I’m just saying. It’s either that or something stinks. These organisations always try to beg money from people as if it’s going directly to whatever pony in the sky they say exists.”

“Athena doesn’t accept donations,” Winter’s corrected. “We have stores throughout Canterlot that sell merchandise in Her name.”

That took Twilight aback. Merchandise? she thought. There were plenty of examples of craftsmares making money by creating items inspired by whatever gods or goddesses they happened to favour, her own great-grandfather among them, but she didn’t know of any other faith that would publicly endorse such a practice. “Merchandise” was the realms of comic books and collectible toys, not of a serious religion.

“I have no idea what to say to that,” Moondancer stated with a bewildered frown.

“Not what you were expecting, I take it? Prosper isn’t shy about His goals. The market of ideas is a playground of gold and silver for Him to conquer, just like any battlefield. Athena is meant to represent victory over that journey, just like Canterlot is meant to be the pinnacle of Equestria.”

The frown tilted. “Right… and, no offense, but a mare with husbandry experience represents victory, how?”

“I was chosen for being very, very good at my job,” Winter’s replied with no small amount of pride. “That, and by helping others discover what they truly want to do.”

“Like… cutie marks and stuff?” asked Spike.

“Yes! After the Five Judges comes a Sixth; once you reach wealth and victory, you invest in the future and help others to rise as well.”

That part hadn’t been in the textbooks. Was it a new belief?

“So you pay for yourselves with weird little figurines and stuff,” Moondancer stated. “Does that mean you aren’t funded by the princess?”

Winter’s nodded with a smile. “Every temple and follower is privately funded by the regional Chancer, who receives profit from the sales our stores make, which in turn get invested into buying land and building new temples. From that point on it’s up to ponies like me to manage our own expenses and maintenance, so… temples like this one are essentially home to me.”

A little, angry voice in Twilight’s head had been egging her on to call this whole thing a pyramid scheme. The very idea of an entire religion operating under anything other than donations felt alien to her. As far as she understood it, Octenism, Ungulism and all the rest in Canterlot were maintained either directly or indirectly by a combination of the royal coffers and public donations. Celestia in particular provided funding for the purposes of organising events and the living costs of devotees, and to the Archa Institute which was normally responsible for the construction and maintenance of holy sites.

“Which is why it pains me so much that this has happened.” Winter’s motioned to the statue again. Its golden appearance must have looked imposing and magnificent in the right light, but on its back as it was, it looked like nothing more than a theatre prop. An anger seemed to fill her this time. “To have thrown down a symbol of prosperity and pick at its jewels like vultures… it’s little wonder why Canterlot’s shops are closing by the dozen and how that brute of a pegasus has managed to place himself at the city’s taps. The balance has been flipped on its head and we’re all paying the price for our insolence.”

Moondancer took a step forward again, a glint in her eye. “This has nothing to do with random idiots on the streets,” she stated. “It’s literally all Celestia’s fault. She’s holed up in her castle waiting for everything to solve itself so that she doesn’t have to do anything.”

Winter’s frowned. “Well, I heavily disagree with that, but I understand where you’re coming from. With the savings gone and the Archa Institute refusing to cover the damages, it would certainly be… beneficial to receive funding from somewhere. An attack like this should fall under the Princess’ purview…”

Twilight stepped forward. “I thought the Archa Institute’s entire purpose was to maintain religious sites?” The institute had a legal duty that went above petty personal beliefs, and would be punished if they didn’t offer support in a situation like this.

Winter’s nodded gravely. “They were going to at first, but now they’ve taken to citing their own religious texts, since Judge Deon supposedly ‘chased Archa from the world’ by inventing mass-production, which is strictly against their doctrine.” She sighed. “When Celestia returns I’m sure she’ll set them back on the right track.”

“I have faith she will as well,” Twilight agreed.

Winter’s quirked an eyebrow. “You’re one of those followers, are you? The Princess certainly makes a good case for being a deity in her own right.”

Oops “Oh! No, no, I didn’t mean that. I just… trust her, is what I meant.” Diurnalism had been banned for a little over a hundred years now, its depictions of Celestia as a literal goddess burned and its stores of weaponry confiscated.

The mare chuckled. “It’s ok, lots of ponies think that way. You must have a lot of respect for her.”

Twilight felt her heart filling with appreciation. To meet someone who actually seemed hopeful was like a breath of fresh air amidst all the misery.

Winter’s motioned to the ruined temple behind her. “As much as it pains me to admit, with the savings gone I think I may have lost this fight before it even began, and will have to rely on a donation after all to get everything back in order.”

“Now how did I see that one coming?” Moondancer grumbled.

“I mean… I don’t have any money or anything,” Twilight lied.

Winter’s eyes flipped open and she shook a hoof. “Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I’d sooner give up my position than accept donations from potential customers.” She coughed into a hoof, looked at the silver-grey aura surrounding Twilight’s horn, and glanced to one side as if they were stood in a dingy alleyway making a shady deal. Twilight dearly hoped that wasn’t the case. “You mentioned something about studying magic earlier, didn’t you? Are you two, by any chance, students in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?”

“I am.”

“I’m not.”

“I… don’t suppose I could ask you a favour, could I?”

Twilight met her friend’s gaze. Moondancer was giving her a look of disbelief. “Come on. You’re smarter than this,” she said under hush.

“Well, maybe that was the wrong word to use,” Winter’s continued. “Think of it as a transaction; you do something for me, I do something for you. A bit of equal exchange where we both win.”

Moondancer glared at her. “And how do we know your end of the deal won’t mysteriously go up in flames?”

A look of surprise crossed Twilight’s face. That was… odd. She hadn’t even considered how strange this entire event looked from a certain perspective. She looked the mare in the eyes, searching for some sign that this was a ploy. A fire that had been started right in the middle of the riots where it would be at its least noteworthy, caused by an unbelievable perpetrator, which just so happened to destroy or steal funds that should have been safe from such a disaster. From her time matching numbers and following reparatory inquiries this suddenly sounded every bit like insurance fraud, yet Winter’s Break just stood there, looking hopeful yet ashamed of herself. Athena seemed the type to frown on pity.

Winter’s glanced between them, then up at where the last two pillars had broken away, then back at her temple. “Oh dear. I… didn’t realise you were looking at it like that.” A pause. “Hm. All I really want is for you to deliver a message to the Princess for me, if that’s something you can do?”

“We haven’t seen the Princess in a week,” Moondancer stated.

That took Winter’s by surprise. “Was there another public announcement?”

“No, there wasn’t.”

I’d better play it safe, just to be sure… Twilight stepped forward and took one of Winter’s hooves in her own. “Look, Ms. Break, I really empathise with what’s happened, but I don’t know if I can reach the Princess in the first place. I know she’ll be back at some point but I don’t have any way of knowing when that will be. If I happen to see her I’ll be sure to mention all of this, but until that point I can’t in good faith give you any kind of deal.”

The mare looked defeated, the last of her former positivity fading away. “I see. That’s a shame.” She broke into a hopeless smile. “I know you won’t believe me, but isn’t this interesting? For six-hundred years Athena has been portrayed as a dragon, yet as soon as the Equilibrium - for the first time in history - raises a minotaur to the rank of Head Scaler, one just so happens to tear down Her statue? It’s almost like a sign.”

After a terse goodbye, Winter’s Break retreated into her home to assist with clearing the mess that had been made of her congregation hall, her pure white hooves already blackened by the ash.

10 - Just the Same

“I am Her bulwark, and I will do my duty so that my Queen can take her place as this world’s goddess. Leave and I will not chase you, stay and I will not attack, but if you try to cross, you will be erased.”

Like a silent referee, the Moon watched from on high as the gruesome fight played out.

There might have been another watching them. Not only the God of Death, but the God of Balance, too; weighing up their chances and stacking the darkness high enough to block out the Sun. This was a fight for the sake of the world, after all, and Twilight and her new friends were hopelessly outmatched.

She didn’t even know why she was here. She knew she had to be, otherwise who else would? The adventure had been fun until now. She could so easily die here. She had almost died multiple times just getting to this point. This wasn’t where she was meant to be; she was just a magic student, just a surrogate mother for a baby dragon, just a mortal mare. For sure, she was strong, the strongest in her class, but that meant nothing compared to whatever ungodly might had created that landbridge.

Rainbow Dash growled as she pulled herself back to her hooves. She shrugged the others off, raised her wings up high, and took flight once more, leaving behind little pools of red where she’d landed.

Within seconds she returned, a flash of moonlit gold interrupting her path through the air and sending her careening back to the other side of the ravine, a new pair of cuts running along her side. The endless lengths of mane swayed, losing their metallic nature as quickly as they had gained it, and flowed back to the creature who served as their final obstacle before their meeting with the dark mare behind it all.

“Peace” she called herself. That name only held true for the fact that she hadn’t moved a muscle throughout the fight. Her mane had done all the work, flowing through the air like a horde of eels before twisting together into a myriad of weaponry to fend off the group’s only chance of making it across. Twilight had little idea of what they were meant to do once Rainbow touched down, anyway; she’d already tried giving the pegasus some magical shields, but Peace’s blade-like locks had pierced straight through.

Now, Rainbow Dash was bleeding. Badly. With each round she lost more feathers and her expression grew grimmer; she was clearly in pain, yet she continued, one leg wrapped in the remainder of Rarity’s mane, another tied with Fluttershy’s extensions.

Some worried noises were soon followed by a yell of pain as Rainbow Dash was coiled up by the lengths and hurled back to them like a living volleyball. The others rushed over but Twilight hesitated. This felt hopeless. This wasn’t a fight, it was a joke. “R-Rainbow…” she began.

With aching, twitching limbs, the pegasus got up once more, snarling through the pain. “Wh-whatever you’re ab-bout to say… shut up!” she warned. “I can do this. I… I-I have to!” Amidst the desperate cries of her friends, Rainbow grabbed one of the makeshift bandages in her mouth and tore it off. Another snarl and Fluttershy’s offering went too, letting the red cuts bleed freely.

“Rainbow, what are you doing?!” Twilight cried, her legs finding the motivation to move again.

“They’re jus- agh… they’re just slowing me down. Th-they’re not aerodynamic enough. I can do this.”

“But y-”

“Shut up and trust me already. I got this.”

Without another word she positioned her wings behind her, readied herself like a track runner, and performed a miracle.

In a blink she was gone, the space she had occupied pulling at their manes as air rushed to fill the void. Twilight only saw the rainbow-coloured trail for an instant, but it seemed to light up the exposed rocks and the ropeless wooden stumps as Rainbow Dash made it further than ever before.

In the next moment the darkness came back, and the air filled with blades. A row of defensive grates made of those metallic tendrils formed before Peace, but after a few seconds of silence, she let them go, revealing a blue backside stuck halfway out of a bush several meters past her.

If any gods had been placing bets, they must have lost a lot of money that night.

-----

The smouldering temple vanished behind the trees and shrubbery as they turned the corner, the Judge of Victory’s golden statue still laying robbed and defeated before its former entrance. Whatever had caused the damage, no amount of money could have deterred such a determined act of vandalism. At least, assuming it had indeed been vandalism and not a coordinated robbery conducted by a mare who loved dragons more than the one she served.

More events added themselves to the story in Twilight’s head. Winter’s Break had come to Canterlot to gain wealth via Prosperism, only to find that it wasn’t what she’d dreamed. She cared more about the dragons she grew up around than a fickle thing like money, but as the owner of a temple she had sunken too far into theological debt to simply leave.

“For someone so materialistic she sure seemed happy to write it off as divine intervention,” Moondancer commented.

“I’m sure she meant well,” Twilight replied, “but it was pretty suspicious.” This was silly, she knew. The whole thing was as plain as day to her studious mind, and yet something held her back from saying it out loud. In spite of the strange explanation, with Winter’s not hearing a thing until the temple was already ablaze, she had seemed genuinely dismayed over what had become of her home.

Spike folded his arms. “Can we not start accusing every pony or dog we come across of having bad intentions?” he asked. “I had a good thing going there.”

“Sorry, Spike. I just don’t want to take any risks, especially when it comes to religion. I don’t want to prioritise one over another. Who knows what the ponies around here might say?” Maybe Winter’s had simply grown attached to the place and was sad having to commit arson and lie to her own underlings just to escape whatever system she’d found herself trapped in.

Moondancer grinned. “It’s not like this whole belief thing isn’t bull from the start. They’re all hypocrites. Nopony’s ever seen any of these supposed ‘gods’ and yet they devote their entire lives to them instead of doing something actually useful.”

Twilight couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. Nearly her entire family history had been one Octenist after another, and as far as she could tell they certainly hadn’t suffered for it. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” she asked, knowing exactly what the response would be.

To her surprise, Moondancer only gave her the side-eye, then asked, “Do you believe a word that mare said?”

“Uh…”

“You’re allowed to give me the stupid answer. I’m just genuinely curious to know if you think she burned the place down or not.”

Twilight didn’t want to mar Spike’s positive experience any further. Moondancer had clearly gotten a kick out of the mere suggestion that the damage might have been done intentionally. “I… guess I’m skeptical when it comes to the whole merchandise thing, but I don’t know what to think of the destruction itself,” came her safe, balanced response.

Moondancer looked disappointed. “Lame. I think it’s obvious; she stole the money beforehoof and then pulled some kind of crazy plan to make it look like the place had been robbed.”

Nope, nope, I’m not having a conversation about this if it’s going to mean more misery, Twilight thought, annoyed. “Whatever the case, it’s behind us now,” she replied, shutting the topic down before it was too late.

“What if it was a giant minotaur?” Spike spoke up.

Twilight let out a groan. “Then it would mean it was a very coordinated attack. Either that or what Winter’s said about it being ‘a sign’ was true.” She shut her mouth. She could hear the doubt in her own voice. None of it made sense, but that didn’t matter, because it had all been fine until Moondancer began questioning things. Spike needed all the positive experiences he could get in this place filled with ponies who found him threatening, and at this point Twilight was starting to feel the same. She desperately needed some sense of relaxation, some sign that her own demi-goddess was coming back to put her at ease.

The road gradually dipped as it turned, heading downhill alongside the streets that surrounded most of the Terrace Gallery. The houses and shops were separated from the district by a wide border of greenery. The entire place was something of a giant park populated by temples instead of flower patches, each trying to look more impressive than the last. The empty marble troughs ran alongside the path, periodically meeting small pools that would have given the flow the look of a staircase of miniature waterfalls. Further down Twilight could see many of them congregating into a pond in the terrace’s very center, around which more places of worship could be seen along with an abundance of decorative trees and other plants.

Perhaps this would be a suitable replacement for the larger lake. She and Spike even had layers of foliage to run through to relive old times.

She rubbed her chin as she walked.

The next structure had a grandiose staircase leading up to the entrance, which was a mixture of earthy and fiery colours. The entrance beyond the wooden gazebo lining the front was embellished with detailed metal designs and a number of paintings, proudly displayed in the open and thoroughly untouched by the chaos that had engulfed the rest of the city. Perhaps religious art wasn’t in high demand on the black market.

The longhouse was the home of Solarism; the belief in a deity known as the Sun Mover. His or hers was an absolutist kind of faith that rejected all others. To those ponies, their deity was the sole creator of the Sun, the Moon, and Epona, and was solely responsible for the birth and death of all life on the planet. When she had been researching religions, Twilight had made some comment on how the Sun Mover was portrayed; white in coat with a mane of every colour. Celestia had confirmed her suspicions, along with an annoyed little tidbit about forcing them to remove the sun-symbol cutie mark the deity used to possess.

There were definitely ponies who thought that way, that Celestia was a god. Twilight wondered what they might think of Luna; the would-be “Moon Mover”. As far as she’d read Solarism didn’t have any equivalent. It was all just one pony in the sky, controlling everything, in spite of the fact that Luna had supposedly been able to control the Moon before she was banished.

It wasn’t like the world was short on potential deity-esque candidates, yet among their ranks only Prosper’s Equilibrium, Mesomic, who served as the physical voice of the Five Judges, came close to the fervent following Celestia had once enjoyed, back before her faithful had decided to shun all other religions in favour of their goddess in the flesh.

Belief was a terrifying thing, Twilight had found. It could make ponies think anything, do anything. No wonder Celestia had shut them down and declared herself mortal.

No wonder they hadn’t believed her; she could bring ponies back from the dead, after all.

Twilight shivered. That spot between her shoulder blades throbbed in response, like a spiritual growth sapping away at her willpower.

There was no point in thinking about it, because if there was something to these worrying thoughts, then that could only mean Twilight Sparkle was already on the other side, watching in horror as her former body lived her life, read her books, interacted with her friends, and made all the wrong choices. She recalled the look on Haycartes’ face again. He had smiled in spite of the pain in his eyes, even as Celestia drew him away to give him whatever rest awaited a mere golem.

“You ok?” asked Moondancer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Twilight answered.

“Why’re you frowning at nothing?”

“I’m…” Twilight rubbed her face and shook her mane. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’m just stressed out from today.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Moondancer responded. “Wanna sleep over?”

That was sudden. The suggestion would have seemed so innocent and meaningless had it come from anypony else, but Moondancer had said it with such hesitation and under just enough of a mumble to make Twilight think she was embarrassed for a change. Her eyes widened. “You sure?”

Moondancer grumbled and kicked at the ground. “I figure if we aren’t going to see each other again for a while… then why the buck not? I’ll do a stupid teenage filly thing if it means something, and knowing you it could be months and months before you finally take a vacation, so we should make the most of it.”

“Can… I come too?” Spike broached.

Moondancer opened her mouth, but hesitated. Being ok around him day-to-day was one thing, letting him into her home was another.

Twilight stepped closer to her friend, bringing Spike within poking distance if he wanted. “Come on, it’ll be a good chance to get used to each other some more,” she suggested.

“Ugh, fine,” Moondancer relented.

There was still some lingering unease there, the thought of letting the long-feared dragon into her safe place bringing back whatever nasty memories had caused this whole division. She placed a hoof on Moondancer’s shoulder. “I’ll bring my old copy of Snowy Brew’s Calculus for Colts with me…?”

The air bubble was almost visible as it travelled up Moondancer’s throat, before she burst out laughing. She made to say something, the snide remark almost audible on the end of her tongue, but she merely smiled. “Sure.”

With a feeling of elation welling up in Twilight’s heart, the little group continued down the road. The subtle flecks of yellow in the sky were starting to dominate the eastern horizon as the Sun crept through the early evening. The shadows were starting to grow. Off the side of the road a giant wind chime clinked gently, casting a disembodied shadow with how it floated above the ground. The symbol was suspended by a large clump of dense cloud which released a slow trickle of water drops down the chime’s wooden pieces. A number of pegasi were sat below it, some sleeping in its shade, others praying.

Something about the sight made her smile. It was wholesome to see the sense of comfort they seemed to feel from such a simple contraption. The wind chime was the heirogram of a goddess known as Valkrui, a deity comparable in age to Sleipnir and his wife. Valkrui’s tiny faith spoke of the freedom of the winds, how they flowed around the world unhindered, without worry or responsibility. Thanks to Equestria’s practice of curating natural weather patterns that idea of freedom rang a little hollow, but then Twilight wasn’t the faithful type. The idea brought comfort to its believers, and if it had survived all this time, then perhaps that was enough.

The pegasus nomads of the pre-Equestria era had brought the faith east with them from Canaria, coming into conflict with Sunflare’s more dedicated view of one’s surroundings and Sleipnir’s encouragement of ambition and personal strength. The latter’s values certainly shone through the closer they got to the last stretch. Despite being located on the lowest end of the gallery the Octenic Hall’s eight black spires reached higher than anything else in the district, and the eight leg-like supports bracing the building’s sides beneath them made it one of the largest.

Before it came Sunflare’s colosseum-like hall. It was a far less imposing structure than her husband’s, possessing softer arches that wrapped around its circumference and a single, large spire rising from the center of its dome roof, tilting and spiralling as it went, like the horn of a gigantic alicorn. It bore a round tip, contrasting with Sleipnir’s sharp, draconic spikes. The white brickwork was interlaced with a bold red similar to that found on Sunflare’s Walk, flowing from the roof and waterfalling down the arches, before transitioning seamlessly into the crimson leaves of the plants that surrounded the structure.

Naturally, these were the biggest faces in Canterlot, and the road widened once again, turning into something more akin to a long plaza, in order to accommodate the two titans. Though Gaia predated them both, Sleipnir and Sunflare shared the bulk of followers throughout Equestria, as the size of the congregations outside their two halls showed.

“Looks like the crazies are out in force today,” Moondancer commented with no small amount of derision. “Maybe they’re celebrating what happened to Athena.”

Twilight could feel her unease around crowds starting to rear its head. This was almost as busy as the lake and field, but stuffed into a smaller area. Luckily the bulk was gathered outside the Octenic Hall, before which came the road leading out of the Terrace Gallery that would take them to Moondancer’s home. No big deal. They would only have to wade through the edges of one crowd, unless they wanted to take a detour through the foliage. Moondancer’s chest came into view as the other unicorn took the lead, once again using it as a makeshift water break to create a path through the mass. It was slow going and a lot of dirty looks got sent their way, but it was still better than having to push through shoulder-to-shoulder. Twilight offered a brief apology to everypony they passed, but after one too many angry mutters she opted to simply keep her head down.

A song of some kind flowed through the air, the soothing, opera-like tones emanating from the center. Even here on the outskirts of the gathering Twilight could feel a sense of peacefulness washing over her tired legs. Spike’s little walk had turned into a proper day out and she was more than ready to take a rest at Moondancer’s place. In front of the colosseum stood a symbol of Sunflare’s power; a giant inkwell, from which she had defined her creations with the gift of sapience. Atop it was a mare enveloped in a myriad of colourful feathers, with a collection of red ones draping down either side of her face. Two black-coated stallions stood with her, together representing Sleipnir’s elongated body.

The assortment of colourful dancers surrounding the inkwell made the congregation look more like a theatre performance, perfectly in line with Ungulism’s focus on the arts and emotion. The dancers swayed in time with the music, ribbons and veils coursing through the air in their wake, as if gaining a life of their own. The two stallions were slowly rotating around their rainbow-embellished bride, protecting her beauty with matching steps.

Twilight was about to look away, but a collection of golden ribbons caught her eye.

She stopped for a moment. Just a moment.

It was nothing. She continued on.

11 - Idolatry

Each breath she took felt like another heartbeat lost to the cold night air. The bridge felt solid beneath her, yet as each hoof rose Twilight wondered if it would meet stabbing metal or the raging water cascading through the ravine.

Rainbow Dash was ok. She was dazed and confused, but that smile had been stuck on her face from the moment after she’d done… whatever it was she’d done. Applejack was carrying her, the flyer’s injuries now covered up by a collection of solid gold wraps. Twilight glanced between them and the others. Rarity, predictably, had her eyes on the glimmer of the golden ropes holding the new bridge up, while Pinkie happily boinked between her and Fluttershy, ever ignoring the seriousness of the situation, or perhaps simply denying it.

Everyone looked a little too ok with this. Peace had just tried to kill one of them, and had threatened to “erase” them should they cross, so why was she letting them through…?

Twilight felt something press against the front of her hoof and foresaw the entire limb falling into the rushing darkness below. Her heart leapt into her throat and her pupils dilated, but all she’d felt was an outcropping of hardened dirt on the other side of the ravine. With another moment’s hesitation, she placed the hoof down, back on solid ground. Peace stood before her now, tall, pale and terrifying, two great ropes of her endless mane framing her alien shape as she held the makeshift bridge in place.

This would have been the perfect moment for her to kill them all in one fell swoop. Twilight stood between the two ropes, almost preparing herself for some kind of horrific fate, but none came. The others arrived and the lengths of gold went slack, the rope bridge collapsing for a second time, with all but Rainbow Dash no worse for wear.

“I didn’t think you could move that fast,” Peace commented in her oddly common tone. She sounded more like a tired teenager than a battle-hardened warrior, the words possessing an ever so slight drawl, as if her tongue was numb from lack of use.

“Of course I can,” Rainbow replied, her smile growing to a grin. “I’m the fastest pony in Equestria!”

Peace said nothing, merely staring at her with a pair of bright, golden eyes before she turned away. With her locks flowing behind, she walked to the gap in the trees that led to the decrepit castle further into the darkness, the group of ponies pausing for a few moments before following. The end of the landbridge lay somewhere in the trees a few miles beyond it, its pale bulk curving across the sky before winding into space, as still as if it had always been there.

Applejack took the lead, Rainbow Dash’s dangling hooves bobbing with each step. “Excuse me, Miss ‘Peace’,” she began. “Maybe ah shouldn’t ask, but… why’d you let us go?”

Just beyond the trees was an old, grey arch, which the tall mare leaned against, folding her beastly arms. “Are the rest of you as strong as the colour one?” she asked.

There came a pause. They weren’t meant to be here, to have gotten this far. Unlike whatever demi-god had spawned Rainbow Dash, and perhaps with the exception of Twilight’s magical might, the other four were nothing more than mortal mares, beloved relatives who were perhaps only years away from having kids of their own, with dreams to aspire to and everyday jobs to be getting on with. This place wasn’t for them. They couldn’t beat Nightmare Moon.

Yet Applejack took another step forward, bearing a worried pair of eyes to go with her hopeful smile, and responded, “Well, ah sure as hay can’t fly, but ah sure can tie a mean rope when it comes to catchin’ varmints and no-gooders! Er, no offense.”

Again, the tall mare stared, but this time a tiny smile graced the edges of her lips.

“Hoooe…” she breathed. “You’re all going to die.”

----

Nearly there. The singing faded as they made it out of the crowd, the last few annoyed glares turning back to the source of their comfort. Moondancer’s chest floated free once again, and Spike hummed a little tune as they went, vaguely following the rise and fall of Sunflare’s bride, though with a lot less nuance.

Twilight stared at the marblework as she trotted, the sight of those ribbons sticking in her mind. A flash of horror passed through her when she saw them, as if the lengths of gold really did have a life of their own, ready to turn as solid as steel to outpace the Unscheduled Night’s death toll with a single motion.

“Twilight?” came Moondancer’s voice.

“Hm? What?”

“What’s with the look?”

“What look?” Twilight rubbed an eye and realised she was scowling to herself. “Egh, sorry, I think I’m just tired or something.” She glanced back, the dancers now just a bundle of moving shapes amidst the multicoloured crowd. “I really can’t handle so many ponies at once.”

Moondancer raised an eyebrow and smirked. “We could’ve just gone over the grassy area if it was that bad.”

“Sorry.”

Moondancer’s lips moved to absolve her of any blame, but she hesitated. “Are you… sure you’re ok? You look like something’s freaked you out.”

Is it that obvious? Twilight thought with a small hint of panic. Peace was gone, or at least she hadn’t been seen since that fateful night. Why would she show up now? They were just ribbons, she told herself. Of course they were, but the worry was still rampaging through her thoughts. The last thing she’d seen of the tall mare had been that look of grief and rage warping her smooth face into something scarier than a crazed dragon, before the landbridge flattened the old castle and everyone inside.

Celestia had made it out with Luna in tow. Who was to say the others couldn’t escape as well?

“Sorry,” Twilight repeated. “I just got reminded of Nightmare Moon and… everything.”

“Right. It’s just you were looking kind of weird before, as well. I figured you had something on your mind.”

As the group fled the castle, Rainbow Dash’s golden bandages had turned against her, writhing and sharpening against her skin as Peace’s fury reached them. The pegasus had ended up in the emergency room after that. She really should have sent another letter, just to make sure she was ok. Maybe the first had been lost in the mail and the others thought she didn’t even care?

A little vacation might not be a bad idea after all. With Rainbow Dash’s wellbeing in mind, leaving Canterlot to its own problems suddenly felt like a legitimate choice.

“Which is precisely why getting some sunshine was such a good idea!” Spike exclaimed, looking proud of himself.

“It’s… definitely helped in some ways,” Twilight admitted, leaving out all of the new questions and worries she’d gained today. “I think I’ll brush up on religious literature when we get back. I think there’s still a few details and practices and things that I don’t know about yet.”

“But you won’t take four weeks this time, right?”

