> Sunken Horizons
>  by Goldenwing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> I: Of Betrayers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

We’ve rested long enough.

Twilight opened her eyes. The soft sand of the sea floor clung to her coat as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the pale purple glow of the shield dome that surrounded her.

She took in a deep breath. It was stale and damp, filtered from the ocean through the arcane fabric of her shield. She thought back to her first dive, when she had rested on the ocean floor much as she was now, listening to the ticking in her ears, feeling her own breath hot on her cheeks, and watching the bubbles drip out of her dive suit and up into the darkness above.

The bubbles. Twilight leaned her head to the side, eyeing the steady stream of bubbles drifting off the outer surface of the dome. How she wished that she could close her eyes and let the peace of sleep take her once more. Perhaps she would sleep a thousand years and wake up in the Equestria she’d known as a filly. She had traveled such a length of time before, hadn’t she? Surely there was a way back.

Foalish fantasy will accomplish nothing, little flower.

Of course she didn’t have the luxury of such dreams. Equestria was still depending on her, and every second she spent here added to the deep well of guilt within her. More urgently—as selfish as it felt to think—her friends were no doubt searching for her. She couldn’t let her friends find her. Not until she had fixed herself.

You were broken when I found you. It is I who is doing the fixing.

Twilight let out a small groan as she pulled herself out of the clinging sand and stood up straight. It had been three days since she’d eaten anything, and she felt it in the ache of her muscles. It was only by the virtue of her magic reserves that she remained alive.

You’re welcome.

Twilight’s horn glowed as she cast a simple compass spell, and she oriented herself northwest. Her mind lingered on the old charts that she’d seen Star Trails plotting paths on. It had been three days since she left Altalusia. Assuming that her memory of the coordinates and scale were correct, and that she had taken accurate measurements of her travel, she should have reached her destination by now. She must have overshot it last night.

She pulled more magic into herself, sighing as her horn took on the weight of her body. The purple shell of magic stayed with her as she floated off the seafloor, releasing a rush of bubbles in its wake.

Twilight called the framework of her teleportation spell to mind. Her lips curved into a frown as her magic remained static, refusing her commands.

I will not be ignored!

Twilight clenched her teeth. Hot tears began to burn her cheeks as she pulled at her magic harder, willing it to obey her. Pain began to build in her mind, but she pressed on. It was her magic.

It is our magic, and you cannot ignore me!

Twilight cried out as the pain overwhelmed her. She dropped back to the soft sand of the ocean floor, biting back sobs. “Go away.”

You would die without me, the Other whispered. You lack the strength to survive the ocean on your own.

“Maybe I would rather die than be like this,” Twilight hissed. Violent shivers ran through her body. “You hurt my friends.”

We both know that failure is not an option. A firm hoof touched Twilight’s cheek, and she looked up into her own eyes, framed in red tears. The Other looked down on her, its mouth set in an unmoving frown even as its voice echoed in Twilight’s head. I did only as you requested.

“You promised!” Twilight shot to her hooves with a scream. “You said you wouldn’t hurt them!”

They interfered! The Other drew itself up high, its ethereal voice echoing in the depths of Twilight’s mind. As did you!

With her magic locked away, Twilight did the first thing that came to mind—she reared up and tried to stomp her dark reflection’s face in.

Twilight yelped as she fell through the open space in front of her and smacked her face against the hard surface of the dome. A deep-throated growl escaped her as she scrambled back to her hooves, spinning around to see the Other. It was standing in the middle of the little dome, lips twisted into a sneer.

You missed, little flower.

Twilight’s entire body was shaking. The tears were still flowing, but the pit of despair in her gut was tightening, boiling over and seeking escape. Her horn began to glow.

That’s it, the Other goaded, stepping closer. It met her fury with open-mouthed hunger, a long, slithering tongue hanging limp from between bloody fangs. Let it out. Can you feel it yet? Hit me with all the hatred you’re holding inside yourself!

For uncounted seconds, Twilight stared into the bloodshot eyes of her grinning likeness. Her magic pulsed inside her, begging for the catharsis of escape, and she couldn’t help but let out a shuddering sigh as she reached for it.

The memory of steady green eyes came to her. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, looking away and shaking her head. The Other could stop her from using magic whenever it wanted, and had done that very thing not a moment before, yet it was allowing her access again. It wants me to lose control.

“No.” Twilight took a deep breath, thinking of her friends. She thought of Applejack’s quiet commiseration. “I won’t do it.”

The Other scoffed. Its voice whispered in the back of her mind. Perhaps not now, but in time.

Opening her eyes, Twilight sought refuge in purpose. “We should get moving. We must be nearly there now.”

Ah, so we finally agree on something.

Twilight couldn’t help but grimace at the invasive thought. Her horn lit, and she twisted her magic into the familiar form of a teleportation spell. With a crackling pop, a tingling static, and the brief sizzle of boiling water, Twilight threw herself across the depths.





“We’re not going to Canterlot.”

Rainbow Dash narrowed her eye, regarding the other pegasus coldly. “What did you say?”

“We’re not going to Canterlot,” Sea Sabre repeated, meeting the glare without hesitation. “We aren’t prepared.”

“Prepared?” Rainbow stomped her hooves against the floor of the cargo hold, filling the expansive room with the resounding clang of her outburst. “Who cares if we’re prepared? Twilight needs us!”

“I care,” Sabre countered. The two pegasi were seated on thin mats up against one wall, their wingblades gleaming beneath them from the fresh polishing that they applied after each practice session. A thin lather of sweat marred both their coats, a testament to the strain of their training. “I won’t send my team in there unprepared.”

“What’s changed?” Rainbow demanded, her voice cracking. She stood up, stretching her aching legs, and began to stalk across the room as she spoke. “You went down there before, when you found us, and everything was fine. And now you have me, too!” Rainbow rounded on her mentor, jabbing a wing at herself. “We’re better prepared!”

Sabre shook her head. “Circumstances have changed. We’re returning to Heighton.”

“Buck Heighton!” Rainbow shouted. “Twilight needs us!”

Sabre’s voice rose to match hers. “Rainbow Dash, listen to me!”

Rainbow stiffened, cowed by the familiar tone of the order. Sabre had broken out her commander voice. It was the one she used to let ponies know that they had crossed over the threshold from civilian to military, and she no longer had the patience for argument. Rainbow felt her body instinctively snapping to attention, conditioned by long days of training.

“My job is not to be your friend!” Sabre advanced on Rainbow as she spoke. “Mr. Rich pays me to run this ship for him, and my only other responsibility is to the safety of my crew!”

Rainbow kept her eyes forward as she opened her mouth. “My—”

Sabre pressed on, cutting her off. “I did not bring them down into the ruins of Canterlot looking for you nor anypony else! I did not bring them to Ponyville, nor the Serpent’s Eye, nor Fellis, nor Altalusia for any reason other than the whims of my employer!”

“But—”

“Twilight Sparkle is not my friend,” Sabre said, her eyes hard. “She was my commander, and she is now a threat to my crew who you are asking me to chase. I am not going back to Canterlot just because you think she might be hiding there.”

Rainbow swallowed. She angled her head to the left to ensure that Sabre could see her eye clearly. “Am I your friend?”

Sabre held her gaze for several seconds before speaking. “Rainbow Dash, you’re a talented and passionate mare. Given some additional training and discipline, I would be glad to have you on my team.” She paused. “But I would not yet consider you my friend.”

Rainbow looked away to hide the disappointment in her remaining eye. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Sea Sabre sighed. “You know my priorities.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow shrugged, keeping the other pegasus on her blind side. “I don’t need your explanation.”

Sabre stepped back into view. Her gaze had softened now. “Talk to Mr. Rich when we get to Heighton,” she said. “You’ve seen how he is. He might want me to help you find Twilight. Either way, I’m not going after her without making extra preparations. This crew is outfitted for salvage, not bounty hunting.”

Rainbow scowled. She tossed her mane, letting it fall over her eyepatch. The long hairs tickled at the scars on her face. “It’s not bounty hunting.”

“There may not be a bounty, but we’ll be hunting someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Sabre said. “Someone dangerous.”

Rainbow sighed. She walked past Sabre, back to where her wingblades were set out on a simple cloth, and began to wrap them up. Sabre followed in silence, doing the same to her own, much older set.

The simple ritual was a brief relief from the thoughts that had haunted Rainbow’s mind for the past four days. She still had the bruise from where Twilight had struck her at Altalusia. The screams of dying soldiers woke her up sometimes at night, paired with the scent of fresh blood. She’d fought in that battle as much as any pony had. She’d finally felt like she was making a difference. And yet no matter how many times she cleaned and polished her wingblades, she still saw the same red stains.

She wondered if Twilight had been conscious when she burnt those soldiers alive with her magic. She wondered if Twilight would feel any less guilty even if she wasn’t. She wondered why, even now, she still felt so angry.

Sabre cleared her throat beside her. “You ready for lunch?”

Rainbow nodded as she picked up her bundled wingblades. “Sure. Just let me stow these.”

She spread her wings, jumping up to the miniature cloudhome she’d been steadily expanding along the top of the cargo hold. She had never practiced much with cloudcarving as a youth, and the sparse interior of her room often made her miss her home more than anything. She placed her wingblades on a rack she’d made special for them. Making cloud hard enough to hold objects was a long process, and it had taken her a few tries to get it right, but she didn’t have too many possessions anyways. It worked out.

Rainbow lingered inside the little room and scratched a hoof against the soft cloud floor. Her wings shuffled against her back, aching to fly. Maybe someday, once things finally settled down, she’d have the time to discover the final fate of Cloudsdale. She could feel the tug calling to her. She knew it couldn’t be around anymore, so why did she still feel it?

I wish Shy had come along. She missed their talks, but she understood. Fluttershy didn’t feel safe on the Argo, and Pinkie Pie needed her. Still, talking to Applejack just wasn’t the same.

When Rainbow glided down to the floor of the cargo hold, Sabre was waiting for her in the doorway. With a nod and the hiss of steam, the two pegasi stepped out into the hall.





Rarity grimaced as she looked down on the land below. The guest room she’d been staying in had been ruined during the fighting—collapsed in the wake of one of the tremors—and Titus had instead granted her a suite of her own on the second floor. It was larger, with a spread of three rooms, and adorned with valuable wooden furniture carved from the island’s trees. It also had several windows and a pair of balconies that overlooked the surrounding countryside.

It was on one of these balconies that she now stood, watching as villagers and soldiers alike toiled in the wake of Twilight’s rampage. The outer wall had been mostly repaired, although there was still one worker steadily replacing the iron spearheads at the top. A crew of sweating ponies paused to eat bread in the shade of one of the great columns after spending the hours since dawn repairing the walls of the mansion. A pair of well-dressed mares, hired from outside Titus’ demesne, hunched over wide drawings spread over a simple wooden table.

Many of the villagers had brought children with them, either to help or to supervise, and the laughter of the younger ones could be heard in the distance as they played games of soldier in the burnt out and shattered fields outside the walls. Rarity shivered as she remembered walking through the land and hearing children pretend at fighting to the death in the very same fields that had harbored a real battle not even a week prior. Even back in Ponyville, foals had played at being Royal Guards, but those usually involved chasing down criminals or rescuing stranded ponies. When did foals begin dreaming about hurting ponies instead of helping them?

The gentle flutter of wings from above brought her out of her thoughts. She turned, forcing a smile, only for it to falter as she saw the object hanging from Fluttershy’s hooves. “Fluttershy, dear, what are you doing?”

Fluttershy landed on the balcony next to her with a tired sigh. “Oh, Rarity, I didn’t have any choice!” She squeezed the injured bear cub against her cheek and gave it a gentle nuzzle. Rarity took a step back as it let out a high-pitched growl. “We couldn’t find his parents, and none of the other critters were willing to take him in!”

“He doesn’t look very happy to be here, darling.” Rarity grimaced as the cub wriggled out of Fluttershy’s hooves and rolled onto its back. Tiny claws, no less sharp for their size, waved through the air.

A wan smile graced Fluttershy’s face as she scratched at the cub’s belly, ignoring its claws. “Of course he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be happy if you had lost your home either, would you?”

Rarity’s breath hitched as she looked away. Her roaming eyes happened to fall on a young filly holding a bucket of water. She watched the filly pour some of the water on a freshly turned soil pile and receive an encouraging pat from a mare with brown stains worked into her coat. The mare grabbed a shovel before leading the filly to the next burnt husk of a tree, and then Rarity couldn’t see anymore through the wet blurriness in her eyes.

“No.” Rarity’s throat burned as she forced the words out. “I’m not.”

“O-oh.” Fluttershy’s voice wavered. “Um—”

“We should g-go inside.” Rarity spun in place and trotted back into the relative safety of her bedroom. She collapsed against her bed and, her image now safe from wandering gazes, allowed herself to sob in earnest.

Even through the tears, Rarity could see the redness forming around Fluttershy’s eyes as the pegasus hesitated on the balcony. A bird was nestled in her mane, nursing a broken wing. “Rarity—”

“Don’t look at me!” Rarity’s voice cracked as she turned away and buried her face in her hooves. Oh, what had happened to her? She’d been keeping it all in so well, even when she’d seen that little unicorn filly in Fellis, and now one off-hoof comment had shattered her.

“Rarity, I—”

“I’ll talk to Titus about the bear,” Rarity said. “Would you—c-can you close the door?”

Several seconds passed before Rarity heard the balcony door close. She let out a shaky sigh when the sound of wingbeats outside followed soon after.

Rarity slumped onto her side. She didn’t even have a picture to cry over. A powerful sob wracked her body as she thought of her mother teaching her how to brush her hair, and her father ignoring her fashion advice, and dear little Sweetie’s misguided attempts at cooking. She thought of Applejack’s description of the remains of Ponyville, and wondered if she would even be able to recognize their bones.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, shaking her head and letting out a moan. Why would you think about that, you silly girl?

She shouldn’t have snapped at Fluttershy. The other mare had gone through all the same things she had, and she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. There was just so much happening, and she was helpless in the face of it all! Rainbow Dash and Applejack were out there trying to find Twilight, and she was trapped in her gilded prison like the damsel in a fairy tale, breaking down over innocuous questions!

What right did Titus have holding her here? Her lip curled back as she recalled the way he had spoken to her when she was preparing to leave. “Ye won’t be goin’ any further than I can throw ye without my permission, Countess.” Oh, how she hated his voice!

But of course he had the power, didn’t he, if not the right? The dungeon tower had been wholly untouched during the battle, and those bandits were still relying on her. With every passing day, the opportunity to take it all back drifted further away. How could she change her mind after letting those ponies live in hope for nearly a week? She couldn’t. She could almost feel the noose tightening around her throat.

And what of the other pony in Titus’ dungeon? The anger began to boil inside her as she thought of Ana’s face. Scoundrel! When Rarity picked herself up off the ground, the tears had stopped flowing. The tightness in her chest had been joined by a tightness in her jaw.

She burst out into the hall without even a glance in the mirror. Servants and laborers ducked out of her way with wide-eyed expressions as she barreled past them. Whitehorn opened his mouth to say something as she passed him in the parlor, but he wisely thought better of it.

The door to the dungeon stairwell let out a loud bang as she slammed it open. Her hooves clip-clopped against the stone as she climbed, and the echoing reverb drove her on like a jeering crowd in the back of her mind. By the time she reached the top of the tower, she felt nothing but fury.

She shoved the trapdoor open and climbed out into shadowy confines of the dungeon. The imprisoned bandits jumped in alarm at her arrival, their faces each taking on different mixes of hope and fear, but they were not whom she came for.

Rarity twisted to face the one cell which didn’t have an opening at the back. The space had been bricked up, preventing the flight-capable occupant from simply jumping to her freedom, and the resulting shadow made it impossible to see the unlit center of the cell. It was only when Anatami moved, her golden eyes glowing like beacons in the dark, that Rarity was able to fix her with her gaze.

“You.” Rarity’s voice shook as much as her body. She advanced on the traitor’s cell with deliberate steps. She kept her voice calm, but she didn’t hold back any of her fury. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ana regarded her with a cool demeanor that only fanned the flames in Rarity’s chest. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” She went to lie back down, but stopped as Rarity lit her horn.

“Why?” Rarity demanded. “Explain!”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “What’re you gonna do with that horn?” The pale blue light illuminated her cell, highlighting the scrapes and bruises on her matted coat.

“I’ll—I’ll—ugh!” Rarity reared up, slamming her hooves against the bars. She reached out with her magic, dragging the thestral to the edge of the cell through brute force. “I could have you killed!”

Ana’s eyes widened for a brief moment as her hooves slid across the floor without her permission. She recovered quickly, meeting Rarity’s gaze with strained coolness. “I believe that’s already the plan, Countess, though I hear you’re staunchly against execution. Perhaps you could save my neck like you did for them?”

“You don’t deserve it,” Rarity hissed.

“And they do?” Ana shot back. “They’re bandits who would’ve killed your companions and turned you in just like I was planning. If anything, they’re less deserving of mercy than I am.”

“Shut up!” Sweat began to drip down Rarity’s forehead as she struggled to maintain her magical grip. “We trusted you!”

“That was your first mistake,” Ana said. A coy grin came to her face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to trust a thestral?”

A deep, guttural growl rose out of Rarity’s chest. She pulled Ana back and began to slam her into the bars, forcing her words out through clenched teeth. “Don’t—you—talk about—my—mother!”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she let the dazed prisoner fall to the stony floor, but she gave her no time to recover. “You don’t deserve the right to speak of her! She was a kind pony, a caring pony, and she certainly never taught me to doubt the word of a stranger just because of the shape of her body!”

Ana looked up at her, and for a moment Rarity thought she saw a flash of guilt in her eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced with the same sneering grin. “I guess I have her to thank then, huh?”

Rarity’s hind legs dropped out from under her. “What is wrong with you?” The tears had began flowing again, and she hated the way her voice quailed. “Don’t you feel even a shred of remorse for the pain you’ve caused? We gave you a bed to sleep in! We defended you when the ship captain didn’t want to take you on! We—” Rarity sucked in a breath. “I made you a dress!”

Ana’s grin faded. She rubbed at her fresh bruises as she turned away. “It was a nice dress. But you should have known not to trust someone like me.”

Rarity choked out a biting laugh. “Is it too much to ask for an apology, Ana? Is that even your name, or is that just another lie?”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” Ana said. Her ears drooped as she spoke. “I was doing what I had to to get by. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand!” Rarity shouted, glaring through the tears. “We never did anything to you, and your barbaric partner hounded my friend until she broke! It’s your fault that all this happened! Do you hear me? Your! Fault!”

Ana’s ears snapped up, and she rounded on Rarity with a snarl. “Don’t you talk about my sister like that!”

“Your sister?” Rarity echoed, her smile growing more strained. “You dare to bring up my family after what you’ve done to me, and have the nerve to snap at me when I mention your bloodthirsty monster of a partner? She’s not even your sister! She’s a griffon!”

Ana bared her teeth. The two mares stared each other down, one smiling through her tears while the other shook in silence, before Ana looked away. “You couldn’t understand.”

“Falling back on that again, coward?” Rarity stood back up as the weakness in her legs passed. “Tell me that you’re sorry! If you have even an ounce of decency in you, apologize for betraying us and hurting my friends!”

“I won’t apologize to you,” Ana said. She turned away fully, sitting down facing the wall. “The plan should’ve worked. If your friend hadn’t turned into that monster and nearly ripped the island apart, then we’d all be long gone already.”

Rarity glared at the back of Ana’s head, breathing hard. A motion to the side caught her eye, and Rarity turned to see one of the bandits waving for her eye. In her anger, it took her a few seconds to remember the mare’s name to be River Pie.