She chuckled. “Of course not. I can multitask while helping out with the clean-up, and then we’ll take a break in Ponyville.”

Spike let out a “Yippee!”, throwing his little arms into the air in victory.

Well, that settled it; she couldn’t back out of a promise like this one. The weeks it would take to sort out their local area switched to mere days on Twilight’s mental schedule. That would give them enough time to make a dent in the mess, followed by a day or two in Ponyville, and then the rest. After that, maybe they could make the visit a regular thing? It would be an interesting change of pace, and it would give Twilight access to an entirely different culture compared to Canterlot. What kinds of books did a Ponyvillian keep on their shelves? What were the local histories and tales? Did they use cookbooks and spellbooks there, or was it all a humble process of word-of-mouth teaching?

Twilight smiled as Spike returned to his humming. They had reached the middle of the long plaza now, but before they turned for the exit road, she looked back to the gardens to remind herself once more of the market town’s abundant greenery. Here, every tree and bush was trimmed to perfection and the flowers had been carefully arranged into beautiful beds. In Ponyville, it seemed almost as if the houses had grown up alongside the trees and the grass, with climbing roses and patches of moss decorating their frames and more plants springing up to fill the gaps between the haphazardly planned dirt roads of yore.

They turned, but Twilight found her smile fading and her legs slowing to a stop. She didn’t know why, but her alarm bells were going off all of a sudden. She looked again. This time, the lines of trees focused her gaze to the pond at the end of the path, and to the glinting of the sun and moonlight against the water.

Like some betentacled creature, the reflection moved as a mare bearing a reflective, metallic mane moved out of sight.

“Twilight?” came Spike’s worried voice, immediately recognising that something was wrong.

“What? What now?” came Moondancer’s, starting to sound far less patient.

“Yellow ribbons,” Twilight responded, absently. “That’s all I saw.”

Moondancer stared at her like she was insane.

“I’m sorry. Can we… stay a little longer? I just wanna see the other performance.”

The stare remained. Moondancer knew something was up. Nonetheless, she gave an annoyed sigh and repositioned her chest. “We’re… not going in, right?”

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Then fine, but I’m charging double for the religious books now. Don’t want you getting any weird ideas.”

She just needed to make sure she wasn’t going crazy with worry. The mind could play annoying tricks on ponies like Twilight, who lost sleep, forewent meals, and filled their heads with terrifying thought train-wrecks concerning the fate of the world. She just needed to make sure it was all in her head, or else…

With the Sun tilting toward the horizon, the shadow of the Octenic Hall’s spires stretched almost to the mountain wall, piercing across the rooftops like a set of petrified tendrils. Like Sunflare’s ink pot, Sleipnir possessed an iconic heirogram in the form of the anvil. He was said to have forged the world from fire and rock, beating the continents into place with eight giant hammers before breathing life into the planet’s molten core. The anvil before the hall stood upon a large, raised platform to spread its weight. It was black with an ever so slight greenish tinge, and it had not a scratch across its surface; a sign that it was octite through and through. Celestia knows how they’d managed to lift it into place.

Atop it stood a pair of ponies: one clad in black armour, the groom; and one in a white wedding dress with an elaborate red circlet, the bride, serving as the messengers of their respective gods. From what she had read, Octenism and Ungulism had been united for as long as there was history to tell, one celebrating strength, responsibility and industriousness, while the other celebrated empathy, cooperation and the creative arts.

The groom banged his hoof against the horn of the anvil and an odd sound rang through the air. It was almost like the clong of a giant bell, but deeper and slower, reverberating as it travelled and throwing her thoughts off course. Twilight felt her ears flick and she found herself focusing on the anvil like the rest of the crowd, as if it had called to her. The gentle chatter of the faithful went silent, giving the two ponies at the center their moment to speak.

“My dear Equestrians,” came a voice like an army of thundering hooves, sending a jolt of alarm through the crowd. “We bring news of the Mare of the Night!” The groom banged the anvil again and Twilight felt her legs locking in place, a foreign sense of curiosity taking hold.

The sound reminded her of an odd foalhood memory, of Star Chasm and his collection of octite trinkets. They had been musical instruments of some kind or another, based on ancient designs. She remembered the uncomfortable sensation in her head as the old stallion tapped each one, testing her rhythm.

“The cloth lifts from my eyes~” sang the beautiful tones of the mare by his side, enrapturing everyone within earshot. “The Princess’ sibling is in need of your help! For seven nights she has been trapped between this world and the next, forced to appear to us in dreams but never in flesh.”

“She descended from the heavens as a minion of Rion, but now fights in ailing health against him!”

“Your Majesty defends her with all her strength, but it is not enough!”

“Give your prayers and your hopes, that she might return to us!”

The bride and groom stood side by side and lowered their heads with eyes closed tight. They each raised a foreleg with the hoof held close to their chests, left for the bride and right for the groom. Those who weren’t sat did so, mares and stallions, fillies and colts, all raising their forelegs in kind. In a matter of moments the plaza descended into complete silence. Twilight felt like she’d stumbled into some secret club where she was expected to know what to do. She’d only been to one of these mass prayer events in her life and it had bewildered her just as much as it did now.

“Are you sure you’re ok? Can we get out of here yet?” asked a worried Moondancer.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got… distracted by the sound.”

The concern grew into horror. “For real…?”

Twilight’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. It was called Sleipnir’s Bray; a metallic call meant to identify those who aligned themselves with his service. It wasn’t really a sound, per say, nor was it something that spoke to one’s subconscious. The bray went deeper, supposedly predicting or revealing one’s affinity toward the eight-legged god, as if tapping into destiny itself. For the most devoted it had been described as “more comforting than the smile of one’s mother and more intoxicating than the approval of one’s father”, and the most horrifying sensation imaginable for Sleipnir’s enemies.

“It never worked when I was younger,” Twilight said, grimacing as she recalled her parents and elders all sitting in line without her, their hooves raised in prayer. An anger boiled up in her throat. “My great-grandstallion called me ‘unfit’ and told me to worship Sunflare instead.”

Spike’s grip tightened for a moment. She looked at him to see a pair of worried green eyes staring back.

“Sorry, ignore me. Just some bad memories," she reassured him.

A word from deep within the crowd met her ears, close to the center. Heads turned to the young stallion who had spoken and the beginnings of disgruntled murmurs soon followed. “Why?” he repeated, slightly more confidently this time. “Why are we praying for Nightmare Moon?”

The murmurs turned into hushed, angry complaints, though a few less reactive voices were mixed in. “H-how do we know she i’nt tryin’ to trick you?” came another, this time from an older gent with a gabbering jaw. The sound of his cracked, awkward tongue broke straight through whatever remained of the second bray. “She couldn’t win wit’ f-force, so now she’s invading our m-minds and s-stealing kids in t’ night!”

The bride opened her eyes and directed a heavenly smile at him, more than worthy of a motherly figure like Sunflare. “You need not fear, my children~ The beast is dead, slain by an unknown heroine to end the Unscheduled Night!”

Oh god no, Twilight thought. She almost ducked where she stood. No one knew who she was, and hopefully it would stay that way. The last thing she needed amongst everything else was to be idolised as some kind of heroic murderer. Please just let me fade into the background so I can live my life.

“What remains is not the vile creature who stole the Sun from us,” said the groom, the tone in his voice clearly meant to mimic his god’s commanding call. “She is known as Luna; the night to our Princess’ day, here to restore balance to our decaying ways and our virtue-starved youth!”

“What a load of bullshit,” said Moondancer with a scowl, thankfully out of earshot of most of the crowd. “Equestria was doing just fine before she arrived.”

Twilight couldn’t deny that, and it seemed a portion of the gathering agreed. Ponies weren’t fond of change, let alone when that change tried to kill them first.

“I for one would rather pray for our Princess!” spoke a haughtier voice. “Equestria only needs one alicorn!”

“Didn’t Luna try to steal the Moon from her sister? Isn’t that how the story goes?” came another.

The murmurs continued, but died back down when the couple retook their praying stance. Twilight hoped with all her heart that Luna was ok, if only for Celestia’s peace of mind, but regardless of how quickly the younger alicorn healed it would be a long time before anypony decided to accept her after what she’d done as Nightmare Moon. The interesting part over with, they turned back to the exit road.

“She was betrayed.”

The alarm bells screamed back to life. That voice hadn’t come from the crowd, and while it bore no enchantment it stole Twilight’s attention far more than the bray ever could. It was indistinct, just the voice of a normal mare, and it had only been three words… yet it sounded far too familiar to ignore. Her ears turned first, followed by her nose, the rest of her body still locked to the road ahead as her trotting slowed to a stop.

“Pick up the pace, Twilight,” said Moondancer. “I don’t wanna be stuck here with all the crazy ponies when they start disagreeing with each other.”

Her eyes finally followed. The path leading to the pond was empty. “S-sorry. I’m coming.”

“She was betrayed,” the voice repeated, angrier this time, more than willing to speak over the silence that pervaded this end of the plaza.

The aura around Twilight’s horn throbbed and another horrid chill ran down her spine, and this time that little spot between her shoulders did nothing to fix it. The ribbons came first, emerging from the foliage, followed by an equine face and hooves, the front pair wreathed in golden socks to hide whatever was underneath. A set of unfamiliar blue eyes focused on the bride and groom. For a moment Twilight thought she’d been fooling herself after all, but the giant arrangement of golden loops and ties that framed the mare’s head possessed an unmistakable metallic quality, and the fierce scowl creased her soft face with the same level of fury as it had that fateful night.

Twilight watched, frozen in place, as Peace stepped into the open and pushed her way into the crowd, her tailless dock and her markless rump soon disappearing amongst them, apparently unaware of the unicorn’s presence. Twilight could leave now and keep it that way. She could head to Moondancer’s home and spend the rest of the day and night there, reading and talking and just… being together for a change, for the last chance they would have.

She could leave Peace to her own devices, letting her storm into the midst of this crowd to blow her top and kill everyone for insulting her queen.

Her horn lit up and she levitated Spike onto Moondancer’s chest. “Huh? What’re you doing?”

“I’m sorry, go on ahead, I’ll… I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta do something.” With that, she charged into the crowd, her eyes following the decorative golden loops of mane ahead of her.

“Wait, what now?!” Moondancer exclaimed in her wake. “Come back, you- you said you weren’t going in! This is not worth our time, Twilight!!”

It was, far more than either of her friends realised. Twilight again recalled the look on Peace’s face moments before Celestia teleported their little band of heroes out of the castle, that gruesome mixture of anger and sadness; a look of betrayal, as if she’d let their little group through under the silent promise that they lay down their lives or their loyalty for her queen. The Twilight she’d been back then only smiled in response as the magic flowed through her body, confused by Peace’s reaction, and eager to take her on as well should she decide to take revenge. She was Nightmare Moon’s ally, after all.

That wasn’t what she was running into the crowd for. Today she would apologise for her behaviour, for taking away someone so dear to the alien mare, to, hopefully, reassure her that everything would be ok, that Celestia would return with Peace’s weakened queen in tow. Saying sorry was the only option now, because now that she knew the tall mare was alive, she had to make peace with her demons.

The golden mane vanished amongst the crowd, but the frowns and confused mutters of the disturbed faithful led Twilight onward.

“Celestia stole the Moon from her,” came Peace’s voice from somewhere ahead. Even under a different skin her voice still held that dull, monotone laziness, even as it bristled with anger. “She stole her home, so Nightmare came broken to build a new one instead. She ruled and she turned the grey wastes into the most powerful empire anyone ever saw!”

The murmurings returned, now with an air of shock and suspicion over the sudden appearance of this apparent cultist. Atop the anvil, the groom opened an eye to look upon the one who had spoken.

“And now she’s broken again, like a cycle,” Peace continued. Her voice was already starting to sound tired, though no less determined. “She isn’t here to balance. She is here to rule.”

“My child, of what do you speak?” asked the bride, sounding genuinely concerned. “Have you lost all faith in the Equestrian spirit? The beast’s attack was a true terror to behold, but by the grace of Sunflare we were spared.”

“Rion struck our home a mighty blow,” the groom added, “but he is a coward. Now comes our counter-attack, to show that we will not be cowed by such a mindless show of force!”

“Come now, raise your hoof with us~ Trust in a bright future. One that will never be overshadowed again!”

A few moments of silence passed before Peace spoke once more, “I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

Oh no, Twilight thought. The words repeated in her head to an image of the golden-maned mare’s face. “I don’t understand,” said the memory. It was that aggravated bewilderment that had preceded Peace’s growing frustration over Rainbow’s continued attempts. She could almost see her face now, staring up at the bride and groom, a confused frown crushing her otherwise graceful features into an ugly mess, and the lengths of her mane starting to shift.

“She isn’t a beast. She’s beautiful and you don’t understand.”

That tiny, charred shape came to mind again. Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe seeing her would be what set her off? Twilight knew she wouldn’t want to see the face of the pony who killed someone she cared for, otherwise…

“If you speak of Luna, then yes. The seers tell us her mane sparkles like the stars in the sky, and that her eyes glow like the light of the full Moon. Whatever dark creature preceded her, however, is well and truly slain.”

She slowed, the tallest loops just visible above the crowd. No matter how much she tried to distract herself and forget, she’d spent every night since then worrying and regretting everything. The warning signs had been there; the enjoyment she’d felt on the way through the Everfree, the excitement of the adventure, the ungodly power rushing through her mind…

Twilight recalled that sensation of weightlessness as a golden tiara topped by a mimicry of her own cutie mark phased out of her body, as if it had been trapped in there all along. Some part of her, some deep, dark, horrible part of her had received confirmation that night, that she was more than just special: she was absolutely incredible. Every single moment had felt good. If only for that, she had to apologise. That hadn’t been her.

She was still walking to her death, but she couldn’t let this lie. She couldn’t sleep knowing she could have set things right, that she could have proven to herself that she wasn’t a power-mad freak of a mare.

“You idiot. She is alive,” Peace retorted, her flat tone gaining a harsh tilt. “She can’t be killed by what you’re doing to her.”

“My dear child, we are not harming her, we are praying for her recovery just as you do!” Twilight saw the bride reaching down again with a hopeful look on her face, unaware of what the mare she was speaking to was capable of. “Please, join us. There is nothing to be gained dwelling on past misfortunes. You must have faith in Equestria and in the Starlit Union.”

Almost there. “Are you talking about a god?”

That took the bride aback somewhat, her husband’s praying hoof wavering slightly in silent surprise. How anypony could be so ignorant about Sleipnir and Sunflare must have been an alien concept to them, let alone when said ignorant person was right in the middle of a huge congregation of followers.

“Yes,” the bride responded, for the first time speaking out of turn. “Sunflare is the Mother of All Ungulates; she is the one who gave thoughts and feelings to all the creatures of the world, who created colour and magic and majesty.”

“Just as we are husband and wife,” the groom added, “Sunflare wed Sleipnir to create the world upon which we stand. For that, we are eternally grateful, and we must do all in our gifted will and imagination to continue the legacy they left for us!” With that, he resumed his stance with renewed vigor.

Twilight pushed through the final ring of ponies and stopped dead in her tracks. She saw herself skidding to a halt at the edge of the cliff, watching as the rope bridge fell, its latter half reduced to splinters by a whirlwind of golden blades, before she and the others saw the indomitable creature that had done it.

“So they’re dead?” Peace asked in her plain, slurred tone.

“Peace…?”

The mare’s ears reacted first, before she looked behind her and froze. Her blue eyes grew thin and terrified as she saw her Queen be torn asunder all over again.

So this was what victory looked like; to see an opponent beaten so low that she thought of her adversary as some kind of monster. Twilight could understand it. She and the others had been mortal mares when they entered that castle, and then something had happened, and they became… something else. What came next had become nothing more than a blur of emotion and power.

She braced herself to say the words, got her tongue in place, hesitated as she wondered what Peace’s arms looked like now, and missed her chance.

The octite clanged again, flushing Twilight’s train of thought out of her head and forcing her ears to listen. A far more confident voice than hers overcame them. The groom, who had abandoned the praying pose he’d maintained throughout all these questions, loomed over them, his pitch-black hair causing his silver-grey eyes to stand out, piercing through the gaze of anyone they met. “Dead?” he asked, his authoritative tone gaining a hint of offense as he glared at Peace. “To what gods do you subscribe, if not the ones to whom you owe your world and your life and your mind? They are not dead; they are among us in every stallion and mare who chooses to make something of themselves, to do something with the special talent granted to them from above!”

“Be quiet.”

This was no good. She wasn’t engaging with any of this, let alone now that the groom was stood over them trying his best to put his hoof down. What was she even meant to say? The subtle hints of the groom’s bray faded, but still nothing came to mind. The look on the disguised mare’s face was starting to darken, fear giving way to anger. “Peace,” Twilight managed. “I wanted to… apologise.”

Peace didn’t respond, only staring with her strange, glassy eyes. Twilight blinked, then frowned as she watched one of those gold lengths slide back into place behind the other mare’s head. It suddenly seemed brighter around them, like a cloud had moved out of the way of the Sun.

“Dear?” came the bride’s voice.

From all the way at the edge of the crowd, a clattering thud met their ears.

Twilight glanced up at where the groom should have been. Those watching the scene unfold noticed too. Words of confusion quickly grew to yells of distress, to a wave of terror flowing from the center of the crowd as everyone realised what had just happened. Panic descended and they rose all at once, the silence turning to clamour and their praying hooves turning into a stampede. Twilight held close to the side of the anvil as the other ponies rushed by. She made to protest, but the words died on her tongue as Peace affixed her with a deathly glare.

“If you want to fix your mistake, then finish what you started by killing me,” Peace challenged, the cold yellow of her pupils shining through the blue of her disguise. “This time without your allies or your ‘prayer’.”

A single blade opened a shallow wound in Twilight’s cheek, and with that, Peace vanished into the crush.

12 - Supermare

“Prospectiveness.”

“Prosper-... Prospectiveness. P-R… O-S-P-E-C-T-I-V-E-N-E-S-S. Prospective… ness.”

“Invalidation.”

“Invalidation. I-N-V-A-L-I-D-A-T-I-O-N. Invalidation.”

“Continuance.”

“Continuance. C-O-N-T-I-n-n… c-C-O-N-T-I-N-U-A-N-C-E. Con… tinu… ance.”

“Gregariousness.”

“Gregariousness. G-R-E-G-A-R-I-O-U-S-N-E-S-S. Gregariousness.”

“Efflorescent.”

“…”

“Efflorescent,” the Princess repeated, her head staying still while her eager eyes flicked to the other remaining contestant.

“...”

“Efflorescent, Twilight.”

“Effl… e…”

The mentor smiled. “Do you need the definition of the word?”

“No,” Twilight said quickly, the word coming out barely audible past her dry throat and cracking tongue. “Efflorescent. E-F-F-L-E-”

“Moondancer?”

“Moondancer. M-O-O-”

“M-Moondancer, please.”

Moondancer blinked, her lips moving by themselves as she tried to figure out what she’d done wrong. Some hushed chuckling from the judges drew her attention and for the first time in nearly two hours something other than words and letters filtered into her mind. She tried to say “Sorry” but nothing came out, for fear she might have been mistaken and end up losing the spelling bee. That would have been such a waste at this point.

“Twilight, are you able to continue?”

The room came back to her. The audience was almost empty now and one of the judges looked to be on the verge of falling asleep. Moondancer glanced to her left at her friend and saw her quaking limbs and widening eyes. Her own mouth was starting to feel dry and she had passed the point of boredom long ago, but Twilight looked ready to physically drop.

The other filly glanced between their mentor and the floorboards of the stage, not responding. She raised a hoof, slowly, as if it was in pain, and with a silent “No” and a deepening look of hurt on her face, she stepped off her stool and forfeit. Twilight’s strange, enchanted toy waddled up to her, only to be swiftly shoved past as its owner left the performance hall in a desperate stagger.

Now alone on the stage, Moondancer belatedly realised that she had just won by default. This wasn’t technically a victory, but maybe that didn’t matter since Celestia was still raising a little box into her levitation, containing her award. Moondancer squeezed her eyes shut and let out a yawn. It hadn’t been intended to take this long - there was meant to be a string of musical recitals after this - but Celestia had insisted they continue. She had been ruthless at first, going from ten to sixteen to twenty-eight and more letters, unable to find a word either of them lacked.

From there, the tricks had begun. “Slither” had been the first one Twilight stumbled upon. “Carcass” had been Moondancer’s. Simple and horrid, but effective. Then came the three-hundred and seventy-four instances of “Battologist” in a row, each with a slightly different inflection and pace to attempt to confuse their ears, with a few other words mixed into the flood of repetition to catch them out. Finally, the Princess must have seen the way things were going and sat back in her chair for the remaining hour of the final match, going back to more normal words, simply waiting until one of them cracked or passed out.

It had been mean as hell, but as the golden medal came to a rest upon her chest, Moondancer found she couldn’t argue with the result; her efforts were finally bearing fruit.

-----

Moondancer sat upon her trusty, annoying chest, whose bulk was difficult enough to get through the front door, let alone carry around all day. She idly listened to the crazed warblings of the bride and groom. Aside from them it was pretty quiet, now that her trusty, annoying friend had miraculously overcome her fear of large crowds for… whatever her reasons were.

Moondancer wasn’t sure she liked this new, more confident Twilight. She irked her in a way she couldn’t quite pin down, giving her statements an unneeded extra edge and littering the ground with eggshells to avoid discussing. For all her hopeful prose and calming neutrality, it felt like she was one tiny conversation away from losing it, and when that happened, maybe the truth would finally come out.

Moondancer hoped she wouldn’t be there when it happened. She glanced at Spike. A slowly growing part of her wanted to tell him everything. With Twilight unable to handle the topic, she’d realised she didn’t really have anyone else to confide in. He knew about her trauma, something she had only shared with Celestia and no one else, but the harm the other issue could cause between herself and Twilight outweighed her need to express her worries. That one little fact that could invalidate their friendship in a single blow. In a few days time she would be back home with her family, anyway, having told her former mentor and her newest friend her greatest secret, yet never letting her best study buddy know how she truly felt…

Moondancer felt the hard wood of her chest, Twilight’s little spiritual trick coming to mind. Every single aspect of her life, save for a little disadvantage in Nature Magic, was what Twilight had going for her. The yearly spelling bee awards meant nothing.

It was intimidating how much potential Twilight had. Her magical nature was ambiguous enough to manage almost anything, and though her true T-N-F rating had never been publicly disclosed, from what Moondancer had gathered from the occasional snippet of conversation, her best friend had broken into the Ascended Alicorn tier. She was monstrously powerful, had a wealthy, influential family, and she was best friends with the ruler of the entire country. There was only one trajectory for Twilight’s future; up, up and up, and far, far away.

“I’m not going to do that.”

Still, this new harshness lurking at the edges of Twilight’s behaviour needed to stop. Combined with everything else it was almost… scary. Maybe she’d changed after Celestia killed them. She looked again at Spike, who was idly picking at his tail like a colt would at his ears. Maybe she’d changed as well.

“What?” Spike asked, raising an eyescale at her.

She realised she was cringing at him. “Sorry. Nothing.” He’s not a threat anymore, she kept telling herself. But maybe I only think that because I’m not me anymore. How lovely it would have been to have skipped school that day, to not get the memo that Celestia had randomly appeared on the dormitory doorstep, to have been too absorbed in her studies to listen when Twilight rushed in to tell her.

Twilight had been so happy.

“Has she been like this a lot lately?” she asked.

“Like what?”

Moondancer removed her glasses as she searched for the words. “Like… assertive, I guess? It’s weird.” A cloth slipped out of the chest to wipe the lenses. “She would never normally shut down a discussion like she did, even if it was to do with the princess.”

The other eyescale rose. “You were being super aggressive back there.”

That was annoying. “With good reason,” she retorted.

“Mhm.” He went back to cleaning his tail.

A short moment of silence passed. “You really don’t want to know, do you?” Moondancer asked.

The look on Spike’s face grew pained for a moment. “No,” he replied. “I just… decided that I don’t wanna hear any more.”

There went that option. “Why…?”

“It’s not like I don’t get it. I just don’t wanna be the reason you stop being friends.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. He understood everything, both the event itself and the ramifications surrounding it. That was an answer well beyond his years. “How old are you again?” she asked, feeling another fear-filled wall crumble in the back of her mind.

He thought for a moment. “I think I’m… are we talking hatch-years or egg-years?”

“I don’t know what those mean.”

“If it’s hatch years then I’m twelve, but if we count the time I spent in my egg, then… thirty-something?”

She burst out laughing. “You aren’t thirty!”

He smirked and gave a short-lived giggle. “But anyway, we’ve got waaay bigger things to worry about. I figure everything’s ok as long as there was no harm done.”

Moondancer tried to muster up a more detailed memory of being incinerated than the one her brain had managed to save, but there was no horrific sensation of pain associated with the terrifying imagery. All the harm was in her head, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist, or that it hadn’t happened. She shifted her shoulders as she sat, feeling the faint pressure that had been there ever since that fateful lesson. She didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely part of this new body she now inhabited. Did Twilight have something similar? Did their fellow classmates? As far as Moondancer knew, no one beyond their class had been flambéd.

Moondancer rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to be thinking about this right now. Once Twilight did whatever it was she was doing amongst all the crazy religious types, they would head home and spend a nice, friendly sleepover together. They could read a few books and talk about the future. I should tell her my new address, too, she thought. That way they could stay in contact no matter what corner of Equestria they ended up in.

The clang of the anvil went in one ear and came out the other, Sleipnir’s Bray unable to penetrate the iron wall of her logical mind. That was how she figured it worked, at least. The faithful tended to be the less reasonable, Moondancer had found, so it would make sense if a sound designed to gather loyalty worked on those with less willpower or critical thought. Though, that would imply Twilight had lost some of her unmatched analytical might…

Another mark for the “we’re already dead” category, she supposed.

A lone, worried word from the bride caught her attention; the implication that something was wrong. That little, devilish part of her brain lit up with entertaining possibilities. Maybe Twilight was asking too many questions and the groom had begun to lose his temper. Moondancer wasn’t up for facing a mob, but the thought of their leader growing desperate or embarrassed was a fun one.

With a small smile she turned her attention to the crowd. From here she could see over everyone’s heads to the anvil at the center. They were all looking up.

That wasn’t a pegasus.

It arced through the air, three storeys high, black mane and tail whipping in the breeze, before reaching up as the figure fell back to the ground with a clattering thud.

What was that? Moondancer thought, pretending she didn’t know. It had landed just past the crowd at the edge of the plaza. Wh-what was that? The noise from the crowd spread out from the center, sounds of confusion rising to panic as the herdmind descended. Everyone rose at once, the gathering suddenly turning into an explosion of ponies galloping away from the anvil. Moondancer brought her hooves together atop the chest while Spike took refuge behind it as the ponies rushed past.

“What’s happening?!” Spike cried.

“I-I don’t know!” Moondancer shouted, her eyes going wide.

Had a monster appeared or something? A giant minotaur? She couldn’t see Twilight yet. Where was she? From here Moondancer could see the bride clambering down from the anvil, her soothing tones turning into an unsettling wail as she was lead through the crowd to her fallen husband. The faint, purple glow of a magical sphere came into view just beyond the anvil. Was she under attack?

“You didn’t have to go in,” Moondancer seethed to herself, gripping the edges of the wood.

The sound of clattering hooves and terrified cries were starting to get to her, telling her to show some sense and run with the herd from whatever unknown threat had appeared. She popped her glasses back on. They still did nothing for the stress, but the placebo was enough to get her thoughts in order. If her friend was in danger, then there was no way she was running for it.

“We’re- we’re going in, get on!”

She hopped off and Spike clambered up in her place, holding onto the crowd-ward end of the chest as Moondancer raised it into her magical glow. With the little dragon on top it was even heavier than normal, Spike’s magical density adding more weight than his relatively tiny body would suggest. Once again using it as a shield, they waded in, chest floating first with Spike sitting high enough to see above the panicking mob.

“Do you see her?”

“Yeah, I think so! She’s got her shield up.”

Had one of the faithful lost it and caused a scene? Who would be strong enough to throw a full grown stallion that high into the air? The obvious answer was the mare who was currently wreathed in protective magic, but Moondancer quickly put that ugly thought out of her mind. Twilight had her little stress-breaks every once in a while, but she wasn’t the type to lash out.

She felt a tiny, imaginary jab against the side of her neck. She doesn’t need your help, said the imaginary changeling.

You still think Spike is a big, powerful dragon, don’t you? its pegasus twin added.

A bumbling fool knocked himself against the edge of the chest as he galloped, swaying for a moment, before falling into her. “Get off me, you idiot!” Moondancer yelled, shoving him away. After a few more groups of panicking ponies, they made it past the dispersing crowd, beyond which sat Twilight, alone beside the anvil.

“Hey, Twilight!” Spike called to her.

“What’re you doing over here?!” Moondancer exclaimed. The chest grazed the edge of the shield, prompting its occupant to look back at them, surprised.

Twilight looked shaken, but no worse for wear beyond a fresh cut on her cheek, half covered by a hoof. “I’m- I’m fine.” Her expression suddenly turned angry. “Wait, what’re you doing here? I said to go on ahead!”

Excuse me? Moondancer scowled. “We’re here to rescue you, stupid! What happened? Why is everyone freaking out?”

Twilight looked around for a moment before letting her shield fade. “I found Peace,” she responded.

Peace? Peace as in what? An image of Twilight wearing the bride’s wedding dress came to mind, a brainwashed smile beneath the veil. “What’re you talking about?” Moondancer asked. She pointed at the anvil. “Did your brain get melted or something?” Taking a step back, she brought the chest round, Spike still holding on, and started to make her way back. “Come on already. This is literally what I warned you about!”

Twilight stood, but didn’t follow. “I mean Peace,” she repeated, with a little more force this time. “As in Nightmare Moon’s guardsmare. She was here.”

Moondancer stopped as the word turned into a name in her memories, recalling Twilight’s explanation of her adventure beyond Ponyville. She looked back at her friend, feeling a creeping sensation of dread stabbing either side of her neck. “Is that why you told us to stay behind?”

“I told you to ‘go on ahead’ so that you’d be out of the way if… ugh, I don’t even wanna talk about that possibility. I saw her heading into the crowd and I could tell she was unstable. I had to… make sure she knew there was no reason to fight anymore, but instead…” Her frustration turned to a look of regret, and she motioned to the group surrounding the groom. The gathering parted to allow the bride in, revealing her husband, injured but awake.

Moondancer paused. “Were you… in danger?”

“A little,” Twilight admitted, holding a hoof to her bleeding cheek again.

Clearly not, Moondancer thought. She placed her chest down, letting Spike hop off. She wasn’t caught in the middle of anything. She went in specifically to confront Peace. “So it was really her?” Moondancer asked. “Why would you follow her like that?”

“If I hadn’t, she might’ve snapped. It could’ve been a lot worse than just one pony getting hurt.”

You almost got skewered instead and you’re acting like it was nothing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Spike offered.

“Thanks, Spike, but it’s not over yet,” Twilight replied, looking to the road running between the temples. A group of warriors emerged from the Octenic Hall. Three headed for the bride and groom, while the remaining five charged down the road, weapons and trinkets clinking and rattling against the dark, heavy plates they wore. Ahead of them a collection of wavy, metallic tendrils flashed in the sunlight like polished steel.

It took until the strange sight disappeared around the corner for Moondancer to realise what she’d just seen. A tiny part of her skeptical mind had still been in doubt. Maybe Twilight had simply been mistaken. Maybe she’d been straight-up lying in order to avoid the sleep over, and was revealing the true colours Celestia had implanted within her replacement body. None of it made reasonable sense, but then Twilight wasn’t a very reasonable pony these days.

However, seeing those golden tentacles froze the breath in Moondancer’s throat. Everything Twilight had told her about her adventure suddenly became true, her comfortable, reasonable sense of doubt falling into a bottomless ravine. The air felt like it was weighing down upon her as she stared at the now empty road, and she recalled the sight of the summer sky turning pitch black once more.

Moondancer tore her gaze away from the road to find Twilight already taking those first few steps towards it. No you bucking don’t. She quickly trotted in front of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Twilight’s eyes were held wide, gazing, as if she’d already forgotten that her friend was even there. “I’m sorry. I need to help.”

And how, exactly, are you going to do that? Moondancer thought, glancing at the grey aura that still surrounded her friend’s horn. “Those warriors have it under control, Twilight. Since when do you need to force yourself to be a hero?”

Twilight paused. “They aren’t strong enough to beat Peace.”

“And you are?”

Another pause. Twilight looked away, her expression turning dark for a moment. “I don’t… have to. I just need a chance to talk to her, to make her understand that she doesn’t need to fight or anything.”

There was an unspoken “yes” hidden in there. Moondancer could see it in the other mare’s eyes; that look of guilt and embarrassment she always got whenever she accidentally showed up her fellow classmates with her magical strength. If Twilight had been an honest mare she would have left negotiations in the dust and subdued Peace then and there, and then had her little conversation with the golden-maned psycho. If Moondancer had been honest with herself, she would have recalled the sight of her kitchen walls turning a deep, solid purple as a pillar of godlike magic split apart Nightmare Moon’s landbridge, turning night back into day with a single burst of light, and let Twilight do as she pleased.

But they had a sleepover to be getting to, and one of them ending up maimed or worse would put a major damper on their last chance to hang out. It may have been selfish, Moondancer knew, but the alternative was something she couldn’t abide by.

“I thought Peace was gone,” Twilight continued. “Now that I know she’s out there, I need to make sure she isn’t hurting anyone. I need to make this right.”

Moondancer pointed a hoof at her cheek. “She already did. She LITERALLY just sent a fully grown stallion seventy hooves into the air!”

Instead of clamming up in defeat, or looking ashamed of herself, or anything else the usual, everyday Twilight would have done, the other mare rounded on her, her face a picture. “And she might’ve done something much, much worse if I hadn’t confronted her!” she responded, stomping a hoof. “Peace is confused and scared right now; she thinks prayer can hurt people! All I need is a chance to talk and then everything will be ok!”

“You told me she sent your rainbow friend to the hospital as an act of revenge. Do you for real think she’ll let you do that?”

“Well… maybe not, but I need to apologise for what happened to Nightmare Moon. She needs to understand that not everypony is a danger to her, and that Luna might still be ok.”

“What do you mean ‘apologise’?” asked Spike. “Peace was a bad guy, right?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Yes, she was.” She glanced between them, then back at the exit road. “I can’t leave this any longer. I need to go.”

Moondancer stomped a hoof, the jabbing at her neck becoming unbearably blunt. “No you don’t! Let those warriors handle it! Since when do you need to be diplomatic with a monster?!” The grey aura surrounding Twilight’s horn turned purple again for a moment, and Moondancer felt the world moving around her as she was rudely shifted out of the way. “Wh- hey!”

“You don’t understand how much this matters, Moondancer. This is my responsibility, not theirs. I need to... I need to make sure she understands it wasn't on purpose.”

Moondancer could feel a furious outburst on the tip of her tongue, but she could only grit her teeth at that, losing the will to fight against the look in Twilight’s eyes. It wasn’t anger or frustration, more a grim determination that logic alone was incapable of penetrating. She was going through with this whether they liked it or not. It was the look of someone carrying the burden of a hero, and she was about to leave her powerless, selfish friend in the dust.

“This won’t take long, I promise. Take care of Spike while I’m gone.”

And with that, she left, in search of a fate that would propel her up, up and up and far, far away.

With all her heart Moondancer wished she could join her, but her hooves remained rooted in place.

13 - Ascent

There was no chance this would turn out well, no chance at all. From what Twilight had described, Peace was an unstable mess of a creature who had viewed Nightmare Moon like a god. Perhaps she’d only shown up here with the express purpose of slaying Canterlot’s faithful; rivals to her own devotion. Twilight’s appearance must have sent a jolt of terror down Peace’s spine, making her think she was about to be dealt with like her goddess was, forcing her into a corner in the midst of all those praying hooves.

Instead, Twilight had tried the impossible by choosing negotiation. It was a miracle Peace even understood their language. To think she would respond to peaceful diplomacy was far too much to hope for, but she would definitely accept Twilight’s apology if she gave her neck in offering.

That beam of light came to mind again. If Twilight was truly capable of that, then…

Moondancer pushed the thought away. She took a step forward, her chest left forgotten to one side. It hit her that her best friend was about to get herself killed over nothing, and once again all their meaningless arguing over the course of the day played through her mind, how pointless it had all been in the end. So what if Twilight trusted Celestia? She was the princess’ favourite, plain and simple. Even if Celestia decided to burn down half the city, Twilight would be kept perfectly safe and sound, still making excuses and trying to mediate between a mob and a murderer.

She hated that fact with all her being, but still, she couldn’t let this happen.

You still owe me a proper goodbye, she thought. Don’t leave me behind like this.

“Where’re you going?” came Spike’s voice.

“Where do you think? I’m going to stop your stupid sister from getting herself killed.”

Spike trotted up beside her. “Then I’m coming too,” he stated with determination.

He’s too weak to survive this, said the imaginary pegasus on her shoulder. But if he attacks, he’ll hurt you, too, the changeling added. Therefore, you are even weaker than him.

She stopped and blocked him with an outstretched hoof. “No,” she responded with a frown. He was too close for comfort, but for once it didn’t feel too terrible. There were much bigger hills to die on than her stupid fears. As much as she didn’t want to deal with it, Spike was her responsibility for now. He may have had fire breath on his side, but he was still just a doughy little kid who couldn’t run very fast. “You have to stay here where it’s safe. Twilight wants to keep you out of this.”

He looked at her with something almost akin to derision. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not just going to let her go by herself considering what happened last time she told me to stay put.”

“I said no. If you get hurt because I didn’t tie you up somewhere, then who knows what Twilight will do to me?”

Spike folded his arms. “What’s the worst she’s gonna do? Besides, I can handle myself.”

“She’s willing to hold back helping me out of this place just so she can keep lying to you about Celestia.”

He paused for a moment. “True. But I’m still helping, and there’s nothing you ca- can do- h-hey!” His arms and legs wiggled as he rose into the air.

“Do I need to tie you to a post?”

He shook his head.

“Good. Stop pretending to be a hero and let the adults handle this.” Moondancer scanned the area for somewhere to put him, each pass inevitably lingering on the two ponies she wanted absolutely nothing to do with, let alone when it came to an impressionable little mind like Spike’s.

The bride and groom were recovering and comforting one another, the trio of black-clad stallions surrounding them having pushed the regular ponies away to give the couple some space. The six dancers from Sunflare’s inkwell stood nearby as well, apparently acting as extra security in spite of their flowery, ribbony dresses. With both the Pony Authority and the Royal Guard rendered untrustworthy, these religious types were unfortunately her only real option.

Moondancer trotted briskly, Spike swaying lower with each step until he regained his own bearings to jog beside her. He looked more worried than annoyed. Maybe he actually trusted her in spite of everything she’d thought of him for so long? This was an odd moment, she realised, something she couldn’t have imagined only yesterday; her and Spike walking together without Twilight present. The pressure on her mind still made itself known whenever the light caught his scales and when his slit pupils did that creepy, ever so slight twitch when they focused, but the weight was less than nothing now. It felt like little more than a bit of mental fog from waking up early, the visions of red nowhere to be seen.

She imagined galloping after her best friend, only to find one of those piles where she should have been. She grit her teeth. That wouldn’t happen. That was just the fear in her talking.

You’ll have to take care of Spike if Twilight’s dead, said that aggravating little voice on her shoulder, jabbing its imaginary eight-pronged spear into her skin.

How ironic would that be? said its contrarian twin, doing the same with its twisting lance. You’ll be stuck in Canterlot taking care of him while Twilight’s remains get cast down the waterfalls.

Twilight’s home has a family grave, Moondancer thought, only to realize her mind was going in circles again.

The three stallions turned their helmeted heads as she approached, first eyeing Moondancer with suspicion, then the little dragon by her side with a silent, professional curiosity. “Excuse me,” Moondancer began, putting on her nice voice, “I realise this is a really, really bad time, but my friend just ran off after the mare who attacked you and I need to keep her from hurting herself. Would… you…”

The guards were glaring through their visors.

“Would… would that be ok, if I left him here…?”

“Step away, please,” said one of them, a unicorn.

Her words dried up and her fake smile wavered. This was no good. She took a step back. “Y-y’know… it’s just that his sis- adoptive sister is… maybe not.” She turned to leave. “Nevermind.”

“Wait.”

She had barely made it three steps. She looked back to see the groom pushing his way between his protectors, his praying hoof still raised, twitching at the ankle beneath its bandages. His wife stood by his side, holding him up as he staggered forward. Without his armour the stallion looked deflated. He was visibly muscular, but his booming voice and pitch-black hair did little to hide his thinning underside and well-worn facial muscles. He motioned to his wife.

The bride brushed her wedding veil out of the way to look upon the two of them. She gave a soft smile in greeting, the evening Sun exposing her laughter wrinkles and the crows feet that framed her fearful, faded eyes. “You came along to rescue your friend, didn’t you? What is your name, child?” she asked. Her voice lacked whatever enchantment had given it that piercing yet graceful quality, but it still flowed like silk.

“Moondancer,” Moondancer replied.

“The foal who took a detour over the Moon,” the groom mumbled. “Do you happen to know the mare who attacked us?” he asked, the brave, thundering tone missing from his voice.

Moondancer thought for a moment. “She’s a follower of Nightmare Moon, named Peace,” she answered. “My friend can tell you more, but she’s going to get herself killed first trying to stop her.” A small untruth could go a long way here.

They looked at one another. “I see,” said the bride. She squinted at Spike. “And who is this foal here?”

Spike grumbled before responding. “I’m Spike,” he said with a huff.

The groom murmured something to his bride and her eyes widened for a moment. “Do you need someone to take care of him?” she asked.

Golden opportunity, Moondancer thought to herself. That was convenient, almost suspiciously so. She nodded. “If you’d be so kind, then yes. I need to stop my friend before it’s too late, but I can’t bring him with me.”

“So it’s true Celestia’s protege has a salamander under her proverbial wing,” the groom commented.

They knew about her already?

The couple murmured again to one another. The bride smiled. “We would be honoured to take care of him,” she stated with a look of conviction in her eyes.

Moondancer motioned with a nudge, not quite touching Spike but making it clear what she wanted him to do. She still had her doubts, but these two seemed like nothing more than an elderly couple now that they weren’t espousing nonsense to the masses. Spike wandered over to them, grumbling all the way. That was a weight off her back.

“Do you intend on helping your friend, or rescuing her?” asked the groom as his wife greeted the little dragon beside him, the mare pawing half-blind to tickle under his chin.

“Rescuing,” Moondancer replied. She had no idea how that might work if it came to an actual fight, of course.

The groom scratched his tuft of a beard with his good hoof. “I would wager the mare who defeated Nightmare Moon wouldn’t need help with a mere subordinate, but that is neither here nor there. If she isn’t brought to justice today, then tomorrow will have to do. Soon we will have both Princesses on our side to fix Rion’s mistakes.”

Princess-es? “Both…?”

They nodded. “Luna is healing,” said the bride. “Once she is ready, she will stand by Her Majesty’s side to set the Moon in motion again, and balance will be restored.”

Moondancer frowned. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. Celestia revealing her true colours had convinced her that Luna was dead; it was the only scenario in which everything made sense. “You’re sure she isn’t already dead?” she asked, as bluntly as ever.

The couple looked surprised. “If our scryers are not blind, then yes,” the groom replied.

The more she considered it the scarier the thought became. The simple act of going from a monarchy to a diarchy alone would have a wide variety of diplomatic ramifications. Then again… that was assuming one of them didn’t become queen. Without a husband, Celestia had remained a princess since before records began, so all Luna would need to do would be to marry the first suitor she found and, just like that, she would outrank her sister and Equestria would be hers. Nightmare Moon had never needed to wage war. That was probably why she only brought a tiny hoofful of loyalists instead of an army. Perhaps getting killed was nothing more than a setback to that sort of mare.

“Sorry,” she offered, “and thanks.” With Spike safely in their care, she just needed to run as fast as she could and locate that stupid, purple idiot of a mare in whatever corner of the city she’d vanished to. She made it a few steps before pointing an accusing hoof at the couple. “Just so you know, please don’t… y’know… tell him any weird religious stories or anything.”

The groom couldn’t help but chuckle past the pain. He murmured something to one of his remaining warriors and they broke rank, taking position beside Moondancer instead.

“Huh? Wait, what’re you doing?”

“Take Skycroft with you,” the groom said. “If it comes to it, then this ‘Peace’ needs to be taught a lesson for her arrogance.” His silver eyes glinted for a moment. “You as well, it seems. You will see Sleipnir’s Hammers are more than worthy of their own collection of tales.”

Moondancer felt a bead of sweat forming, noting the damaged suit of armour being bundled together by a pair of aides behind the couple. “How will they help if she can slice through octite?” she asked.

Another small chuckle. “My armour is only ceremonial. Octite on the surface, greatwood underneath. I’m not strong enough to carry a full suit of it anymore.”

Why was she even complaining at this point? This level of protection was exactly what she needed. Even if the armour proved useless, if this guy was skilled in combat then maybe it would be enough. Maybe she was giving these two a hard time. People are hard to deal with when they don’t believe in logic, the imaginary pegasus on her shoulder commented.

“I’m sorry,” Moondancer offered again. “Thank you for your help.”

“One more thing before you leave,” said the bride. She reached up and removed her red circlet, offering it over with great care. “This is a very special item, forged from a Tear of the Sun and blessed by the Mother Herself. It will help you think creatively for the conflict ahead.”

This felt like a bit much, but she accepted it regardless. She didn’t need trinkets, she needed to get going.

It was only when the circlet touched her hooves that Moondancer felt the immense force emanating from the object. Something within her forehooves shifted, filling with energy and heat as her rarely-used tertiary path responded to the influx of… whatever this feeling was. She watched with fascination as the coat of her ankles began to glow with magical power, the faintest of signs of a rose-coloured stripe or two appearing further up her legs as her aether veins literally shone with power.

Is my head going to light up like this?

“You have such stress in your voice for one so young,” the bride continued. “Perhaps you will have more use for it than I.”

“Th-thanks. I will.”

“Sunspeed,” said the groom.

Moondancer undid her bobble, allowing her mane to fall messy and free, and, with some care, she placed the circlet upon her head. Her mind went blank as the world exploded into colour.

---

In another life, in some alternate world where dragons were all like Spike, this could have been it.

She saw herself at her family’s farm, surrounded by fields of wheat that bristled softly in the wind. The undersides of her hooves glimmered ever so gently as the thoughts of the world flowed through her veins, her will sharing itself with the land. A few years of practice and she would have been an accomplished user of Nature Magic, happily assisting in the growth of the crops alongside her sister. That could have been it. That could have been her.

The feral beast overhead became wreathed in blackness, vanishing from sight.

But she would have never met Twilight if that had happened, never become one of the smartest magicians in Canterlot, never won any spelling bees, never been able to stand head and shoulders above the rest right by her best friend’s side. The other students couldn’t hold a candle to either of them; power and knowledge, the perfect team. Their track record was unassailable and there was no changing that fact.

The mare beside her faded to a blank, white mess, leaving her all on her own.

Moondancer placed her glasses upon the hard wood of her chest, raised a glowing hoof, and smashed them. The visions of fear and anxiety were gone, the thoughts flowing out of one ear and away. Celestia couldn’t scare her anymore. Without hesitation or doubt she placed herself before her protector and started down the road at speed, her singular goal unfettered by any thoughts of whatever grim eventualities were waiting for them.

She could do it now. She was strong enough to make use of her knowledge and rescue Twilight from her rash decision. She was finally strong enough to stand by her side. The circlet made her more powerful than ever, but the presumptive thoughts of being able to go hoof-to-hoof with Peace in the Hammers’ place quickly flowed out of the other ear, setting her mind back on track once more.

Her head - the upper half of which had in fact gained a few glowing stripes - was empty for a change, and it felt surreal. She’d gotten so comfortable having her mind whizz to and fro as a flood of calculations and considerations drowned out everything else. With her doubt and fear draining away, the spells and ideas arrived fully-formed without having to be checked over for accuracy or viability; she simply knew she was right, because she almost always was.

The sound of heavy hooffalls came up beside her as Skycroft matched her pace. According to what she’d read, the Hammers served as Sleipnir’s highest order of acolytes and preachers, rather than his protectors. At least, that was how it had been back whenever that information had been written. These present-day Hammers suited their title far more than a bunch of loudmouthed doomsayers would. Like the others, Skycroft was tall and broad with most of his body hidden beneath armour that was almost a “pearlescent black”, if there was such a thing. Octite held a slight green tint to its blackness, and judging how the light revealed that odd colour at the edges, it was clear the metal had been polished to perfection. These were scarily dedicated ponies.

“So, what are we in for?” Skycroft asked, eyeing her new markings. His coat possessed that bleached white look of a cosmetic enchantment, but a few curls of turquoise-green mane escaped from under his helmet. A black cloak clung to his sides, from beneath which a few feathers protruded along with the end of a belt that wrapped around his torso, carrying a collection of water bottles that clinked as they galloped. Poking out of the back of his neck brace were a pair of hammers, fused to the metal like the handles of a yoke.

The things Twilight had told her about Peace flowed through Moondancer’s mind. She recalled her best friend’s saucer-like eyes on the day she returned to Canterlot and the descriptions of the horrors she’d put herself through in becoming a hero. The struggle against Peace stood out more than the brief encounter with the queen herself, seeing as the former had actually required effort, from what she’d explained.

“Bipedal,” Moondancer responded, her normally abrupt voice gaining a similar calm, silken flow as the bride. “Long, golden mane strong enough to cut through octite. Monstrous arms, I don’t know how strong.”

“Bipedal?”

“That’s what Twilight said. Apparently Nightmare Moon was the same.” Moondancer’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how she’s turned into one of us, but she must have the same abilities as before.”

“There are plenty of ways to transform into other creatures, but the method varies based on species…”

A being like Nightmare Moon probably had a way around that, but she was long gone, Moondancer hoped. If Luna was truly alive, she couldn’t have been in the state to cast such an enchantment. If she was, Celestia would have surely shown herself by now. “She can control her mane from afar, even if it’s cut,” Moondancer continued. “And she could piece it together into shields and simple weapons.”

Skycroft gave a grunt. “Sounds like foreign magic to me, at least, unless it’s purely physical.”

She glanced at him. The stallion sounded younger than she’d expected of a master warrior, but he took in everything she was saying and his words were objective and concise; exactly the kind of pony for the task.

They rounded the corner, heading right in search of the other Hammers, the clean, white slabs of the Terrace Gallery giving way to the usual grey cobbles of Canterlot’s thoroughfares. They passed a number of shops and services related to the various faiths before the bright colours abruptly stopped. In their place rose smooth walls made up of large, black stones dating all the way back to the raising of the city’s great platforms. The buildings looked more like a cliff face, each wall fusing seamlessly with the next, with not a single door in sight.

Skycroft idly watched the empty, rectangular windows pass by as they went. He looked to her. “Is Peace an alien?” he asked suddenly.

I’m sorry, what? The look on Skycroft’s face had turned to one of blunt curiosity, like a child asking why clouds can fly. “Y-… an alien…? What do you mean?” Moondancer asked in return. A stinging sensation of rage bubbled up in her throat, her newfound confidence feeling undercut by the stupid question.

He looked like he’d spotted her expression, but he went ahead and responded anyway like the brick-head he apparently was. “I was wondering about the powers you mentioned. She doesn’t sound like anything on Epona. She’s more like the Mane-iac from those comic books.”

“You’re seriously comparing her to a fictional character?”

His only offering was an awkward smirk. The type one might give a rude child before kicking their hoofball over a fence. “Hear me out. I’m not saying she’s fake or anything, just that we might need another miracle to defeat her, seeing as she’s working under different rules compared to us.”

Another jagged piece of anger entered her lungs. “Defeating Peace is not the priority. Rescuing Twilight is the priority,” Moondancer replied, sternly.

That caught him. “Oh, yes, of course.” He looked unsure of himself for a moment before focusing back on the road ahead.

“I still need to know what your idea was,” Moondancer offered. “I need as many options as possible if we’re going to get through this alive.”

He nodded. “It’s less an idea, more a hypothesis: Lady Sparkle and whoever the other bearers were can’t have beaten Nightmare Moon on their own. That’s why I think Harmony interfered directly.”

More words for names. “Harmony? As in a person?”

“As in the goddess. Harmony is the daughter of the Starlit Union. If her parents are the stars in the sky, then Harmony is the light they cast upon the world, keeping everything in balance.”

Moondancer couldn’t help but cringe. All these years and she had never realised that the Harmony featured in children’s books was meant to be a religious figure. Something about that felt deeply unsettling.

Skycroft flicked his mane in the general direction of the Moon. “Peace must be incredibly powerful to cut through octite, so, just looking at how strong Nightmare Moon was, it’s the only way things make sense: Divine Intervention. No one will like me saying this, but not even Celestia could have done anything against her.”

Twilight hadn’t mentioned anything like that, other than the sensation of limitless power flooding her mind. Was a goddess of balance really the type to turn ponies into magical bombs? She wanted to drill him on whether he thought Sleipnir and Sunflare ever set hoof on the world they’d supposedly made, but the familiar sense of superiority she got when attacking fiction with fact quickly drained away along with the rest of her arrogance.

The circlet suddenly felt heavy upon her brow. She was clear-headed and therefore much more “balanced” than before. She couldn’t help but admit to and even relish in the benefits the item brought, but hearing all of that, she suddenly wasn’t sure about this anymore.

Once again she felt an eight-pronged spear jabbing at the side of her neck, draining her excess fears like a swarm of tiny, religious mosquitos. She grit her teeth. There was no use thinking about this. She needed the circlet if she was to have any chance of saving her friend. Anything less than complete committal would be useless, even if the effects stuck around after taking the accursed thing off.

Turn left, or you’ll be responsible for what happens.

She could’ve sworn she was hearing voices, too. Maybe the circlet left a hole open for Sleipnir’s Bray to leak in and brainwash her from the inside out.

The worry was cast away as they came to a stop, replaced with thoughts of what lay ahead. Moondancer’s mind filled with various spells and escape tactics, each arriving fully formed without any anxiety to slow them down. Before them rose the entrance to Canterlot’s oldest district; Blackwood Close. The black walls came to a very sharp-cornered end before making a mathematically perfect right-angle turn into the gloomy streets. The buildings leaned inward as they rose, reducing the dull, blue sky to a thin strip over their heads as they went in.

“Of course she’d be here,” Skycroft grumbled with a frown. “I wonder what kinds of stories Nightmare Moon told about the War of the Night while she was up there.”

This was a place everyone avoided. As soon as they passed beneath the entrance arch the sounds of Canterlot died off, replaced by an overwhelming silence, as if the fallen were holding their breath. Moondancer had long since learned to leave her logic at the entrance whenever she had to traverse these dark streets. Her grandmother had shared countless nasty little stories and superstitions about Blackwood Close; tales of ponies venturing in and never finding their way out, how the darkness had a herdmind of its own, how the inhabitants still listened and waited for their leader to return and fight by her side once more. Blackwood Close served as a giant graveyard for those who fell while fighting for the wrong side. There were no doors on these houses because no one lived here, the windows left open to the wind, the beds replaced by coffins.

Moondancer’s gaze flitted to and fro. The light looked odd here. Bouncing off of those black bricks tended to give it a strange quality she’d never been able to define, but with moonlight added to the mixture, the grey cobbles gained the paleness of winter and the alleys between the buildings looked darker still. There were places here that went beneath the ground, some serving as ancient maintenance holes for the underside of the city, others leading to tiny, bricked-up rooms containing the remains of Nightmare’s most infamous followers.