“S’not worth it, Countess,” she said. “Ye can’t trust ‘er kind.”

Rarity exhaled a long, slow breath. The fire in her breast flickered and faded as she looked back to Ana once more. “I have nothing against her kind,” she spat. The thestral remained still, facing the bricked up window as stiff as a statue.

The bandit mare was right. All the shouting and crying in the world wasn’t worth it. Anatami had shown her true colors, and she would suffer the consequences of her actions. Perhaps Rarity would even be there to watch.

Opening the trapdoor with one last glimmer of magic, Rarity began the winding climb down the tower. The echoing of her steps only made her feel even more empty inside than she already did.





With a sigh, Twilight let herself drift downwards. She frowned as her hooves came to rest on hard stone.

She wanted to look, but she was so tired. Several seconds passed as she stood in place, head down, mustering her energy. Her horn had gone numb an hour ago, along with her lips. Perhaps a quick nap, and then—

We would not wake up.

Twilight jumped, her eyes fluttering open. A circle of sand had been blown away by the shockwave of her teleportation and subsequent air dome, revealing the crumbling remains of bricks underneath. The edges had been worn down so much that some of them resembled weathered rocks more than anything crafted by pony hooves. A tarnished breastplate, only the last stubborn flecks of gold still clinging to its dented surface, caught her eye.

It’s a road.

The Other tugged on her magic, and she allowed the spell to be cast. Thin streams of magic, imperceptible to the physical senses, raced out into the depths in eight directions. One returned.

We’re nearly there. One more jump.

One more jump. Twilight steeled herself, spreading her stance. Oh, how she wanted rest. But to rest now would be to fail Equestria, her friends, and the Princess. Every second she wasted, the weight only grew heavier.

Clenching her jaw in anticipation, Twilight called on her magic. The pulsing ache in her horn immediately flared into a lance of pain that left her breathless and brought tears to her eyes, but she pressed on. Failure was never an option.

The magic wouldn’t come. It simmered deep inside her, just out of reach. She cried out as the pain in her horn began to burn hotter, piercing into her skull like knives digging at the base of her horn. Desperation began to join the tears of pain.

“C’mon, Twilight. Oh, come on!” Her voice shook as she egged herself on. “Just one more! For the Princess!”

She felt the Other watching her, judging her. It didn’t say anything, but it didn’t have to. It thought she was weak. It thought she was vulnerable. It saw an opening, but it didn’t say anything, because it too could feel her thoughts, and it knew that it didn’t have to.

“Help me,” Twilight growled.

What?

“Help me!”

Its smile was a thing felt more than seen, like a snake slithering in one’s bed at night. What do you need, little flower?

“I need your help!” Twilight spat. The light of her horn began to flicker, and with it, the shield protecting her from the crushing water of the depths began to shrink. “I said it! I c-can’t do this without you!”

Well, if you say so.

The surge of power came with such ease that Twilight found herself wondering if the Other had been intentionally reserving some final pool of energy for this very purpose. The world flashed purple, and Twilight collapsed onto the shattered stones at the base of the Canterhorn.

Relief flooded her, tempered by disgust. She had made it, and yet she had given in.

There is no shame in using our full potential, little one. Whenever you shut me out, you’re only hurting yourself.

Twilight’s heart pounded in her chest. The air dome was far smaller than it had been before, barely extending past her legs. “We aren’t there yet.”

She blinked, and the Other was looking down at her with a warm, fanged smile. We can do it together.

Twilight didn’t have the energy to justify any protest, so she merely pulled herself back to her wobbly hooves. When her horn lit, the sound of the magic sparking into being was echoed by another that seemed to come from every direction. Her hooves drifted off the ground.

Time passed in a blur. Even with her and the Other working in concert, no concentration could be spared on internal musings or thoughts beyond the strained arcane ping to ensure she was still on course. The mountain face crawled past at a snail’s pace, marred by deep cracks and the clinging remains of architecture. On two occasions, Twilight sensed something watching her, and she had just enough presence of mind to tense up and then sigh in relief when the strange attention moved on. Her bubble of air shrunk smaller until her hooftips tingled with the energy of the barrier and her breath grew strained with the difficulty of breathing.

When Twilight finally emerged from the water, the air in her bubble was so stale that her first breath of Canterlot felt like a spring breeze. She stumbled forwards, collapsing onto cold stone and shivering as the water dripped from her coat and formed a small puddle beneath her.

A shaky laugh escaped her. “We did it.”

She didn’t need to open her eyes to see the Other’s grin. We did it.

Twilight flinched. Her laugh cut off with a sharp gasp, and she pushed herself off the ground with a shake of her head. What was she thinking?

Is something the matter, little flower?

“Yes,” Twilight growled, pushing herself into an unsteady walk. “You.”

The Other’s grin twisted into a scowl. And here I had thought you were finally beginning to understand.

“I’ll never understand you,” Twilight muttered. “And I never want to.”

Twilight’s horn flickered on. She was in the same tunnel that Sabre had led her through to escape Canterlot so many days ago, the water rippling quietly behind her in her wake. Her horn cast a dim light over the tunnel as she hiked up the smooth path. Her eyes drifted over the walls, taking in the details that she hadn’t had the presence of mind to notice during her flight from Canterlot so long ago. How long had it been? Three weeks? She could barely remember anything about her first day in the future except for—

Twilight’s knees buckled. Spike had been down here the whole time, hadn’t he, trapped in the echoing darkness? She had promised to come back for him, and yet she’d been so focused on the problems before her that she’d barely spared him a thought since leaving.

The Other’s voice hissed in her ears, dripping with false sympathy. Oh, how could you ever be so cruel to your dear, dear friend?

“Shut up,” Twilight muttered. She shook her head and quickened her pace. “I don’t need you pointing out all my mistakes too.”

She heard another set of hoofsteps clopping against the stone, and turned to see the Other walking beside her. Do I sense another thing that we agree on? Blood dripped from its lips as it bared them in a sinister smile.

“I came back, didn’t I?” Twilight turned back to the darkness yawning before her, but the Other was waiting for her there as well, looking back at her with that same smile.

You came back out of your own fear. Everywhere Twilight looked, she saw the Other walking, always facing her with that same sneer. You cannot lie to yourself, little flower. We have fled here with our bruises and our scrapes so you could take refuge in isolation, not on some noble quest.

“It’s your fault.” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut as her whispers echoed into the darkness. “I wanted to stay with my friends, but it’s not safe for me to be around them. Not as long as I’m… like this.”

And so what is your plan, then?

“Why do you even bother asking?” Twilight looked up, meeting the Other’s leer with a heated glare. “I thought you already knew everything about me?”

Oh, but then where would I get my fun? The Other’s forked tongue flicked out as it let its maw hang open. Its mouth remained still as its words continued. You are my only company, after all.

Twilight rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to play its games. “I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in three days. I need to find food and water.”

Ah, a hunt for prey.

Twilight’s only response was a dismissive grunt. She had no intent of justifying the parasite’s games any further. An ethereal chuckle drifted through her mind, but no more words came.

Whereas before it had been only her horn that ached, the physical strain of the long uphill walk was beginning to take a toll on her body as well. She licked her lips, wondering how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. She had evaporated and condensed sea water on the first day for drinking, but had been too wary of running out of energy to carry on afterwards. She would have to find sustenance as soon as she reached the city proper. She didn’t know what she would find, but there must be food somewhere. She licked her lips, thinking of rolling over a chunk of stone and finding a collection of fresh mushrooms.

She distracted herself from the dryness of her mouth by turning her attention to the tunnel itself. The walls were smooth, and not smooth like what would be left in the wake of an underground river. It was too straight, too consistent, to be anything of natural origin. If she had her bearings right, and it was entirely possible that she didn’t, then the tunnel drilled through the bulk of the Canterhorn before coming out on the side opposite the city.

Who could have created such a path, and for what purpose?

Something flashed in the darkness ahead of her, and Twilight slapped a hoof to her mouth to stifle a yelp of alarm. She stood frozen, eyes fixed on the little green glimmer of something that hovered at the very edge of her hornlight, just a few inches above the ground.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened. Were those eyes looking back at her? Was she being watched? She dropped her hoof and opened her mouth, pushing out a hoarse, “Hello?”

Her whispered greeting only made her feel even more exposed. Twilight glanced behind her and jumped at the sight of the Other watching with a judgmental sneer. Well?

Twilight gulped as she looked back to the glimmering eyes in the dark. With a thought she redirected the small pool of magic in her horn, transforming the gentle lavender aura into a sharp cone of light. The world seemed to shrink in as the light drew back from the walls and ceiling of the tunnel, focusing instead on the unknown before her.

A gasp escaped her as she saw the changeling lying still on the hard tunnel floor. It lay on its back, mangled limbs bent at unnatural angles, as its glassy eyes reflected the light of her horn.

Twilight released her magic, plunging herself into total darkness. What had she been thinking, marching into the changeling-infested ruins of Canterlot with a giant, glowing purple beacon on her head? She was lucky that the first changeling she saw was already dead. She wouldn’t have stood a chance if a living scout had discovered her and alerted the swarm.

Well, perhaps you wouldn’t have, the Other whispered. But I would have gladly taken over.

Twilight shivered as she hunched down, channeling the barest trickle of magic into a series of pings all around her. Her horn let out a dozen dim pulses as the weak spells were cast, returning to her with valuable information of her surroundings. She was near the mouth of the tunnel, only a few dozen steps away from Canterlot proper. There was no sign of any movement or life aside from herself.

She still didn’t feel comfortable risking a light, and so she crept forwards in total darkness, feeling with her forelegs for the body. How many of the mutant changelings had come to stalk the dead city in the past centuries? There could be one hiding behind every chunk of rubble, and she wouldn’t know until it pounced.

You are weak. The Other’s bloodshot eyes watched her, the only thing visible in the otherwise total darkness. It is we who are the predator, not they.

I’m no predator, Twilight thought back. Her breath quickened as her hoof bumped against the limp body of the changeling.

We are the most dangerous monster in these ruins, the Other hissed. No number of drones could oppose us!

Shuffling around the corpse so as to put her body between it and the rest of the city, Twilight leaned in low and lit the barest spark of magic at the tip of her horn. She cringed at the thought of something sneaking up behind her, and risked lighting her horn ever brighter to send a few pings out towards the city before focusing back on the changeling.

It must have been dead for some time, its exoskeleton having caved in at multiple points and giving way to sprouting growths of red-spotted, purple fungus. A few holes on its chest were rougher than the others, stained with green blood and ragged around the edges. One of its legs was twisted all the way around and completely gone below the knee. Twilight couldn’t help but shiver as she was reminded of the dead scholars she’d found in Ponyville. The overwhelming scent of fresh blood, engraved into her memories, drifted through her mind.

Trying not to get too close to the cadaver, Twilight focused her attention on the fungal growth. She didn’t recognize the species from any of her reading, although admittedly she had never taken a very great interest in fungus aside from a brief phase as a filly. The thick, droopy caps made her mouth water, and for a moment her growling stomach had her considering the risk of eating them without knowing if they were poisonous.

These pitiful growths will not give us the sustenance we need, little flower, even if they’re safe to eat.

Twilight looked up to meet the Other’s gaze. There’s nothing else.

The Other’s stern frown twisted into a leery grin. No?

Twilight’s gaze flicked back to the corpse for a few confused seconds. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she realized what was being suggested. You’re insane.

You’re a fool, the Other countered. She could feel its chill hooves wrapping around her in a parody of a comforting hug. The meat of this changeling is life, presented to us on the brink of death. Would you rather spend our final hours scouring the ruins for some miracle apple that has survived for hundreds of years?

Twilight shook her head, closing her eyes. I’ll find something.

The only thing we’ll find is more meat, and if we’re lucky, more strange fungus.

No! I’m not doing this! I’m not a monster!

Twilight stiffened as a hoof slithered under her chin, raising it up. She opened her eyes and looked into the cold gaze of the Other. Not a monster, little flower, but something better. I can help you. It smiled, its bloodstained fangs catching a light that came from nowhere. This changeling has no further use for its body, but it can be the difference between life and death for us.

Twilight took a shuddering breath. Her eyes burned, but she was too thirsty to cry. There must be another way.

Are you willing to gamble on that? the Other asked, cocking its head in mock innocence. Who will carry on our quest if we die here? Who will save your precious past?

It was right. Its words made Twilight’s skin crawl with revulsion, but she couldn’t deny its logic. She cursed herself as she looked down at the corpse. Why couldn’t she be more emotional? Why couldn’t she cling on to her ideals of what it meant to be a pony for a few last days wandering the ruins of her hometown? Why did she have to push herself through every hardship and past every moral line in this vain quest of hers? Why do I have to be the one responsible?

Her mouth itched as the Other’s influence wormed its way around her teeth, sculpting the flat molars into a set of fangs suitable for rending flesh. She ran her tongue over the sore tips, feeling fresh bile rising as she felt the sharp edges hidden behind her own lips.

I’ve done my part, the Other whispered. No meat will poison us now.

The expectation in its voice was louder than any spoken demand would have been. The growling of her belly reminded Twilight of a stalking manticore as she grabbed one of the changeling’s legs in her hooves. Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened her mouth and bit down.

The crunch was equal parts terrifying and invigorating. Stale blood dripped into her mouth as she chewed, horrifying her with its thrilling taste. The meat was spongy and dry, and it was the most magnificent thing she had ever eaten.

And she hated it.
> II: Of Monsters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight’s ear flicked. Her head shot up, ears swiveling. Was that a hoofstep she had heard, the shifting sigh of the rubble settling around her, or merely another imagined disturbance?

You’re like the helpless rabbit afraid of crossing the fox. Pitiful.

She ignored the comment like the hundred others the Other had sneered at her that day. Or was it still yesterday? It was impossible to tell among the broken bones of Canterlot, where the sun and moon had abandoned the streets centuries ago and the slightest sound could draw sharp fangs and hungry maws. 

There were no singing songbirds to mark the morning and no calling crickets to welcome the night, and often Twilight would find herself blinking in confusion, wondering how long it had been as each waking bled across the blurry borders of fitful sleep into the next. At first she had tried counting seconds, but the sound of the numbers growing ever larger in her head had nearly been enough to drive her to tears. Even then, how could she know if her count was accurate? 

No, the only thing she had to measure time by was her meals, each one stolen from the city in the basements of collapsed homes or among the sagging walls of whatever towers still stood. She always waited until she was hungry to eat, because that was the only way she could think of to keep the time in between consistent.

She had eaten five meals since arriving in Canterlot. She didn’t count what she had done upon first arriving, because that, of course, was not a meal. The mushrooms that she sometimes found in damp places weren’t very filling either, but she took some comfort in the process of preparing them.

Not hearing anything else, Twilight returned her attention to the iron pan that she had nestled among the loose bricks of her current sanctuary. She thought that maybe it had been a clothing store, if the color-drained rags hanging from the racks in the main room were any indication. More importantly, part of the ceiling had collapsed over a circular cashier’s booth in the back, creating a small cave accessible by a single crawlspace. Thus it was that Twilight was able to muster the courage to light her horn, cringing at the soft tinkle of her magic, and inject a little more energy into the pan.

It took forever to cook mushrooms at this pace, as she applied heat sparingly and never put in so much energy that they might sizzle. But at the end of it, she could take her time and savor the bland, dry taste of unseasoned, undercooked mushrooms. She relished it.

Don’t lie to yourself, little flower, the Other hissed. It tastes of sand and bleached bones. We cannot live on these stolen scraps.

It tastes amazing, Twilight insisted, glaring up at herself. Perhaps if she forced enough sternness into her gaze, she could convince at least one of the voices in her head.

The Other laughed. Twilight wished that she could laugh, or shout, or even cry without clamping a hoof over her mouth. She desperately needed such release.

Twilight shook her head and looked back to her pan, feeling the air above it with her frog. I’ve cooked mushrooms hundreds of times in my life. It’ll taste fine. If I could just find a little seasoning, it would be better.

Guessing that they were about done, Twilight levitated the shriveled little things out of the pan and began slipping them into her mouth. The heat was good, and her sharp teeth sliced through the tender flesh easily, but the taste was of cardboard. She grit her teeth, resisting the urge to shout in frustration and fling them all into the dust. What was wrong with her?

You know what’s wrong. You need meat.

Never again. Was she getting skinnier? It was hard to tell in the dim light she allowed from her horn, but her legs seemed thinner than before. Perhaps it was just the shadows messing with her head.

The Other allowed her to finish eating in silence, something that she was grateful for. She ate slowly, telling herself that she did it for her health and not because of the taste, and still the food was gone too fast.

Her mind wandered as she cast a small spell to clean the pan of any residue. She wrapped it in thick layers of tattered cloth and tied it to her back with a frayed rope. She had come to Canterlot for solace, and yet her waking moments were dominated by apprehension, doubt, and fear. She always woke up with bags under her eyes and an ache in her hooves.

The rubble groped at her coat with sharp spurs of rock as she crawled out of her refuge and into the dry air of the clothing shop. She refused to travel in the open streets, but they weren’t needed to navigate the shattered urban sprawl of the city. Lavender light, dim as a dying candle, pushed the walls of darkness back as she braced herself to travel once more.

The buildings had lost distinct shape long ago. The ruins all ran together now, forming a network of half-unformed rooms and sunken roofs. She crept through these at a snail’s pace, sending out small pings to ensure that the next room was empty before crawling through, jumping at every distant howl and screech. She had been lucky enough not to cross paths with any changelings yet, and she thanked Celestia for that small fortune.

She should reach the castle today, she was almost certain. What distance had been crossed in harrowing minutes when she fled Canterlot now took infinitely longer, but if her memory was correct then she was now traversing the inner arm of the merchant’s quarter. There would be a brief sprint across open ground through the gardens, and then she would be there.

She wasn’t sure what she would do once she got there. Still, it was a plan.





“Rarity?”

Rarity blinked, looking up from her tea. Fluttershy was eyeing her from across the table with obvious concern. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Did you say something?”

“Well, um, Pinkie was asking you about the cookies.” Fluttershy tipped her head to the side, where Pinkie Pie was watching with a goofy grin.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Rarity levitated one of the cookies off the pile in the center of the table and took a bite. She let out a petite hum of appreciation before swallowing. “Delightful as always, Pinkie, dear. I don’t know how you do it.”

Pinkie’s smile grew taut at the edges. “The same way I always do, silly filly!”

Rarity answered with a polite titter even as she mentally chastised herself. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

They were in Pinkie’s guest room at the Titus estate, sharing tea and cookies over a small round table while a cool breeze carried the sounds of construction and labor in through the open window. Whereas Rarity and Fluttershy were seated on cushions, Pinkie was sprawled out on her belly in the middle of her bed. Her hind legs were splayed limply behind her, their stillness made all the more eerie by the energetic movements of her front half, and Rarity couldn’t help but steal quick glances at them whenever Pinkie looked away.

But she should have known better than to refer to them so directly. Pinkie had obviously needed help to bake the cookies. Her tail was always flat and dull now, regardless of her mood, and her mane had never quite reached its original vibrancy.

A heavy silence had settled into place over the room. To Rarity’s surprise, it was Fluttershy that broke its hold.

“What’s happened to us, girls?”

Rarity blinked. Pinkie’s smile stretched wider. “What do you mean, ‘Shy?”

“It’s just—I—why don’t I feel anything?” Fluttershy looked down, holding a hoof to her chest, where her heart was hidden. “So many terrible things have happened, and I don’t feel anything. Sh-shouldn’t I be upset?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rarity leaned forward and touched the pegasus’ trembling hoof.