She wanted to leave as soon as possible. “I haven’t asked yet; what are you capable of?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m a superiority flyer,” Skycroft replied. His cloak ruffled and rose, the series of feathers visible past the fabric exploding into a pair of the largest wings Moondancer had ever seen. They rose and stretched for a few moments, almost reaching the first floor windows, their bright white plumage breaking cleanly through the gloom of the close, before slowly falling to either side. One hovered over her, large enough to hide most of her body beneath, while the other brushed awkwardly against the opposite wall.

“That’s… one way to put it,” Moondancer commented. His wingspan was comparable to Celestia herself.

“You like ‘em? I do. I once defeated the old captain of the Wonderbolts with these things, though granted she’s a lot older than me,” he explained with pride ripe in his tone.

Normally, Moondancer ate these kinds of arrogant ponies for breakfast, but just this once she made an exception. Skycroft would make for the perfect getaway, and his bragging seemed genuine. With wings like those she had no real reason to doubt him. “And… the bottles?”

He drew the wings back in, then poked at one of his collection. They were all repurposed wine bottles of various brands, their labels removed and occasionally reused to plug them closed. “The key to defeating - or defending ourselves from - Peace.” His wings fluttered and a cool breeze wafted from them. “I can freeze her and her mane in place to give my Brothers an opening.”

“You can use magic?”

He nodded. “Rain would be ideal, but I can make do with what I’ve got.”

It suddenly made sense why he was part of the Hammers. Vapour manipulation came naturally to pegasi. Liquid manipulation was a world of difference. Those who mastered it could literally walk on water or create clouds from nothing but the moisture in the air around them. Combined with his wingspan and supposed speed, Skycroft could probably serve as a miniature weather factory all by himself.

“Any lightning?”

“Nah. Just water and ice.”

“Good enough.”

They continued on. The streets grew dimmer the further they went. The evening Sun was slowly giving up its golden glow to the pale blue of the Moon. Moondancer couldn’t see much from the line of sky above her, but the darkness would be creeping in across the eastern horizon, the colours of sunset looking washed out with the rest of this place. Nighttime was coming; the shades would be out soon.

If ever there was a place to avoid at night, it was Blackwood Close. The constant dead-ends and the occasional pitch black tunnels were perfect for those hiding from the waking world. Despite that fact, the district’s excessive gloom, the constant paranoid feeling of being watched, and her grandmother’s stories, Moondancer had still used it as a shortcut from time to time. The Unscheduled Night had finally changed her mind, to some extent. Moments after the lights went out, the shadows came to life.

“Are you afraid, Moondancer?” asked Skycroft.

She frowned. “What gave you that idea?”

The pegasus motioned to her hooves. Moondancer glanced down and was greeted by the odd, ever so faint sight of her own tail and back legs galloping in the opposite direction. The silhouette’s hooves moved like a thin taffy, appearing to “flow” off her own hooves for a moment before fully disconnecting, then going back again for the next gallop. It never made it an inch, but its message was clear; some large part of her wanted to escape this place.

The “Lunar Shades”, as they had come to be known, were nothing more than what they appeared to be: moving shadows. Speaking their owner’s unspoken thoughts and acting out their unintended movements, they held no real will of their own. They were simply “shadows under a different light” as one of her teachers had put it. The extra projection was ever so slightly lighter in colour, visible as if layered on top of her normal shadow. Perhaps without the circlet she would have listened to the terror rumbling around her head and escaped for real, leaving Twilight to her doom.

She looked back to the road ahead, then frowned. She looked again at her fleeing shadow and realised why it was doing so. There, on the cobbles, was a thread of gold. As thin as a single strand of hair, glinting in what little light managed to reach down here. She quickly held a hoof in front of Skycroft and the pegasus wobbled to a stop.

“She’s here.”

14 - Black and White

It was a miracle they hadn’t stepped on one.

The threads of gold spread through every street and alley like the web of a trapdoor spider, waiting for someone to set hoof upon it and alert Peace to their presence. One thread per path, branching further and thinner to cover as much ground as possible. That, at least, would make it easy to find the center.

Moondancer lit her horn as a spell presented itself. Her output rate still wasn’t enough to lift her own weight, but she had more than enough magic for something like this. Most of the streets were too narrow to rely on Skycroft’s wings, anyway. It would have been easy to go back and over the top instead, but it would be too late by then, and if Peace was being this cautious then she might spot something as large as the pegasus flying overhead. Her eyes glowed as Lodus Oculus activated. The strands of hair running through the neighbouring streets came into view, seeming to phase through the buildings. The threads continued ahead of them, the branching lengths converging and thickening as they went, until everything within several blocks was visible.

For all of Twilight’s wailing about Celestia’s ire concerning the spell, the other unicorn had shared her knowledge years back when another student kept stealing her projects. She’d never been able to handle it without Twilight’s help, though even now the perceptual strain overwhelmed her for a few moments as her focal point split into countless pieces. The branching web of hairs ahead of them became lengths of mane, which met further to become ropes, guiding her eye to what must have been the center of Blackwood Close. The spell faded out before that crucial final point, likely from being spread so thin, but it was enough.

“I can see where she is. Be careful,” Moondancer warned.

Skycroft grumbled something to himself, eyeing the strand that ran between them. He shifted closer to the wall and Moondancer did the same in the opposite direction. “Have you only just spotted that?” he asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“Yes,” she replied as they continued. Don’t get ungrateful with me, you meathead.

“Just wondering how you knew where to go up til now. I wasn’t really thinking about it since you seemed like you were following a trail, or something.”

Moondancer didn’t respond, because she didn’t really know. I guess I was just lucky, she thought.

The road tilted upward slightly, rising over the hump Blackwood Close had been built upon. It was more than likely a massive burial mound or something to that effect, but Moondancer didn’t want to think she was walking over one-thousand-year-old corpses on a day like this. The light of the Moon shone slightly brighter as the gap between the rooftops broadened. The next street was wider, gaining a number of narrow offshoots - perhaps an attempt to recreate a thoroughfare for the dead - the larger structures leaning taller on one side, leading closer to the center of the close.

Sunset was upon them, the light of day giving way to the quiet paleness of night. Canterlot never really slept, but in a place like this that quiet rumbled around in Moondancer’s ears; an alien sensation of absence, as if she’d stepped beyond the precipice of this world and the next without even realising it.

The strand they were following led to a dead end a few turns ahead, the hair rising up and over one of the buildings to join other lengths. They turned down another path and continued. As they went, most of the hairs combined together as usual, but others began to grip the corners of the stonework as if bracing against the walls. Moondancer followed the network ahead of them and saw structures covered in criss-crossing lengths. Not even an actual spider could make it through without being detected.

“This isn’t good,” said Moondancer. “If this keeps up we won’t even be able to get close.”

Skycroft paused for a moment. “You can ride on my back if we need t-”

“No.”

“Alright, alright. It would work, is… all.”

Her vision suddenly filled with feathers, Skycroft frowning at the ground ahead of them. Phasing into view from behind the wing was another length of hair, just in the process of shifting into place. It unfurled like a spool of thread, tapering to its end before appearing to solidify where it lay.

Maybe flying wouldn’t be such a bad idea, but they would need a wider gap in the rooftops first. If they tried to make it through the narrow streets, Peace would likely feel the movement of the air upon her mane and strike anyway. Had Twilight made it all this way, or had she already been caught, or worse…?

As if reading her thoughts, her pegasus protector spoke up as they trod carefully onward, retracting his wing, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Is it important?”

“Not really. I was just curious how you came to know a mare like Twilight Sparkle. She defeated Nightmare Moon, didn’t she? Was she really just a normal mare before then, or was there more to her?”

That’s about ten somethings in one, but alright, Moondancer thought. “You’re just curious?”

He nodded.

“First of all, it was six ponies who defeated Nightmare Moon, not just her,” she responded, recalling the distinctive bright-purple of the magical pillar that split the landbridge apart. “She was… is a very normal pony, even after becoming a hero. There was nothing special about her aside from her power. As for how I met her, we were just students together. We just happened to be in the same class.”

Skycroft looked surprised by that. “Were there no other signs of what she would become? Messages from above, weird dreams, things like that?”

Moondancer raised her eyebrows. This stallion was just as dim-witted as the rest of them. “No, nothing.” She just woke up one day and decided to leave me in the dust. “Twilight cares about books and babies, just like anypony else. She never even wanted to be anyone famous.”

“That’s how it usually goes with heroes,” the pegasus commented. “They start out on a farm and then have to answer the call and complete some big quest or something.”

“That’s stupid fantasy stuff.”

He shrugged and grinned. “That’s where I came from.”

“I didn’t ask.” Moondancer’s own twelve-year hero’s journey would be coming to a close tomorrow or the day after, and she had nothing much to show for it. Keeping the circlet would make for a nice booby prize, if the bride was feeling generous enough. She was stronger than she had been, but her power wasn’t much beyond what one might expect from the simple act of growing up. Twilight was only at the first step of her own journey and she’d already defeated the big, evil monster lurking at the end of it. Assuming Peace was taken out of the picture, Twilight would be free to sit back and enjoy the rest of her cushy life being heralded as a hero who saved the world in a single night.

“Twilight means more to me than I could ever tell her,” Moondancer continued, half under her breath. The shade beneath her hooves had stopped fleeing, now looking straight ahead toward her goal. “She’s the only pony in this stupid city I can really count on, and the only one I really consider a friend.”

“I’m kind of surprised. When I heard the Princess’ prized pupil had a dragon for a pet, I expected her to be somepony more fantastical.”

Please, stop rubbing it in, Moondancer silently begged. She recalled that look of grim determination on her best friend’s face before she galloped after Peace. She glanced back at Skycroft again. She felt like telling him about Celestia, how the princess murdered her and the rest of the class, and that the Twilight they were chasing was some strange mixture between her usual bookworm self and the heroine the faithful desperately wanted her to be. It would be nice to have a total stranger to confide in, but she still wasn’t sure what the truth actually was, whether or not they were the same ponies who walked into that classroom.

“Like I said, Twilight is just a normal pony. She’s not a fighter or anything.”

“Hm. Maybe Harmony did have a role to play, then. Regardless, if my Brothers are here then they’ll protect her. If it comes to it, they can take on somepony of this level with ease.”

“I thought you said we’d need a miracle?”

He hesitated, giving her a look. His perfectly polished armour appeared to shine in the odd light, and his own shade flickered across the curves of its surface. “Hum… I lied,” he responded far too casually. “It’s more that I want another miracle. I want to see if my idea is right, about Harmony joining in. I’ll do my duty and protect you and I’ll do my thing without hesitation if there’s a fight, but a big part of me really wants to see Twilight in action.”

Moondancer didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Is it true she’s from a long line of Octenists?” he inquired, a glint in his eye, his Lunar Shade leaning far closer than his actual body.

“Is that really any of your business?”

He shrugged. “I’m just wondering based on what the seers said. They predicted this whole thing, after all. They said Nightmare Moon was going to return and that a group of ponies would be the ones to defeat her, one of whom would bear an anvil.”

“How could they possibly know any of that?”

Another shrug. “They didn’t say it that directly, obviously. They said ‘The Moon will join hooves with the world. When the sky turns red, the one bearing Sleipnir's Table will arrive’.”

Like most “prophecies” it sounded like imprecise nonsense. “The sky turned black, not red.”

“Purple is kind of a red, from a certain perspective.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Well the seers have never been wrong before, and considering we’re all still alive I’ll choose to trust them for now. They get their visions straight from the Starlit Union, after all.”

“Sure they do.”

“The prophecy is kind of why I’m hopeful about this whole thing,” he continued, motioning to the steel-slicing blades surrounding them. “Peace was never mentioned, so that means she wasn’t important enough, so it would make sense if she’s nowhere near as strong as Nightmare Moon, right?”

“Your point being?”

“Just wondering aloud at this point. Peace came from the Moon with her master, right? So that suggests there were more like her up there, hence why I called her an ‘alien’ before. If we assume the landbridge was actually meant to be a landbridge instead of just a convenient way to get from one place to another, then maybe Nightmare Moon was trying to set the stage for an entire army to come swarming down and destroy everything.”

The thought was terrifying, but irrelevant now that the bridge was gone. Still, perhaps that wouldn’t matter to a mare like Nightmare Moon. They reached another thoroughfare, this one slightly wider yet even darker than the previous one, the gap overhead rendered just as narrow by the monolithic structures that sloped inwards either side of them. All the lengths of hair here seemed to be settled in place, no movement to be seen. They were close now. “Do you think Luna’s still alive?” Moondancer asked.

Skycroft seemed surprised by the question. “I… don’t see a reason not to,” he replied, his large hooves edging between the criss-crossing blades. “Everyone I’ve talked to seems to think so.”

“Do you think she’ll try again?” With the Moon stuck in place, either Luna was dead, or she simply lacked the power to control it. The latter would change with time, and then who knew what would come if she still had the same goals as when she arrived? “Do you think she’ll try to take over if she’s alive?”

Skycroft shook his head. “Harmony purified her. Lord Hammerton said ‘Nightmare Moon’ is gone and done, and that she’s been reverted back to what she was one-thousand years ago.”

How would that even work? Moondancer thought. That sounds more like time travel than what Twilight told me. “So you think she won’t want to take over and take revenge, even after waiting for one-thousand years and building up this hypothetical army?”

He nodded. “Lady Harmony provided Twilight and the other bearers with the power to defeat Nightmare Moon, but that doesn’t necessarily mean killing her. A goddess wouldn’t need to do that when she can just-” He clacked a hoof against the ground. “- do away with all the bad parts.”

“So we’re talking a personality change? Or maybe a case of one-thousand years of experiences being wiped out in an instant. Is that what you’re saying?”

He paused at her tone. “Harmony is the Goddess of Balance. Nightmare Moon was pure evil. She kidnapped the Princess and she was willing to destroy the entire world.” He motioned again to the gap of sky above them. “Even the Moon is stuck in place now, as a consequence of her actions. Spending one-thousand years as a being of pure evil isn’t going to leave much wiggle room when it comes to getting balanced.”

Moondancer felt like pointing out the obvious fact that there was no such thing as pure evil, but that would have been somewhat hypocritical given how she felt about the dragon that had devoured her bovine friends so many years ago. That thing was probably still out there somewhere, rampaging around and taking whatever its mindless self wanted. Regardless of how she felt, Luna was still an alicorn, and as far as Moondancer was concerned, that alone made her a threat.

“It’s easier to think she’s dead. Everything makes more sense that way.”

“Do you have something against the Princess?”

She nearly stepped on one of the lengths as her whole body hesitated. “Why…?”

“No one knows what’s going to happen. Even the seers can only tell so much when it comes to Luna, but we should both hope she’s alive and well, at least, right? The Princess has been missing her sister for a whole millennium. Does she not deserve to see her again, even if you’re afraid?”

Just for a tiny moment, Moondancer felt something twist in her gut. The circlet felt like it was throbbing upon her brow as it tried to tear a yet deeper layer of her arrogance away, but she held onto it tight and didn’t let go. What Celestia had done to her was not just unforgivable; it was an act that exposed the alicorn’s true nature. Perhaps it was the nature of all alicorns, to view ponies as expendable, disposable. Little, short-lived and narrow-minded creatures to take their stress out upon. Nightmare Moon had been the same, and Luna would be as well. She had arrived proclaiming herself “Queen” in spite of not knowing a damn thing about Equestria. There was no reason she wouldn’t be the same after what had happened, unless Harmony truly was the existential nightmare Skycroft worshipped her as, and had somehow fundamentally altered the alicorn’s entire persona.

“Of course she deserves happiness,” Moondancer lied through her teeth. “But Luna’s still going to fuck everything up one way or another.”

“I have faith. Celestia will be there to guide her.”

“And if she marries the first pony she sees and tries to become queen?”

“Then you’ll be calling me Your Majesty, obviously.”

As the light of sunset turned from orange to purple the shadows began to shift. Skycroft’s shade walked with its wings flared, as if to make itself look bigger than it already was. Her own crept forward with the shadow that was its head appearing slightly larger and clearer, as if she was walking with it hung low, keeping herself hidden from view. Her vision was a mess thanks to Lodus Oculus, but even through the scatter she could tell there was something shifting at the edges.

Shadows move slower than hooves. Don’t stop.

The little, rose-coloured stripes on Moondancer’s hooves lit up the cobbles as she went, and the light of her horn and her enchanted eyeballs made her look like a walking torch. It was growing harder to see, but her own light reflected off the blades to guide their way. She could see a shape up ahead now, through the buildings, the focal points gradually coalescing as the spell slowly zeroed in on her goal.

“She looks like she’s just laying there,” said Moondancer. “She’s stretched out like a fur rug.”

“Can you see anyone else?” asked Skycroft.

She shook her head. “I can only see what Lodus Oculus is targeted at. At the very least I don’t see any signs that she’s encountered anyone, so maybe we’re still in the clear.” The strange light of day and night seemed to play with the otherwise geometric shadows, giving them life at the corners of her eyes. It’s just clouds passing in front of the Sun, she reasoned, in spite of the sky being almost devoid of them in this heat.

No they aren’t, spoke that little, inaudible voice in her head.

Something is coming towards us, said the other.

Moondancer felt a chill run down her spine and she stopped, Skycroft nearly walking into her. The line of light cast by the gap between the rooftops wasn’t quivering anymore and the lengths of hair filling her vision weren’t moving.

Something else had tipped her off. A distant noise, almost a skittering, like a very quick set of hooves wearing wooden horseshoes, speeding toward them. Moondancer’s ears swivelled, trying to figure out what the strange acoustics of this place were trying to tell her. She boosted her horn’s aura to cast away more of the gloom, revealing an odd gap between two buildings, barely as wide as her head, and spotted the source of the noise.

“Unicorn?” came a harsh, low voice.

The circlet did nothing to help her this time as she let out a full-throated scream. The pair of red eyes within the gap dilated and backed up, before a quartet of forelimbs reached out to brace against the surrounding walls.

Skycroft jumped a little as well. “Oh, Sleipnir.”

“What the FUCK IS THAT?!” Moondancer yelled, her terror breaking clean through the vocal enchantment.

Her legs moved by themselves but Skycroft blocked her exit with both wings, their tips brushing up against both sides of the narrow street. Behind her, the creature emerged, all eight hooves and a pair of insectoid wings helping it right itself on flat ground. From its helmet rose the crooked horn of a changeling, but this looked nothing like what Moondancer had seen in biology class. Its armour was segmented to match its elongated body, with larger gaps to allow the hard, pitch-black carapace underneath to serve its purpose.

“How’s it goin’, buddy?” asked Skycroft.

One of the wings wrapped around Moondancer’s side and gently pushed her forward, as if expecting her to greet this monstrosity. Her hooves scraped against the ground, her joints locked in place as she awaited some kind of horrifying end, but the seconds passed, her heart beating like a drum, and nothing happened.

“Why is she here?” the creature asked through the octite box connected to the front of its helmet. The voice sounded male, but its neck and - Moondancer slowly released her frozen jaw - legs were lithe like a female’s, and wracked with holes. Perhaps he was emaciated, or the mass had been stretched thin to create the extra limbs.

It’s just a transformation, Moondancer realised. He’s not actually a spider monster, just a freak of a changeling. While his legs were long and thin, his torso was relatively bulky, making his slim neck grow to an almost statuesque base that seemed to prohibit free movement. Rather than twisting, it craned, limiting the movement of his head with his glaringly red eyes doing most of the work. “S-Sleipnir?” Moondancer thought aloud.

“Nick-name,” the changeling responded, his voice slowing the word to a careful droll, as if his tongue had to consider each syllable as it came out. He flicked his eyes to Skycroft, the pupils still tiny within their darker sclera.

“It’s alright, he’s harmless,” Skycroft reassured her. He looked to his partner, who looked about as harmless as an actual giant arachnid. “This is Moondancer. She’s a friend of the mare who went after Peace. She’s here to rescue her.”

Moondancer shifted back as far as she could as Sleipnir leaned down at her, his neck almost creaking with the movement. His eyes narrowed. “Circlet?”

“Lady Gavelline gave it to her,” Skycroft answered. “Lord Hammerton sent me to get her out of here once Nightmare Moon’s ally is defeated.”

“You’re here to help me save Twilight,” Moondancer corrected with a growl.

Skycroft looked down at her with that annoying, cocky grin of his. His shade enveloped hers. “Ms. Sparkle isn’t the one I’m worried about, girl.”

Moondancer shoved his wing away and turned on him. “No! You’re here to save Twilight first, then me, THEN kill Peace!” she yelled. This idiot needed to learn how to listen.

“Send Firebright instead,” Sleipnir suggested, though it sounded more like an accusation.

She could tell by his face that that one hurt, and Moondancer couldn’t help but let a cruel smirk sneak through her fury. Skycroft’s smile only wavered in response, the rest of the pain hidden underneath as his Lunar Shade flared its wings and stomped its two-dimensional hooves. “Firebright can’t fly,” he pointed out, ignoring Moondancer, though the changeling had already turned his attention to the road ahead.

“String?”

The path was clear.

In an instant the deathly silence of Blackwood Close was pierced by a calamitous crash. The sounds of shattering stone and whistling wire filled Moondancer’s ears as the structures around them turned into geometric chunks. Between the pieces, shining golden threads twisted in midair before the light of day was cloaked in stone all over again. Her legs buckled as she bolted and she let out a yell as she felt herself being lifted from her hooves by a quartet of forelimbs. The world spun around her as Lodus Oculus lost sight of its countless targets. The buildings she could make out scattered and fused as her brain tried to make sense of what it was seeing, her focal point coalescing all too slowly for her stomach to handle.

Flashes of gold and the black rocks filling the air played through her vision before she fell back onto solid ground. Her nose bounced off the hard stone floor and she felt her whole body convulse as hot liquid muck made it past her lips, tarnishing the smooth material in bits of wormroot pie and whatever particles of dog hair had made it down her throat. Moondancer shook and tried to stand, but could only hold herself up against a nearby wall. The room was lit from outside, revealing circular patterns covering the black stone that turned it into a richer, blackish-grey, if there ever could be such a thing.

No, that was just her swimming vision. The shadows weren’t moving under her hooves.

With some effort she looked back, legs still shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and disgust, and saw her saviour standing on the edge of what used to be a wall, nothing but open air behind him. Sleipnir was missing two of his extra legs, trading them for another pair of wings. His eyes looked just as alien as before as he stared down at her.

“Wh… what just… happened?” she asked.

“Attacked. Stay here,” he commanded in his low, harsh tone. His wings buzzed and he lifted from his perch.

“Wait… Sleipnir? Where are you…?”

His pupils dilated again and his legs gave a twitch. “Do not call me that.”

She scowled. Just answer my question! Leave whatever petty bullshit you have somewhere else! The opening in the wall and the sky beyond it shifted like a billowing flag in her vision. The ground felt like it was moving, as if she were about to be tossed into that void, or be buried with the war criminals. “D-don’t just leave me here!”

“Peace is found,” the changeling replied. “Stay here.”

“Like hell I will!” Moondancer exclaimed. “Where’s Twilight? What happened to her?!”

His horn flickered red. “Unknown.”

With that, he flew away.

With her legs quaking, Moondancer stumbled to the edge and immediately fell onto her haunches. Blackwood Close was destroyed. The tall, domineering structures now lay in heaps of jagged, black stone, the narrow streets and shifting shadows lost beneath the district’s own bulk. This was why Peace had spread herself so thin and wrapped her tendrils all over the buildings. She hadn’t been intending on chopping them up; Blackwood Close itself had been the trap.

You already knew that, you fool.

She looked to her side, for a moment expecting to see Skycroft’s annoying face, but he wasn’t there. Did he make it out, too?

Was he dead?

We should leave.

She stood again and took another look outside. She spied “Sleipnir” wreathing himself in crimson before disappearing amongst the rubble, the long, segmented tail of a centipede following behind. There was no way to tell where she’d been lifted from but at least there weren’t any glints of gold amongst the ruins. Maybe Twilight had found Peace, or perhaps one of the Hammers had stepped on her tendrils. Moondancer thought back to her momentary freak out over Sleipnir’s appearance, to how her hooves scuffed against the floor in her panic. She was blaming everyone else but it could have easily been her.

I wonder if I just killed my best friend, she thought to herself.

You know she’s stronger than that.

She felt her right shoulder. It must have gotten bruised in the mayhem.

We need to leave.

She felt her left. Maybe it was when she landed on her front. Her forehead was throbbing and everything felt stiff. She was so tired…

“AH!” Her eyelids flipped open and her whole body jolted as something stabbed the base of her neck. “What the hell?” she exclaimed, twisting away from whatever had done it.

“Are you listening yet?” came a new voice from beside her.

The hoof she was using to cover the area received a lesser poke. She shifted it away, glanced to see if there was any damage, and then met the gaze of the tiny figure sitting on her right shoulder.

A few seconds of silence passed. Moondancer frowned at him. “I’m sorry… who and what are you meant to be?”

The tiny pegasus paused. “I don’t have a name,” he responded, helpfully. He was sitting comfortably, a miniature jousting lance resting against one leg.

“Are you a… are you a… toy, or something?”

He shook his head. His coat was a simple white, and it was now that Moondancer noticed the pegasus’ mint-green mane…

A few moments passed before she took a swipe at him, only for her hoof to phase straight through. She stomped it against the floor instead. “L-look, I really don’t have the mental strength left for… whatever this is, so please… go back to wherever you came from.”

“Twilight will die if you stay here,” came another voice.

Oh gods no, please, no. Slowly, Moondancer looked to the other shoulder. Just as she feared, an equally tiny changeling stood there, staring straight ahead at the open sky. What appeared to be an eight-ended candelabra was balanced upon his back. “Can I at least get rid of one of you?” she asked.

The changeling glanced at her. Its tiny, red-pink eyes looked annoyed. “You’ll die without our help,” it replied.

She rubbed her eyes and let out an exhausted groan. Now that she’d stopped moving and her vision was no longer screwing with her brains, she felt ready to lay down and sleep. Today had been a mess from start to finish. In a few minutes she would pick herself up and go help Twilight, assuming that was possible, and then flop into bed, preferably with Twilight reading her a bedtime story or something as payment for all the trouble she’d caused. She didn’t have it in her for magical spirit guides or whatever the hell this was meant to be.

The lance jabbed at her neck again, startling her awake. “Alright, alright! Stop!”

“This is not the time for relaxing! Do something already!”

“Wh-what should I do?! I don’t know what’s happening right now! Where did you come from?”

They both shrugged. “Not from your own magic, that’s for sure,” said the pegasus, fluffing his wings. They were of a much more normal size, relative to his tiny body.

“We can help you, but not how you want us to,” the four-legged changeling replied.

“We’re here because you need us,” the pegasus added.

“And why would I need a pair of magical fairy assistants?”

“Because otherwise you would have gotten lost, and Twilight would die,” the changeling repeated.

He was certainly focused, at least. The odd sound of the tendrils whistling through the air drew her attention, along with the occasional crunch of stone and earth whenever they struck the ground. A great burst of flame travelled along whatever remained of a distant street as the battle began. “Are you saying you’ve been here for a while…?” Moondancer placed a glowing hoof upon her brow, feeling the warm metal of the circlet. “Maybe I should just take this off.”

The feather-like weights of the two pixies faded as she tilted the band of metal up and away from the surface of her coat, only to feel it be snapped back down by a pair of angry mosquitoes.

“Don’t do that, you aren’t strong enough to help Twilight without it!” cried the pegasus.

“You need our help! You can’t see us without this! You’re too weak!” chattered the changeling.

“Be quiet!” Moondancer yelled. Her hoof held to the inside of the ring, but she released it and stomped on the floor again instead.

The pegasus poked her on the cheek. “Don’t act like that will solve anything. You can’t let your arrogance get the better of you now!”

The hoof came right back up. “So you are here because of this thing?”

“The circlet doesn’t affect your mind that way,” said the changeling, landing calmly back in place on her left shoulder. “You know that.”

No I don’t! Moondancer thought. For all she knew, this was all part and parcel of Sleipnir’s Bray, or whatever Sunflare’s equivalent was, sealed within the circlet to drive anypony who wore it insane. She’d be left vulnerable to the trickery of faith, her sense of pride stolen and her perfectly reasonable fears drained.

“You’re deflecting your fear again.”

So she wasn’t even safe in her own thoughts. Deflecting?! There’s way too much to be scared of to accuse me of that! “So you say you aren’t my own power, and you didn’t come from the circlet, either…”

“Celestia,” the pegasus stated simply.

Moondancer mulled the word in her head for a moment before it clicked into place. Once again she recalled the classroom, that look of deep anger on her former mentor’s face before everything was destroyed in a blindingly hot blaze. Her hooves gripped against the smooth stone floor and she felt her jaw going tight. So she really hadn’t come back the same. Yet another point for the “We’re already dead” side.

Celestia must have recreated everyone in the classroom down to the most minute of memories and abilities, barring a few physical differences like Twilight’s injury. The other mare must have been going through something similar. She did seem fidgety while she’d been sat in Meadow View, and the look she got on her face whenever she felt cornered was… unlike herself. That spot between Moondancer’s shoulder blades felt like a lump trying to push its way to the surface, as if her soul was trapped in a body it knew was not its own. “Is… Twilight experiencing something like this?” Moondancer asked.

“She might be,” the pegasus replied. “I can’t tell you something you don’t know.”

“She looked like a different pony back there.”

“She isn’t,” the changeling responded. “It was only her demeanor.”

“Whoever smirked at you in Meadow View, on the other hoof…”

“We should leave. We aren’t wanted here.”

Moondancer glanced at the other side of the room. Everything else looked intact. The walls and floor were unblemished, the empty archway leading to other rooms looked just as sturdy, but the lid of the coffin the room housed looked to have gained a slight gap, beneath which only darkness could be seen.

Only things that I know, huh? Moondancer thought. “If you’ve been here for a while, then why didn’t you warn me about Peace’s mane?”

“We were,” said the changeling. “That’s why you didn’t step on it before you realised you had seen it. You saw it in the corners of your vision, just like you sensed Twilight’s trail at the limits of your own presence.”

So that was how it worked. That was fine. It was still creepy, but it would be useful. “From now on, warn me out loud about that kind of thing. I don’t like being treated like a puppet.”

“We’re part of your own-”

“I know, I get it. I’m just saying.” The patterns on the floor shifted at the corners of her vision, flowing toward the opening.

A magical explosion met her ears and she looked back outside. Golden tendrils emerged from a distant alley, slicing cleanly through the surrounding walls. A flash of magic caught her eye and relief flooded her heart. A lavender unicorn rose into view, though she did so with a pair of feathered wings, and the aura around her horn was the wrong colour: Red, just like Sleipnir’s. The changeling rode in to attack, only for a pair of tendrils to clamp around its wings and drag it back down and out of sight. The mimicry was too good; the shout he released sounded exactly like Twilight’s voice.

“You aren’t strong enough,” the pegasus warned.

He was right, but…

“Twilight will die if you don’t do anything,” the changeling countered.

“I know. Shut up. Both of you.”

What could she contribute here? Or rather, what could Nature Magic do in this scenario? She had never shown any capability for elemental spells before, but perhaps with the added power of the circlet…

Moondancer sat and placed her forehooves together, the ends regaining that odd glow. She felt her thoughts sinking back into balance as her pixie-like friends sapped away at the excess mental strain. Her speciality was plant growth and not much else, and there was nothing more than moss here. It would stand to reason that a creature walking on two legs would have less balance than one using four, so maybe vines to bind or thorns to stagger were an option. Twilight hadn’t mentioned Peace having a tail, though perhaps the hair made up for it. It wouldn’t be much, but it might make a difference.

She felt that gap within her overcome her senses, that excess space in her aether veins that always threatened to slow her down if she didn’t keep pushing herself to ignore it. It was almost as bad as having an empty belly, but at a deeper, more fundamental level than mere hunger. Her horn lit up and the motions of the world around her answered louder than ever before. They were relatively quiet here, she could tell, but whatever tiny forces existed in Blackwood Close flooded the room in response to her presence.

Her mind cleared yet further, her thoughts replaced by the sturdiness of the stone around her and of the gradually fading heat of day on its surfaces. Spirit Magic was “alive” in a sense, made up of countless individual wisps with different personalities and preferences. Likewise, the spirits of the living world could watch and think, but they all spoke with the same voice, their minds flowing seamlessly into one another. Nature Magic required the user to give in to that voice, to feel the overwhelming comfort fill whatever gaps existed within them.

Moondancer had never been a believer in meditative practices. They seemed like an unnecessary use of time that could be better spent studying, practicing, or sleeping, but they were perfect for this kind of thing. She breathed out and imagined the shape she always used; the medal she’d won through attrition. She imagined its lanyard of different greens and the sheen of its metallic surface, the way the fabric shifted in the wind and how the gold split and writhed-

She opened her eyes, then closed them again.

The medal reappeared, but the voice of the world only grew quieter. Why wasn’t it working? She peeked at the glowing stripes that travelled a short distance up her legs. Zebras were masters of Nature Magic, but they didn’t glow. A zebra’s magical network was like an open drain for the voice, lacking any significant amount of resting mana, robbing even zebracorns of basic levitation. Was her network full, instead?

Another explosion, lighting up the black stone in a bright grey. Moondancer looked outside once more and saw a gout of flame spiralling its way through the war-torn street, followed by a swarm of magical constructs being flung in the same direction. The unicorn reappeared over the rooftops - the real one this time - her hooves glowing as she galloped through the air like a tiny purple reindeer and a pale white aura adorning her horn that was larger than her entire body. In her wake rose giant, transparent shield-like structures which her attacker’s lengths seemed to be struggling with. Each slash carved a certain distance through, but none were enough to cleave all the way.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the district as the first shield suddenly broke, then the second, then the third. The shields fell quicker than they rose, and Moondancer watched in horror as Twilight dove back to the ground, soon followed by a rain of gold.

The weaker mare's forehooves pawed at the edge, almost forgetting that there was a multi-storey drop beyond it. Any remaining thoughts of fighting Peace fled from her mind, replaced with the simple hope that her friend would be ok. Her mental list shifted from offense to various means of escape, the power and the sense of pride and freedom that came with it withering as the seconds ticked by.

A flash of purple-white. Twilight reappeared, continuing towards the attacker on glimmering hoof. Moondancer felt the stress pressing upon her. This didn’t need to be happening. They could be at her home right now, reading or something, having a nice time before she left. So what if she felt like apologising or if she felt like beating some sense into Peace? It didn’t matter! There was no reason to apologise for being strong, or for having to punish someone who was trying to end the world. None of it mattered. Not the arguments, not her forgiveness of Celestia, not her own lack of strength.

This newfound power would mean nothing if she couldn’t help. The medal meant nothing compared to the mare she’d defeated to gain it. None of her achievements or dreams would mean anything if Twilight couldn’t be there to see them.

“You are still powerless compared to them.”

“So what?!” Moondancer shouted. “I don’t care about fighting! I just want her to be safe!”

“Then jump.”

“I can’t fly, idiot!”

“You should pay more respect to the dead,” said the miniature mimicry of Skycroft.

Moondancer glanced back and saw something that made her blood curdle. It was small, but it definitely hadn’t been there before. There hadn’t been anything coming out of the coffin. The floor felt damp around her hooves and the air had turned to ice. She could almost see her own breath, even as her heartbeat pushed the blood up into her face.

There were many reasons she avoided this place, Moondancer recalled, and one of them had just been disturbed from its slumber.

“They won’t tolerate us any longer. Jump already!”

She fled into the open air, letting out a scream as she plummeted toward the jagged ruins. Her horn lit up, only for the aura to be ripped away as she landed on something soft and lumpy. Moondancer held on for dear life as upturned sections of wall rose to either side, her flight descending from the sudden weight. She ducked as an intact arch whizzed by overhead, before her saviour skidded to a halt in an open space.

“Where did you come from?!” Skycroft exclaimed, quivering in place. His helmet was missing and a couple of his water bottles had broken, some pieces of one sticking out from between his feathers.

Moondancer slumped onto the ground and took in a few heavy breaths, the world feeling like it was spinning again as she lay there. The sky above had turned a deep violet, soon to be overcome by the purple-black of nighttime. The overbearing heat of summer was gone. How long had they been out today? The mare rubbed her eyes and sat up. Skycroft was staring at her in what could only be bewilderment. His shaking hadn’t been to get her off, it had been from the pain of his injured foreleg, which she had just exacerbated. Blood trickled down from the injury, which looked like it had taken more coat than flesh. The damage was probably internal. If only she’d paid more attention to what Peace had been doing instead of railing against Skycroft and freaking out at Sleipnir, then she would have been able to warn them, and maybe avoid wasting time stuck in an open tomb.

Moondancer pulled herself up. “S-sorry,” she responded quickly.

Skycroft looked like he wanted to pursue the point, but he merely grunted. “Are you alright, at least? I could take you out of here if you want?”

She brushed the dust off of her front and realised her shoulders were vacant again. “N-no, it’s fine. I need to see if my friend’s ok.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Moondancer shouted. She shut her mouth, her anger quickly cooling as she realised what she was doing wrong. “W-whatever. Sorry. Thank you for saving me,” she added. He deserved better for putting up with her.

Skycroft nodded, oddly unshaken. “S’ alright. I can imagine how worried you must be for her.” Without a word he lowered his injured wing, tilting himself slightly to let her back on. She hadn’t ridden another pony since she was a filly, but she took the offer anyway. “I had a friend like that once. I went halfway across Equestria for her, but it turned out she’d started a new life without me.”

She hadn’t asked, but it was nice to know he cared. “Is your wing ok?”

“I’m more worried about my leg. I’m just glad it isn’t my praying hoof!” he responded with a laugh.

Far ahead of them, Twilight galloped back into view. The creature that was Peace rose with her, a mere four lengths of mane holding her up as the rest made chase, her single fur-covered hand and her sharp teeth clenching in rage while the remains of her equine disguise flapped grotesquely beneath her. The Hammer raised both wings, the shards of glass glinting in the fading sunlight, and he set off to battle with Moondancer in tow.

15 - Maredusa

She didn’t know what had pushed her into the woods that night. Had it been fear over what might become of the world if she didn’t do something? Had it been a sense of do-goodery that prevented her from simply running the other way? Had it been some stupid, childish want for adventure in her otherwise horrendously mundane life?

No.

When she’d been hanging onto the cliff, she’d considered simply levitating herself to safety. When they passed through the mourning manticore’s territory, Twilight shielded the group from its enraged pride. When the lonely ents gave way to the crueller plants of the Everfree, Twilight had taken the lead, tearing apart every vine and sweeping the thorns from the ground before them. Until Rarity had given up her tail for the wayward sea dragon, Twilight eagerly suggested a spell to create their own landbridge over the raging river. By the time Peace appeared, Twilight felt ready to go on the offensive, had Rainbow Dash not taken issue with how much she was starting to enjoy herself.

It would have been exhilarating.

In a flash she was separated from her friends and offered the world and more for her loyalty, but that wouldn’t have been right. It would have been the wrong kind of ending. After all of this, after being able to actually use her arsenal of spells and feel genuine terror for once in her life, to accept the nightmarish equivalent of an office job and an increase in power she didn’t need would have been a waste. Twilight Sparkle wanted to win her way.

And so, when that dark mare placed the blade against her neck, drew blood as the edge caught against her chin, and demanded subservience, Twilight could only smile and look away.

“My friends will be here soon,” she’d said. She didn’t need friends. Not this time, at least.

“They will find a corpse,” Nightmare Moon replied. “You may have made it past Peace, but I will not show mercy to those who threaten my rule.”

“Twiliiiight?!” came a shrill yell from the stairwell.

“Are ya here, girl?”

“There! Oh my goodness!”

The stallion standing by Nightmare Moon’s side drew his bow, a quintet of magical arrows lining themselves along the glowing string. He looked to her, a piece of the manticore’s mane draping from beneath his mask and the little, glowing orb hanging off his belt making a soft jingle as he moved. “Shall I?”

The nightmare chuckled. “No. Let them come. If this is the best my sister has to offer, then so be it. I will give them a fair fight, no matter how quick it may be.”

“The Black Rabbit is so merciful.”

It wasn’t even a fight. Nightmare Moon had taken her stance, sword held aloft, before the room lit up with all the colours of the rainbow. Moments later, she was dead. Peace held her corpse in her beastly arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, turning her slender face into an ugly mess of reds and pinks. The stallion stood over them both, looking down in complete silence at what had become of his Queen.

So did Celestia. She’d broken from her prison too late to help, but that was ok. Twilight and her new friends had already put an end to the threat.

Had Nightmare Moon died from a desperate last-ditch effort to bring her down? Had she been slain by a group of heroes committed to doing what was right? Had she made a single mistake?

No.

As the bright lights of balance faded and the noise in her head settled down, Twilight Sparkle found her answer. It filled her horn and her limbs, the very air around her and the stonework of the castle floor. It filled her mind with visions of lifting mountains and parting oceans, of flying to the Moon and back, of being a goddess in the flesh.

The answer was freedom, nothing more, nothing less. The adventure had been terrifyingly exciting; every dip and fall, every close call, every obstacle only made her more eager to even out the odds between her group of friends and their impossibly powerful adversary. When that time finally came, Twilight hadn’t felt a sense of justice, she had felt an excuse. Nightmare Moon had died of happenstance, of provoking the wrong mare into action.

Twilight’s smile wavered as her gaze settled on Peace’s distraught, sobbing form. She was an enemy, too. Even if she had let them across the ravine, that didn’t mean she wasn’t Nightmare Moon’s ally. As for the stallion, he was just some gleeful jester who’d dangled Celestia’s prison in front of them on his way into the castle. He deserved this.

What a psychotic little fool she was.

-----

Twilight’s hooves slid against the smooth stone surface as she regained her balance. She squinted as her gaze passed across the sunset and blinked the feeling of cold from her eyelids. She didn’t know how she’d gotten to her current standing, but by the looks of it, she hadn’t lost anything in the collapse. The strange sensation running through her body was slowly fading, leaving her with the beginnings of a nightly chill and an empty space beneath her hooves.

It had happened so fast. Her brief conversation with Peace had reached a stressful moment of quiet, and the moment after, her vision filled with gold as the walls came crashing down upon them both. Twilight caught a cough on its way out. Her frail bookworm body was still trapped in fight-or-flight mode, her throat trying to tense itself closed. She now stood atop an overturned wall, balancing precariously on a diagonal corner, her lunar shade nowhere to be found. From here she could see the last few pieces of black stone falling away and crumbling into the streets, the white brickwork and colourful rooftops of the rest of Canterlot coming back into view in the distance.

What sounded almost akin to a blade against a grind wheel rose in volume as Twilight’s adversary dug her way to the surface. With a small eruption of stone chunks, a few tendrils of gold pierced through the last layer, followed by a large, clawed hand covered in orange-brown hair. The rest of Peace’s body came soon after, her mane cleaving away at the hole for an easier ascent. After several meters worth of glimmering steel her face finally emerged, the pale blue eyes of her pony disguise abandoned for the striking gold Twilight remembered so well.

The remains of sunset framed her body as she rose, while the moonlight reflected off of her mane and danced across her pale skin like light upon the water. This was the bipedal form Twilight had seen as she and the others reached the rope bridge; the tall mare had looked more like a ghost at first sight.

Calling her a “mare” may have been the wrong way to describe it; Peace’s true form wasn’t even remotely equine. What little of her could be called a pony was currently hanging limp and disgusting like a drenched wetsuit from her hips, the inside of the disguise coated with a soft, white interior covered in strange symbols. Peace dug her right arm into where the suit met her skin, pulling it away a little more, her other limb moving directionless past its ruined shoulder. Everything beyond it was missing, Twilight was surprised to see. The wound was mostly healed, but it was still an ugly, reddish splotch against her otherwise perfect surface. It must have been lost when the landbridge collapsed.

Twilight felt her body tense again as the waves of gold began to move. Expecting an attack, she watched as the lengths wound and twisted around Peace instead. The mare closed her eyes, her lone hand coming up to hold the side of her head as if she were standing in a shower, apparently unconcerned with her enemy being so close. Most of her hair remained behind her head, curving and tying into a similar arrangement of decorative loops and sharp ends as her disguise, with the addition of what resembled a pair of ram horns either side of a makeshift circlet which pretended to hold the mane in place.

The rest travelled down her form, criss-crossing over her front and back to hide her bareness. Her torso only possessed two bumps; she wasn’t a hairless dog, then, either. One collection formed a tight brace around her chest, leaving her belly exposed and going under the arms, one side branching away to bandage the end of her missing forearm. Another wrapped around the equine disguise, holding it against her waist like a belt. With an odd sound - a mixture between tearing fabric and a magical pop - Peace’s legs phased through those of her disguise. Gaining an extra foot and a half, she was now more than double Twilight’s height. She balanced without issue on a pair of slender, five-toed feet, lacking the tail and wings of a dragon.

She looked upon Twilight once the display was complete, her dull eyes showing no gratitude or expectation for her enemy’s patience. Her mixture of parts may have landed her in the stange realms of the draconequus, but she hadn’t shown any odd abilities beyond her prehensile mane. She was magicless, yet so utterly different. She was an alien.

Beyond her strange appearance and her otherworldly origins, there was something else that felt truly foreign about her. Something about Peace just didn’t belong. Her mere presence exuded a feeling that flooded from her lidded eyes, her closed mouth, and in some way, her hair, too. It was as if her entire being was speaking at once, and its voice held an indescribably deep anger.

A small part of Twilight was busy yelling at her to run; that little bit of Moondancer in her head shouting “I told you so!” and that this situation was already well beyond salvaging. She rubbed her right shoulder; it was going to bruise like a rotten apple, assuming it wasn’t outright broken from having a solid stone wall fall against her. It had all happened so fast she wasn’t sure how she’d avoided being crushed. Now that apologising had been thrown out of the window, that only left running or fighting, and she couldn’t let what had become of the close happen to the rest of Canterlot.

But before that, long before that, one more try. Just one more. “Peace, please…” Twilight began, carefully. “Whatever you’re trying to do here, please don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Peace asked in her youthful slur.

Twilight’s brow twitched. What? What do you mean what do I mean? There were a dozen answers to that question, every single one of which Peace should have known. “What do you… mean?”

The tall mare frowned in confusion. Some lengths of gold unravelled themselves, preparing to attack. “This will be a duel,” she stated, bluntly, abandoning the topic.

“What? W-wait, that’s not what I came here for!”

Peace pointed a single blade at Twilight’s cheek, at the tiny cut she’d given her in greeting. “You accepted my challenge. I won’t let you back away now.”

Oh no, she’s clueless! Twilight thought, right before the reality of the situation hit her like a train. She felt the cut. Oh god, I’m clueless! The pain was greatly overshadowed by her throbbing shoulder so she had almost forgotten about it, but it was now clear what the cut represented: Like the slap of a horseshoe across the face, it was a challenge, and she had accepted it without hesitation. In spite of everything she’d been hoping for and in spite of everything she’d tried to say to the strange mare, Twilight had doomed herself to fail by not simply healing the damn thing first.

The sound of metal crunching around stone was immediately followed by Twilight’s vision going black as a dark mass of stone came flying toward her. Her hooves moved before she knew it and the section of broken wall crashed into the ruins behind her. She leapt out of view, feeling Peace’s eyes on the back of her head all the while. Her hooves scuffed along the slanted landing and she yelled as her shoulder flared up, jolting the leg out from under her as she went. She met a vertical wall next, frantically scrambling to get her bearings against the slant to keep herself moving. The golden blades whistled through the air not too far behind.

Twilight scuffed her way along the angular trough, eyes scanning for another route that would let her escape. She hadn’t truly known what to expect, but this, all of this, was too much. There was no need for this show of force when they could have at least spoken to one another first. Peace had lain there like a tiger skin rug at a dingy dead-end, mane stretched out in every direction. Twilight said what she came to, but Peace hadn’t said a word. She’d just turned her head, the false skin of her pony neck crimping like thick fabric, and then her mane returned, bringing half the district down upon them both. It was all so unreasonable.

“Come out,” Peace commanded calmly. Her body floated along with her hair acting as countless legs, her real limbs hanging purposeless in the midst of the strange display.

Twilight ducked in place as another section of wall crashed nearby, far too close for comfort. Maybe if she just stayed put then Peace wouldn’t find her; without the elements she was way out of her depth anyway. The image of Rainbow Dash’s bleeding body came to mind, after those golden bandages had tried to tear her to shreds. That had only been a few small lengths of severed hair. Twilight shuddered to think what Peace would be capable of should she get a hold of her. It wouldn’t be a painless death.

She spared an upward glance as a shadow fell upon her.

“Found you.”

Her horn sparked to life, emitting a transparent, purple shield over herself. Barely an instant later it was filled with blades, cracks running between each as the pale aura around Twilight’s horn pulsed. Another burst of power fused the cracks back together and the shield grew in kind, pushing away at the attacks. More joined in to push the barrier right up against its caster, slashing and stabbing against the surface.

A flight of terror rushed through her mind as she felt a cold wall of stone gently press against the back of her head. Peace continued, unrelenting, her eyes wide through the splintering shield. A small part of her had hoped Peace wasn’t really trying to kill her; it was clear she and her allies were much tougher than ponies, so maybe surviving the landbridge’s collapse was a reasonable thing to expect back on the Moon. The look in her eyes made it clear that there’d been no hope of making up in the first place, at least not in the way Twilight had presented it.

The pressure began to build, the sounds of clashing steel clamouring inside her ears. This isn’t working! I’m going to die! Twilight’s mind screamed. The crevasse she’d slid against already made it difficult to move, and her shield was now touching the tip of her horn, the spot of contact starting to fade back into her aether veins against her will. “S-stop!” she cried. “Please, stop!”

Again her horn’s light grew and the chill of Spirit Magic flushed her cheeks. It didn’t matter what the payment would be if she was going to die here. The shield grew once more, glowing brighter and enveloping her from head to hoof, its shape locking it in place against the trough she lay in as threads of silver magic spread through it. Peace didn’t pause. As her blades continued to strike, Twilight spied a few starting to curl together into a ringlet that would spell her doom.

She finally stood, the shield rising to push back against the onslaught, her wounded shoulder burning under the pressure, and she ran out from under her defense and away. In the midst of her terror her ears picked up the sound of metal scraping against stone as the spring-like weapon followed her a ways before losing its intended tension.

Think, Twilight! her mind yelled, the carefully organised lists and folders of her mental map trying to reconfigure themselves to keep up with the pace. What can I do to restrain her? Is there a way to cut through her mane?

As if on cue, several flashes of gold at the corner of her vision preceded a nearby wall bursting into pieces, revealing a net of thin hairs flowing toward her. Twilight lit her horn once more only for the net to give way to a collection of stabbing points, pushing the shield against her and knocking the air from her lungs. Peace emerged from the hole, her mane extending onwards and upwards, taking Twilight with it high above the ruins.

Her chest burned from the strain, the ever so slight sting of her cheek somehow making itself known past everything else. Peace, please. Just let me go, I don’t want to fight you!

All she could do was defend. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her.

Twilight’s hooves lit up as she cast Rudolf’s Run, the spell that had saved her from stepping on any of Peace’s hairs. Immediately she felt the force of gravity fade and the sensation of air rushing past her slow as her hooves found an invisible surface to anchor themselves to. Her magical aura disconnected from her shield and she slid past it into midair, Peace’s tendrils following it a ways before retracting back to the ground.

Steady yourself, keep your distance, then try to restrain her, she told herself, regaining her breath. Multiple shields might help, but I need to find a way to stop her from moving, otherwise I’m dead. Her hooves wobbled beneath her. Rudolf’s Run wasn’t quite cloud-walking. It was an odd spell that tied one’s movements to the wind, mainly used by the pegasi maintaining Canterlot’s underside. On a day like this with only a whisper of a breeze, one could travel as they wished, so long as they had enough magic to pour into each step and a clear enough head not to send themselves floating higher and higher.

Peace watched from below, looking calm beyond her furrowed brow. Perhaps the spell could be cast on her to leave her disoriented? No, she’d just attack indiscriminately. Twilight had enough power to force Peace onto her strange, front-facing knees, but her main body wasn’t the issue. There must be something. There’s a spell for everything!

Peace’s mane cut her thinking short as tendrils swarmed into the air after her, a few others grappling onto the nearby ruins to lift her body higher. The glow of Twilight’s horn grew brighter and a trio of shields appeared before her, taking the opportunity to grow larger than her previous attempts before the blades reached them. Twilight swayed in midair as they struck, her hooves struggling to keep her upright and her shields once again starting to push against their caster. Sure enough, however, they were stronger in numbers, and the distance stole some of the attack’s momentum.

This is my chance! Twilight thought. She enveloped the strands in her magic and pulled, testing her strength against her foe’s. The blades resisted for a moment, the pressure on the shields fading… before they flowed effortlessly out of the field and past all of Twilight’s defenses. The colour drained from her face as she felt cold metal slowly looping around one of her legs, and as her spell faded from her hooves she realised her miscalculation.

The landing was rough. A bed of levitation saved her life, but Twilight knew something was broken. It had to have been. She opened her eyes to blurred vision, an overwhelming feeling of sickness flowing down her face. She lay against the hard stone, all four hooves intact and twitching as she tried to make sense of what was going on, before a large, reflective blade filled her vision.

“You lose,” spoke Peace. From here she looked even taller, the unmistakable gold of her eyes visible through the fuzz and the white sphere that was the Moon framing her face.

Twilight brought a hoof up to rub her eyes. She tried to stand, but found her back legs tied in a bundle of locks. Am I about to die? she wondered. “Please don’t.” I never wanted any of this.

The mare let out a little cry as she was yanked up off the ground by a length wrapped around her horn. She could feel more blades around her; two against her neck, another for each limb, ready to hack her to pieces. “I won’t kill you,” Peace said, “but I want my reward. You took my arm, so I want one of yours.”

“O-oh…” Oh gods, no. “I-is that… all?”

“Do you want to die with your honour, instead? I can do that, too.”

No, please. Twilight tried to move her body, but the will was draining out of her. Don’t let her do this to you. What happened to Nightmare Moon was an accident! “Are you… going to hurt anypony else?” she asked.

“I won’t. I know you aren’t all powerful, so your kind isn’t a threat to my Queen.” The tendril around her horn tightened. “I could take this, instead. Choose.”

No. Anything but that.

“No.”

“Choose!” Peace shouted suddenly, giving the unicorn a shake, the fur of her bear-like arm bristling. The slender features of her face descended into a raging scowl that filled Twilight with dread.

You idiot, I meant my horn! Don’t take my horn! Twilight opened her mouth to respond, her tongue hesitating. “No, n-not the horn. Please not my horn.” She felt the blades come to a rest against her shoulders and haunches.

“Choose.”

She clammed up, her lip quivering. Once again, the image of Peace holding her fallen queen played in her mind. She deserved this. She definitely deserved this, but she didn’t want it. For all her apologetic prose and desperate admissions of guilt, Twilight wasn’t enough of a mare to take her punishment laying down.

“I…” she began, wondering how long she could delay the inevitable, “I didn’t want to fight you. I didn’t want any of this. I-I just wanted to talk, and l-let you know how much I hoped Luna was ok.” I don’t know if I’ll be able to live with myself if I can’t do at least that much.

“So you can finish her off?” Peace accused, sullenly.

“No. No!” Twilight’s brow furrowed, the fear giving way to something worse. “Why don’t you get it?!” the unicorn spat. She levelled Peace with a pair of sour eyes. “I don’t want to fight you, so why the buck are we fighting?! For some stupid revenge?”

The blades went still, and Twilight felt the freezing cold of the Spirit Layer flood through her body.

“No, I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean it was stupid!”

Peace’s anger seemed to soften, her eyes gaining a sense of exhaustion as their marigold glimmer faded. “My Queen said not to kill you, but…” Her lone arm reached out, its giant, orange-brown claws wrapping around Twilight’s forehead. “I… can’t. I want to kill you so much. If you hadn’t been there, none of this would have happened. If you had joined her, she would have only killed the others. I-if I-” Her face tightened again, her lips almost forming a pout as her eyes glazed over with tears. “If I hadn’t shown you mercy back then, the Black Rabbit could have won. I’m not worthy of her rule. She should have left me behind.”