“It’s s-so much,” Fluttershy whispered. “Rainbow’s eye, Twilight’s mind—” She turned to Rarity and Pinkie in turn. “Your independence, and y-y-your legs. I th-think I’m n-n-next.”

Pinkie’s smile waned. She looked as if she wanted to spring out of bed and rush to Fluttershy’s comfort. “Oh, Shy.”

“I c-c-can’t feel it anymore, girls.” Fluttershy’s shaking grew stronger, sapping the strength from her voice. “I used t-to be so—so scared. So sad. I think m-my heart filled up and broke. I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry.”

Rarity shot out of her seat and rushed to her friend’s side. “Shh, it’s okay. Whatever could you possibly have to apologize for?”

“W-w-we’re all falling apart.” Fluttershy sucked in a breath as she buried her face in Rarity’s shoulder. “I don’t even k-know what’s d-d-doing it. I want to h-help but all I can do is cower and cry, and now I c-can’t even do that right!”

Rarity flinched at the loathing in Fluttershy’s normally demure voice. She ran a hoof through Fluttershy’s mane, whispering small words of comfort. At the same time she lit her horn, grabbing Pinkie’s hind legs in her magic and helping her come to Fluttershy’s side. They passed several minutes like that, sometimes exchanging concerned glances as their friend wept between them. There was nothing they could say to comfort her, and so they consoled her instead with the silent support of their bodies.

Fluttershy’s sobs grew quiet at last. Pinkie gave her a little squeeze before asking, “Are you alright?”

Fluttershy took a deep breath. Her voice was quiet, barely audible, but firm. “I’m a monster.”

“You know that’s not right, darling,” Rarity chided softly. “How could you ever think such a dreadful thing?”

“You don’t understand,” Fluttershy said. “Neither of you do. You face the world, you cry for it, and you only come back stronger.” A heavy sigh rocked her body as she looked up, her mane falling away to reveal the wet trails dripping down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve to be here with you girls.”

Pinkie tightened her grip on the pegasus. “You’re right.” 

Fluttershy sucked in a shaky breath. Rarity raised a brow at that, but Pinkie pressed on.

“You don’t deserve to be here,” Pinkie continued. “All the fun and light’s been stolen from the world, and you of all ponies deserve better.”

Rarity realized she was holding her breath. She didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to let it out yet. Careful, Pinkie.

“But we’re all in this together,” Pinkie said. “And I know that I’m happy to have you with us.”

Heavy silence draped over the three mares. Rarity could sense Fluttershy weighing Pinkie’s words from behind her flowing pink mane. She wanted to say something more, but how could she? She dared not even move, lest the slightest mistake nudge her friend past the beckoning threshold of despair.

At last, Fluttershy spoke. It was quiet, barely piercing the silence, but it carried a fragile hope that made Rarity sigh in relief.

“Thank you, girls,” she said, peeking around her mane with the smallest of smiles. “I, um, think I’ll be okay.”

“Woohoo!” With the moment of crisis behind them, Pinkie wasted no time in shouting the silence away. “Now help me back up so we can get back to your tea party!”

“Oh, well, it’s not really, uh, my tea party,” Fluttershy said, blushing as she supported Pinkie back to the bed. “You made the cookies, and Rarity made the tea.”

Sensing her moment to help lighten the mood, Rarity waved the notion away with a melodramatic scoff and flip of her mane. “Nonsense, darling! You’re the one who arranged this little banquet, and it’s you we have to thank.” She added a warm smile. “I think we all needed a break.”

Pinkie, who had already stuffed her muzzle full of cookies, gave an exaggerated nod. “Mmhm!”

Fluttershy didn’t let out the giggle that Rarity had been hoping for, but her smile grew more genuine. As Rarity poured herself more tea, she decided not to push the matter. She would take any victory she could find.





Where Twilight had expected solid rock, her hooves instead swept through open air. Her heart dropped out of her chest as her body swung down into the gap, and she failed to resist the urge to let out a rising shout of alarm. Her back smacked against the ground before she even truly realized she was falling, forcing a grunt of pain from her lungs.

She smacked her hooves over her muzzle so hard that the sting made her flinch. Above her, the Other’s floating face formed into a toothy grin. You’re just adorable sometimes.

Quiet! Twilight remained totally still as she listened to small bits of rubble settle around her. A faint changeling screech echoed in the distance, answered seconds later by others. Was that in relation to her, or just the changelings communicating amongst themselves like normal? If it was possible to tell just from sound, she didn’t know how.

Slowly, cautious not to make more noise, Twilight rolled onto her belly, pushed herself off the ground, and sent out a few pings. No immediate danger jumped out at her, but she was surprised by just how large the room she found herself in was. Peering up with a lit horn, she confirmed that she couldn’t see the ceiling. Her lips pursed in thought. 

She had been crawling through the far more confined remains of a fallen tower, and after a sudden drop found herself in a large, unusually intact room. Looking around and pushing a little more magic into her horn, she caught a glimpse of a rotten bedframe. The sheets were faded, but the design was familiar enough to elicit a gasp of recognition. White stars on a pale blue background, with a single line of four ethereal colors running across the top.

Her vision blurred a watery red as she approached the ragged bedsheet and ran a hoof over those four colors. She closed her eyes and rested a cheek against the fabric, yearning for happier times. It hurt to be so close. How could the frayed threads still be so soft when everything else had turned dry and brittle around them? How could only this one part of her home persevere when everything else had died without her? It would have hurt less to find the sheets ripped to shreds.

Crying over bedsheets now? You infuriate me.

Oh, give it a rest. Twilight couldn’t muster the energy for anger, but exasperation was both easy and satisfying. Everything infuriates you.

False. Weakness infuriates me. Weakness within our own body doubly so. I know that you have a strength inside of you, little flower, desperate to get out. I catch glimpses of it when you play at commanding us, when you refuse to let us do as is required to achieve our goals. And there is nothing more infuriating than watching us waste away while that strength cowers behind your foalish ideals!

Twilight blinked. When she pulled her head off the old bed, ignoring the red stains where her tears had fallen, she saw the Other leering down at her in barely restrained fury.

Our goals?

Have I ever sought anything less? The Other chose to let her mouth move with her voice, and it made her spite abundantly clear. Have I ever done anything but attempt to protect our allies? To destroy our foes? I know where I stand, little flower, but you restrain me with your hesitation. I hate it.

Twilight shook her head as she turned away from the bed. We’re in the castle now. I need to find the Archives. Feeling more comfortable within the castle walls, Twilight used her hornlight to find a door to the hall. After a quick spell to oil the hinges and a brief application of force, it swung open in silence. The Other was waiting for her on the other side.

Ah, denial! Your other despicable half shows itself. For in those brief moments where you aren’t refusing to do what is necessary, you instead insist that there is nothing to do at all!

Twilight grit her teeth as she stalked deeper into the castle in search of a landmark to get her bearings by. You’re my despicable other half.

Your attempts at wit don’t make your lies any more seductive, foal. You know I speak the truth. What purpose does it serve for one of our nature to insist on this self-inflicted ignorance?

A familiar intersection appeared from the darkness, and Twilight took the rightmost path. If that was what remained of the crest of the First Guards, then that meant that the castle barracks were to the left, and that meant—

Twilight licked her lips. Her hooves pushed her faster. The Other haunted the corners of her vision.

It’s almost impressive, from a certain perspective! You pride yourself on reason, and yet you avoid it at all costs if it breaks your fallacious reality. How many times have I stopped you from driving us to destruction, blinded by your refusal to accept the real? I would ask how you sleep at nights, but I already know you rarely do.

Here the wall had collapsed into a pile of bricks on one side. The shattered corpses of two wooden doors could just be seen jutting out from the rubble, displaced from their proper place by the weight of the stone. Twilight frowned as she sent a ping out and failed to find a way past the collapsed doorway. Teleporting past it would be trivial even in her current state, but the pop of a teleportation spell could travel a long way in the ruins of Canterlot, and who could know what creature might be enticed by the unusual noise?

She glanced up and down the hall and considered looking for an alternate route. She might be able to find another way in, unobstructed by rubble, that would make less noise. She had a decent idea of the servant paths, and if those were blocked off then she could try going up a level to see if the ceiling had fallen in. Or—

With a flash of anger, the Other surged inside her, coiling her magic around its dark claws. A red-tinged flash of purple overtook her and, with a loud pop, Twilight found herself inside the royal kitchens of Canterlot Castle.

The Other was waiting inside with a bloody sneer. Is it so much to ask for even one display of confidence?

“Wha—” A shiver ran down Twilight’s spine as she wrested control of her magic back. Heat blossomed in her breast as she marched up to the Other with fire in her voice. “Don’t do that!”

Why not? it jeered. You would have just wasted our time trying to satisfy your feeble anxieties.

Twilight let out a loud, sharp laugh. “Waste time? Look around! We have nothing but time!”

No, we do not! The Other snapped its fangs in her face with the words, causing her to flinch back from the rancid stench of its breath. Despite your clever ignorance, we are starving! You may be able to delude yourself into crawling through this old castle searching for backdoors while our body wastes away, but I. Am. Hungry!

Twilight hesitated. Was that desperation she heard? “How? You don’t have a body.”

We share a body, you foal! the Other spat. We share a single hunger, a single thirst, and a single pain! And if you don’t stop lying to yourself long enough to accept that we’re starving, then we will both die!

Twilight looked away. She tried to keep her voice firm. “I know that we’re hungry! Why do you think I brought us here?”

The Other spoke slowly, each word dripping with venom. You brought us to a pony kitchen! We need fresh meat, not dry flowers nested in stale bread!

“Y-you’re wrong,” Twilight said. She lit her horn bright, illuminating the dusty cupboards, broken jars, and battered pots of the kitchen that once fed her and so many others. “I just need to find something more nutritional, and a better way to cook it.”

The Other didn’t answer her with words so much as a guttural scream.

Twilight ignored it. She had gotten very good at ignoring things in the past few days.





“Please wait in here. Mr. Rich will be along to see you shortly.”

“Wait, what?” Rainbow asked. She stopped in the threshold of the open door as Applejack and Sea Sabre walked through it, tuning to face the brightly clad servant directly. “I thought we were going to see him right now?”

The servant gave a slight shake of her head with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Rich is entertaining company right now. He’s been looking forwards to speaking with you, though, and will join you as soon as he can! Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”

Rainbow flicked her tail irritably, stepping into the room. “Whatever, it’s fine.”

Applejack faced the mare properly before tipping her hat with a sincere smile. “Don’t mind her, sugar cube. We’ll sit tight.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience!” With a small curtsey, the servant shut the door behind them. Her hoofsteps faded into the distance.

The room was like many of the others that could be found within the Rich Estate, which was to say that it was too large to take in with one eye, offensively colorful, and mostly occupied by odd furniture and art. Soft orchestral music drifted around the room from an unseen source. Sounds like something Twilight would like.

“I can’t believe he’s blowing us off like this!” Rainbow groaned. “We had an appointment!”

“Y’all ain’t never missed an appointment, Rainbow?” Applejack joked. Rainbow shot her a glare, and she held her hooves up placatingly. “Calm down, filly. I’m sure he’ll come see us soon enough.”

Sea Sabre marched over to the bookshelves that lined one of the walls, grabbed a small book, and made herself comfortable in the cushioned nook of a wing-shaped sofa. “He’ll see us when he’s ready.”

Rainbow snorted. “And when’s that, huh?”

Sabre didn’t look up from her book, but she did give a quick shrug. “When he gets bored of his current company, or when his scheduler annoys him enough. Whichever comes first.”

“Great.” With a heavy sigh, Rainbow flapped her wings and dropped her flank into a plush seat shaped like an upturned velvet hoof. Applejack spent a few seconds leering at the third and only remaining seat in the room, a wide circular sofa with a curved central backrest modeled after a large, squat unicorn’s horn, before opting to just lean against the wall and pull her hat over her eyes.

Rainbow didn’t understand how other ponies could be so comfortable with anything as pointless as waiting. She considered herself a mare of action. Whatever the endeavor, whether it be a physical feat to perform, a new skill to master, or a rival to best, she took comfort in the application of effort. She used to always know where she stood. She was Rainbow Dash, pegasus extraordinaire, future greatest Wonderbolt in history, the mare who could do anything.

Yet it seemed that all she could do in the future, when ponies needed her more than ever, was wait. She had spent every dive on the sidelines listening to Twilight confront monsters and watching Applejack learn to load torpedoes and make repairs. She had needed rescuing from Gava, and the monster possessing Twilight hadn’t even spared her a glance when it swatted her away back on Altalusia. The days of travel aboard the Argo were made easier with her daily practice sessions with Sea Sabre, but now that she had finally arrived at Heighton and was given a chance to do something, she was forced to wait.

She flicked a glance Applejack’s way. How does she do it? How could the cowpony close her eyes and sit still when Twilight needed their help? Rainbow scanned the room for a clock, but all she saw was art on the walls. She began to tap a hoof. Maybe she should just go find Twilight herself. She could get to Canterlot with a couple hours of flying, and Sabre would probably let her borrow some dive gear. She could have Twilight back in Heighton before the sun rose tomorrow. Maybe then she’d be able to get a full night’s sleep.

Don’t be stupid, Rainbow. Splitting up even more is the last thing you all need.

Rainbow began chewing her bottom lip. She wouldn’t be a slave to her impulses, but she had to do something. So she settled for the thing that had kept her sane in similar situations before: griping.

“Ugh, how much longer?” She asked.

Applejack peeked out from under the brim of her hat. “Y’all know we ain’t got any clue more than y’all do, right?”

“And I’m sure you know that we don’t have time to be waiting on pansy rich ponies that don’t keep appointments!” Rainbow snapped. “We’ve been here forever!”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Sea Sabre said. She had been sitting almost as still as a statue for that entire time, her flank cushioned among the soft velvet of one of several thick sofas arranged around the room.

“Might as well be ten days,” Rainbow grumbled.

Applejack was watching her with a thoughtful look. It was a look that Rainbow knew well, and she looked away in the hopes that her old friend would be able to take a hint. No luck. Applejack pushed off of the wall and sat down at Rainbow’s side, completely ignoring the lack of space on the little seat.

“How ya feelin’?”

“I’m fine, AJ.”

“Oh, yeah? Guess that’s why y’all’ve been pacin’ around the ceiling like a junebug who can’t find a window?”

Rainbow cocked her head, turning to face her friend. “I’ve been sitting right here the whole time.”

Applejack nodded as if that was exactly what she just said. “And you’ve been bouncin’ yer hooves and twitchin’ yer wings, too, but I ain’t talkin’ bout just today.”

Rainbow didn’t bother to try hiding her eye roll. Her ears twitched at the sound of hooves passing out in the hall as she took a sudden interest in Sea Sabre’s book. Narrowing her eye, she could just make out the title. Myths of the Wildlands.

“C’mon, sugar cube. Look at me, will ya?”

What was the author’s name? It was too small for her to read. A part of her wondered if she would have been able to read it if she still had both eyes, and she couldn’t help but flick her tail at the remembered image of a sneering Gava standing over her, framed in red. Her wings shifted as she imagined the weight of her blades resting against their feathers. She’ll get what’s coming to her. I’ll make sure of it next time.

“Rainbow Dash.”

“Would you give it a rest, already?” There wasn’t much room to spare with two ponies on the little seat, but Rainbow found some to scoot into anyways. “I don’t want to talk.”

“So y’all keep tellin’ me, but guess what?” A coarse-furred orange hoof grabbed Rainbow’s cheek and pulled her face-to-face with Applejack, drawing an irate growl from the pegasus. “I don’t care. Last time I had a friend actin’ all strange, she would always tell me she didn’t want to talk. Guess where she’s at now?”

Rainbow already had her mouth open for a biting retort, but the words took the heat out of her fire. She pulled her muzzle out of Applejack’s grip and looked away anyways. “That’s not gonna happen to me, AJ. Magic’s got nothing to do with my issue.”

Too late, Rainbow realized her mistake. She could practically hear the grin on Applejack’s face. “Oh, so ya admit y’all got an issue, then?”

Rainbow threw her hooves up in exasperation. “Fine! Whatever. Point is, I’m not gonna go crazy and jump into the ocean or anything like that. So I’m fine.”

“There’s more to bein’ fine than not gettin’ possessed by magical critters,” Applejack said. “And I sure as hay ain’t lookin’ to learn the same friendship lesson twice, so I’m not droppin’ this until y’all talk to me. So talk!”

Rainbow blew a loud raspberry. She smirked as she saw Sea Sabre briefly shake her head at her book. “Okay, why don’t we bet on it?” Rainbow turned to face Applejack, stretching the smirk into a cocksure grin. “If you can beat me in a race, then I’ll talk. If I win, you have to leave me alone.”

“Rainbow Dash, I am not gonna race you through the halls when we’re both somebody’s guest!” Applejack let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s just do a hoof wrestle, and we’re on.”

Rainbow tossed her mane. “I want to race.”

“What, ya don’t think ya can beat me in a simple contest of strength?” Applejack asked. “Nah, I get it. I’m a pretty strong mare. I guess if a race is what you want…” She stood up, beginning to stretch her hind legs.

Rainbow grit her teeth. She couldn’t just turn down a clear challenge to her strength like that, and Applejack knew it. “Fine, hoof wrestle! Pony up!”

Without another word, the two mares scooted off of the tiny hoof-shaped chair, turned around, and squared off. Rainbow made a show of flaring her wings, taking to the air to stretch her forelegs out before couching one elbow in the soft cushioning of the hoof chair. Applejack didn’t stretch, but she did give a small chuckle and pull her hat back before locking fetlocks with her opponent.

Rainbow had made sure to arrange herself so that she could see Sea Sabre in the corner of her right eye, and she smirked as she saw the laconic pegasus put her book down and begin to watch with a benign expression. “You ready to get beat, AJ?”

Applejack blew a lock of mane out of her face. “Filly, I ain’t here to put on a show.”

Rainbow snorted. “Three, two, one, go!”

In an instant, Rainbow’s world narrowed down to just her and her opponent. She clenched her jaw as she tried and failed to hold in a groan of effort, her foreleg shaking with the strain of holding back defeat. Her shoulder began to ache, and she spared a moment to make eye contact with Applejack and offer up a cocky grin. The cowpony responded with a forced smirk.

Rainbow winced as the pain in her shoulder flared up, and Applejack seized the opportunity. Rainbow could only watch as her hoof was forced to the side and down into the soft folds of the seat.

Applejack reared up with a whoop of celebration. “That’s a wrap, sugar cube! Y’all owe me a heart-to-heart!”

Rainbow stuck her tongue out in disgust as she climbed back to her hooves. “Blegh, fine. Whatever.”

Her ears flicked at the sound of the doors opening behind her, and she turned around to see Crazy Rich walk into the room, wearing a set of clashingly colorful robes with a beaming smile.

“Ah, Sabre, welcome back!” He turned his gaze onto Rainbow and Applejack, absent of any glimmer of recognition. “And my guests from the past, as well!”

Rainbow flicked her tail. “You don’t remember our names?”

Crazy let out an amiable chuckle at just the perfect pitch to curl Rainbow’s lip back. “You’ll have to accept my apologies, my friends, but I have many names to remember, and it’s been over a month since our introduction! Tell me, Sabre, how’s your crew?”

To the untrained observer, Sea Sabre rarely displayed any emotions besides sternness, disappointment, and the rare glimpse of approval. But to Rainbow’s more seasoned eye, she could see the sign of irritation in how one of her ears angled ever so slightly. “I sent you reports.”