The claws began to squeeze. “P-please don’t! I’m sorry! I-I only wanted to make things right!”

“Hoooe,” Peace breathed, a tiny, almost humoured smile appearing on her face. “I can finally fix this.”

“STOP!”

Something snapped, but it wasn’t her skull.

The hair wrapping around Twilight’s horn shimmered as a tendril of energy rushed along it, its grip loosening and its metallic sheen going with it. Peace released the mare’s forehead, pulling her arm back in surprise as Twilight flumped to the ground. The tendril fell slack and lifeless to the floor, but the rest closed in. Once again, the aura jumped from Twilight’s horn. Peace’s blades had barely broken the skin before they, too, lost their strength and went limp.

Peace stepped back, unravelling her adversary’s back legs, her clawed fist slowly clenching as the seconds ticked by. “What happened? What did you do?!” she demanded.

Twilight didn’t have an answer, but she knew she had the upper hoof. Confusion was a dangerous state for Peace to be in, but it was better than what had come before it. With her joints aching and bruised, Twilight stood. Aside from the aura of Spirit Magic around her horn she felt warm. More than the fading heat of the day, the warmth came from within, flowing through her body and leaking from her cuts and bruises; a shield, enveloping her like a hug from her mother to keep her safe through the dark winter nights.

Another blade, aimed straight at her head. Another disorganised burst of magic, and it flicked her harmlessly between the eyes. The affected lengths now hung from Peace’s scalp, lacking the distinctive sheen that had made them look so terrifyingly beautiful, their normally uniform edges scattering into individual hairs as they met the floor.

“You lost,” Peace stated, her normally flat tone a dark storm of anger. “Give me a leg, or I’ll tear it off with my bare hands!”

The irony of the statement didn’t seem to click. “No,” Twilight replied, firmly. “Why should I when I never wanted to fight you in the first place? I don’t know what life was like wherever you came from, but killing and maiming each other isn’t how we settle things here. We talk things out and come to a peaceful agreement, like I was trying to do before you decided to start assaulting ponies and destroying things!”

The scowl on the alien’s face finally grew deep enough to reveal hints of age and the faintest signs of wounds long gone. “Hypocrite,” she seethed.

Peace’s entire mane unravelled from its decorative display, the loops shrinking and the fake circlet vanishing into the mass of gold. The threads making up the ram horns grew to frame her head while the rest extended behind her, becoming a wall of sharp edges. The surface twisted and the lengths retracted once more, flowing together to form a number of much larger weapons. Rather than blades, they were true swords and the heads of giant spears; simplistic in shape but no less terrifying to see.

Peace smiled, finally baring her fangs, and let out a quiet, wheezing laugh, “Hoooe-hoe-hooe. Nightmare have mercy, I’m going to enjoy thi-”

Through the last reddish-purple flickers of sunset, something moved. The light danced across its form just as it did Peace’s weapons, revealing an equine shape wreathed in empty air. The figure had already landed a blow to the tall mare’s chin before she could attack, and Twilight let out a yelp of surprise as she was lifted from her hooves and up. Peace steadied herself with her locks, her limbs hanging uselessly while her bruised mouth curled into a dissatisfied frown. Mere moments passed before the entire scene was engulfed in a plume of flames, but the scream that echoed from within was one of fury, not pain.

16 - The Matter of the Mountain

The plume passed and the shadows returned, and the sound of steel-against-steel began. The ruins of Blackwood Close passed below them at a steadily increasing speed, but the tall mare’s enraged screams still reached her.

Twilight looked up at her saviour. “Urm, e-excuse me…?” she greeted.

“No need for thanks, ma’am. I’ll take you to safety,” the stallion replied. The last vestiges of the invisibility spell flowed up his body and receded into the sharp, curved horn adorning his equally sharp-edged face. He was a changeling, Twilight was surprised to see, wearing a suit of black armour that glinted an ever-so-slight green in the moonlight. He glanced down at her. His pupils were narrow but soft, and were a deep scarlet.

His armour wasn’t that of the Royal Guard or the City Vigil, she was sure. “Can you take me back?” Twilight asked, giving a test wiggle and feeling the changeling’s legs hold her tighter. “I appreciate the thought, but I was kind of in the middle of something.”

He furrowed his brow, the defined edges of his light-grey face turning the simple movement into what looked like a scowl. He looked back, the sounds of clashing steel and the occasional scream pierced easily through the air. “That’s not an option, ma’am. I’ll be dropping you off outside the district where it’s safe.”

Outside the district…? Twilight looked beyond the wrecked streets, then up as a number of fluttering figures caught her eye. Some were guards, others vigil, but most were civilians, coming to see what had caused all the noise. “Wait,” she said, a flash of horror running through her mind as she foresaw the line of ponies being swept from the air. She gripped the forelegs that were wrapped around her front. “Wait, don’t bring me towards them!”

“Please don’t struggle,” said the changeling, sternly. “You don’t want to fall.”

She had to go back. She might die, but if Peace couldn’t find her then she would rampage through the streets until she did. Judging by the distant screams of rage, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think she might tear down every home and business she came across looking for her target. “You don’t understand!” Twilight cried. “She’s after me! She’ll follow me out of here!”

“Please, calm down!” he commanded, his flight dipping and rising as he tried to keep her steady. “That creature isn’t targeting just you. It attacked the Newlyweds beforehoof, so please, let my Brothers and I handle this.”

Oh. This guy was one of the warriors who’d charged after Peace. The Hammers were Sleipnir’s defenders of the faith, so of course they would join in. Peace would be enemy number one to these ponies for what she did. Twilight had no real concept of how powerful they were, however, so her goal remained unchanged. She wriggled more, using her softer coat to twist against the smooth metal of the changeling’s leg plates. He grumbled something under his breath, his grip only growing uncomfortably tight.

“You need to let me go,” she said, more calmly. “I can do this on my own.”

He ignored her this time.

Fine.

Doing this would definitely be a violation or two of the law, but this was an emergency and he was getting in the way. Twilight lit her horn and forced the changeling’s legs straight, slipping from his grip and down. “H-hey! What’re you doing?!” he yelled after her. The wind rushed past her ears as she fell, but moments after her hooves regained their glow, she heard the flittering buzz of his insectoid wings descending toward her.

Something was definitely broken or twisted in her legs, judging by the jolt of pain that ran through each as they instinctively tensed for the landing. Rudolf’s Run spared her the impact and she eased herself forward with levitation, aiming back toward the battle. A weight suddenly enveloped her thoughts. Her hooves graced the ground as her focus swayed, and she felt the changeling’s hooves wrapping around her again, pulling her away once more. No… stop… idiot…

“I’m very sorry, ma’am, but you aren’t leaving me much choice,” said the changeling, his horn crackling with a bright red aura.

Calm. Calm, said her thoughts. No. Be safe. Safety… calm… peace… The red magic looked pretty as it reflected off of her annoying saviour’s armour. Twilight looked back, her eyes feeling sluggish as her thoughts slowed. The glinting of the moonlight looked even nicer, twisting and shimmering in the midst of another plume of heat. Red and gold. Blades drenched in blood.

Something clicked and her senses returned, legs kicking and a yell of horror emerging from her throat. The buzzing increased in volume as the changeling sped up. The ruins beneath them were abruptly replaced by intact black monoliths, beyond which Canterlot proper would soon begin. The presence in her mind redoubled its efforts, and with her fear reaching a boiling point, her horn exploded with power.

Twilight wasn’t sure what happened next. Her entire body felt like it was stuck in place, the air rushing past her faster than she’d ever experienced, dragging her limbs and tail behind while her head pulled further and further forwards. She careened in place like a bullet frozen in time, the changeling’s grip replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pressure from every direction, as if she were being forced through a tiny hole in space around which the world flowed. She was being stretched apart, a blazing inferno of icy white magic blooming from the crack inside her forehead and blinding her as she went.

The next thing she knew she was back on solid ground, limbs and tail intact, but with an odd feeling of disconnectedness around the base of her neck. Her hoof shook as it rose, the pressure gone but the temperature of wherever she’d just been sticking to her skin. She felt the affected area: Nothing. Just her imagination. With juddering movements and a gasp of air to ease her frozen lungs, Twilight took stock of her surroundings. She now stood in one of the wider thoroughfares toward the lower end of the close, most of the road still visible between the piles of collapsed walls. From ahead came the clashes of metal, while in the distance off to the side, the changeling who’d mistaken her for a civilian was flitting to and fro trying to figure out where she’d gone.

“D-d-did I… j-just…?” It was odd; teleportation was meant to be warm, according to what she’d read. The light adorning her horn caught her eye and she slowly looked up. The aura was almost as big as her now, and a whole fleet of tiny white sparks called it home as they spiralled her horn. It seemed using the Spirit Layer for transport would take a long time to pay off. She recalled the looks on Spike and Moondancer’s faces when they begged her not to go. How much further can I get with this much magic? she wondered. She didn’t feel tired yet, but that was only because the spiritual payments hadn’t come due. Any more than this, she supposed, and she would begin to feel the drain. Spirit Magic is off the table, she decided, as if that hadn’t already been the case.

With her legs begging her to stop, she set off, her ears staying alert as the scene of the fight disappeared behind the ruins. The overturned walls blocked the moonlight, though the light of her horn was more than enough to penetrate the gloom. Whatever spell she’d used before seemed to be effective in disabling Peace’s attacks, but maybe those new weapons of hers would be enough to resist it. She tried to recall the magical process that had led to it, but she only remembered the horrid sensation of pressure around her head, trying to break her skull into pieces. The spell had been similar in nature to her shields, she could tell, but somehow “internal”, and it had allowed her magic to travel along Peace’s mane like a conduit.

The sounds of the fight grew close. Passing an overturned coffin, she noted there was nothing inside. She wondered what the spirits would think of having such a rude awakening, though the containers were likely just symbolic. Taking another glance at her hooves she realised her shadow’s pale twin had returned, the shade cast against a nearby wall by the occasional gap in the crypts. Its limbs stayed perfectly motionless as she walked, the hooves appearing to “flow” to stay connected to her physical ones. Where have you been? she wondered.

The occasional orange glow that had led her way had stopped and the sounds of clashing steel were coming to a gradual end. Had that changeling’s allies already defeated Peace, or had she killed them? The sky came back into view as she reached what was once the largest open area in Blackwood Close; its lone plaza. At the source of the flames lay nothing more than a pile of faded orange stones from which the magic had been drawn, the caster nowhere to be seen. Risking the lingering aura giving away her position, Twilight peeked around the corner to see Peace standing at the other side of the plaza. In her clawed grip she held a struggling stallion who bore the same armour as the changeling over his pure white coat, though this one’s suit looked a lot heavier.

Still, the tall mare held him without visible effort, her new weapons hanging unused by her sides while loose hairs flowed slowly around her general area. The stallion had little in the way of injuries, Twilight was relieved to see, but this situation was not good; Peace had a hostage now, and Twilight wasn’t sure she could keep herself hidden under that kind of pressure.

Revealing herself meant revealing her nature as the Element of Magic; the hero who saved the world. That fact still hadn’t quite settled in for Twilight, but she knew others were far more eager to recognise it, if the comments of her former classmates and the ponies of Ponyville, post-Night, had been anything to go by. There would be no going back, no chance to return to that nice, quiet life she’d enjoyed so much, no chance to visit anywhere without being recognised and depended upon.

She was just being selfish, she knew, so with a hesitant breath, she moved a hoof into the moonlight-

Are you an Octenist, perhaps? spoke her thoughts.

Twilight frowned and turned to see her would-be saviour looking back with a very patient look on his face. He must have seen the giant ball of energy stuck to her horn. His own was aflame with bright red magic again, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to grab her this time. “Please… stop doing that,” Twilight requested. She could have counted on her hooves the number of changelings who had studied at the school over the course of her stay. Telepathy was thankfully something she and Celestia had toyed with on occasion, but she had other responses in mind if he tried his other trick again.

His aura faded and he gave a respectful bow. “My apologies,” he began. “Are you, by any chance, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight felt a lump form in her throat. She knew this was the golden opportunity she needed, but she wanted to settle this so that she could go back to her normal life, not to increase her notoriety to the point of becoming a public figure. Still, worrying about the future would only rob her the chance to fix the past, so with a little sigh, she nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

The changeling considered her for a moment. “My name is Away. Along with my Brothers I am a Hammer of Sleipnir,” he greeted with another short bow, “and as per religious law it is our duty to subdue this monster.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Twilight replied, putting on the polite voice she saved for nobles, “but I had the situation under control before you intervened. I don’t need… I didn’t need anypony getting hurt.”

“And it is good to see you aren’t injured. I can only apologise for earlier, Ms. Sparkle, I didn’t realise who you were. My brother only informed me of your presence after you… escaped.”

Twilight shook her head, the magical aura leaving a lingering trail in the air as it moved. “It’s fine. Can you tell your friends to stop fighting Peace?”

Away blinked, confused.

“I was in the middle of reasoning with her when you punched her,” she elaborated, unable to hide the frustration in her tone. “I have a spell that can disarm her hair, meaning we can lock her up instead of hurting her, or her hurting us.”

Away hesitated, then opened his mouth to respond, only to close it again in thought. His brow creased as he stared at the ground at Twilight’s hooves, before his horn flashed a number of times, prompting a nod. “My brother and I can agree to that, but I’ll have to inform the others in person.”

“Thank you.” That was easy, Twilight thought.

Another round of clashing steel preceded an angry yell as Peace was suddenly beset by another of Away’s allies. An ash-black pegasus weaved between her thrashing lengths, his mane and tail leaving vivid trails of yellow as he attacked. The chain-and-scythe in his hooves gave his movements the look of an eel tackling a fishing net. With a growl of frustration, Peace raised her arm and threw her bargaining chip into the air to tempt him off her. It worked, but as the pegasus followed his charge, his bright yellow eyes met Twilight’s, and he diverted.

The earth-pony stallion landed with a crash and a pained yell down one of the connecting streets, and Twilight let out something similar but far more girly as the pegasus grabbed her and Away in the midst of his chain. Peace had been about to turn down her own little street, but as Twilight’s hooves rose, the look on the tall mare’s face descended and she gave chase.

The pegasus was faster than her. Perhaps not faster than her mane, but he was definitely more agile. Holding the two of them close he passed the upturned coffin and twisted his way deeper into the ruins, leaving the moonlight behind once more, each turn leaving the golden blades with more options of where he’d gone. Soon, the beating of his wings faded to a flutter and they landed on solid ground, the sounds of the ruins being cleaved to pieces far behind them.

Twilight felt like her organs had rearranged themselves mid-flight. Her vision swam like a lake in a hurricane and her hooves bobbed across the cobbles like a marionette with a broken string. She felt a hard pair of hooves holding her up; Away must have been handling it better.

“Is this who I think it is?” came a strong Roamian accent with a hint of Equestria’s softer tones.

“This is Twilight Sparkle,” Away responded with what felt like a nod. “She’s here to help subdue Nightmare Moon’s subordinate.”

Twilight looked back at the pegasus, her head bobbing in place as she tried to follow the spinning world of her vision. Through the mess she could just about see him glancing up at the aura stuck to her head. “That answers a few questions,” he said.

“S-specif-fically…” Twilight managed, leaning heavily against the changeling, “non-violently, i-if possible.”

There came a pause before the pegasus simply nodded. “If there is a way, then I will hear it. I won’t promise anything where the public is involved, however.”

“Th-thank you.”

The pegasus flared his wings. “Before we continue, I believe I left something big and dopey behind.” He rose and vanished back the way he came. Less than a minute passed before he returned. “Nevermind, Dredge has him. We should move before that creature finds us; we’ll meet the others in the middle.”

Twilight rubbed her eyes, her vision finally stabilising and her innards settling back into place. Judging by the rough patches scattered across his ash-black coat the stallion heralded from a more experienced generation. Along with his odd weapon he carried a blade across his back, possibly of foreign design from the delicate stylings of its hilt and guard. Aside from that, he wore no other accessories and even lacked a suit of armour, bearing only the image of a sword and hammer crossed over an anvil upon either flank to suggest his affiliation. Perhaps the bandages around Rainbow Dash’s hooves really had been enough to slow her down.

The pegasus took the lead as the three of them set off toward the other Hammers. He looked back to Twilight. “Since we have the chance, I’d like to hear your plan, Ms. Magic. How are we going to take down a monster made of swords without cutting it in return?”

The image of Peace’s other arm falling to the floor briefly crossed Twilight’s mind. Even if they went in such a gruesome direction, Peace could make up for it all with her mane. “We… might need a little bit of cutting, but nothing permanent, if possible. I want to restrain her mane or take away its power, and then convince her to stop fighting.”

A strange look of panic flashed across his face, before he grinned. “You want to talk down the monster?” He laughed, but it faded quickly. “Surely there’s more to it than that?”

There wasn’t, just yet. “I-I need more information in order to make a proper plan…”

“We can start with names.” The pegasus held out a hoof as he walked. “Black Thunder.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight replied, giving it a shake.

“It’s an honour.” Thunder looked back to the road ahead. “I can handle close-combat and evasion. The stallion I was rescuing, Snow Drop, is a hoof-to-hoof fighter and may not be of use against this kind of enemy. Dredge is a combat magician and is very skilled with Nature Magic. Seldom can turn into powerful monsters, and you’ve already met Away.”

“Skycroft is here as well,” Away added, “alongside a civilian mare.”

A what? Twilight knew of only one mare who would try to join in on something like this. “A civilian? I-is she a unicorn?”

Away glanced between them before lighting his horn. He nodded. “My brother says her name is Moondancer, and that she was searching for you before the collapse.”

Twilight felt a numbness easing its way down one of her limbs as a chill pierced her forehead. This wasn’t the kind of surprise she needed right now, when she was busy trying to prevent the Spirit Magic from draining her remaining stores. What was Moondancer doing here, after she explicitly told her not to come? Where was Spike? “Is she ok?” Twilight asked. “What happened to her…?”

Away opened his mouth to respond, but a harsh rasp of a voice answered in his place. “She is safe,” spoke a patch of darkness a short ways ahead. The large figure moved and a pair of bright crimson eyes glared down at them. Black Thunder and Away continued unfazed, but Twilight found her hooves slowing the longer she stared at the new arrival. The behaviour of the others was reassuring, but something in the back of her mind was telling her to run away as fast as she possibly could.

The creature known as Seldom emerged, bearing more legs than his God would know what to do with. Twenty paces-worth of centipede body trailed behind his ponylike front, though even that looked rather misshapen. The proportions were wrong, like something from a painting whose colours had started to run. Twilight was no expert when it came to changeling family lines, but he certainly didn’t resemble his brother, despite the frills on their heads being the same shade of red.

Seldom gave a bow, his long, stiff neck doing most of the work. “Twil-light Spar-kle,” he spoke, an odd scratching sound beneath his mask making him struggle with the name.

“Er, g-greetings,” Twilight responded, as if the giant changeling had just emerged from a flying saucer. Scary as he was, Seldom’s abilities could be invaluable. The possibilities ran through Twilight’s mind, before she recalled the fact that changelings weren’t meant to be able to look quite so… interesting. The number and size of the holes scattered across his body suggested excessive transformation boosted by Dark Magic, but maybe… “Mr. Seldom, are you… Ascended?”

He nodded, then paused. “In a way. Alt-ered for the Smith, to do my work.” Whatever was under his mask scraped against the inside a few times. It sounded like a hard-pointed tongue, or something to that effect. “I can be many things.”

“That could work…” Twilight commented in thought. She only knew of one other changeling who had been granted the gift of Alicorn Ascension; Celestia’s personal aide, Sparkfree. The zealous mare was nothing like him, however, both visually and medically, but Seldom could have still gained the hardened carapace along with his improved abilities. Perhaps his method of ascension had been different?

If he could be many things, then what if…

“What if you turned into Nightmare Moon?” Twilight asked.

Seldom’s tiny pupils seemed to widen upon hearing that. He considered the idea in silence for a moment. “I could.” His neck turned so that he could glance at her. “What did she look like? Voice?”

“She was beautiful.”

The four of them went still. Twilight looked up as golden tendrils began to flow down the cracked walls around them.

“She was the most beautiful thing in the world,” said Peace. The tall mare glared down from where she stood, the Moon just out of view, its light reflecting off her body. “Her eyes shone brighter than the stars and her body was as black as a void that ate her foes.”

Black Thunder slowly spread his wings. Twilight felt her throat trying to clam up, and she flinched as she backed into Away. The changeling looked like he was feeling the same way. He glanced at the others, the blades creeping ever closer to their hooves.

“Her voice could tear apart any lie or trick-”

Seldom’s many legs quietly tensed themselves. His and Away’s horns flashed in unison, and the larger brother relaxed again. The broken walls were made of gold now, and the ground was covered in both directions, the blades starting to rise to seal them in the giant birdcage.

“-and her judgement was like the harsh glare of the sun.”

Rather than Black Thunder, it was Away who grabbed a hold of Twilight and bolted. Another spark of amethyst magic lifted the weight from both sets of hooves, allowing the changeling to buzz past the edged bars before they could snap shut. She spotted a trail of lightning-yellow vanishing in the other direction, while the cage collapsed inward around the only pony left. Seldom’s elongated body released a few flashes of red as it was bundled up and forced into a ball, before his motionless form was pulled up and out of sight.

“Ms. Sparkle, permission to take your form!”

The sensation of wind rushing past her ears snapped Twilight back into the moment. Her mind struggled to cooperate, the worry and terror flooding over her thoughts. “Y-yes!” Dread descended next as she spotted more tendrils chasing after them. “Wait, what’re you-”

“Don’t think about it!” He let her go as a wave of red magic flowed over his body. “Just f-ind the ot-hers and get out of here!” he commanded, his voice fluctuating as it changed to match his new, more lavender appearance. Away released her and flared her feathered wings. With a few strong flaps she rose into the sky, the blades continuing for a moment before they rapidly retracted to chase the wrong target.

Twilight just stood there in silence, Rudolf’s Run causing her to drift slowly over the cobbles as she tried to process what had just taken place. Was Away’s brother dead? Was that it? Was that what she just witnessed? Was Away about to face the same fate? So many considerations and possibilities flowed through her mind, and every single one of them pointed out the ugly truth of this whole mess.

It was her fault.

She should have been more forceful. The tall mare would have already been at her hooves by now had she gone in at full power from the start, as Peace had wanted her to. She should have left Peace alone. The disguised mare could have convinced a few of the less minded among the crowd of Nightmare Moon’s majesty and that could have been the end of it. She should have stormed into Canterlot Castle to make sure whether or not Luna was dead. She could have demanded to see Princess Celestia. The mentor had failed to keep everyone safe by not simply capturing Peace herself.

She could have stayed home today. She could have spent her last moments with Spike enjoying some nachos or reading a comic together. They could have spent it with Quilliam as he eagerly showed them his collection, or spent some time helping to fix Winter’s Break’s temple. Twilight had enough magic for that, surely. She could have stayed behind at Meadow View, just to make sure that dog fellow didn’t go the rest of his day feeling miserable for what Moondancer put him through. She could have finished off her mother’s work and paid her a visit for once, before coming across this fate when Peace inevitably happened upon her.

No. Staying indoors had done her and her closest friends enough damage already, and all anyone needed was patience when it came to Luna, if the implications of Peace’s words were true. Here, she needed to act. She needed to be a hero again.

Was it a sense of justice that drove her next action, a need to right the wrongs of Nightmare Moon and her allies? Was it a desire to end this mess and return to her normal life? Was it a rush of emotion, feeding on this chance to let loose her limits once more?

No.

It was guilt. An overwhelming, all-encompassing sense that all of this could have been avoided, from beginning to end. From Nightmare Moon and Peace to Seldom and Away, she could have done more, tried harder to convince the former to talk, and tried harder to defend the latter before things got to this point. Whether words or weapons lay in her future, she was done running.

Twilight’s horn glowed white, and with a great flash she vanished from the world of the material.

17 - The Son of the Smith

It was certain now, about the colour of madness.

More than the bright blue of Nightmare’s eager eyes or the sparkling purple of its reflection, the colour was more of a grey; a middling nothingness that provided no information of its own. It gave no clues or dots to connect and forced the observer to walk with their eyes closed, but it still asked to be filled in, and what could one do with that information other than throw a paint bucket against the wall and see if it matched?

A pair of sparkling eyes opened in the void, each one framed by a big, garish, six-pointed star. They blinked, realization slowly coming to the Shade that it was aware. It wasn’t meant to have a consciousness when it was asleep, but it quickly reminded itself that it had come here with its eyes glaring wide in desperation. The grey immaterial shifted far above, the Shade’s destination entering its sight beyond the dips and hills of the flow. With a spiral of amethyst energy leading the way, the speed of the world rose, and the purple silhouette flew through the discoloured sea at a faster and faster pace.

Dreamwalking was something its reflection had tried before, but this was different. The Spirit Layer tended to guide one's thoughts to an extent as the individual explored their own little world. Having one's body join the rest of themselves in this place was not natural. The Shade moved without pause, however; its legs galloping across nonexistent ground and its wings beating in empty space as it tried to escape this tremendously hostile place, leaving its reflection far behind.

-=-=-

A patch of the world moved, the white-grey mess of almost-somethings peeling away to reveal a body—a physical one—willingly snatched from the Material Layer to join all the parts that weren’t meant to be together.

Twilight Sparkle’s eyelids froze as they opened, and she realised she was dying.

The world around her was slowing back down, the feeling of pressure trying to pull her body apart fading as her pale reflection galloped toward their shared destination, leaving her alone in the white-grey sea. She tried to call after it, but the saliva in her mouth had turned to ice. She tried to blink, but her eyes had turned into a pair of glassy spheres in her head. At first she wondered if her physical body had even made it into the Spirit Layer—she’d never cast Teleportation on purpose before, after all—but her joints had merely stiffened, her limbs frozen in place.

Of course they were frozen. Her bag of coins must have been here somewhere and it fared no better. Why was she here? Why was she still here? It had only felt like a few horrifying seconds last time. Her mind raced through the possibilities, but the lack of potential answers only reinforced the fact that she had no idea what she was doing.

She wasn’t some kind of expert on the Spirit Layer; no one was. No pony even knew how it worked, and even after hundreds of years of study the manner in which it connected to the Material Plane was still up for debate. The most anyone knew was that it was where dreams took place, and was therefore, presumably, where one's consciousness took “physical” form.

Her frozen eyes reminded her that she couldn’t look down at herself to check.

The trail her rogue shadow had left was beginning to fade. She considered casting a fire spell to thaw herself and chase after it, only to realise there was a great, gaping hole within her. It wasn’t in her stomach or her head; it was more like her entire body was missing some vital component that made it feel like she was little more than a walking suit. Her magic was gone.

Petrified, she slowly tipped over in the flow like a statue in the mud, panic rampaging through her mind. She raised a hoof to feel for her horn and felt her very existence buckle. Though her eyes couldn’t move, her face was now dipping beneath the surface of the sea, allowing her to watch as the entire limb plummeted into the rushing darkness below. A few shards of crumbling ice followed it down into a yet deeper layer of the world.

Twilight was somewhat used to seeing a strange, imprecise representation of her dorm room whenever she dreamwalked. She was used to being able to step outside and feel the gut-churning vertigo as a pale reflection of Canterlot’s roads and staircases waved and fluctuated beneath her hooves, and the soft warmth of a faint, golden glow from where the royal castle should have been. She’d never seen anything like this. Did the Spirit Layer appear differently when it was being viewed by her physical eyes rather than her mind’s? Was this something integral to Blackwood Close, given its history?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the sea moved around her, with purpose this time. With each shift she felt a tiny tickle against her side, as if a thousand tiny hooves were helping her along. She tried to gasp as she felt something wrap around her front, but as she was hefted upright only a coarse whine emerged from her open mouth. It felt like a pair of forelimbs, their owner standing out of view. Another pair steadied her, and yet another pointed her in the direction of her fading magic trail. The rolling current ahead appeared to writhe and smooth, and it was now when Twilight saw her new companions.