“Yes, of course!” Crazy’s smile held firm as he sat on the horn-motif chair that Applejack had been using before the hoof wrestle. “Aura would summarize them for me from time to time. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to read your latest letter. Perhaps you could fill me in?” He paused, glancing around. “Is Miss Sparkle here? I had been expecting to speak to her.”

“Well, too bad!” Rainbow snapped, drawing a startled gasp from the earth stallion. She glanced towards Applejack, expecting chastisement, but her friend only gave a curt nod. “Twilight’s gone, and that’s why we’re here!”

“Gone?” Crazy repeated. He looked to Sabre with detached curiosity. “What happened?”

“We’re not clear on the nature of the incident,” Sabre droned. “Current theory is an advanced case of depth corruption.” She paused, as if weighing her words. “We suspect that she may have transformed into a newborn wyrd.”

“Hold up,” Applejack said. “What in tarnation is a wyrd?”

“Sort of a catch-all term,” Sabre explained. “Divers use it to describe the type of magically potent, violent creatures that dominate everything under the surface. I’ve never heard of a pony becoming one outside of sailor gossip, but—well, Twilight is an extremely powerful unicorn, and far from normal.”

Rainbow stomped a hoof, but the thick rug somewhat dampened the impact. She tried to make up for it with her voice. “She’s not a monster! She just needs our help!”

Crazy looked between the three mares in turn before turning back to Sea Sabre, who gave a curt shake of her head. “We have reason to suspect that Twilight fled back to Old Canterlot. Her friends wanted to pursue, but I respectfully advise against sending my team back to a site we barely escaped from with our lives previously.”

Rainbow glared daggers at the side of Sabre’s head. She stomped up to her mentor, fur bristling, speaking in a barely restrained hiss through clenched teeth. “Whose side are you on?”

Sabre kept her eyes on her employer. “My team’s side. Always.”

“You—how—” Rainbow’s attempts at speech devolved into a low growl. Her whole body began to shake, her jaw clenched so hard that it hurt. How could Sabre be so calm? How could she talk about Twilight that way without even blinking an eye? There were times where Rainbow had admired her stoicism, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to tackle the other pegasus and pummel her until she was forced to display an equine emotion.

A hoof tugged on her shoulder, but Rainbow smacked it aside. Applejack’s soft voice whispered into her ear. “I know y’all’re upset, sugar cube, and I am too, but we ain’t gonna catch any flies with vinegar.”

Rainbow rounded on her with a fresh surge of anger. “Would you quit with the stupid countryisms?” she hissed. “Twilight’s out there, and she needs us, and I don’t have anything but vinegar right now and—ugh, you’ve got me using them now, too!”

Crazy Rich, to his credit, at least seemed to have the decency to look anxious when he spoke. “I’m sorry, friends, but if Sabre says that it’s too dangerous, then I have to take her advice into consideration. Maybe we could meet again after I’ve had some time and—”

“No!” Rainbow was in front of Crazy so fast that the stallion tripped over his robes and fell onto his flank with a cry of shock. She jabbed a hoof into his chest, hard. “No rescheduling! You decide right now! I’m not! Waiting! Another! Second!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Rainbow kept her gaze fixed on Crazy’s as Applejack pulled her back. “Beatin’ on him ain’t gonna change his mind!”

“It will if I beat hard enough!” Rainbow’s wings pumped against her sides as she struggled to escape the farmpony’s iron grip.

Crazy Rich scrambled backwards, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Sabre, I’ll have Aura schedule another—”

“Luna!” Rainbow shouted, cutting him off. “We have Princess Luna!”

Crazy paused halfway to the door. Seconds passed in silence before he tore his frightened gaze from Rainbow’s and looked to Sabre. “You found an alicorn?”

There was the ear twitch again. “It’s in my reports.”

Rainbow just barely held back a scream of frustration, drawing Crazy’s attention back. “Talk to me, not her!”

Crazy’s eyes darted between the two pegasi, one the very image of stoicism and the other still fighting to escape Applejack’s hold. Tentatively, he picked himself up off the ground. “Well, that’s, uh, fantastic.” He licked his lips, speaking with obvious care as he took slow steps backwards. “I would c-certainly love to speak with her.”

Rainbow Dash could see the path before her now. Her desperate anger dimmed, giving way to intense focus. “Let go, AJ. I’ve got this.”

“Y’all ain’t gonna go crazy again?” Applejack didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.

“No, no. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Don’t make me regret this, ya hear?”

Slowly, Applejack relinquished her grip. Rainbow advanced on Crazy, keeping her pace at a measured walk. He seemed to have trouble holding eye contact with her.

“Do you remember Fluttershy, Crazy?” she asked. His mouth stammered open, but no words came out, so Rainbow kept going. “She’s the other pegasus, remember? She was in a magical coma when we arrived, and Twilight found a way to wake her up.”

Crazy’s back bumped up against the door. To his credit, he didn’t reach for the handle. “I r-remember.”

“Luna’s in the same kind of coma,” Rainbow said, almost coming close enough to bump muzzles before stopping. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as Rainbow figured that magic comas must all be more or less the same. She was aware of her lack of magical know-how. Either way, she would have told any lie she needed to if it would help her save Twilight. “Twilight’s the only one that can wake her up. Get it?”

“Ah. Yes.” Crazy stole a glance towards Sea Sabre. “I see.”

Rainbow stepped in the way, angling her head to keep her one eye in front of his. “Don’t you want to be the pony who introduces a living Princess Luna back to the world, Crazy?”

The conflict in his eyes was obvious so close up. He flicked his gaze past her to Sea Sabre, then back, and then between them several more times.

“Okay,” he said. “Do it, Sabre. Find Twilight and bring back Luna.”

Rainbow let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding as a cold wave of relief washed over her. She stepped back, folding her flared wings back against her sides, and gave Crazy a little smile. “Thank you.”

Sea Sabre’s voice came from behind her. “Respectfully, sir, that’s an extremely dangerous assignment. I’m not comfortable sending my team in there as we are now.”

Now that Rainbow had vacated his personal space, Crazy’s confidence seemed to be coming back to him. He straightened out his robes with a hoof and put on a smile that sat somewhere between excitement and apprehension. “I understand, Sabre. I’ll be sure to raise your budget accordingly, of course!” He knocked a hind hoof against the door behind him, and it opened to reveal a trio of servants waiting with bright smiles. “I trust you’ll do what you need to do. Just make sure to let me know ahead of your return so I can make proper preparations to welcome a living Princess!”

He dipped his head to Rainbow Dash and Applejack in turn, all signs of nervousness having been replaced by his usual energy. “Good luck, all!”

He stepped out of the room, and one of the servants shut the door behind him. Sea Sabre let out a small grunt.

Rainbow turned around, meeting Sabre’s stern gaze with one that she hoped was equally hard. “I’m sorry, Sabre, but I can’t just leave my friend hanging.”

Sabre’s wings twitched. She was already walking for the door. “We’re doubling our training. Usual time, in the yard.”

She didn’t wait for a response before marching out into the hall and closing the door behind her. Rainbow heaved a deep sigh and looked to Applejack with a weak smile. “Did I go too far?”

“Tarnation, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Y’all got some hellfire in ya.”

“Heh, yeah.” Rainbow turned to the door, grimacing as she listened to Sea Sabre’s measured hoofsteps fade away. “And I think Sabre might be planning on showing me hers.”





Once again, the Other said, I must admit an appreciation for the sheer tenacity of your foalishness.

“Shut up,” Twilight hissed. She kept her eyes fixed on the mushroom patties, checking them, the old pan cradling it, and the fire underneath once again. “It’s almost done.”

The kitchen of Canterlot Castle’s west wing was completely sealed off by rubble. Twilight knew this because she had checked it herself, with all the usual thoroughness she prided herself on, and so she had decided that it would be safe to cook with a real fire. The stoves were broken, of course, but most of the cooking utensils had survived thanks to preservative spells placed on them centuries ago. It was cozy, almost, with the warm light of the fire and the heat trapped by the surrounding stone. If not for the Other’s steady mockery and the growing sense of desperation, Twilight might even have been able to relax.

But she could not relax. Dozens of cooking books were arranged around the kitchen, fetched on expeditions to the archives and then organized by author, style, and scope, but that had been at least two wakings ago. The order had since given way to chaos as Twilight had systematically worked through each book, trying the advice contained within, before discarding it as worthless. The bright colors and friendly pictures of Filly’s First Fried Foods now sat side-by-side with the strict, tiny-font methodology of Advanced Cooking Theory, Ninth Edition, and so it was for countless others.

No matter how hard Twilight looked, she could not find a good cookbook. Every instruction set led to that same ashen taste and the same scorn from the sinister voice in her head, and she was beginning to wonder if she had gone mad. Surely the castle would have at least one text on cooking with usable knowledge? But no, they didn’t. Twilight knew this, because if it did, then she would be able to make a mushroom patty taste like food.

She was running out of options. Before her now was the last book she had taken from the archive, which she had grabbed only in a bid to appease the Other: The Carnivore’s Cookbook, Equestrian Edition by Gustave le Grande. It included vegetarian recipes designed to satisfy a carnivore’s taste, as well as some traditional griffon dishes for the more adventurous pony. Twilight didn’t consider herself adventurous, and so she had skipped past those. She didn’t eat meat, after all.

And yet here we are, working from a tome written to satisfy carnivores.

“It’s probably just as bad as all the others,” Twilight muttered. Was it time yet? She had cast a spell to alert her when the proper time had passed, but maybe she had missed it. “There’s no reason to expect this book to be any better than the rest.”

The Other stepped into sight on the other side of the cooking fire. The light cast long shadows over its face. Your books aren’t the problem, little flower.

“No, they have to be the problem,” Twilight insisted. “I don’t know what else it could be.”

The alarm spell went off, and Twilight levitated the pan off the fire, sliding the mushrooms onto a ceramic plate decorated with suns and moons. She took a deep breath to draw in the scent. Her mouth didn’t water as she had hoped.

Her ivory fork and sapphire-encrusted knife shook in the grip of her levitation as she cut a bite-sized piece free. She lifted the fork to her open mouth, but couldn’t bring herself to bite. Perhaps it would be better to just go find more books. She didn’t eat meat. Monsters ate meat. Why was she even trying this?

The Other took control, levitating the fork fully into her mouth. She bit down almost without thinking, wincing at the bitter, familiar taste.

Red tears welled in her eyes even before she swallowed. The pan fell to the ground with a clatter loud enough to make her wince. “I don’t understand. I’ve tried every spice in the castle and it all tastes the same! What am I doing wrong?”

You know what’s wrong. The Other leered down at her with an imperious frown. It’s just a matter of acceptance.

“No. No, no, no.” Twilight fell onto her side. It can’t be right. Can it? She felt so weak. “It’s not. I can’t. Not again.”

Do you want to die? Is that what it is? The Other shook its head and snorted. No, I know that you wish to live, despite your many attempts to foil our continued survival. So why will you not do what is required to sustain us?

“You’re wrong,” Twilight whispered, and this time she wasn’t so sure if she believed it. “There’s another way.”

The Other’s lip curled back, revealing bloody fangs underneath that glistened in the flickering firelight. No, there very much isn’t. Have you already forgotten our arrival in these wretched ruins? It was meat that saved us then, and it is meat that will save us now.

“I still regret that moment.” Twilight pulled her hooves tight around herself as she shivered. “It was a mistake. The mushrooms here are edible.”

Yes, we know that now, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. A sinister smile graced the Other’s face. The transformation would have happened eventually, little flower. It was always just a matter of time.

Twilight rolled onto her back, shaking her head at the ceiling. “No, I could have—I should have held you back. And I’m not letting you trick me again. I don’t need meat. I won’t let you turn me into a monster.”

What does it mean to be a monster?

Twilight frowned. She looked to the Other, who had taken up a position directly on top of the cooking fire. The glowing embers framed its face in a soft orange. “A monster is… a villain. A bad pony.”

The Other laughed. Defining one word with another? We know better than that.

Twilight flicked her tail, but she knew it was right. She rolled onto her belly and looked down at her hooves, deep in thought.

Let me help you. The Other leaned in close, whispering directly into her ear. Are all griffons monsters?

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Gava is a monster.”

Not what I asked. The Other had moved to her other ear. It spoke slowly. Deliberately. We’ve met griffons besides her. Were they monsters?

Twilight’s eyes widened as she turned to face her doppelganger’s grinning face. Its smile somehow grew even wider.

Your memories are my own, yes. It’s hazy, but I remember another griffon, long before. What was her name? Gilda? Haughty and bullish, perhaps, but was she a monster?

Twilight bit her lip. “No.”

And did Gilda eat meat?

With a sigh, “Like all griffons, yes.”

The Other hummed with exaggerated thoughtfulness as it sat down in front of her. Gilda the griffon ate meat, and she was not a monster. So we know that eating meat isn’t what makes a monster, don’t we?

“It’s different,” Twilight insisted, looking away. “I’m a pony.”

The Other didn’t care where she looked. It remained in the center of her vision, even visible when she blinked, as it curled its lip back. We are no mere pony.

“You’re wrong!” Twilight hissed, and a violent shiver wracked her body. “I’m a pony!”

The normal pony doesn’t have sharp teeth, nor does it cry blood. Red tears began to run down the Other’s cheeks as it opened its mouth to display its fangs. They are fragile creatures, and prone to breakage. We are a thing beyond them—greater than them! Though not yet by very far.

“I’m a pony,” Twilight repeated. “If I’m not a pony, then I’m a monster.” She sucked in a shaky breath and forced her words out through clenched teeth. “I’m not a monster!”

Do you really think it’s so simple? You are blooming into something more, my delicate little flower, the Other whispered. We are no more a monster than the griffon who hunts for survival. Won’t you embrace it with me? Let us soar to new heights, and together we can recreate Equestria as it is meant to be. We can make it right again.

The Other’s voice turned cold. Or you can reject us. We will starve down here as you stuff us with foraged plant matter cooked to perfection, and Equestria will truly be lost, all due to your dull insistence on eating only one specific kind of dead thing. Unfortunately, the choice is all yours.

Twilight just shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, falling onto her side and curling up into a ball. Her heart pounded in her ears like a giant drum, drowning out her thoughts, and her voice began to crack between whimpering sobs. “I d-d-don’t want to! I—why w-won’t you just let me b-be a pony?” 

Hush, now, little one, the Other cooed. Twilight stiffened, going quiet with a shuddering gasp, as she felt the chill of its body wrapping around her and the cold tickle of its breath against her ear. We will always be a pony, my dear blossom, but a pony greater than any before us. Evolution is a thing to be celebrated, is it not?

Seconds passed in agonizing silence. Gradually, Twilight’s heart began to slow down. She opened her eyes as the quiet cackling of the fire droned in the background. She was a pony. She would always be a pony. Thestrals ate meat and had fangs, but they were still ponies, weren’t they? And yet— “I don’t want to be special.”

It is not a choice. You are special, and you always have been. Do you think your dear Princess chose you without thought?

“No.” For the first time in recent memory, Twilight was able to say something without doubt.

The Other cocked its head. Then why?

The question hung in the air for a long, heavy moment. Twilight opened her mouth to speak several times, only to close it without a sound. Why had the Princess chosen her? As a filly she had assumed that she had been picked for her magical ability, but the idea seemed so naive once she got older. Magical prodigies were born once every few generations, and Celestia had never taken any of them on as personal students.

And so as Twilight got older she had decided that the Princess must have had some purpose for her, some unseen plan, and that it would all be explained to her once the time had finally come. When she met her friends and rediscovered the Elements of Harmony, she felt as if that purpose had become clear.

But what if that wasn’t it? What if when the time had come, Twilight wasn’t there to fulfill it?

Twilight licked her dry lips. She climbed up to a sitting position, holding her legs close. “I… need some time to think.”

The Other, unseen, answered her with an amused hum. Take all the time you need.

Twilight could feel its presence recede into the back of her mind. It was watching as it always did, yes, but from a distance. For a moment she simply sat there, suspecting some ploy, but it seemed the Other truly was giving her some space to think. She had been granted a sense of privacy that she had been beginning to think she would never experience again.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight stared into the smoldering fire and let her mind drift. She thought of her home, of Owloysius floating in a waterlogged library, surrounded by tattered books, blood, and the mangled corpses of the ponies he had killed. She thought of her parents and her brother and her neighbors and her old friends from Canterlot. She remembered Lily Quick’s journal, and the dead mare’s account of the ponies being swept away by waves strong enough to demolish buildings. Ever since she first woke up in the nightmare ruins of Canterlot, every day seemed to bring with it a new loss, or knowledge of an old one she hadn’t even been aware of.

Would she ever be able to bury her parents? Would she even recognize them if she found the bodies, or would she just gingerly step past as she had with every other skeleton she had seen in the past three weeks? Had they wondered the same things about her when they were still alive, or had they held out some hope that she would somehow save them all?

She shook her head, dislodging the distracting thoughts. Guilt was always lingering in the back of her mind, and she could contemplate it at any time. Right now she needed to confront the question that had haunted her ever since she tore a chunk of dry meat off the corpse of a changeling with her bare teeth. The memory made bile rise in the back of her throat even as her mouth watered. Was she a monster?

The crackle of the fire brought her back to old lessons received in the very same castle, back when it was warm and bright and full of life. She remembered when a delegation of griffons had arrived for dinner, and Princess Celestia had had her cooks arrange a feast of meats in their honor—chicken, duck, fish, and pig. Twilight had cried when she saw all the bodies splayed across the massive dining table, dressed in fragrant spices, but the Princess had been quick to take her aside and calm her down.

“There’s no need to be afraid of carnivores, Twilight,” the Princess had said, wearing the same kind smile she always did when it was just the two of them, away from all the courtiers, bureaucrats, and reporters. “Every life ends one day, and they help the bodies return to nature once the spirit moves on.”

“But what if the animals don’t want to die?” Twilight had asked. “Doesn’t it hurt them? What if they want to eat me?”

“Oh, my dear little pony.” Celestia had pulled her into a tight hug to quiet her sobs. “Every animal on that table died naturally after long, happy lives. Carnivores aren’t monsters. They’re just another beautiful part of the harmony of our world.”

And so Twilight had dried her tears, straightened out her dress—with some help from the Princess—and returned to dinner. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the griffons eating, but she didn’t cry and she didn’t have any nightmares afterwards of being hunted by hungry diplomats. As she grew older, she had grown more comfortable with the concept of carnivore diets, until eventually she could exchange formalities with visiting griffons over dinner without a second thought. Because carnivores weren’t monsters. They were just… another part.

But could Twilight bring herself to join them? Changelings howled in the distance, their shrieks muffled by the heavy stones of the castle, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the sound. She was a unicorn, and even if carnivores were natural, she didn’t eat meat. It simply wasn’t done.

Then again, that changeling she had scavenged hadn’t suffered any more because of her. The sound of death had become a regular occurence in the wake of Canterlot’s passing, and hadn’t she always taken a certain pride in discarding old ideas when new information came to light?

Another memory came to her, of a conversation over tea in the once-verdant gardens that surrounded the castle. Celestia had been sending Twilight on some errand, and Twilight had been anxious as always about the prospect of failure. She didn’t remember what the task had been anymore, but she did remember her mentor’s kind smile, and the soft words she had spoken.

“You’ve never failed me, Twilight,” she had said as she lowered her cup back to the table. “That’s why you’re my most faithful student.”

Twilight blinked. There was no wind in the ruins of Canterlot, and so her world was deathly silent. The embers of what was once her cooking fire were beginning to dim. How long had she been lost in thought?

Celestia’s voice echoed in her head. “My most faithful student.”