They were as pitch black as the void below, each misshapen in their own unique ways, with stretching legs and irregular heads and bodies. None of them looked at her, their eyes closed with only a pair of glowing, bright blue slits to suggest they even had any. Twilight felt herself being pushed, then carried, then hurried as more and more of the strange shadows joined in. Her remaining hooves rose from the turbulent living sea, but as she finally caught sight of her destination, her heart sank.

It was a hole. A hole as dark as her new friends, like a lake of oil spilling out of the blackness onto the upper layers of reality, eager to claim her. She wanted to struggle, but a warning creak from her limbs convinced her otherwise.

The relative silence gave way to the quiet murmurings of the beings around her. They didn’t sound like words; more like feelings given a voice. Judgements and loose thoughts. “..., .!.., ..?.,” they spoke. “…, …, …!,” said others.

They had reached the cusp of the hole now. The flowing shapes in the sea curled away and around it, taking on a slight tinge of blue in place of their usual pallid sheen. Twilight’s Lunar Shade seemed to have gone this way, too, though unassisted. The trail of magic was nowhere to be seen, leaving only the bottomless void beyond…

Wait…

There was a light down there; like a circular window. Into what, Twilight couldn’t tell. “…!, .!.., …!,” the shadows spoke as a dull blue hoof pushed her in.

-=-=-

The passageways of Blackwood Close blitzed by. Most were new, made up of jagged edges and tight crevices he could barely fit through. The rest were bordered by those few structures that remained untouched, lit by the light of the Moon as it shone through the gap overhead. Within those rooms were the few shadows that remained unaware of what was happening. The rest swarmed after him as he flew, growing to a tidal wave of indistinct figures, reaching with long limbs and inequine faces like rats drawn to the scent of rotting meat.

Reaching back as he flew, a bright bolt travelled along his chain-and-scythe and, with a twist of his wings, he lit the dark alleys with a flash of lightning. The shadows receded, taking their unspoken murmurs and their unwanted attention with them. He’d always avoided this part of Canterlot for the thick feeling of dread that hung in the air, and the Unscheduled Night had only worsened the sensation. The shops bordering the close were abandoned before the riots even began, as dark figures started appearing in the windows. His dear Brothers couldn’t even perceive them, and for that, Black Thunder was grateful.

“I can’t freaking believe it!” came a familiar voice from a little ways off, the haughtiness audible through the other stallion’s normally dullard tone.

A few beats of his wings brought Thunder to a clearing hidden amongst the destruction, surrounded by three intact walls with its top covered by the collapsed tower that once served as its fourth. The upturned lid of a coffin was just visible past the ledge of the upper window, but a pale shadow joined the darker resident in staring down at Thunder as he neared.

Snow Drop’s face was bruised but he looked no worse for wear. His pride, however; the giant earth-pony ran a hoof over the surface of his chestplate, scuffing against the deep cuts the golden monster had carved into its surface. “There’s way more demand for it in the Prancelands, and these scars aren’t going to fix cheaply!”

“Enough of this, Snow Drop,” Dredge responded, his big, black-coated face creasing into a frown. The exhaustion in his voice only emphasized his strong Dvautian accent. He sat with his forelegs folded in what would have been his thinking pose had the earth-pony not been there, his own Lunar Shade sitting beneath him where it belonged. “Manehatten’s houses of gods are expanding from the increased attendance. It isn’t just the Smith ponies rely on in times such as these.”

Snow Drop looked like he was about to take issue with the very concept of other faiths, the tuft of white hair on his head almost shaking by itself. “Sir Dredge! Sir Drop!” Black Thunder exclaimed with a firm stomp, emitting the thundering echo of Sleipnir’s Bray. Both stallions jolted to attention and Thunder took a few steps forward, flaring his wings to help get the feeling across. “Twilight Sparkle is here and she needs our help! What’re you two doing?”

Thunder had long since learned to use his bellow sparingly, considering it tended to cause the lesser recruits to loosen their bowels in terror. Dredge recovered first. He looked frustrated, but his pale eyebrows soon rose, his silver eyes glinting. “The one who bears Sleipnir’s Table?” he asked. Black Thunder nodded and a grin spread across his friend’s face. “That is unbelievable for us! Where is she? Does she wield the Elements of Harmony as the seers say?”

“I don’t know,” Thunder responded. “She is not a fighter, of that I am sure. We need to subdue that monster without killing or permanently harming it, if at all possible.”

Snow Drop’s face grew confused as he came back into the moment, though his pale brown eyes darted to look at something else. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“Do I need to repeat it?” Thunder asked.

“How are we supposed to kill the Horse Hacker when you can’t even land a hit?”

Thunder resisted scowling at him. “It is Twilight Sparkle’s wish,” he responded. “She will give us a plan, and from there it’ll be up to us to make it happen.”

The frown wavered. Though Snow Drop was emotional, he was a genuine believer if there ever was one. From the moment the seers uttered Twilight Sparkle’s name in the wake of the Unscheduled Night, he had been the one speaking about her the most. “Alright. I didn’t realise,” Snow Drop said, giving a hesitant nod, followed by a shrug. “Then why’re you looking at me?”

Because I’m expecting you to contribute something, you overgrown oaf, the pegasus’ thoughts snarled.

Dredge’s satchel of magical stones clinked against his front as he stood. “She may have a way of purification, just as with Nightmare Moon,” he mused, “but now is not a good time for theory. We should move as we talk.”

They started back toward the center of the destruction. “Apparently Skycroft is here,” Black Thunder continued, “but I don’t know if he got caught up in the fall. Away is currently with Twilight Sparkle, and Seldom was captured.”

Dredge’s eyebrows rose again. “Captured?”

“I don’t know his status.”

“Captured how?” came Snow Drop’s voice from behind them.

“Does it matter?” Thunder responded with aggravation entering his tone. “I am only assuming he is still with us.”

“She’s strong enough to crush someone with her claws as well as her hair,” the earth-pony offered. Referring to the monster as a “she” felt odd, in Thunder’s view.

“That is troublesome,” said Dredge, “though not as much as the blades themselves. They seem very… ‘adaptable’, I think is the word.”

Thunder nodded. “Give me enough time and I’ll be able to break through, but I expect I’ll be left with half a sword, so it would need to be decisive.”

They eyed the scabbard on his back. “I suppose this is that manner of time,” Dredge commented.

Thunder only nodded. There were plenty of ways to subdue a large foe without slaying them, even with only a single strike. One could cause enough pain to drive even the strongest of combatants to beg for surrender. One could cut the tendon within a minotaur’s leg and force it onto its hands and knees, or even take a limb or their eyes if it came to it. The tall creature’s mane was unlike anything he’d fought, however; like living steel with none of the physical restraints of the material.

Perhaps steel was too soft a comparison. To be able to cause so much destruction, the golden blades were much closer to the octite that formed his scythe-and-chain. The creature was truly worthy of being the follower of a being like Nightmare Moon.

Black Thunder felt his hooves tense against the ground as he walked, his limbs and wing joints beginning to build up strength, readying themselves to spring into battle at any moment. He took a silent breath and calmed himself down. Not yet. His mind needed more sorting before he could properly commit to the life-or-death fight it would take to make it to the surface of the creature’s skin.

He thought of his first attempt, then his second, then his third. He’d gotten closer each time, the scythe weaving deeper between the living swords while the chain swung heavily behind, unable to restrain anything and rendered useless as a result. After the fourth round it had learned to guard its weak points more readily, and it had begun to ignore Snow Drop’s efforts entirely. Dredge’s fire looked like it hurt, but by the fifth the creature was focusing its fury on Thunder alone.

The creature was clearly intelligent and knew how to prioritise its targets, even as it experienced pain from other sources. If he was going to land a cut anywhere on its body, it would need to be by surprise. No fire, no shouts to challenge it, just the blade upon its skin.

Thunder frowned. He needed an incredible amount of speed and precision just to make it through, so to ask him to leave “nothing permanent, if possible” on top of that was starting to feel like an impossible request. He didn’t know Sparkle’s reasoning behind sparing the creature. Hopefully she could elaborate before he had to take matters into his own hooves…

“An idea for my Brothers,” Dredge began as he led them through an open wall and up the internal staircase. “If Twilight Sparkle has access to the Elements of Harmony, then it is a simple thing to lead the monster out of Blackwood Close. That will let Firebright strengthen our weapons and, assuming the Newlyweds do not need protecting any longer, he and Lockson will aid us to hold her in place while Lady Velvet does her duty.”

The feeling of being watched returned and Black Thunder fluffed his wings as they passed the resident coffin. Beyond it, the wall of the first floor was missing, granting them a good view of the rest of the district. The fight was still going on a ways off, Twilight Sparkle flitting to and fro against the creature’s attacks. Looking to the edges of the district, it seemed they were no longer the only group coming to deal with the situation. As far as Thunder could see, there were Royal Guard and members of the City Vigil flying in a loose formation around the perimeter of Blackwood Close, the civilians having been cleared away. They wouldn’t enter unless it became necessary, of course. Sleipnir’s Hammers were seen as heroes in this city.

Black Thunder scoffed at the thought. He had settled in well enough when he arrived; becoming part of Equestria’s Octenist herd was a natural choice, and the temple was full of fellow blacksmiths from whom he had gained knowledge and admiration, but rising so quickly into the lofty position of Hammer hadn’t exactly been on his to-do list. The respect was appreciated, but he hadn’t intended on being depended upon for much beyond metalworking commissions to support himself. He hadn’t really wanted to be a hero again.

Odd. Why was he feeling sentimental at a time like this?

The little purple alicorn had the wrong colour adorning its horn, Thunder realised. The reality of the situation only came to him as he watched his disguised friend being pulled from the sky by a rope of golden threads.

Dredge watched on with an unmoving face, taking the change into consideration like only a true leader could. Snow Drop pushed to the front, his demeanour deflating as dramatically as the pegasus’ intensified.

“If she does not have them, then we may need help from the Goddess of Canterlot before this is over.”

“Dredge, give me the order,” Thunder asked, though it emerged as a command.

“Hold,” came Dredge’s calm response.

Snow Drop pawed at the edge, looking for a way down to join the fight. “We need to do something,” he said. “He’ll be killed!”

“I said hold,” Dredge repeated. His ears twisted in place for a few moments before they settled on where Black Thunder stood. He turned and gave him a smile. “We have company.”

Black Thunder could only frown in confusion at that as another shadow breathed down his neck. None of the other Hammers knew of his extra senses, so why was Dredge…

“What’s the situation?” came the voice of a mare behind him.

Black Thunder turned to see Twilight Sparkle staring back. His legs bucked and sent him a dozen and a half paces into the open air, his breath going still even as his heart thumped in his chest. Where did that come from?! his mind reeled as he hovered. The mare’s appearance reminded him that this was a “she” and not a “that”. The realisation calmed him, but the look on her face—that strange smile, those eyes like dinner plates—gave him the distinct sense that this was not who it seemed to be.

Furthermore… How? When? She had just ‘appeared’ without a sound. Even the air had remained still until the moment he turned to face her. If there was an assassin in the world capable of such things he would have been dead several times over.

Her face was still staring at him. “Wh-what’s- th-“ she said. Her mouth seemed to struggle before her facial muscles finally moved, and then her whole body followed. Her legs buckled beneath her and she slumped into Dredge’s grasp, her eyes fluttering erratically as a sphere of white-grey magic bloomed into existence from her horn, along with a swarm of tiny, white, butterflies that left faint trails as they orbited their host. The aura grew and grew until it encapsulated the mare’s whole body, and then a little further until it reached the open air.

Thunder felt the field wash over him as he reentered the room, the distinctive chill of the Spirit Layer gracing his body with each butterfly that came near. That was already an odd thing, well before one took into account the aura’s size. The three of them looked upon the unicorn. She was just a young girl, yet she must have been more powerful than Dredge to be able to cling to life with such a great toll attached to her horn.

The elder unicorn stared with nothing short of childlike wonder on his chiselled face. Like Snow Drop, Dredge followed the ways and rites of Octenism more strictly than most, and to him, the words of the seers were gospel. “By Sunflare’s grace, she’s here,” he spoke with revere. Had he not been holding her he would have raised his hoof for a momentary prayer.

Thunder brought himself into view and did it for him, receiving a quick smile as thanks.

“How is she?” Snow Drop asked, glancing between the mare and the butterflies that surrounded her.

“She is awake, but fading.” Dredge repositioned her so that her dimming eyes faced the ceiling. “I do not know how she got here, but I don’t think she will be here for long if I do not act.” His horn lit with a dark grey aura and he placed a number of colourless stones upon the mare’s chest. He closed his eyes and placed his hooves upon either side of her face, and his breath went silent. In a matter of moments his whole body relaxed, a faint glow coming from underneath his hooves as the magic of the world around him began to follow his will.

The other two watched with curiosity. Dredge served as the Hammers’ Nature Magic specialist, but that role didn’t quite do his mark of purpose justice. His true talents lay in his keen powers of magical manipulation and his strategic mindset. While he preferred the slow, methodical approach to combat, he was capable of dissipating magical constructs and of swiping the aura straight from a unicorn’s horn. The dark grey glow slowly spread up his big, black hooves. Though Dredge had no aptitude for Spirit Magic, sure enough, the giant aura began to shrink. Quickly and erratically at first, the energy flowed into the stones upon Twilight Sparkle’s chest, granting them a pale-lavender sheen, the butterflies slowing their flight as their wispy forms shrank in kind.

Once the edge of the field had passed the tie of his ponytail, Dredge slowly opened his eyes and swayed in place. Snow Drop held him steady as he came to, the voices in the unicorn’s head separating from those of the world around him, and he looked upon the little mare. She seemed unharmed by whatever she’d been through, but the ends of her dark-blue mane had paled as if greying with age. Dredge nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

The aura was still more than twice Dredge’s size, but they couldn’t ask more of him, given the bubble of pale magic that was starting to bloom around his own horn. Black Thunder frowned at the sight. Dredge was only as strong as the gap in his magical stores, into which the magic of the world flowed. What little resting mana he possessed was still enough to push him above the average unicorn, but it wasn’t a healthy amount to handle a Spirit Magic debt with. If he’d been born with any less, he would have spent his life on a hospital bed rather than up here at the top of Octenism’s lofty hierarchy.

Twilight Sparkle looked more peaceful now, and as Dredge retrieved the stones, she closed her eyes tight and raised a hoof to rub her face. “Wh-what’s… where am I?” she asked. “Am I back?”

“Yes, leyling, you are,” Dredge replied.

She stared at the butterflies for a few moments before sitting up. She rubbed her face again, her other hoof making it partway up before settling back at her side. She leaned upon it and nearly tipped over, but Snow Drop held her with a hoof that was half the size of her head. “Are you ok, Twilight?” he asked.

“Huh?” she glanced at him, then down at her left forehoof. “Y-yeah, I think so.” She raised it again and frowned. For a third time the limb rose before it began to quiver, and it was lowered back to her side as if exhausted. “I’m ok,” she added, mostly to herself. “I’m ok.”

Snow Drop and Dredge helped her up. The aura gained a hint of purple for a moment as the foolish mare cast a spell on the affected hoof and shoulder, helping herself to stand. She looked at him. “Is… your friend ok?” she asked the room. “How long was I gone?”

Black Thunder hadn’t seen what happened to Seldom, but the chances were… “I don’t know,” he replied. “You haven’t been gone long. We still have time.”

She gave a nod. “Oh, good.”

He frowned. Twilight Sparkle’s entire demeanour was different compared to when he’d first seen her. The sense of hope she’d proposed her idea with was gone. The look on her face was not one of fear, however; whatever had happened had brought her well beyond that point, to a mental state Black Thunder had seen far too much of in his time. “Are you alright?” he asked, knowing the answer—both the truth beneath the surface and the lie he was going to recieve.

“I’m ok,” she repeated, looking at her leg again with a pair of exhausted eyes. “I don’t think I want to talk about it,” she added, brushing away her greyed ends.

At least she was making it clear something was wrong, so perhaps she wouldn’t wallow. She turned to the hole, looked to where the sounds of battle were coming from, and levitated herself out and down to the ground, the giant bubble of magic lagging behind as she moved. Black Thunder wrapped his hooves around Snow Drop’s generous carriage and hefted him down, soon followed by Dredge, who stepped onto solid ground from a quartet of glowing platforms.

Looking ahead, a set of black tendrils now clashed against the golden ones atop the ridge. It seemed Seldom was ok after all, but there were very few things that could drive him to take on such a horrid form… He glanced to the side, and caught a glimpse of his Lunar Shade wandering over the ruins, several streets away from its owner. “The plan is still to subdue rather than kill, yes?” Thunder asked.

Another nod.

That wouldn’t do. Not at this stage.

“Lady Velvet,” Dredge began, taking the lead by her side. “Do you still command the Elements of Harmony?”

Twilight Sparkle slowed before shaking her head, her supported leg limping as she went. The tiny butterflies occasionally perched against it before continuing their slow dance. “I can probably deal with Peace’s mane, but I can’t defend and attack at the same time,” she answered. She cast her eyes down. “I’m not skilled enough for that yet.”

“That is enough for us, Lady Velvet. If you handle the creature’s hair then that is a big problem off the list.” He held a hoof to his chest as he walked, a smile on his face. “I am Dredge. It is an honour to meet you.”

The mare didn’t respond for a few moments, her hobbled pace consistent as her eyes switched between staring at the ground and the scene of the fight. “I’m happy to meet you,” she responded, sounding anything but.

“If you wish, I can throw the beast off balance with fire, then you handle the hair, and my Brothers will restrain its body?” Dredge suggested.

“I don’t want her hurt.”

His smile wavered at her tone. “It is fine, I think. The creature was not hurt by it, only disarmed.”

Twilight stopped and looked at him, the emptiness in her eyes filling with frustration. Her eyebrows rose and the greyed ends of her mane seemed to curl as if there was a breeze. “I don’t want her hurt, Sir.”

He showed no offense this time, and said no more.

Snow Drop brushed against Thunder’s side as they continued. “She’s different from what I expected,” he commented under hush.

“She’s different from how she was mere minutes ago,” Thunder replied, dropping back a few paces. Seldom came to mind. The first time he’d met him the changeling had taken the most normal form he was capable of. Thunder had responded to the greeting with attempted murder, believing him to be a Tartarian Beast. Twilight had shown little more than mild unease when he crawled out of the dark in full centipede form, and for that she must have been a saint at heart. “Whatever she saw, it wasn’t enough to change her mind about sparing the monster, so I’m going to assume the brothers are both alive.”

“Oh. Good point,” Snow Drop mused.

“I was willing to give her a chance given who she is, but if she’s going to run herself to ruin trying to force that outcome,” Thunder added, a glint in his yellow eyes, “then I will make sure she understands what kind of inequine creature she’s dealing with.”

The earth-pony frowned at him. “You think the leader of the Elements of Harmony hasn’t already thought about that?”

Black Thunder’s sword weighed heavily upon his back. “Twilight Sparkle may be powerful, but she is naive. I don’t know what her motivation is, but it seems clear she hasn’t heard about the Horse Hacker, considering she is still willing to forgive this ‘Peace’, as she calls it.”

“If Twilight says to do it, then we should anyway.”

Blind fool. “I disagree. I am not merciful enough to spare her that knowledge if it keeps us all alive.”

The sounds of fighting had grown quiet. This was roughly the middle of the district, where the slope of the city met a sudden ridge. The spot itself was hidden behind the curve of the hill, beyond which the spires of the Octenic Hall rose tall and proud. The changeling brothers were nowhere to be seen but the Royal Guard was starting to make their way into the outer streets. A few pegasi stood atop the intact buildings that made up the district’s edges, relaying the progress of the fight to those on the ground. If the Hammers fell then the guard would swarm in, and the battle would become a slaughter. The City Vigil would come next, assuming they upheld their duties in the face of such a horrid situation. Black Thunder felt his muscles tensing up. He gave his wings a testing flap to get them into gear as well, and his lightning-yellow tail flished a few times to dispel the lingering heat in the air. It was almost time.

“Are you able to perform Deon’s Pin?” Dredge asked.

“Yes,” Twilight responded.

“And what about Amorphous Bolt?”

“Something similar.”

Dredge’s face brightened again. “Then we have a plan! I am adept with the latter,” he stated, a little glowing cube of solidified magic appearing beside his horn. “I will create as many anchor points as you need, and you tie the creature’s hairs to them one by one.”

“I can only use one instance of Deon’s Pin at a time.”

“There are other ways, I am sure,” Dredge replied with a nod, not missing a beat this time. “Tie its head to a surface; that will make its mane into an easy thing to deal with.”

“I don’t think you understand what Peace is capable of.”

“With due respect, Lady Velvet, you have not told me what you are capable of.”

She paused. “I don’t know what I can do when I’ve got this…” She waved her good hoof around, motioning to the bubble that surrounded her. “... this thing here. I’ve never done this much before.”

Thunder trotted to her side. “Do you have enough information to make a plan, at least, Ms. Magic?”

Another pause. Twilight Sparkle glanced between the fight and the ground again, a look of frustration breaking through the exhaustion. “I can’t think straight right now. I can’t… come up with anything that isn’t either completely illegal or deadly. I don’t know how much more I can do…”

“If legality is a concern, then fear not,” Dredge offered. “I’m certain the Princess would make the necessary exceptions for this night.”

“M-maybe, but I wasn’t strong enough in the first place. That’s the whole reason- w-well, part of the reason I wanted to talk her out of this.”

Snow Drop’s large face appeared between them. “So you don’t have the Elements of Harmony with you?” he asked, making certain what had already been established.

“I only have one of them and it's at home. I don’t even know if they work without the others here.”

No plan whatsoever, then, Thunder thought. The group came to a brief stop, the only thing separating them from whatever had become of the battle being a sheer wall of intact tombs that served as the foundation for a street that ran along their tops. “We don’t have the luxury of getting there and back,” he stated, frowning up at the edge, past which no sounds of fighting could be heard, “and we’re well and truly past the point of negotiations.” He looked back to the lavender unicorn and received the expected look of panic. Twilight Sparkle opened her mouth to protest, but Thunder held up a hoof to stop her. “You’re too young for this, both in strength and experience. You have to let us do our duty, for the sake of everyone in Canterlot.”

“I don’t want her hurt,” Twilight whined. “She’s already suffered enough because of me!”

“Has she?” Thunder asked, raising a lightning-yellow eyebrow. “Two of my Brothers are in grave danger, and you expect me to show mercy toward someone who puts such little value in life?”

“I-it’s not that I’m excusing her, I just need her to understand what she- wh-what I-”

The brow came back down into a frown. “Look around you!” he exclaimed, motioning with his wings. “I accept that she’s sentient, and I suspect she has her reasons for being here and targeting you, but this is beyond the pale. I was willing to try your idea, provided you had some way—any way—of achieving it. Without the Elements you are just a mare with her whole life ahead of her. If you want to be a hero, then don’t throw it away on a vain exercise like this.”

She struggled with that, her exhaustion giving way to frustration. She stomped her bad hoof and nearly collapsed, letting a curse slip past her lips before glaring back at him, as if he was responsible. “I don’t want to be a hero!” she yelled. “I just want to make things right, and then go back to my normal life without having to worry about other ponies’ stupid feelings! I’m sick of this! All I ever do is bring misery to people, even when I’m trying to make things right!”

His brow wavered. He hadn’t expected that. His initial impression of Twilight Sparkle matched the pony the seers had spoken of; a little mare who bore a great responsibility on her back, but who would rise to meet the challenge. Sure enough, Nightmare Moon had lost. From day one he’d assumed she was a very determined kind of person, someone suitable of being Equestria’s next great hero. The suggestion of sparing Peace had been a surprise, but one that was more than interesting enough to entertain, and once again, it mirrored the image in his head. Sparing an enemy was always more difficult and heroic than killing them, after all. He had assumed she was a hero on the inside even if she wasn’t strong enough on the outside, but she was breaking down far too early…

He had the sense not to add on the silly label of “chosen one” like certain other Hammers, but of their number, Dredge was by far the most reasonable. A big, black hoof rose between them, and the giant unicorn stepped in, a look of concern on his face. “Mr. Thunder is right, leyling; you are too young for this place.”

Twilight didn’t respond. She sat, one foreleg folding before the other managed to join it, and pouted like a child.

“The Elements would have been the key, but without them there is no way to find a bloodless solution, and if there is no way, then there is no way.”

“Maybe I’m just being dramatic and there wasn’t any hope in the first place,” Twilight muttered to herself.

“There’s always a way,” spoke the least reasonable among them. Snow Drop had turned his frown to the floor, quietly listening to everything that was said.

Thunder took a step forward. “Even if we succeed, do you think she’ll show you mercy afterward?”

The mare eyed him. “I hope she’ll appreciate the fact that nopony died during the Unscheduled Night, and what a bucking miracle that was.”

Ah, so she really doesn’t know. Thunder found himself hesitating. This was the hard part. He wanted Twilight Sparkle to flee, not to crush her positive nature under the cruelty of reality. The idea of Peace in her head must have been very, very different to the one he and his fellow Hammers had entered this fight with.

Still, it needed to be said. “Even if you spare Peace, she will be tried and executed for the ponies she slaughtered throughout the Rabbles,” he stated, calmly.

“That’s enough!” Snow Drop suddenly shouted, his face reddening with anger. “If Twilight wants us to do it then we find a way to do it!”

Thunder’s frustration rose to meet him, a hoof stomping and his wings flaring. “If this were any other enemy then I could! If this were any other monster then perhaps I’d hesitate to cut its throat!”

“You’ll be hurting Twilight if you do that!”

“Calm down! If she can’t do it then she shouldn’t. Protecting the people is our job, not a child’s!”

“And who’s gonna stop her?! You? She’s the chosen one!”

“Snow Drop, be calm!” Dredge demanded.

“No she isn’t! She’s just a child, you fat-headed fool!”

Something struck the side of Thunder’s face, the force almost knocking him off his hooves and the subtle wave of magical manipulation stealing the strength from his tongue.

“That is enough,” came Dredge’s command, the whites of his eyes shining as brightly as the Moon. It wasn’t a bellow, rather it seared through the air like an expanding plume of smoke, choking the will out of whoever heard it. Snow Drop flinched before the heat on his face faded to a stubborn annoyance, while Thunder felt more aggravated from the strike than from the horrid sensation trying to push into his thoughts. “Calm yourself, Black, or you will lose Sleipnir’s grace in its entirety,” Dredge ordered. “I am sorry for that, Lady Velvet.”

The pegasus shook his head and felt the bray disappear faster than it had arrived. That punch could have dislodged his jaw had Dredge meant it, so he counted himself lucky. He recollected himself, fluffing his wings and looking to Twilight to see the results of his argument.

He was expecting a look of horror or hopelessness, but she looked… pensive. It was as if she was trying to find a way to ‘make it work’, to fit the new information into whatever her excuse for a plan was. A few different emotions crossed her face; worry, anger, a quiet panic, and then finally, solemnity. She looked back to him and Dredge. “Do you have any idea where you’re going to send Peace if you kill her?” she asked.

“I’m… sorry?” Dredge responded.

“I saw… I think I saw something I wasn’t meant to see,” she began, her eyes darting to her weakened forelimb. Another butterfly perched upon it. “When I tried to teleport to Mr. Thunder I got stuck halfway, in the Spirit Layer, and…” The calm broke, her pupils dilating as her leg shivered with cold. “... I think I almost died. Th-there was this great big void underneath everything, and I was going to fall in…”

“Leyling… this is all reason for you to rest. If there is a way, then I shall try it, but if-“

“If there is no way, then there is no way,” Twilight finished for him, her experience finally showing in her eyes, though their sparkling nature returned for the briefest of moments. “I’ll fight her. I’ll take her other arm if I really need to, but I won’t let anyone kill her. I don’t want anyone to end up where I almost did.”

Perhaps I misjudged you, Thunder considered. “Capture and subdue, then.” The monster deserved the void far more than Twilight, but for now, he would relent. The goal set, he turned back to the wall and steeled himself for the figure standing atop it.