Twilight had failed her mentor one too many times already. Would she really doom herself, doom Equestria, over her own stubborn ideals? Just because I need meat doesn’t mean I’m not a pony anymore. As long as I don’t hurt anybody, I’m not a monster.

The Other was right, as much as she hated it. Formative years spent carefully training rational thought had cursed her with a scholar’s mind, and so with one theory discarded she brought up a new one: she was not a monster. She was a pony who ate meat. If she didn’t obtain it, then the last hopes of Equestria would die with her trapped within this ancient crypt.

She made her choice.

Her stomach growled, yet she felt as if one of several great weights had been lifted from her withers. She looked up with tentative relief and met eyes with the Other, watching silently from across the room.

“You’re right,” she breathed. “I need meat.”

The Other smiled, revealing bloody fangs.
> III: Of Others
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Rarity? Rares! Yoohoo, anybody in there?”

Rarity jumped as a pink hoof waved in front of her face. “Oh, what? Did you need anything, Pinkie?”

“Do I need anything?” Pinkie let out a quick gigglesnort. “That’s really, really nice of you, Rarity, but you know you can’t fool me, right?”

Rarity grimaced. She looked back to herself, reflected in three pony-sized mirrors all trimmed in polished silver, and felt her knees go weak again.

She was wearing a dress, and if you had asked her about it any other day then she would have said that it was designed by a pony who knew what she was doing. It was a pale white thing, adorned with many layers of wispy veils along the flanks and fetlocks, and she could tell that the seamstress had put great effort into its creation just from the feel of the soft fabric against her coat.

Was it beautiful? All she knew was that it filled her with a slimy revulsion she’d never felt before. Her hooves twitched as she imagined ripping it from her body in shreds, throwing the tattered silk into a fire, and then stomping on the ashes until the wind carried it all far, far away. She felt guilty fantasizing about destroying something that another dressmaker had clearly put so much effort into, but she couldn’t help herself.

She had always dreamed of wearing something of her own creation for her wedding, after all, and she had always pictured herself marrying a stallion she loved.

Rarity licked her lips before giving Pinkie a shaky nod. “I’ll survive, darling.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rarity glanced back to see Whitehorn poking his head into the little dressing tent. “Are we ready to begin, ladies?”

“Goodness,” Rarity breathed, fussing with her mane. “Is it that time already?”

“I’m afraid so.” He came fully into the room, displaying the long-tailed, pale blue suit he wore. “You should get to the steps, Pinkie. Fluttershy is already there.”

“Oh, right! Good luck, Rare-bear!” With one last wide, beaming smile, Pinkie Pie turned for the door. The wheels strapped to her sides squealed in complaint as she zipped out of the tent, leaving the flaps to flutter in her wake.

Whitehorn turned to face Rarity with a wan smile. “You look beautiful as ever, my Lady, though I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I don’t feel beautiful.” Rarity heaved a sigh. “You know, I spent many years as a filly imagining how this day would come. I dreamed of being wed in a great hall in Canterlot, to a chivalrous prince at the end of a long, romantic courtship.” She paused, tugging at her sleeves. “And I was supposed to make my own dress.”

“It’s still not too late to call it off, you know,” Whitehorn said. He stepped forwards, offering a hoof, and she allowed him to help her down off the little stool she had been standing on.

“Not too late?” Rarity scoffed. “There’re hundreds of villagers waiting out there for me, a half-dozen noble witnesses from around the island and, most significantly of all, five prisoners watching from the dungeon tower, no doubt praying to Celestia this very second that I don’t disappear and leave them to their deaths!” She became worked up as she spoke, and she chided herself for the unladylike display as she straightened her mane. 

Whitehorn dipped his head, acknowledging her words. “All true, and still, nobody would blame you.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I would.”

A silence hung between the two, disturbed only by the excited chatter of the crowd outside. After several seconds, Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

With one last glance in the mirror, Rarity took Whitehorn’s hoof and allowed him to guide her out of the tent. In the absence of any real paternal figure to give her over to Pontius, she had chosen the cordial stallion to do the honors. Her tent was only a short distance outside of the freshly replaced gate of the manor lawn, and so it only took them a few seconds to pass the arched stone threshold and enter the garden proper.

Although most of the bushes and trees had already been replaced, Rarity knew that they wouldn’t grow into their full forms for years. She knew that there were crags and sinkholes that had only been hastily filled in with dirt, and that many parts of the manor’s interior were still in dire need of repairs. It didn’t matter, however, because it was impossible to see all these broken details past the throng of faces that all turned to regard her arrival.

The music began at once. It wasn’t the archetypal wedding melody that Rarity had once dreamed of, nor any other song that she recognized, but it was pleasant enough to somewhat soothe her. Lyre, flute, and organ filled her ears as she followed Whitehorn up the aisle with robotic stiffness.

At the end of the aisle waited her shackles. Duke Titus stood at the top of the manor steps, the unpainted stone still visible where repairs had been made just days prior. He wasn’t wearing his usual breastplate—perhaps because it was still being mended—and instead displayed his crest proudly on a thick orange cloak. There was a wooden table in front of him which carried a single small vial on a circular cushion. To his right stood a clearly nervous Pontius, wearing an orange tabard over thin mail, and flanked by stern-faced senior members of Titus’ guard. To his left was an open space where Rarity was to stand. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy stood behind it, wearing simple white dresses and encouraging smiles.

Wrong. Rarity couldn’t get the word out of her head. It’s all wrong.

There was a slight ringing in her head as Whitehorn let her hoof go and she took the final steps to her position. The Duke waved for silence and began to speak, but Rarity couldn’t make out any words. She frowned at him, watching his lips move for nearly a full minute, and then looked to Pontius. The colt gave her a small smile—sympathetic, or merely excited? She didn’t know what there was to smile about, either way.

A mare dressed in a plain white robe approached the duo, and after a few seconds Rarity recognized her as Mother White, the priestess at one of the local Celestial churches. Had she stepped up to announce her objection? No, she walked up to Titus and plucked a feather from his extended wings with her mouth. How odd.

Rarity watched with detached interest as Mother White turned to the table and dipped the feather into the first vial, which Rarity realized held a pure white dye much like the color of her own coat. The priestess turned to Pontius with the white feather, who straightened his stance and opened his mouth to speak.

Rarity couldn’t hear him over her own heartbeat, but the words were obvious. “I do.”

He extended his right wing. With a small smile, Mother White wove the white feather in among his dusty brown primaries. A round of polite applause sounded from the crowd.

Mother White then plucked a brown feather from Pontius’ wing. Slowly she turned to Rarity, her smile now showing an encouraging sympathy instead of pride, and prompted her with a nod.

Rarity blinked. Was it time already? She wished that her friends weren’t behind her so that she could look to them for strength. Her ears flicked as she heard a low snarl from Titus, barely audible.

“Say it.”

The pit of dread in her breast grew tighter still. She pulled her dry lips apart and, after several seconds, managed to speak the terrible words.

“I do.”

Mother White nodded. Rarity watched as the older mare walked to her side and slipped Pontius’ brown feather into a prepared fold on the left side of her dress before stepping back and to the side.

“Good girl,” Titus rumbled. He raised his voice to address the assembled crowd. “By th’ power I hold as th’ lord of this land, I now pronounce ye mare and stallion! Kiss yer bride, lad.”

Pontius shot an anxious glance towards his father, who only looked back with silent command. After visibly taking a moment to steel himself, he leaned in towards Rarity, who closed her eyes  and simply waited. She resisted the urge to cringe as she felt his lips—only on her cheek, thank Celestia—and the audience stomped their hooves in approval.

Rarity took a deep, calming breath as she opened her eyes and looked out over the hundreds of faces below. In the first rows sat the nobles and their entourages, who had paused in their quiet discussion just long enough to acknowledge the sanctified union with calculating eyes. Behind them was a thin band of curious commoners, travelers from the urbanized west edge of Altalusia and islands beyond who had been drawn in by the news of the marriage of the supposed Last Lady of Old Equestria. Their obvious skepticism was a familiar sight to Rarity, but it was the furthest back, most numerous ponies who held her attention.

The villagers of Titus’ land, the farmers and cottage artisans who had no doubt scrubbed off days of dirt accumulated in the fields so that they could don tired homemade outfits and watch the festivities, gazed up at her with unabashed excitement. Young fillies stared in open-mouthed awe at her dress, while wrinkled stallions smiled at Pontius with obvious pride. They all wore bright smiles and chattered eagerly amongst themselves, and Rarity found herself wondering just what it was they were so happy about.

Were they too simple to understand how terrible her fate was? What did they care that a mare they’d never heard of a scant week ago was binding herself to the son of their brutish lord?

Rarity flinched as she felt a rough hoof on her shoulder. Titus’ voice spoke into her ear. “I admit, I was expectin’ ye t’ turn tail up t’ th’ last second.”

“A lady keeps her word,” Rarity growled back. “I can only assume that the concept is new to one such as yourself.”

“Heh. Yer of fine stock, Countess.” Titus took a few steps past her, towards the crowd, and beckoned to her and Pontius with a wing. “Lad, grab yer mare. There’re some guests I want ye to meet.”

Pontius shot a nervous glance towards Rarity, but she stomped her hoof in objection before he could speak. “I am a mare of my own, and I have no intent of being paraded around like a trophy! I’ve done as you asked, and I won’t suffer another moment of this indignity!” She paused, waiting for Titus to look back at her so she could stare him down. “You will honor our deal.”

Infuriatingly enough, the grizzled pegasus had the nerve to answer her objection with an amused grin. “Aye, ye’re right. Yer precious bandits are free.”

Rarity blinked. She had been expecting him to put up some fight, to hang the threat of the bandits over her and demand that she obey him. By all means, he possessed the power to do so, and there was nothing she would be able to do to stop him. Perhaps I’ve underestimated him?

No. A lady is not so easily impressed.

With a flick of her tail, Rarity turned away. Pinkie and Fluttershy were watching her with obvious concern, so she spared a few seconds to say, “I’ll be in my room, girls,” before striding for the towering double doors of the manor. The doors opened on their own as she approached, no doubt thanks to a watchful servant, and Rarity stormed through unimpeded.

Despair, shame, and fury all competed for dominance inside her. She tore the wedding dress off and cast it to the side, relishing the ripping scream of its threads. She had been crushed when Titus had first forced her to agree to the marriage, but now she wanted payback. How dare he think to own her, to control her, to dress her up like a doll before that crowd and make her speak those rotten words?

It didn’t take long to reach her rooms at her pace. She slammed the door shut behind her, causing the sky-themed paintings on the walls to rattle as if in fear. She groaned in frustration as she threw a painting of an armored pegasus across the room with her magic. Would it kill him to decorate his home with a single thing of beauty instead of plastering every surface with winged soldiers, airships, and skyscapes?

She shook herself. Wild fury wasn’t going to get her anywhere. A lady only angers with purpose. But what purpose? She took deep breaths, forcing her racing thoughts to focus. She was a member of a powerful noble house now. The servants and soldiers seemed to listen to her, though she had never requested anything especially egregious, and they treated her more like a hotel guest than a superior. How much authority did she really have as the wife of the Duke’s heir? She couldn’t help but curl her lip at the revolting question.

A quiet knock at the door drew her attention. She rounded on it sharply. “What?!”

The door creaked open, and Pontius poked his head inside. “Lady Rarity, are ye well?”

“No, I am not well!” Rarity snapped. “And I didn’t tell you that you could enter!”

Pontius flinched. He glanced back into the hall, gulped, and then stepped fully into the room before closing the door behind him. He didn’t meet her glare, instead fiddling with the mangled wedding dress he had slung over his back. “I th-thought ye might need someone t-to talk to.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Did your father put you up to this?”

He looked everywhere but her. Was he sweating? “I—I just—”

“Do not lie to me, Pontius,” Rarity growled. “I am very much not in the mood.”

Several seconds passed while the colt searched for his words. For a moment Rarity almost felt sorry for him. He couldn’t have been more than 20 years old, by her guess. It was just a moment, though.

At last he cleared his throat and glanced in her direction. “W-we’re expected t-to c-c-consummate our m-marriage.”

Rarity’s jaw dropped. After a few seconds she found the presence of mind to close her jaw and work it side to side in a very unladylike fashion. The colt at least seemed to have the wisdom to look ashamed of himself, if his blushing cheeks and shivering hooves were any indication. Stiffly, Rarity stepped towards him. She raised a hoof.

He opened his mouth to say something, but only a strained squeak came out. The sound of her hoof smacking across his face was much, much louder.

To his credit, he took the slap like a proper stallion, making no attempt to oppose nor escape it. He only raised a hoof to the red spot on his cheek and rubbed it gingerly. For the first time since entering the room, he found the strength to look her in the eyes.

“Uncouth brat!” Rarity spat, causing him to cringe back. “You have some nerve to traipse into a lady’s room when she is clearly upset and demand sex! What do you take me for? Do you think I’m some two-bit whore who’s willing to spread her legs for every upstart colt that’s intelligent enough to get his groin past the threshold of her door?!” Her nostrils flared as she took a moment to process her outrage. “I am a lady, and you will treat me as such! Now get! Out!”

Her horn lit up, and he paled as his clothes tightened around him. With a sweep of her horn, she tore the door open, flung him out into the hall, and slammed it in his face.

Rarity took a deep breath. She had to admit that there was a certain catharsis to ejecting unwanted callers from her room by their lapels, even if it wasn’t quite accepted in polite society.

Just as she was about to turn away from the door, she heard Pontius knock once more. “Countess, please. J-just let me sleep on t-the floor tonight. It’s t-tradition.”

Rarity frowned, eyeing the door with her brow furrowed in thought. Had Pontius ever been anything but respectful towards her before? No, it was his father that had always spoke with contempt, looked down on her, and treated her as an object. It was Pontius whom she had seen treating the villagers with dignity and leading soldiers through the woods in search of bandits. He wasn’t the one that had forced her into marriage or insulted her to her face. He had always been cordial, polite, even earnest at times.

Perhaps she was misdirecting her anger. Perhaps Pontius was trying to do his best as a young stallion trapped between a demanding father and his own ideals. Had he protested when his father had sent him to her room talking of consummation?

There was a thud against the door, and Rarity realized that Pontius was leaning against it. She imagined that Titus was not the type of father who took kindly to failure.

Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the door open. Pontius let out a shout of alarm as he fell backwards into the room, the wedding dress falling onto his face. She pulled it aside quickly, looking down at him with a discerning gaze. He blinked up at her and opened his mouth to say something, but was smart enough to close it before any words came out.

I suppose there’s no harm in treating him with the same respect he shows me, Rarity thought.

“You may stay the night,” Rarity said curtly. “I shall make you a place to sleep on the floor, but if you so much as touch my bed—” she tossed her mane and fixed him with her best smoldering glare “—I’ll throw you out a window next time.”

His tense expression gave way to a nervous smile. “Thank ye, my Lady.”

Rarity nodded, closed the door, and turned to find some appropriate linens in her closet. If she was going to be forced to wed the colt, then she would be sure to teach him proper manners.





The three dive suits were lined up along one wall of the Argo’s cargo hold, but Rainbow’s eye was focused entirely on the steel blue set in the middle. She flared her wings to match the set on the armor, imagining herself wearing it and protected by the silver-trimmed armor plates that covered almost every surface. She couldn’t suppress her wide grin as she looked over the hard, wing-shaped limbs at the sides, decorated with gleaming sharp cutting edges and sets of pressurized air jets on the backs for propelling her through the water. She stepped up close, almost muzzle-to-cold muzzle with the thing, and peered into each of the two angled glass eye holes on its face, catching the glint of the metal inside. Her very own dive suit, custom-built to fit her figure so she could explore ruins and fight monsters with comfort and ease. It was, in a word—

“Awesome,” Rainbow breathed. She turned to her friend standing besides her. “AJ, these are so awesome!”

“Uh huh.” Applejack regarded her with a warm, amused smile. “I heard ya the first few times.”

Star Trails chuckled as she brushed some imaginary dust off of the orange-tinted set on the right. “Yeah, I still remember when I got mine, y’know. Armis Metalworks will really do some good work when you pay like Crazy does.”

“How did they get done so fast?” Rainbow asked, hovering around the three sets in a slow circle. Her excitement faltered for a moment when she reached the lavender armor on the left, but she recovered quickly. “I mean, we’ve only been here a day!”

“Sabre ordered these a couple weeks ago, actually,” Trails explained. “After we did that dive in—Ponyville, was it? Yeah. Of course then Gava showed up and we weren’t really around for the delivery.” She shrugged, then broke out into a grin of her own. “But we’re here now, so congratulations! You guys don’t have to deal with those cheap one-size-fits-all cans anymore!”

“They surely are somethin’ fine,” Applejack said. “I can appreciate good craftsmareship when I see it, but did y’all have to put that gun mount on mine?” She grimaced as she regarded her suit from a few steps back. A sturdy casing was riveted onto one side, similar to the one’s Rainbow had seen on both sides of Flintlock’s armor. She knew from talking to him that it could be opened up to reveal a rail where a gun could be mounted to the armor’s integral trigger system before being closed again to protect it from the crushing water pressure of the ocean. “I mean, I ain’t never done any shootin’ before.”

Trails snorted. “Go tell Flint that. He’ll have you hitting barn sides within a couple days, tops.”

Applejack frowned. “Wait, why would we be shootin’ at barns?”

Rainbow kept smiling, but she stopped listening as she landed in front of the third, unclaimed dive suit. Twilight’s suit. Sea Sabre had ordered these back when they were all still together, so it made sense that Twilight would be included, but Rainbow found herself wondering if it would ever see any use. She brushed a wing over the armored hornpiece, tracing the thin, off-white spiral etched into the surface. She could almost imagine that Twilight was standing right there in front of her, but of course when she looked into the slitted visor she saw nothing but dark shadows. Would she see the same darkness in Twilight’s eyes when they finally did find her?

“Hey, RD? Woohoo, you listening?” Trails let out a short whistle to grab Rainbow’s attention. “I know these things are pretty sweet, but the rest of the world’s still here too.”

“Oh, what?” Rainbow blinked, turning to the other two mares.

“Okay, once again. We’ve got a day or two yet before we head out,” Trails began. From the way she was speaking, Rainbow got the impression that it was the second time she’d said this. “So if you wanted any adjustments or modifications, we can get some stuff done.”

“I’m gettin’ some spurs and studs on mine,” Applejack said, giving her suit’s leg a soft kick. “Reckon I’ll feel a heck of a lot safer with my hooves than I would with some fancy gun.”

“Hrm.” Rainbow raised a hoof to rub at her chin as she eyed her own suit. Maybe she could have a gun mount added? She dismissed the idea quickly—she had never shot a gun, and if her last fight with Gava was any indication, they weren’t anywhere as reliable as a good set of wing blades. Besides, it already looked pretty cool as it was. She didn’t want to risk messing that up. Then again, it could use a little more Rainbow Dash flair.

She turned to Star Trails with a smirk. “Have we got any paint?”





Deep inside the maze of rubble that was Old Canterlot, swathed in claustrophobic darkness, a changeling screamed.

Twilight had heard many screams like it since arriving in the dead city. They often came one after another, overlapping and building up into a shrill crescendo before fading away like a roll of thunder. She had imagined that perhaps the changelings were hunting something, although she was never able to figure out what it was that they hunted. There didn’t seem to be any other life in the city—aside from Spike, she realized with a cringe, although he didn’t seem a likely victim—but perhaps there was some species of elusive herbivore subsisting off of the fungus, providing a food source for the swarm. It always made her look over her shoulder when she had these thoughts. What was she if not a hidden prey animal scavenging for scraps in damp corners?