Once again, the tall mare loomed over them, the bright Moon reflecting off her bare skin, but her mane did not follow. “Are you all done?” she asked, her golden eyes betraying the intensity that lay beneath her calm tone. The grotesquely realistic mimicry of a pony's coat still hung from her waist, burned and ruined from Dredge's efforts.

“Yes,” Twilight responded. She rubbed the tiny cut on her cheek. “I’m ready to accept your challenge.”

“Finally.” Her mane began to unfold itself behind her. “We can finally make use of this arena properly.”

Thunder had heard the quiet crunkle of pebbles underfoot and the ever so slight whistle the tall mare’s mane produced as it moved in place, but her gaze had been what tipped him off to her presence. He’d been a fool to assume she was a mindless beast, given the overwhelming feeling flooding from every fibre of her being. He wasn’t sure what emotion it carried, but her gaze, at least, left a mark with enough deadly intent to singe the hairs on the back of one’s neck.

Snow Drop looked like he’d been taken by surprise. He was the only one. You need to leave, you fool, Thunder thought. For as little as he got along with the earth-pony, and for as wide the gap was between their abilities, Snow Drop had a family to go back to at the end of this. He needed to consider his son’s future instead of throwing his life away in a fight to which he could not contribute.

Thunder looked back to Peace, and noted the lack of blood anywhere on the lengths. Dredge seemed to have the same thoughts on mind, the unicorn eyeing her for clues and any signs of aggression. “What has become of our changeling Brothers?” the unicorn asked, as calmly as ever.

“One of them is dead,” Peace responded dully, her eyes flicking between them.

Thunder had expected that, so his hooves didn’t move and his jaw didn’t tense. “May I see them?” he asked, unfurling his wings.

The creature didn’t respond this time, merely closing her eyes and taking a few steps to the side, resettling her gaze on Twilight. With a quick glance of approval from Dredge, Thunder took the opportunity and flew past to see what had become of his friends.

The ruins up here had been further reduced to rubble, the hard, dark rock laying in piles along with a number of coffins whose occupants sat staring with their bright blue slits as he approached, his own eyeless Shade staring back from amongst them. Before them came Seldom, his powerful, chitin-covered tentacles laying in butchered pieces across the road, separated from his body. The changeling himself lay on his side, one eye barely open, with his wound-covered chest moving ever so gently. One of Seldom’s remaining limbs drew Thunder’s gaze onward, and the bright amethyst flash that signalled the beginning of the fight highlighted the other figure present.

Away was sat upright against a broken wall, one of his limp limbs wrapped by Seldom’s. He was surrounded by lavender feathers and covered in injuries, but he was awake, in a sense. Another flash, this time of both amethyst and dark-grey as Peace’s lengths were finally outnumbered by a cascade of Amorphous Bolts. The sound they made wouldn’t come close to whatever chaos was happening in Away’s mind. His eyes cycled through a myriad of colours, staring up at where his horn should have been. Faint, misshapen fields of magic traveled down his body and crackled beneath his pale chitin as it tried to take on a different form. Something to escape the pain, most likely.

Thank Sunflare the monster had been mistaken. Away was only irreversibly injured.

Black Thunder cast his chain-and-scythe to the floor and drew his sword, the blade curving as it left its scabbard for the first time in years, the lightning design shimmering in the moonlight as it went. He spread his wings and felt the cobbles quake beneath his hooves. He felt his trusty cloak upon his back, though it was laying unused in his smithy, and his ears boomed with the drums of war, though he had left them far behind in Roamia. With his mane crackling with energy, the shades scattered out of sight, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

The fight had been going on for a few minutes now. The patch of stone Peace had been defending was on its way into the neighbouring alley, leaving a trail of magic in its wake, and the air crackled with power as Snow Drop used his strength to press a giant, amethyst shield against her, forcing her back into the broken mess she’d created. Dredge’s fire followed close behind, funnelled underneath by another of Twilight Sparkle’s magical constructs. The monster screamed and her remaining hand cleaved through the shield to throw Snow Drop back to the lower street. Another shield appeared alongside Twilight, and with another gout of flame she galloped into the air with Peace following close behind.

And behind her, came a black blitz. Nothing reached Thunder’s senses other than the glinting of the target’s golden mane as it rose off the ground. Not the heat of Dredge’s flames, or Snow Drop’s safe landing, or the look of despair mixed with rage on Twilight’s face, or the sound of Peace’s furious screams in response. The fire parted to Thunder’s blade and so did the remains of Twilight’s shields as he rose, each one filling with electricity before bursting into flickering shards. His wings turned and his legs twitched as if he were still on solid ground, ready to dart and spin in response to any threat, and his teeth clenched around the hilt of his sword hard enough to bite into the metal.

With a second flap he reached her, the edge of his blade finally making it past her lengths, its golden steel outshining hers for the briefest of moments…

… and he felt those tendril-like blades coil around him, and their grip dug cold and deep.

His senses caught up with him as he fell, but his wings did not follow.

18 - The Hacker of the Harp

She’d never had many words for things, so she wasn’t sure what to call this feeling.

She had only ever played for her Queen; her subjects never entered the castle. Now, there was no castle to go back to, and no Black Rabbit to play for.

Peace looked to the unicorn standing at the front of the stage. As promised, the sound coming from the “guitar” was a horrid one. The mare’s magic did something to it to make it that way, but Peace barely knew what magic was, so she put those considerations aside. She refocused her attention on her harp and continued playing to the best of her ability, before recalling the fact that the mare had instructed her to go crazy.

She assumed she didn’t intend to kill her fellow ponies, but if they weren’t bowing at their feet yet, then Vinyl Scratch must have been doing something wrong.

Peace readjusted her pose, mimicking Vinyl’s bipedal posture and feeling her pony disguise twist unnaturally in response. She put her fake hooves on her harp, and rearranged her hairs into something more intimidating.

With a single strum, she had their attention. This would work.

-----

Peace eyed the broken blade with a dull curiosity. The edge was the same colour as her hair, but as she drew a lock across its surface the metal peeled off in strips beneath her strength. It was just a normal sword. There wasn’t even a spirit inside it, and whatever kind of magic had filled it was fading away, yet it had cut her. She looked to the split ends of her damaged lock, frowned, and tossed the empty half-sword back down to the ruins.

She saw her lengths lighting up again and she cleared the air behind her, shattering another of Purple’s attacks. Looking up, the pony hovered above her on four wavy platforms just like before. Purple was weaker than Vinyl, yet it was able to float like Oeroth. Another frown, this time joined by a dim sensation of eagerness. It wasn’t for the fight itself—that she’d already taken out on the fake-Purple—but for the thought of what she could gain from it.

“Hoe-hooe…” she laughed. There were so many more things to learn.

The star shapes where Purple’s eyes should have been glowed brighter, making them stand out against her fuzzy, purple silhouette of a body. Before Peace could react, she realised something had connected itself to her remaining hand, yanking it up in front of her face. She pulled it aside with a grunt and saw a chain of energy tying it to Purple’s horn. Possession? she thought. Another blast of magical pieces took her thinking time away and she sent her blades to scatter the shards once more. Purple and Grey’s energy blasts were messy; they were more like Oeroth’s arrows than proper beams, made of lots of little pieces that all had their own force attached—destroying one would not deflect the others.

Her hand came back and she instinctively tried to push it away with the other, only to remember, yet again, that it was her only one. A flash of horror ran through Peace’s mind; was Purple going to take it, too? She let out a scream and wrapped her blades around the chain, allowing the cascade of fuzzy arrows to hit her directly. She left a gap in her lengths, forming others into a Sword, only for the larger blade to simply slip against its surface. The chain was much stronger than Purple’s shields, but she could at least pull her hand away from her face using the lengths wrapped around it.

Purple backed off as Peace sent her blades further up the chain. The pony hadn’t learned from last time she gave her opponent a ledge to use. Further and higher Purple went, the chain extending in her wake, weakening only slightly. Peace frowned. Maybe it was a rule-based power rather than something made of pure energy. Such powers weren’t normally able to be resisted like this one, though. Her blades reached their limit, Purple nearing the edge of the arena where the grave houses still stood in audience. Peace made a mental note to destroy those, too, once this was over.

She felt her arm suddenly pull to the side as Purple swung her head, tearing Peace off her feet and throwing her right into the ground. She growled and tried to stand, only to feel a rush of air as she was pulled back up and into the open sky. Not Possession, Peace thought, letting her body swing limply as she tried her hardest to come up with a way to deal with this. A tether?

It was embedded into her hand, connected to Purple’s horn. Her blades could pull against it, but that didn’t seem to move Purple like Purple moved her. If she could close the gap she could sever her horn like the fake-Purple and that would probably put an end to the ability, and after that…

The frustration coalesced into a familiar feeling of revenge in Peace’s head, and an idea formed. Chains were difficult to make compared to ropes, but maybe one would be useful here. She thought of her Queen, of the chains and bars she had created from the raw sand and dust to subdue her enemies. Peace had so few new things of her own to offer; hopefully the Black Rabbit would forgive her for taking yet more from others’ ideas.

Who better to learn from than an enemy? she recalled her Queen say. Her blades released the tether to soften her next landing, before stabbing into the ground to root her body in place, letting her arm be pulled about uselessly. With a moment to spare, Peace coiled some blades together into a rope. She recalled the bridge she had made, and imagined the ropes closing in on that group of ponies to squeeze them all to death. She formed another rope and twisted it around the first. It would be strong, but it didn’t look right. The first rope loosened to create a gap between the spiralling second, forming another, opposing spiral. Her eyes widened as the shape entered her mind, and both spirals flattened against one another to create a chain-like pattern. More blades flowed up the design to increase its size and a few loose threads secured the entire thing together. It looked flatter than a real one, but it was close enough.

“Good,” she commented to no one, her breath visible in the cold night air. Another memory came to mind, of her Queen saying the same thing to her when she was first taught Sword and Spear. Peace had been foolish back then, to think her blades were all she needed.

Peace wondered for a moment why she was recalling these things, but another yank of her arm drew her attention. Purple was descending, the faint wing shapes fading from her back and the two pink stars where her eyes used to be flickering, leaving behind a pallid, fuzzy purple like the rest of her body. Maybe she was already running out of energy. At this rate, Purple would fall short of the Black Rabbit’s expectations.

The thought put a smile on Peace’s face. Making a fool of Purple would be enough revenge by itself; as long as her Queen was happy with her work, nothing else mattered. Peace tested her new Chain against the nearest structure, and filled the air with a blast of sharp pebbles. The grave house collapsed upon itself, fractures travelling up its surface to reduce the entire thing to rubble. Her blades couldn’t do that without a sustained attack. Her Queen would be pleased. Perhaps, Peace hoped, this would make up for her failure, and she could fulfill the instructions her Queen had given her during last night’s vision.

A cold gust of wind blew through her hair, and the sting it carried drew her attention. She turned to see a new pair of ponies standing atop one of the intact graves. One was another White, this one spreading a pair of fuzzy, glowing wings. Beside it stood a unicorn who almost shone a light pink, a bright halo of red floating above its head with a pair of black and white wisps inhabiting the several feet between.

The halo looked like a threat, but the wisps merely travelled in and out between it and the pony beneath; a power source, rather than an attack. Like Grey’s hooves, the pegasus’ wings shone brighter than the rest of its body, the air around them gaining a weak glow as well. With the others dealt with and Purple running out of strength, these two could make for entertaining opponents. Peace had been furious when the fake-Purple interrupted her duel with that strike to the chin, but now—she gave her Chain another swing, bringing down another structure—she was having far too much fun to care.

Still…

After what the colour one and Yellow had done, Peace knew pegasi were her biggest threat, though the unicorns were proving troublesome as well. The hairs Purple had cursed still hadn’t regained their strength. Her brow twitched and she looked at her clenched hand, holding it still long enough to see the pair of soft things it still held. She had completely forgotten about Yellow’s wings. The glow was giving way to a darker energy underneath, and so, putting the defeated pegasus out of her mind once again, she dropped them to the floor.

-=-=-

The wind stopped.

Nighttime slowly returned and the static in the air dissipated. The silhouettes of ruins and of the monster that was his target faded back into view as he blinked away the blinding flash. It felt like he’d been stabbed in the eyes. Skycroft flapped his wings and felt his hooves grace a stable surface as he tried to figure out where he was. The air currents had all changed direction for a moment, as if an explosion had just taken place in front of him. He let out a pained grunt as he squinted. No doubt about it; that had been a lightning strike.

“What the hell was that?!” came Moondancer’s aggravated voice from behind him. She was still clinging to his back, so she was ok.

Mr. Thunder came to mind; that had to have been him. None of his other Brothers could do that, not that he’d even seen the other pegasus use his cloudforging abilities offensively before. “O-one of my Brothers, I think!” Skycroft responded as he steadied himself. He rose again and came to rest upon an exposed upper floor, his injured ankle stinging harshly as he landed. His two remaining bottles clinked as he stretched a wing to let Moondancer down, not that she had anywhere to go after that, he belatedly considered.

The look on his face descended as he saw the monster behind all of this. Peace didn’t look anything like he’d imagined. No golden coat of fur, no hooves or claws at the ends of her legs, not even a snout on her face. The scraps of what seemed to be a grotesque bodysuit hung from her waist. Her whole form was thin and sharp like the blades that made up her mane. She really didn’t look like she belonged here, and she was all the more terrifying for it.

At least his Brothers had managed to take one of her arms.

He looked further down the road, and felt his hooves freeze in place.

His passenger hopped back on and yanked him in the opposite direction, a hoof jabbing at the side of his neck to get his attention. “There! Twilight’s over there!” Moondancer cried.

His gaze flicked back to the monster. She’d rooted herself in place to resist Twilight’s Dion’s Pin, and had just demolished another building with a golden chain. She was looking at them now. Moondancer hadn’t mentioned anything about her eyes, but something was definitely flowing from them. A feeling that washed over him like a wave, locking up his joints and stealing the words from his tongue. He watched in silence as Peace looked down at what she held in her remaining hand. It was a pair of small, black wings, covered in scars and the remnants of a powerful electrical burst that still fizzed from one feather to the next.

“Come on, Skycroft, what’re you waiting for?!”

“Y-yeah,” he responded and slowly spread his own. He kept his eyes on the monster until the moment she dropped her trophies to the ground, and he knew they were next. With one great flap he lifted off, and with a second, he threw himself in Twilight’s direction, Moondancer letting out a yelp as she held on.

The wind that blew through his mane and between his feathers held the mint-flavoured purity of a snowcast mountainside. The stale air beyond that felt ill against his coat, and beyond that, an overwhelming presence of doom crashed over him like a tidal wave as he heard an entire row of structures falling behind them. The little unicorn was coming back to ground level a distance away, and he was leading Peace right to her.

“S-Skycroft,” Moondancer began as she looked back, “speed up!”

“I know,” he responded. He could hear more destruction as Peace gave chase, and he risked a look back to see how close she was. Maybe this strange feeling was all in his head, and it was nothing more than killing intent? Maybe the sight of so many of his Brothers laying motionless on the shattered cobbles had been nothing but his fear making him hallucinate, and he was about to find some way to deal with this?

Black Thunder. A veteran with the best smithing skills in the business. The story at his back was the sort that would give the soft ponies of Equestria nightmares. Skycroft’s own little hero’s journey was a mere paragraph compared to that, and yet there the other pegasus had lain, yellow eyes staring up, chest heaving in pain, and a growing pool where his wings should have been. His teeth had been clenched around the hilt of his broken sword so that he wouldn’t scream.

Seldom, too. The pitch-black tentacles of his strongest form had been scattered all over, leaving the changeling himself laying motionless on the ground. Just beyond him, he could’ve sworn he saw the light-grey carapace of Away beneath that mess of colourful magic, too.

He really wished Firebright was here right now.

No, actually. Maybe not. Firebright hated him, but he didn’t want to see the unicorn end up like the others.

“I wonder if all my friends are dead,” he commented, the chill of his breath lingering in his cheeks as an ice cold sweat formed across his brow. He hadn’t seen Dredge or Snow Drop.

“W-what?”

“Did you see my Brothers down there?”

She paused. “No. I didn’t.”

Skycroft let out a fake chuckle and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good! It must’ve been my imagination then! I thought they’d all been killed or something.”

Moondancer didn’t respond. That was fine. He didn’t need more input on the situation. He would get Moondancer to her friend, get the two of them out of here, and then fly straight into the Royal Palace and drag the Princess here if he had to. Firebright could handle the paperwork afterwards. He was good at that.

Skycroft felt something cold and metallic brush against his back hoof. An excited growl came from behind them. “Hey, Moondancer, do you think we could talk some more after this is over?”

Again, she didn’t respond. That was fine.

The horrid vibe in the air overcame him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

As Skycroft felt a set of giant claws dig into his back leg, he beat his wings forward and ducked his head down, killing his speed and sending the little mare tumbling off and into the air. Another flap sent a makeshift cloud after her as she fell, and, thankfully, her charged hooves provided her leverage as she flopped into a soft landing.

He was pulled backwards and down, the stale air rushing through his mane before he felt a wall of stone strike him from behind. His head smacked hard against it as he came to a stop, causing the sight of Peace coming toward him to blur. Even like this he could see her mouth open in a big, excited smile, like a child discovering their newest toy as she charged toward him, her blades moving her along like a giant spider. His legs still recovering from the impact, his wings acted for him and sent a blast of icy air at his attacker. She hesitated for a moment as Dion’s Pin dissipated, before lunging forward. Her freed arm came first, followed by her blades, throwing him back against the wall, and plunging his world into the void.

The hopeful ideas and combat tactics came to a end, then. His wings still did their thing, but that stopped too when he felt them getting bound by blades. His limbs twitched and pushed against the giant hand wrapped around his chest, but they soon went slack, awaiting whatever would come. Peace’s mane tightened around his wing joints, and he imagined how Black Thunder must be feeling right now, assuming he hadn’t already died from blood loss.

Some part of him still fought. A tiny, pathetic part of him he thought he’d left behind at the onset of his first adventure. “Stop. I’m not a threat,” he pleaded with the darkness. More blades wrapped around his limbs, holding them against the wall like a carcass upon a table, ready to be butchered. He couldn’t do anything now. “Please, Peace. I’m already defeated.”

He was glad the last thing he’d seen clearly was Moondancer landing safely. At least he’d done that part right. Maybe she and Twilight would get out of here unharmed.

Peace hadn’t said anything for a while, the strange feeling she emanated ebbing and flowing as she leaned closer. He heard her sniff, felt her blades investigate his body, and then her grip loosen, letting him slump back to the ground.

“Pathetic. I expected more from a pegasus,” she commented with a gruff, and left him.

Alright, Skycroft thought. That’s good. That’s progress. He drew his limbs close; only a few papercut-like scratches. They were all still there, most importantly his wings. He gave them a test flap and felt the chilly breeze blow around him, just as pure and soft as usual. Now for my eyes. He raised a hoof into his field of view and, for an instant, his mind’s eye filled in the gaps for him, before the blackness took that mirage, too. He was blind.

He looked around and raised his other hoof, the one that had been hurt during the fall, the reality of his situation sinking in deeper and sharper with every second. He gave his wings a flap to comfort himself and felt the cool air whistle around his body and away. He could feel the stone wall behind him, the displaced cobbles beneath him, and the growing bruise on the back of his head that had taken his sight. Another flap and his mouth curled downwards, his eyes blinking and focusing to try and make some measure of difference. He stood, still looking around, as if there was something that would be bright enough to break through the gloom, and saw his partner at his hooves pointing him in the right direction.

His Lunar Shade galloped in place, aiming straight ahead, visible even in this state. Skycroft had plenty of ideas concerning their true nature, and this, at least, proved they weren’t made of anything that should be visible. There was still that feeling in the air brought on by the Moon, he realised. It had faded from the forefront of his mind over the course of the month, but he could still feel it glowering down at him, just like…

He frowned in the direction his shade was galloping. They were the same; the Moon and Peace. Well, of course they are, he thought, taking a step forward. That was where she came from, so it only made sense she would possess the same kind of alien energy. The frown deepened; he hadn’t seen a shade beneath her. Did she lack whatever component was being cast by the moonlight?

Another step turned into a slow trot as he realised which direction Peace was heading. She was still aiming for Twilight, which meant both mares were in danger. He gave another flap, as strong as he dared, and felt the air blow around him, off the cobbles and up against the fluff of his coat. A few steps later the edges of his feathers brushed against a wall, and he felt the air repelling off it, too. He’d always been sensitive to the movements of the breeze—it was what made his icework so fine and precise—and it seemed that understanding would still help him now.

He was a fool with a deathwish, he knew, but then he’d always been that way. This was a bigger hurdle than most, but something deep within told him he could do it.

The third thing that made it through the darkness was that strange feeling emanating from Peace. It was weak now that she had disregarded him, but it was still much stronger than that of the Moon itself. Maybe… maybe I can still do something, he thought as he broke into a gallop, each flap building the map in his head while the depressive sensation of Peace’s energy led him onward. Regardless of what state he was in, he needed to keep those two safe. He couldn’t let two promising unicorns be butchered by some alien barbarian just because things were more difficult for him now.

The feeling rose and he felt the air part around something tall and slender up ahead. He pulled his wings back as far as they would go, filled his chest with air, and sent a blast of freezing vapour flooding over the area. The whistle of wind against metal signalled Peace’s response, but her blades didn’t reach him. The parting of air widened—perhaps a shield—and Skycroft took the chance to retreat again, instinctively lifting up and feeling a tiny gust beneath him as Peace sent a single blade to skewer him. The length graced one of his back hooves in an attempt to grab him, but the metal shook as it froze, before pulling back.

Another gust of air as Peace’s shield came down. “You can fight after all,” she stated, dully. “Fine. I’ll kill you like the others.”

“If that’s what it takes to end this, then so be it, freak.”

He was nowhere near as fast as Thunder and nowhere near as smart as Dredge, but he had an elemental advantage now, and that would be enough. It had to be. With a few strong flaps Skycroft gave himself some distance and he set off. A small swarm of blades followed after, some missing while others froze against his coat. The fur stiffened and snapped off with them, preventing Peace from hanging onto him.

Skycroft didn’t know which way he was going. He simply flew as fast as he could, following the flow of the wind through the streets and between the ruins. He could still sense the feeling of animosity close behind him, but Peace’s attacks had stopped for the moment. I need to find a place to freeze her solid, Skycroft thought. But it’ll have to be made quickly. I won’t have time to make sure. He felt his remaining water bottles against the front of his armour. Two left. That should be enough for somethi—

A sharp pain scattered his thoughts. He looked back, though he couldn’t see anything, and felt a horrid shape digging into his side. Multiple blades put together into something that eased its way into his flesh. It froze like the rest, but the depth was bad news; like a corkscrew it had taken root, and if he released it he’d lose a chunk of himself, too. It was now or never.

Skycroft pulled his wings in and let himself fall, grasping one of his bottles as he neared the end of a wide street. An intact building on one side, maybe one storey on the other and a narrow alleyway running along the back of them. This would do. He maintained his speed, dragging Peace along as another spiral embedded itself in his other flank. With a yell of pain he raised the bottle and tossed it onto the cobbles.

Mere moments passed before the air itself felt like it had frozen, like he’d flown into a giant freezer. Skycroft slipped against the cobbles as he landed, his front end tipping over and smashing his remaining bottle against the ice. He didn’t miss the beat, and blew the freed water into a more useful shape. Kicking off the floor he pulled himself back up and over his creation, further hardening the water with each flap and drawing moisture from the air to create a puffy roof of clouds. The shape on the wind roughly matched the one in his head, though the floor was patchy and the mirrors were all messed up, and if he’d had enough time and an extra bottle he could have added a more solid roof to really give the gazebo that ice palace vibe.

Peace followed, still connected to him. Her blades crashed through the standing tower and reduced the ruins beside it rubble, but they passed straight through the mirrors like a knife through milk, and by the time she dislodged herself from her target her toes had already touched the center of the trap. “Agh!” she cried, taking another step, only to find her other foot freezing in place as well. Her blades burst from beneath the roof, but Skycroft was already a fair distance above and out of sight. “Come back and fight me, pathetic pegasus!” she screamed after him.

Next came the hard part: The lenses. Lenses were a pain even when he could see what he was doing, but he formed each one with as much care as he could spare, directing their gaze back down to the malformed gazebo. In his current state he couldn’t even check if his image was being carried through to the mirrors, but he heard blades stabbing into the wall of the alley below, proving that it had worked as intended. It probably looked like a funhouse in there, each reflection less accurate than the last, but it seemed to be enough to goad her. Even past the tremendous amount of pain Skycroft couldn’t help but smirk. He genuinely hadn’t expected this to work. The attacks spread in all directions as Peace followed his images. From up here he could feel the air being blustered about by her attacks. It felt like she was using all of her blades at once just to get rid of his taunting face, spinning and cleaving until the neighbouring structures were nothing but piles of jagged pebbles.

The attacks began to slow as the mirrors took their effect, chilling anything that went through them while the roof kept the cold inside, reducing Peace’s attacks to a fraction of what they once were. The smug feeling swelling in Skycroft’s chest was cut short as he felt the gazebo’s cloud roof gently floating upwards past his hooves, having been displaced by Peace’s ferocity. A strong flap pushed it back into place, but it was too late. An icy length wrapped around his hoof and yanked him down.

The landing was rougher this time. The clouds confused his senses and he misjudged where the floor was, twisting his injured leg. By the time he’d picked his bleeding jaw off the ground there was already a blade coiled around his neck.

Peace held him straight, the sensation from her eyes palpable enough to take the remaining strength from his bleeding backside. The joints of his back legs were feeling numb from agony. He hoped it was just the pain and not something more permanent. I can’t let this end yet, he thought, sitting in place as his wings were reigned in once more. I have to finish her off, for the sake of everyone in Canterlot and beyond, and…

Had anyone asked him what his greatest weakness was before today, Skycroft would have smirked and responded with a joke. He was good at what he did, and skilled in making himself look good while doing it. He didn’t need to cover his weak points, because they were small and uninteresting compared to this rare, “cool” power of his. That was how outsiders saw him, at least. His Brothers knew better, but few had any idea of how little he really had beyond them.

His only permanent company thrashed against its existential restraints beneath him, its pale visage reflecting across the mirrors, the gazebo’s shape becoming truly visible for the briefest of moments. It was better made than he’d realised.

The blades around his wings tightened, but the one around his neck fell away, inching back after being stiffened in the cold. A single note filled the air. Skycroft wasn’t versed in music, so he didn’t know which one, but it sounded like a string instrument of some kind. Another. His lips quivered, desperate for some way out of this situation. “W-what’re you doing?”

Peace strummed her claws along the instrument. “Making a decision,” she responded. “You are stronger than I thought. My Queen will be ready to make this place part of her empire soon. I wonder if she would keep you alive, if she were here right now…” A note twanged oddly and Peace made a grunt. “You still need to be punished, but I’ll let my Queen make the decision on your life.”

“You’re sparing me?” Skycroft broached, knowing he was tempting fate in all the wrong ways.

“No. Idiot.” The sound of metal easing against metal preceded a far, far worse sound meeting Skycroft’s ears. They instinctively swivelled backwards on his head, before another few notes provoked him to start backing up, but his hooves held fast. “This is one I played before, on the stage. I wasn’t sure how to make it hurt ponies, but now I think I can do it, thanks to you.”

Whatever she’d created, it wasn’t just any string instrument. The sound it made pierced his thoughts and tore them to shreds. If Rion had a bray of his own, this was what it would sound like. Skycroft realised what he was about to be put through as the sound reflected off the mirrors that surrounded them. As the notes came back Peace only continued to play, adding more noise to the horrific dirge, the volume rising in tandem with the chaos. It started as some sort of unhinged scraping of a guitar, but soon lost any semblance of form amongst the mess.

Skycroft’s limbs didn’t even move, and he didn’t speak. Opening his mouth would only let the noise down his throat. With a shudder he spewed anyway, the puke freezing as it hit the floor, followed by his face as his body finally started to rebel. The sound only began to fade when his ears started bleeding, yet still, the feeling behind the notes made it into his head, and with a gurgling wail he began to cry.

There was nothing he could do, no one he could save. He was trapped here, alone, just as he’d always been.