This time the source of the screams was close. Twilight had tucked herself beneath a pile of bricks held up by a fallen timber on the second floor of a slender building, just a few steps back from a shattered window frame. She didn’t dare light her horn, and so she squeezed herself as low to the cool stone floor as she could, body stiff while her ears flicked this way and that listening to the changelings fight something in the street below.

She strained to discern some meaning from the subtle differences between each shriek. Was that a cry of pain, or a call for blood? Did changelings always sound so agitated, or were they in the middle of a heated conflict? She had no way to tell, and so she listened and waited.

She didn’t know how long it took for the commotion to end, but it felt like hours. Her ears flicked at the sound of shifting rubble and hard carapace scraping over stone, and she pushed herself further back into her hiding spot. If a changeling came too close, it might hear her shaky breaths. She wouldn’t be able to see one even if it was staring right at her in this darkness. She looked to The Other, who sat in a patch of blackness as featureless as any other while it watched her.

You should be on lookout, not just watching me, she said.

It arched a brow. Very well. I shall turn and stare at the same darkness you are. It made a great show of slowly turning in place with little shuffling steps. Oh, I see something!

Twilight stiffened. What is it?

It’s nothing, you idiot. Twilight blinked, and the Other was facing her again. Its calculating gaze was replaced with a sneer. Or did you think I had a pair of invisible eyes floating over here that only you can see?

Twilight glared up at it. Maybe I was just hoping you’d do something helpful for once.

As opposed to something worthless like letting you starve us to death?

Shut up! Twilight snapped. Her hooves twitched as she held herself back from stomping at the ground. We need to focus.

Then stop distracting us.

Twilight did the mental equivalent of a frustrated huff, but didn’t push the matter any further. She reminded herself that the fanged, blood-matted Twilight Sparkle leering at her from the corner of her vision had no physical presence in reality. After so long with its constant presence, it had begun to feel just as real as the cold stones of Canterlot, but she had to remember the truth. There was nobody there to watch her back.

The ruins had gone silent. Twilight cringed at the light cast from her horn as she sent a series of pings out into the darkness. I think they’re gone.

Then what are we waiting for? We must move quickly.

But what if I’m wrong? What if they know we’re here, and they’re just waiting for us to come out?

Remember the plan, little flower. We can always teleport us out—unless you change your mind, of course.

But how can I trust you? Twilight narrowed her eyes, trying to somehow see further without brightening her horn. How can I know you won’t try to make me fight anyways?

The Other scoffed. You’ve agreed to my terms by seeking out meat, and so I’ve agreed to yours. Unlike you, I haven’t made a regular habit of lying, to myself or anything else. It paused, and Twilight could feel its disgust. No doubt you would get us killed if I tried, anyways.

Twilight nodded, sensing the blunt honesty in its words. Her unwanted passenger may not be friendly, but she knew that it valued survival.

Satisfied, Twilight crawled up to the broken window frame and peered outside, forming her hornlight into a cone. Spiraling motes of dust danced in the lavender spotlight as she scanned the street below, illuminating wet streaks of fresh green blood. A changeling lay still atop a collapsed barricade of rotten wood. Its carapace had been broken in several locations, each one leaking more thick ichor in a growing puddle beneath it.

Twilight grimaced. It’s dead.

Yes, as we had hoped. The Other looked up at her from beside the corpse. Come and—wait. Do you feel that?

The Other was looking up now, eyes wide with obvious alarm. Twilight followed its gaze, shining her spotlight up into the blanket of darkness above her, but she didn’t see anything. What is it?

We’re being watched, the Other hissed. Quickly, grab the meat!

Adrenaline surged in Twilight’s veins, pushing back the fog of exhaustion as she scrambled out of the window. She landed on a pile of rubble and skidded down the side with stiff legs, grimacing as the hard stone scraped against her hooves and fur. She bounced off the bottom with a grunt.

The Other was crouched over the changeling body, its bloodshot eyes fixed upwards. Faster!

Twilight fell to the ground next to the body. She cringed back from the warmth and pungent scent, but the urgency in the Other’s voice drove her on. The air seemed to buzz around her as she wrapped herself and the changeling in her magic, squeezed her eyes shut, and thought of safety.

There was a loud pop, and the buzzing stopped. Twilight yelped as she fell to the ground in the sealed off castle kitchen that she’d been using as a hideout. She yelped again at the thud of the changeling body hitting the stone beside her.

What was that? Twilight asked. She scanned the room, sending pings in every direction, but nothing unusual or dangerous jumped out at her.

I’m not sure, the Other said. Its voice carried an edge that Twilight hadn’t heard before. It was another… like me.

Twilight frowned. The blood was still rushing in her ears, and she was having some trouble gathering her thoughts. She looked around and saw her illusive doppelganger hunched over the cooking fire. You mean like us?

I’m not sure! In an instant, the Other was in her face, fangs bared. I sensed something, something like me, but bigger. And it could sense me, too. It turned away, a distant look in its eyes. It was hungry.

Twilight looked up and met the Other’s gaze. Is it… afraid?

I am not afraid! The Other stomped a hoof, and its voice echoed inside her head with enough volume to make her vision blur. We have acquired the meat we need. Eat it!

When Twilight’s sight finally cleared enough for her to get her bearings, she was alone. She turned a full circle, pushing back the shadows with the lavender light of her horn, but the Other was nowhere to be seen. Hello? Are you there?

There was no answer. Twilight could still feel the presence of the Other deep inside her, but it had left her alone for the moment.

For several seconds, Twilight wasn’t sure how to react. The unexpected outburst combined with the last lingering traces of adrenaline left her with a nervous energy, and she found herself tapping a hoof, looking around with wide eyes, waiting for some hissed insult that never came.

Her gaze fell on the corpse at her hooves, and it shook her from her stupor. There was a body in front of her, bruised and bleeding and smelling of death. She had not killed it, but she was going to eat it. She didn’t have a choice. She repeated the thoughts to herself several times, and after the tenth time she found the willpower to begin moving.

The thought of tearing chunks of flesh off the corpse like she had before sent a powerful shiver down her spine, and so she resolved to cook it instead. With a grimace she levitated The Carnivore’s Cookbook, Equestrian Edition to her eyes and checked the table of contents. Meat-based meals for the adventurous pony—page 88.

She flipped to the relevant page, scanning the text and trying not to settle on any one of the gruesome words within. A pit formed at the bottom of her stomach as she realized that all the instructions were based off of cuts of meat, not fresh corpses. She would have to butcher the body herself.

Keeping her eyes forward, Twilight wrapped her magic around the body. She flinched at the crunching and cracking sounds the carapace made as she forcibly peeled it free from the changeling’s body. She grabbed a butcher’s knife in her magic—the castle kitchens were equipped to prepare any meal, it seemed—and began to cut.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

The steaks would be ragged and poorly shaped, and there was a part of her that protested at doing a task with so little precision, but that part was easily dwarfed by the pony desperately clinging to her identity. She didn’t know if she could handle watching herself butcher the body of another being.

With the bloody work done, Twilight levitated a trio of changeling steaks in front of her. The meat was grey like ash, glistening with sinew and fat, and it made her mouth water. Disgusting. They landed in her pan with wet smacks.

She worked on autopilot, keeping her muzzle buried in the text of the cook book and only sometimes glancing at the pan. She had often performed simple experiments with this method, and had been proud of her ability to follow rote instructions while her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes glided over the page without seeing, and her magic flowed around the ingredients without feeling. It wasn’t until the scent of cooked meat began to tickle at her nostrils that she finally escaped her trance.

The meat sizzled and popped in its juices, having transformed from stiff grey charcoal to a spongy black steak. Fat seeped from the porous little holes that dotted its surface before pooling in a creamy froth at the bottom of the pan. And the smell. Twilight had never smelled something so savory in her life. She found herself leaning in, swallowing the saliva that pooled in her mouth.

Bile rose in the back of her throat and she pulled back. She had convinced herself, rationally, that this was okay, and her body clearly agreed in earnest. She still couldn’t touch the fork.

Minutes passed. She drew the heat out of the pan with a simple spell to ensure the meat didn’t overcook and simply sat there, drawing the greasy scent in. She looked around the room, expecting the Other to be standing in the shadows nearby ready to jeer her into action, but she was alone. She felt lonely.

Hello?

No answer. Did the Other have a name that she could call? It seemed to be intelligent, but it had never offered any formal introduction. It had always been ready with a snide remark and a contemptuous glare, and there had never been a need to summon it before now. With a sigh and another glance at her cooked food, Twilight realized that she would have to go looking for her unwanted guest.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned her senses inwards. The Other had been a constant, inescapable presence ever since Twilight had accepted its help on Altalusia, and she’d grown familiar with the feel of its movements. She had never been able to hide from it, and no matter how hard it might try, it couldn’t hide from her.

She opened her eyes. She was standing on the wooden deck of an airship beneath angular white sails that fluttered in a wailing breeze she couldn’t feel. A cloudless night sky stretched above her, broken only by twirling tendrils of lavender and black that arced over the horizon. Twilight regarded the ship with a frown. It looked like Gava’s ship, but why would the Other be hiding someplace like this?

The howling wind grew louder, and Twilight watched as the ship’s rigging began to move, adjusting the sails by its own volition. The wind transformed into a chorus of ghostly voices, all singing with the rhythm of the ship’s movement.

We go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.
Where the monsters don’t sleep, nor does the shark, nor does the evil old.
There’s salvage down there in the canyons, there’s jewels and silver and gold.
So go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.

A chill hung in the air, and Twilight shivered as she walked up to a door that led below decks. She opened it with her magic and let her hooves guide her deeper into the ship, through cracked halls and past shattered walls. All the while, the voices rolled over her.

The clouds up here beckon, the sun up here warms
my face with her ancient Celestial charms.
But she didn’t reach out to rescue my love,
when she slipped on the deck and fell from above.

At last she reached her destination. A narrow wooden hall stretched before her, housing six simple jail cells. The Other stood behind the bars of one, frowning down at a broken ring on the floor.

It looked up sharply as she entered. “What are you doing here?”

Twilight offered up a weak smile. “I was, uh, looking for you?”

The Other regarded her coldly. After several seconds, it spoke. “For what purpose?”

Twilight grimaced, flinching away from its gaze. She would have laughed at the mundanity of what she was about to say if the words didn’t make her nauseous. “The food’s ready.”

“Then eat it.” It turned away with a grunt of annoyance.

Twilight’s ears drooped as she bit her lip. What was she supposed to say? The Other already thought her to be a worthless weakling, and asking it for help just to eat would only inspire more mockery. She blinked, raising a hoof to her head in confusion. Why should she be concerned about its feelings on anything? It was a pest; an invader in her mind, her most sacred place.

But it had feelings. Whereas before Twilight had thought it to be nothing more than anger given a voice, it had displayed so much more breadth in the past week. It had shown pride, wit, frustration, and even fear. Was it sequestering itself away because it was ashamed of that fear? Twilight almost found herself wishing for the simpler time when she was certain the Other was an evil, soulless entity trying to forcibly conquer her body. Looking at it now, as much as she wanted to deny it, Twilight saw a creature in turmoil, and she couldn’t help but walk closer. As she pushed herself into motion, the shadow voices began another verse.

In my dreams I see her how she was that day.
She reaches to touch me, then just falls away.
The world’s painted silver, when I wake from my screams.
The moon doesn’t listen; she keeps sending dreams.

The bars of the Other’s cell gave a rusty creak as Twilight opened the door and stepped inside. Now that she was closer, she could see thin tendrils of smoke spiraling off of the broken ring on the floor. “What is this place?”

The Other’s tail flicked side to side. “It is my place. As your tree is yours.”

Twilight’s frown deepened. “Your… home?”

“You may call it as you wish. It is my place.”

“This is Gava’s ship, isn’t it?” Twilight scanned the little cell curiously. “Why would you choose this?”

With a snarl, the Other turned to glare at her. “Choose? Did you have the liberty of choosing your pitiful tree, little flower? Because I never chose to wake on this ship, surrounded by weapons or iron bars. It was you that brought me here!”

Twilight flinched back. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yes, you don’t know much; that is obvious,” the Other sneered. It snorted, looking away.

The dismissal was clear, but Twilight knew she couldn’t back down. She looked around, searching for what to say next, watching as the Other’s ears angled back and its hooves began to scrape at the wooden floor. After almost a minute of silence, Twilight blurted out the only words she could think of.

“What’s your name?”

The Other stiffened, and Twilight could tell that it was thinking. Its answer came out in a low growl. “I have no need of a name.”

“Of course you do,” Twilight countered. She risked stepping closer, coming up to its side. “What do I call you if you don’t have a name?”

It shot her a sideways glare. “You call me ‘Other.’”

Twilight’s eyes widened. Of course it would know what she called it in her mind—that’s where it dwelled. Mentally chastising herself, Twilight tried again. “Is that what you want me to call you?”

It narrowed its eyes. Twilight didn’t need a psychic connection to pick up on its suspicion. “What are you doing?”

Twilight took a deep breath, answering the suspicion with a wan smile. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

The Other curled its lip at her, then turned away. Its focus returned to the smoldering halves of the broken ring on the floor, and for a long time it said nothing. Twilight watched with trepidation, her hooves twitching. The moaning of the invisible singers was barely audible through the wooden walls.

How I wish so to end it, to dive after my wife,
to sink and freeze and drown in the wreckage of my life!
But I am not a craven, the quick way’s not for me,
and there’s things in the deep that will do the job for free.

Just as Twilight was considering speaking again, the Other met her eyes. Its gaze was hard and imperious, its lips set in a stern frown. “Midnight.”

Twilight nodded, and the Other—Midnight, she corrected herself—looked away with a scoff. After a few seconds, Twilight cleared her throat. “I was hoping you would come eat with me?”

Midnight grunted. “You can’t bring yourself to do it, can you, little flower?”

“Well—” Twilight pursed her lips, considering denial, but decided against it. “No, I can’t.”

“I suppose I expected too much of you,” Midnight said. It stood up, turned around, and marched out of the cell without looking at her. “But I see it’s necessary for me to handle even something so simple as feeding ourselves.”

Twilight let out a sigh of relief. As long as Midnight was pestering her with condescending remarks, she knew where she stood. The chorus of unseen sailors continued their song as she followed herself out of the brig.

I go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.
Where the monsters don’t sleep, nor does the shark, nor does the evil old.
There’s destiny there in the ruins, there’s things that will swallow your soul.
So go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.

Twilight opened her eyes. She was back in the dark, ruined kitchen, the pan-seared steak waiting patiently before her. Midnight was sitting opposite her, eyeing the meat with obvious hunger. You cooked it.

Twilight smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t really want to just—you know.” She nodded her head towards where the half-butchered changeling was hidden. She still hadn’t looked at it.

Without another word, Midnight’s horn glowed. Its lavender aura was interspersed with popping bubbles of darkness, and it picked up the steak and levitated it towards its open maw. Its fangs snapped close with enough force to make Twilight flinch, and she watched as the juice dribbled down Midnight’s muzzle to join the ever-present bloodstains on her chin. Then the taste hit her.

It was disgustingly heavy and greasy, and it was delicious in a way that Twilight hadn’t thought possible. She watched with open-mouthed, drooling amazement as Midnight tore piece after piece away from the steak, each bite another splash of piquant flavor on her tongue. She could feel the fog lifting from her mind as it swallowed; her thoughts were coming clearer than they had in days. She felt whole. She felt strong. She felt like she could take on the world and come out on top.

Twilight shook herself. Don’t let it mess with your head. Meat was a necessity, and nothing more. As soon as she could, she would find a way to reject Midnight and turn herself back to how she was before. She must not forget herself. But meanwhile—

Midnight swallowed the last bite of the steak. Both of them looked to each other as their stomachs rumbled.

Twilight’s fangs pricked her tongue as she licked the lingering flavor from her lips. “I should make more.”
> IV: Of Home
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clang of steel against steel rang out in the crisp air outside of Titus’ manor as Pontius exchanged blows with his sparring partner. Their hooves danced back and forth across the dirt of the practice yard, kicking up little puffs of dust with every step that drifted in the breeze. Sometimes one pegasus would leap into the air, straining his wings to pull off aerobatic dodges or feints, and the dust cloud would grow thicker when he fell back to the ground. Rarity couldn’t help but lean away every time they did so, but it made little difference. She had been sure to seat herself upwind.

She had never been a mare particularly interested in martial arts. They were barbaric practices from barbaric times, and it was more than unbecoming for a lady such as herself to partake in them. When Whitehorn had suggested coming out to watch Pontius training, her first reaction had been one of disgust. She wanted nothing to do with Titus, his son, or such a display.

But he had insisted. She couldn’t shut herself away in her rooms all day. There were still ponies who needed her, and she had to get back into motion. They needed to talk about their next steps. Good arguments, all. She had relented, but brought a book with her. She was still carrying Crazy Rich’s copy of The Count of Mareti Cristo, and it would serve as a pleasant distraction if needed.

Whitehorn sighed as he settled in next to her, reclining in the shade of the orange cloth canopy they were sharing. “Fine weather, don’t you think? It was nice of the Duke to give the workers the day off.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I doubt niceness has anything to do with it, frankly.”

Whitehorn chuckled. “You don’t give him enough credit, Countess. He nearly died in that battle, you know.”

“And he nearly killed my friend!” Rarity snapped, turning sharply to face the other unicorn. He had foregone his vest today, perhaps because of the heat of the sun, and was wearing only a white shirt. “Did you bring me here so you could try to change my opinion on the bastard that’s trapped me here? No offense to you, darling, but I’m not fond of having my time wasted like that.”

He arched a brow at that. “My Lady, you do realize that the Duke is our ally, correct?”

“Ally?” Rarity curled her lip as she spat the word. “I want nothing to do with him, and neither should you! I would have thought you were better than this.”

“And I know you’re smarter than this.” She shot him a disbelieving look, and he raised a hoof to ward off her rebuttal. “Rarity, please listen to me. The Duke isn’t normally the sort of person that ponies like us would associate with, true. He is hard, selfish, and lacking in empathy.”

“And grace, and decorum, and even a sliver of fashion sense!”

Whitehorn dipped his head. “Yes, and those. But what he does have is power and influence, something that we need. He may be doing it for the wrong reasons, but ultimately he’s still helping to make the world a better place. That makes him our ally, and someone you should treat with respect.”

Rarity clenched her jaw, staring him down with ears back against her head. Was it immature for her to hold a grudge like this when it couldn’t do anything but harm her? Titus was despicable in nature, but fate had seen fit to align their interests, and it would be foalish of her to continue jeopardizing his continued aid as long as that remained true.

She tossed her mane. “I don’t like it.”

“I’ve had to work with many ponies who I don’t like in the past,” Whitehorn said. “Sometimes even after they wronged me. It feels dirty at first, but once it’s all said and done and you’re finally able to cast them aside and move on to greater things—well, it’s all worth it in the end.” He smiled. “I’m not asking you to like him, or even to enjoy working with him, but I am asking you to show him the respect he doesn’t show you, at least until we don’t need him anymore. Do it for Equestria.”

Rarity’s tail flicked side to side as she heaved a sigh. Of course he was right. She closed her eyes and thought of the soot-stained ponies of Heighton, the refugees drowning in Fellis, and the tired villagers that had worn their best threadbare clothes to her wedding. She could draw strength from that. If it was what they needed, and it was, then she could give Titus a cooperative partner. At least for now.

“How long?” Rarity asked. “Until we don’t need him?”

Whitehorn let out a thoughtful hum. “No more than a couple months, thankfully. Once we get the Altalusian vote in Parliament, his part of the bargain is over. You can treat him how you will after that.”

“His part?” Rarity asked. Her ears twitched at the sound of the two pegasi stomping back and forth in the dirt. “What did you promise him in return?”

“The Altalusian prefecture,” Whitehorn said. “Someone has to manage the Gifted at the local level, and I promised him the title once we get the Table put into place. He imagines he’ll be establishing a new dynasty of Altalusian kings.”

Rarity opened her eyes, turning to frown at him. “The title would pass to Pontius? It sounds like you actually are promising him a kingdom.” She fidgeted in place. “Would that really make life any better here for the common pony, darling?”

Whitehorn answered with an apologetic smile. “At first perhaps not, but Altalusia’s sacrifice will give ponies across Equestria an old harmony that they don’t even remember missing. Once we have that base, we can work to spread that harmony everywhere.”

“I see.” Rarity frowned as she watched Pontius exchange blows with his tutor. The blades attached to their wings were dulled with strips of rubber to prevent injury. The tutor ducked backwards, egging Pontius on, and laughed as the colt pressed the attack. A grin flickered on Pontius’ face for just a moment, breaking through his mask of concentration. “And I think I see how I can make sure it happens here sooner rather than later.”

Whether it was coltish infatuation or chivalrous ideals, Pontius wanted to impress her. With some careful guidance and encouragement, she could turn him from the path of his father and mold him into a shining paragon of nobility. By the time the brute Titus finally passed away—and good riddance to him—a kind lord would be ready to take the reins.

And when I let the Duke’s line end with no heir, all of his efforts will be for naught. Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the thought. As much as she may like to imagine raising a beautiful family with her true love, she had no intent of bearing grandfoals for the stallion who had trapped her. She would take his son and turn him to her side, and he would regret the day he thought to own her.

“I’m glad you convinced me to come out here, Whitehorn.” She stood up and tossed her mane, giving her companion a warm smile. “With the two of us working together, there’s no force that can prevent the creation of a better Equestria. What’s our next move?”

Whitehorn grinned up at her. “It’s good to see the dour expression that’s been haunting your beautiful face for the past few days replaced with your usual gusto, my Lady. Parliament will be convening at Harvest soon, and we have to be sure that the island is united enough to send a delegate that will support us. Titus has called a meeting with several other nobles for tomorrow.”

“Exquisite.” Rarity turned to the training ring and saw that the two pegasi had settled down in the shade of the manor for a break. “I’ll be sure to attend. For now, I think it’s best I begin to apply myself to the situation at hoof. Ta ta for now, my sweet.”

She strutted out from under the canopy, allowing the sunlight to glitter against the white gown she had adorned before leaving her rooms. Pontius looked up at the movement, and she caught his eye with a toss of her mane and a gentle smile. He blushed, looking away and dipping his head into the trough of water he and his mentor were leaning on.

The mentor followed his gaze to Rarity and let out a deep belly laugh as she approached. “Chin up, lad! How do ye expect t’ keep troops in line at battle when ye turn tail at th’ first sight of yer own mare?”

Pontius shook his wet mane as he pulled his head out of the trough and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know what yer talking about, Master! Ye always tell me to be careful about overheating, so I’m being careful!”

“Ah, course ye are.” The older stallion stood up and greeted Rarity with a nod as she reached the duo. “Sir Aetius. Th’ lad’s talked much of ye today.”

Rarity dipped into a prim curtsey. She had been expecting a far rougher countenance from a murder instructor. “Countess Rarity. I certainly hope it’s all good things.”

Aetius grinned. He was wearing a padded orange vest with a brown cloth shirt beneath, and the burnt red fur on his face was marred by multiple scars. “I certainly ain’t th’ kind of stallion that would betray his nephew even if he didn’t.”

“Oh, you’re related?” Rarity looked between them, seeing the similarity now that she was up close.

“Aye. Titus knows I won’t go easy on th’ lad just t’ keep pay flowing,” Aetius said. “And he knows he ain’t got half my experience when it comes t’ teachin’ th’ young ‘n eager t’ defend ‘emselves.”

Rarity turned to Pontius with an encouraging smile, hoping to make up for some of her previous attitude, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Perhaps a more direct approach? “So this is the pony responsible for teaching you how to defend me, then?”

He seemed to straighten up some at that, but he kept his gaze to the side. “A-aye, my Lady.”

“Then I owe you thanks, my Lord.” Rarity dipped into a low bow towards Aetius. “Sir Pontius has proven himself to be a stalwart guardian since I arrived on Altalusia.”

Aetius arched a brow. He didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Uh huh.” He turned and nudged the blushing colt with a hoof. “Break time’s over, stalwart guardian. Let’s show ‘er some more of yer moves.”

The two stallions stretched their wings as they trotted back onto the tramped down dirt. Pontius glanced back her way, and Rarity fluttered her eyelashes at him, causing him to stumble over his own hooves.

By the time she settled back into her seat, they were in the middle of another bout. Aetius called out taunting tidbits of advice between blows, and Rarity smirked when she realized that Pontius was putting in more effort than before. No doubt he was trying to impress her.

Rarity glanced towards her book, but didn’t pick it up. Even if she wasn’t interested in the martial arts, there was still much she could learn from watching.





“We need a plan.” Twilight paced back and forth across the little ruined kitchen that had become her base of operations. “We have to get back into motion.”

“Oh, taking the initiative at last?” Midnight paused long enough to sink its teeth into the changeling steak before it. “Perhaps I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

“Not too much, I hope.” Midnight’s only answer was a low, amused chuckle.

Twilight started another lap around the room, idly licking the greasy flavor from her lips. She was finally beginning to feel like she had her hooves under her once more, and with that feeling returned the steadily growing sense that she was wasting precious time. What had she done since arriving in Canterlot aside from bouncing between anger, despair, and self-loathing? Equestria still needed her, and she didn’t even know how long she had spent feeling sorry for herself in the pits of its gravestone. Six wakings? Seven? She had neglected to pay attention after eating the first steak, and time had slipped by unnoticed as she had watched Midnight gorge themselves on the rest of the changeling, pausing only to fetch more books from the Archives or prepare the next meal while the previous one digested.

The kitchen had grown clogged with books, leaving only narrow pathways between the rubble and stacked texts. She had raided the Archives for books on magic theory, time travel, changelings, mythology, exotic monsters, mental maledictions and so much more, but to no avail. She had then turned to the court logs, stepping gingerly through the narrow corridors that once housed the castle bureaucrats, and confirmed her fears: the city had been abandoned on the day of the royal wedding, or soon after. There were no records of anything after that.

Now she had run out of food, and it was clear that the Royal Archives held no answers for her. She bit her lip at the thought of all the knowledge that must have been left behind. Would things have turned out differently had the researchers in the Golden Oaks Library had access to all that accumulated knowledge? Perhaps she and her friends could have saved the city, and those texts could have saved the land. Another straw of guilt settled onto her back.

She couldn’t sit still any longer. The very thought of rest was enough to stir a breathy nausea in the back of her throat, but what did she do now?

She closed her eyes, poring through her last memories from the past. Even now it was still a blurry, jumbled mess, brief flashes of emotion and moments all tangled together. 

“Princess Celestia!”

Twilight gasped, eyes snapping open as a brief spark of memory returned to her. She turned to see Midnight watching her curiously. It arched a brow.

“I remembered something,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed as she approached one of the collapsed walls, and the heavy stones twinkled under the embrace of her magic. Forming a temporary path through the rubble was a simple task now that she was properly fed.

Midnight was already waiting when Twilight stepped out into the hall. “Care to share, little flower?”

Twilight started down the hall at a brisk trot. She lit the way ahead with a glowing ball of lavender light that cast its glow over the cracked stones and rotten carpet, while a steady series of pings assured her of no danger ahead. Still, she kept her voice low. “The Hall of Unions. That’s where the wedding was being held.”

“And?” Midnight didn’t walk alongside Twilight, instead preferring to simply appear out of the darkness in front of her. Its voice echoed faintly in the distance. “Are you expecting to find something there?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered back. “But it’s all I have.”

“Oh, you know that isn’t true, my dear blossom,” Midnight cooed. “You always have me.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn’t justify the honeyed words with a response.

It was obvious to any visitor from a glance that Canterlot Castle was a truly massive feat of architecture and engineering, but Twilight had never truly appreciated its size until years into her tutelage there. It was easy to look up at its towering spires and glittering windows in awe, but only the servants, soldiers, and staff ever grew to understand just how expansive it really was. It had taken years for Twilight to memorize the layout, and even the oldest servants could get lost in the abandoned levels deep below.

The Hall of Unions was on the eastern side of the castle, facing the rising sun, and luckily close to the kitchen she had been staying in. It only took her a few minutes to reach it at her pace, and much of that was from backtracking out of blocked paths.

Memories of foalhood came to Twilight as she walked. Even without the bustle that once filled the halls, even with the world reduced to the little circle of lavender she carried with her, she could still recognize it. There was the dining hall where the griffon delegates had been entertained, and there the servant quarters where she had hid from her brother the last time they played hide and seek. But they were dead memories, and not the ones she was looking for, and so she pressed on.

The double doors of the Hall of Unions hung wide open, inviting her in. She sent her orblight before her and it rose up into the arched ceiling, spreading its dim light over the room.

Twilight gasped, raising a hoof to her muzzle.

“Oh, my,” Midnight chuckled. “And I was beginning to wonder whether anyone had ever died in this pitiful castle.”

Pony skeletons, their last hanging strips of flesh hidden behind dented Royal Guard armor and congealed changeling goo, rested side-by-side with the empty, cracked husks of dead changelings. The torn remains of streamers hung alongside gaping changeling pods, their open bellies drooping with age. Black scorch marks stained the walls and floor like arcs of lightning, all converging in a jagged circle next to a tarnished golden tiara adorned with a pale magenta gem.

“Princess Celestia!”

Twilight nearly tripped as she remembered watching her mentor crash to the ground. She remembered the look of triumph on Chrysalis’ face, the sneer in her voice as she crowed her victory over the Princess. She remembered rushing to Celestia’s side, and shivering at the feebleness of her voice.

“The Elements of Harmony. You must get to them.”

Twilight slumped to the floor next to the tiara. She reached out a hoof, but stopped just short of it. Celestia had fallen here, in this very place, just a thousand years ago. She could almost see it still, back when the sun still shone in through the windows and the tiles had been freshly polished

She almost couldn’t bring herself to touch it. It belonged to the Princess. She must have left it behind for a reason.

But no, Celestia wouldn’t have dropped it on the floor to rest askew for a thousand years. Perhaps she was missing it. Looking around, Twilight tore a strip of fabric from an old streamer and wrapped it around the tiara. She pulled it as tight as she dared before forming the cloth into a simple sash and slipping it over her head. The weight of the gold against her chest was oddly comforting.

“Oh, you are just disgusting,” Midnight hissed. “Are we done here?”

Twilight sighed, climbing back to her hooves and glaring at her other half. “We’re going to find the Elements of Harmony. They could still be in the city.”

“You think your ponies would have left their most powerful artifacts behind?” Midnight let the question hang for a few seconds before continuing with a wicked grin. “Well, I suppose maybe if they’re as foolish as you, then perhaps.”

“Do you really have to insult me with every word?” Twilight growled as she turned for the door. She paused to take a closer look at one of the changeling bodies, and noted the lack of monstrous mutations.

“No, but I do so enjoy it,” Midnight said sweetly. “What are friends for, after all?”

Stepping out into the hall, Twilight checked her surroundings before picking a direction. The tiara bounced against her chest with every step. “You’re not my friend. Friends are there to support each other.”

“Ah, yes, and we know that I never do that, do I?” Midnight hovered on the edges of Twilight’s vision, whispering into her ears. “No, for I am the villain! I protect us when we’re in danger, and strike down those who would do us harm, and prevent us from wasting away into bone and fur. No good friend would commit such acts.”

“You take over my body and hurt others against my will,” Twilight countered. If the Elements were still in Canterlot, then they should be stored in the Hall of Relics, which was a separate tower on the Royal Grounds. She would have to brave the open ground outside the castle.

“Tell me, little flower, but what is a good friend to do when they see you on the brink of death?” Midnight snorted, sending a chill down Twilight’s spine as if she had just walked through some phantom wind. “Would a good friend have left you to die to that winged flame, drowning in your own delusions?”

“A good friend wouldn’t have killed Philomena!” Twilight snapped. She stiffened as her sudden outburst echoed through the cavernous chambers of the castle, and for a moment she imagined some ghostly filly running through the corridors, chasing after the phoenix during a study break. Twilight took a deep breath, keeping her voice under control. “A good friend wouldn’t force me to kill.”

“Mm, one day you’ll understand. You’ll thank me for all the times I’ve kept us alive.”

They reached a tall rectangular window, and Twilight paused. She knew that this window would lead her out onto the battlements, and from there she could cross to the tower which held the Hall of Relics, but that would mean going out into the open. She would have to snuff out her light and navigate the wall by feel if she wanted to avoid getting spotted, but then she might fall off.

Midnight’s cackling laughter rang in her ears. “Us, fear the darkness? I could put an end to that foolishness.”

Twilight stiffened, glancing around nervously. She could feel its dark nature tickling at her eyelids. “What are you talking about?”

“Let me make us better, as I have before,” Midnight whispered. “We shouldn’t be lurking in the shadows like prey.”

“No.” Twilight kept her voice firm. “I don’t want you making anymore changes.”

“For now, maybe.”

Flicking her tail in annoyance, Twilight released the magic of her light and plunged herself into total darkness.

For a moment, Twilight felt herself back within the grip of a changeling pod, her limbs swathed in dark resin and her muzzle submerged in the freezing goo. She shook her head, and the sensation passed.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight pushed the window open and crept over the threshold. She was completely deprived of sight without her horn to see by, and so she was forced to slide forwards inch by inch, testing every step for solid ground before taking it. She crouched low at the sound of a dragon roaring in the distance, which was joined seconds later by a chorus of changeling shrieks. A gout of green flame flared up over the rooftops, giving Twilight a brief glimpse of the ruined city silhouetted against its glare before she was forced to tear her eyes, sensitive to light after so long in the dim, away. Spike.

She waited for a few seconds, giving her eyes time to adjust before cracking them open once more. Lashes of flickering green fire cast the city in a harsh light, silhouetting the crooked towers as if against a sickly sunrise. She crouched low, keeping herself hidden behind the crenellations in case any changelings were able to pick her out with the light, and crawled further down the wall. Another dragon roar rocked the city, causing a loose stone dislodge itself somewhere nearby before falling to the ground with a loud crack.

As much as she would have denied it if asked, it was true that she had largely forgotten about Spike since leaving Canterlot. Perhaps forgotten wasn’t the best word, but she’d been so caught up in other things, in the fate of Equestria and her other friends, that she had never found the time to consider him. Now that she was here, however, she had an opportunity.

Whatever affliction had affected the Equestrians before the apocalypse, Spike seemed to have fallen victim to it as well, and with all the advanced magic books in Canterlot, surely she could find some way to cure him. She had books, time, and a robust understanding of the scientific method; no problem could withstand her for long.

The corner of her lips curved up into a little smile at the thought of speaking with her number one assistant again. No doubt he would be distraught at first, but together they could overcome. She could help him come to terms with his new body, and he could tell her everything he knew about what had happened in her absence. Was the tunnel out of Canterlot big enough to fit an adult dragon?

“Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Midnight asked. It let out a dramatic sigh. “You don’t even know if you can save him.”

“Of course I can save him,” Twilight whispered back. “I have to.”

The tower that stood guard above the Hall of Relics loomed before her, and she slipped through the door and back into the darkness with a sigh of relief. She lit her horn, finding herself in what she recognized as a break room for guards on patrol. An empty weapon rack lined one wall, and a single armored skeleton rested among the splinters of a broken table and a scattered deck of faded cards. Twilight grimaced as she stepped past it and made for the stairs.

The tower was still mostly whole, and surprisingly so. The stones of the stairwell were spiderwebbed with a lattice of chips and cracks from which sprouted growths of purple algae that crawled over the walls like congealed blood. The growth grew thicker as she descended, and soon Twilight found the solid clopping of her hoofsteps being replaced by the soft squelching of her weight pressing down into the thick mass.

She came to a wooden door, barely recognizable behind the curtain of algae that sealed it shut. She glanced backwards, meeting Midnight’s judging gaze, and brought a spell to mind. It seemed like forever since she had needed to think of her weed-clearing spell, and it took her a few tries to get the shape of it right. A small smile graced her lips as the purple algae dried out, lost its color, and crumbled into a thin dust at her hooves.

“Careful, little flower. This could be the first step on your murderous rampage.”

Twilight snorted. She grabbed the doorknob in her magic, grunting as it resisted her. She narrowed her eyes and applied more pressure, and the door gave with a sound of something damp peeling away. Thick spirals of dust fell in its wake, and Twilight gave them a few seconds to settle before stepping through.

She was in a long hallway, lined with doors on her right side and completely covered in algae. The doors would take her to curtained booths overlooking the Hall, but they were all sealed shut by thick layers of growth.

Twilight felt a wet, wriggling motion around her hooves, and she bit back a startled yelp as she danced backwards, putting more power into her light. She watched, open-mouthed, as the mat of algae slithered forward, reclaiming the ground around the open door.

“What is this?” Twilight asked, taking a calming breath. The algae reached the door, extending tiny tendrils up to grab at it and snail up its surface. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Midnight placed a chilling hoof under her chin, pushing Twilight’s gaze towards the end of the hall. “Perhaps there is the source?”

Twilight frowned. Dispelling her light, she confirmed that there was a purple glow blooming up from what she knew to be the curving staircase that would take her down to the floor of the Hall of Relics. She shot a glare towards Midnight. “Is that you?”

Midnight chuckled, letting out a mirthful sigh. “Surely by now you can tell when I’m touching our magic? No, that glow comes from neither of us.”

Twilight held the glare a second longer, but she knew that it was right. She turned back to the strange light, watching it strengthen and fade almost like some fey heartbeat, and sent a series of pings in its direction. They returned to her distorted, a jumbled mess of meaningless magic, and some didn’t return to her at all.

Twilight grimaced. She shivered at the almost imperceptible sound of the algae growing further up the open door behind her. “What do you think we should do?”

“Ah, looking to me for input now?” Midnight asked, feigning surprise. “Need you even ask? We press onwards. Or would you let a stray firefly keep you from our goals?”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Fret not, little flower. I shall protect us, whether you like it or not.” Midnight took a few steps ahead of her, looking back expectantly. “Are you done quailing at strange lights, or must I drag you to victory myself?”

With a low growl, Twilight pushed her stiff limbs into motion. The algae writhed in complaint underhoof, and she could hear the quiet, slick whispering as it grew over the little scuffs and scrapes she left with every step. A pungent, sickeningly sweet scent drifted into her nostrils, and she had to pause to hold a hoof to her mouth and hold down bile. She cast a simple spell to dampen her sense of smell, frowning at the unexpected difficulty, and carried on. Magic was hanging heavy in the air, thick enough that it was smothering any attempts she made to cast it herself.

A low humming became apparent as she reached the top of the stairwell, throbbing in time with the light. Cautiously, Twilight poked her head around the corner and squinted into the light.

For a moment, Twilight thought the Hall of Relics had somehow come to life. What was once a vast open space of pristine tile and stone was now clogged with tall stalks of rotten wood and writhing vines. She knew the hall consisted of seven vaults, three on each side holding powerful relics of magic history and the one on the far side containing the Elements of Harmony, but they were impossible to see past the dead forest before her. Only one vault was still visible, the massive stones of its walls cracked and collapsed, the source of the brilliant, pale purple glow that filtered through the trees.

She didn’t need carefully trained arcane senses to pinpoint it as the source of the ambient magic. Twilight watched with wide eyes as thick, thorny vines crept out from the compromised vault, the fibrous flesh a pale, translucent white that seemed to catch the purple glow and channel it as a vein carries blood. The vines drooped down beneath the exposed roots of the trees and spread out across the floor of the hall, visible among the shadows only due to the arcane light they carried.

“This is impossible,” Twilight whispered. She could see the trees growing, the pale white saplings pushing through the blanket of detritus, hardening into flaky trunks of wood, and then growing still. The groan of cracking wood filled the room as one of the dead spires began to topple, the weak wood shattering to splinters as it collided with its closest neighbors. “How does all this grow without any sunlight or nutrients?”

“In a place such as this, ‘possible’ takes on strange meaning,” Midnight said. “Let us fetch our trinkets and begone from here. This magic grates against me.”

Twilight looked to Midnight curiously, cocking her head at the strained expression on its face. “Are you okay?”

Midnight bared its fangs at her, but failed to hide its discomfort. “You would regret insulting me further! Return to the matter at hoof.”

Rolling her eyes at the petulant behavior, Twilight turned her attention back to the hall, her eyes scanning every corner in search of danger. The glow of the pale vines stretched out across the room, but drew up just short of the stairways that flanked the main entrance. She watched, mesmerized, as the glowing tendrils slowly danced side to side, arcing out into new directions before fading away like the echo of lightning.

She would have liked to grab a notebook and perched herself there for hours, studying their motions, but Midnight’s impatience picked at her hooves, a palpable force urging her into motion. She came fully around the stairs, descending to the level of the roots, and tested one with a hoof. It crumbled to pieces, staining her fur with its damp remains.

Twilight went to gather her magic, angling herself towards the back of the room for a teleport, but the oppressive aura of the room denied her. Frowning, she eyed the roots nearest her. Some appeared younger, firmer, and there were places where several overlapped into a gnarled, nearly solid mass. If she was careful, it might be enough to hold her weight.

She raised a hoof, tentatively placing it on the nearest such spot, and pressed down. The wood was spongy and soft, but it pushed back instead of falling away. She added another hoof, and then a third. As she raised her last leg off the stone of the stairs, her full weight came to bear, and she screamed as the wood cracked, plunging her into the depths below.

Twilight was drowning. Her whole body was held in place by the wet grip of the changeling pod. She sucked in a breath of air, desperate to fill her lungs before—

Her hooves hit solid ground. The glowing vines crawled along the floor around her, silhouetting the network of roots above. A layer of damp refuse clung to her fur all the way up to her knees, but she was safe.

Behind her, she heard Midnight’s laughter. Her cheeks grew hot, and she rounded on her doppelganger with a righteous fury even as violent shivers wracked her body. “S-shut up! I could have died!”

Midnight smirked back at her. “And yet we remain alive. A thrill, isn’t it?”

Twilight clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clattering. She turned away from her laughing shadow with a frustrated groan and, hoping to be back on solid stone as soon as possible, began to slosh forwards. 

The muck fought back, tugging at her hooves with such force that she was only barely able to catch herself from toppling forwards and splashing face first through the silvery sheen of its surface. With a grunt of exertion she threw her weight forwards, tearing a hoof free with a wet pop.

“Oh, a step. Only a few dozen more and we might get somewhere.”

“I’m not—ungh—enjoying this any more—agh—than you are!” The ground was treacherous, and as much of an ordeal as it was to raise her legs, Twilight then had to deal with finding something solid to stand on without being able to see. She grimaced as she put her weight onto what she had taken for a small rock only to have it crumble underhoof. She hated that she was able to recognize the sensation of crushing a skull beneath her, and hated that she was able to keep going so easily.

She kept an eye on the writhing vines, doing her best to avoid them, but her progress was slow and the glowing tendrils sometimes grew towards her faster than she could get out of the way. They would wrap around her legs with what Twilight imagined to be curiosity, their feeble grip barely noticeable compared to the strength of the tar. The energy channeled through them was enough to make her vision blur and make Midnight hiss with annoyance, but she would power through, setting her jaw and ploughing forwards until her sight cleared once more.

She didn’t know how long it took to reach the back of the hall, but at last Twilight emerged from the roots and looked up to see the towering doors of the Vault of the Elements, the golden designs engraved into the enchanted metal barely visible behind a splotchy layer of purple algae and the brittle grey vines that crawled up its sides even in death. Twilight took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment’s respite after the grueling journey across the hall.

“Now what?” Midnight asked. It stood beside her, regarding the door with idle curiosity.

“The door’s enchanted to only open to Princess Celestia’s touch,” Twilight said. “But after so long, after who knows what’s happened, I might be able to find a way through.”

It was a long shot, for sure. The Princess’ magic had always been far beyond her own, and she could barely even feel anything past the thick arcane fog that filled the room. She lifted a black-coated hoof and went to press it to where she knew the horn-shaped keyhole should be, only for it to pass through the layer of algae without any resistance.

She frowned. “Huh?” She swept her hoof across the door, peeling the algae away and revealing open space where the keyhole should be. She brought her other hoof up, scratching at the door in earnest as her pulse quickened. “Oh, no. No, no, no!”

As she exposed more and more of the door, she began to make out more details. A wide hole, about as wide as she was and three times as tall, had been made through the center. The metal drooped and sagged around its edges as if it had been melted, leaving the Elements exposed to the world at large.

Twilight strained against the muck, pulling herself up through the hole and entering the vault. A stone pedestal waited in the center of the room. Where there should have been a golden box containing the most powerful magic known to ponykind, there was only open space.

Twilight’s legs went weak, and she collapsed back against the half-melted vault door. “The Elements...”

Midnight stepped past her, examining the empty pedestal with disdain. “As if we needed them anyways. Let us leave this place.”

“No!” Twilight shook herself and climbed back to her hooves. She gnashed her teeth, shutting her eyes and drawing on her magic. It resisted her, the magic only just trickling past the thickness that hung around her, but she refused to give in. “Help me!”

Even with her eyes closed, she could clearly see Midnight arching a brow. “So demanding. Where is the meek little flower I’ve come to know?”

Twilight forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Nrgh! I don’t have the energy to spare on your games right now! Please, just help!”

“Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.”

The darkness surged inside her, and Twilight gasped in pain as she finally forced the magic past the barrier surrounding her. Her horn burst into light, allowing her to see even the furthest corners of the raided vault. Squinting through the pain, Twilight saw a second hole in the room, this one bored high up on the far wall. The pain spiked as she poured more power into her horn, focusing her light into a powerful beam aimed straight through the hole.

A path had been melted straight through the back of the room and out into the stuffy air of Canterlot, framing the top of a nearby tower that Twilight immediately recognized. It was the old tower she had stayed in before moving to Ponyville.

Twilight released her magic, gasping as the sharp pain turned into a pulsing ache just behind the base of her horn. She fell to her knees, breathing hard.

She looked up to see Midnight crouching in front of her, its head cocked to the side. “I suppose you want to go there next?”

Twilight managed a shaky nod. “Whoever took the Elements, they must have taken them to my old tower.”

“So it would seem.” Midnight extended a hoof, and Twilight took it, straightening back up with its help. Its fanged smile didn’t reach its eyes. “I’m ready to help, if you require it.”

Twilight huffed as she turned back to the Hall of Relics and the rotten forest. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”





Rainbow followed Applejack into the submarine, reached an armored hoof, and closed the hatch behind her. The sound rang through the hull with a sense of finality as she climbed down the ladder and put all four hooves on the gently rocking floor beneath. She raised her voice, turning towards the cockpit. “Hatch shut!”

Star Trails shouted back. “Clamps off!”

The hull lurched from side to side and Rainbow lowered her stance to keep her poise. Sea Sabre’s powerful voice carried easily as she yelled, “Engines!”

There was a burst of steam, and slow ticking sounds began to fill the air. They sped up, overlapping into the same staccato hum to which Rainbow had grown used to falling asleep during the past weeks. The drone of the hull served to calm her nerves as the floor shifted beneath her; they had begun their dive to Canterlot.

Flint stepped in from the little hatch that led to the bridge. Sometimes Rainbow wondered how he even fit. He beckoned towards Applejack as he squeezed past, towards the torpedo room. “Give me a hoof, will ye, Jackie?”

“Sure thing, Flint.” Applejack gave Rainbow a smile and nod before following the larger stallion to the rear of the sub.

Rainbow offered up a weak smile of her own, watching them go before wordlessly turning the opposite direction. Jackie? When had Flint started calling her that?

She had no knowledge concerning the workings of the submarine, and she wasn’t particularly looking for a task to busy herself anyways, so she made for the front compartment, the relatively open space between the control room and the airlock where supplies and equipment could be stored. Closets and cabinets competed for wall space with dials and machinery, the rattling of their contents sometimes interrupted by the sound of venting steam. A pair of thin cloth beds were folded up against the walls, and for a moment Rainbow considered pulling one out to sit on, but decided against it. She’d spent a lot of time in her dive suit in the past few days, and she’d since learned that everything from beds to rocks to trees felt just as hard when her flanks were covered in metal. On the bright side, the custom suits came with a layer of cushioning that kept the discomfort to a minimum as she settled into a corner to wait.

How long had it been since she’d had a moment like this, just herself and her thoughts and the time to indulge them? Most of her time in this future had been defined by a sense of helplessness, and the agitation it spawned when she was made to sit and watch while her friends risked their lives to discover what had happened to their world. She didn’t bother trying to hide her grimace as she thought of all the times she’d paced back and forth in the sub as she listened to Twilight nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean, or being unable to help when monsters threatened the submarine itself.

She remembered the emptiness she’d felt as Gava had carried her around like a sack of hay. The wooden planks of the griffon’s ship were still clear in her mind, the image muddied only by the blurry redness that had clogged her vision back then. She lifted a hoof and tugged at her mane, pulling her rainbow bangs to hang over her eyepatch. Or she hoped they did, at least. It was difficult to tell without a mirror.

She’d been so angry since then, but as she felt the sub dive ever deeper towards the ruins where she hoped to find her lost friend, all she felt was an uneasy trepidation. Her days had been filled with rigorous training ever since the meeting with Crazy Rich, and even at night she was called to assist with the preparations for the second expedition to Canterlot. What little time she’d had to herself was spent eating the custom-ordered meals cooked by the estate chefs before she passed out into deep, dreamless sleep, only to be roused the next dawn by Sea Sabre and marched out to do it all over again.

They had practiced with their dive suits on, submerged in Crazy’s private pools. They had run dozens of laps around his gardens, both armored and not. At the end of each training session, when Rainbow’s whole body ached and she struggled to keep her thoughts together, Sabre had confronted her with new challenges. Rainbow shrugged her shoulders as she felt the bruises sustained when she was made to fight an armored Flintlock with her wings bound to her sides. He had really seemed to enjoy himself that day.

Sometimes she had wondered whether it was punishment for getting Crazy to send Sabre’s team back into the ruins where they had nearly died, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe it really was just Sabre preparing her for the dive as she’d said. It seemed unlike the stern pegasus to hold a grudge like that, but then Rainbow had only known her for a few weeks.

Now at last Rainbow was free to think, and even with the mental exhaustion she’d accumulated she couldn’t bring herself to relax. If it came to it, could she take Twilight down? It wasn’t a question of ability—she was Rainbow Dash, after all—but of heart. Was it more loyal to end a friend who had lost herself to the corruption that had taken Equestria, or to let oneself be struck down trying to redeem her? There was a part of Rainbow that hoped that she would never find Twilight, that she’d never have to confront the question. Her wings twitched within their armored shells, and she wondered how much longer it would be.

She looked up as Applejack stepped into the compartment. The cowpony cocked her head. “Ya feelin’ alright, RD?”

Rainbow snorted, forcing a grin. “Pfft, of course! Why, you nervous?”

Applejack sat down next to her with a concerned frown. “Rainbow, y'all know I can tell when there’s somethin’ botherin’ ya, right?”

Rainbow rolled her eye and looked away. “I’m fine, AJ. Just a little tired is all.”

“Uh huh.”

Seconds passed, and Applejack said nothing. Rainbow kept her gaze on the opposite wall, knowing that the truth would be out if she met her friend’s eyes, and tried to look bored. She pursed her lips as she felt a feather out of place, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to fix it until she got out of her suit. After just a few minutes, she could already feel her defenses cracking.

Applejack cleared her throat as if to say something, but Rainbow couldn’t hold herself back any longer. “Do you think we’ll have to kill Twilight?”

After a few seconds, Applejack spoke. Her voice was soft. “Now why would you be thinkin’ some wild thing like that, sugar cube?”

“Twilight had to kill Owloysius,” Rainbow said, still looking away. “Philomena, too. Spike tried to kill us. It just seems like—y’know.” She bit her lip. “Like there’s only one way out.”

Applejack sighed, leaning over to comfort Rainbow with her weight. “Rainbow, Twilight’s a clever filly. She wouldn’t let somethin’ like that happen.”

“She wouldn’t let it, no.” Rainbow’s voice cracked as she leaned into her friend. “But what if she doesn’t get a choice?”

Silence. Hesitantly, Rainbow turned to face Applejack, and saw that she wasn’t the only one with redness in her eyes. Applejack gave a small, lopsided smile. “She’s always got a choice.”

Rainbow sniffled, giving a little nod. “Yeah.”

“Hey, you guys ready?”

Rainbow jumped, her heart skipping a beat as Star Trails’ voice suddenly came from her blind side. She turned sharply to face the unicorn. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, hay, my bad.” Trails offered an apologetic smile before continuing. “Helmets on in ten. We’ve reached the tunnel.”

Rainbow stood up, meeting Applejack’s gaze with a deep breath. “We’ll be ready.”

“Right on,” Trails said. Her hooves clanged against the floor as she stepped out of the room.

Rainbow held out a hoof, and Applejack took it. The two mares shared a clunky hug.

We’re coming, Twilight.
> V: Of Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight hunched low to the stones underhoof as a dragon roar rolled over the city like distant thunder. She dimmed her hornlight, all too aware of how exposed she was from the tower steps, and looked towards the source of the noise. Whips of green fire silhouetted the dead city like an ethereal sunrise. Twilight turned to the door of her old tower, picked out the shape of the handle in the flickering light, and slipped inside.

The door shut behind her with a soft click. Looking up, Twilight could still see that the roof was missing; she could still see the glow of the fire blooming over the highest reaches of the walls, though the interior remained swathed in shadows.

For several seconds Twilight stood there in the darkness, feeling the stale air around her. It was thick and heavy, almost like a blanket, and she let it wrap around her in the same way she had hidden under her sheets as a filly, afraid of the monsters that might attack from the dark of her bedroom. Strangely enough, Twilight now found herself more afraid of what she’d see in the light.

Midnight was watching her, but it didn’t deride her with harsh words as she had expected. Perhaps it held some reserved respect for this space as well.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight lit her horn.

In some ways, the tower was just as she remembered it. The walls of books she had left behind remained on their shelves, and all her reading cushions and book pedestals were arranged as she had left them. The great curved window that once faced the Equestrian landscape was now shattered, the golden arms that had supported the glass curled outwards like a broken ribcage, but the hourglass centerpiece still stood tall. Twilight could almost believe that the room had travelled to the future with her, waiting patiently for her return.

But although the ravages of time had taken little, it was the things added in her absence that sent a chill down Twilight’s spine. A heap of glittering gold and silver loot was piled next to the broken window, the treasure too dulled with time to catch her lavender light as it would have centuries ago. Dark, chitinous bodies lingered in disjointed piles around the pile, and Twilight’s nose twitched at the old scent of cooked changeling that hung in the air, causing her mouth to water.

“Ah, it seems we’ve stumbled upon the dragon’s lair,” Midnight mused. “It seems your darling Celestia’s enchantments failed to withstand the wrath of a determined firebreather.”

“Spike took the Elements?” Twilight frowned as she approached the treasure pile, cutting a wide berth around the bodies. She glanced to the side and saw her first copy of Predictions and Prophecies resting on a stand, its pages open to the legend of Nightmare Moon. “But how? There’s no way a baby dragon could have burned through that door.”

Midnight, seated atop the riches with hooves crossed, chuckled as the faraway sound of changeling shrieks and dragon fury drifted past. “Your pet hasn’t been a baby dragon for a long time, little flower.”

“He’s not my pet,” Twilight said, lifting a hoof to sift through the pile. Would she have to dig through it all to find the Elements?

“Then what is he?”

Twilight stiffened, her hoof falling back to the ground. Spike was many things to her in many ways. He was a little brother, a colleague, a confidant, a friend, and sometimes she even found herself thinking of him as a son. She had hatched him, after all, raised him from birth and been with him through every challenge and achievement he’d ever faced—until she wasn’t.

There was only one phrase that encompassed all of her relationships with the earnest baby dragon she remembered. Twilight’s voice hitched when she spoke, pouring the ache in her chest across her mental bond with Midnight.

“He’s my number one assistant.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, lingering as if loath to leave the home where they had once been spoken so often, and Twilight found herself staring unseeing at the riches before her. As her hoof brushed lightly over golden goblets and silver spoons, she thought instead to bright mornings, to meals cooked in earnest love and shared with smiles around a simple wooden table, to the scent of flowers carried on the breeze as books were read and notes were taken by a quill held in tiny claws, to lists long enough to sprawl out on the ground and the excited grin of a young dragon ticking off the third box next to each item.

Hot tears traced the curves of Twilight’s cheeks. It had been so long since she’d had pancakes.

Looking up, she saw Midnight watching her with a tight frown. She braced herself for the usual jab, but it only looked away with a quiet, “I see.”

Twilight sighed, shaking her head. She had to remain focused, at least until she made it back to her safe room in the castle. Her horn hummed as she turned her attention to the hoard in front of her and began to probe it with her magic. Precious metals, gemstones, even a few trinkets enchanted with minor spells, but the Elements of Harmony were conspicuously absent. She turned away from the pile, expanding her search to the rest of the tower, and her breath caught as she picked up on the powerful energy radiating from a room on the upper level. Her old bedroom.

Twilight looked to Midnight, but her befanged shadow only stared back impassively. She began up the stairs, hooves shaking as a pit of trepidation formed in her stomach and ears flattening back at the sound of the old wood complaining. The steps had been scuffed by heavy weights dragged across long ago.

Cresting the steps, she approached her bedroom door. It was banded in iron, the chipped paint only clinging on in narrow strips, and as Twilight peered closer she realized that the door had been melted into the frame. It stood steadfast when she raised a hoof to push against it, but she did feel something carved on its surface. She lowered her hoof and brightened her horn, picking out the word hastily engraved into the wood with slanted, jagged script. Twilight.

Pausing to take a few deep breaths, Twilight teleported herself to the other side.

She appeared in her old bedroom with the crack of magic and the fluttering of disturbed paper. The air was stale, smelling of old books and lost time. Twilight’s eyes passed over the room quickly, taking in the bookmarked notebook on her rotting desk and the gold-encrusted chest that rested at the foot of her bed, but they didn’t linger there. Instead her attention was drawn to the bed, where six Royal Guard helmets were carefully displayed, each one standing watch over a full set of armor arranged on the floor beneath it. The sets were broken and dented, in places stained with the memory of blood both red and green, and some were missing pieces.

Twilight’s throat tightened, a hoof rising to her muzzle, as she saw the badge strapped to the breastplate in the center, shaped like a shield and emblazoned with the image of a six pointed starburst. Her family crest.

She approached the armor with leaden hooves, vision blurring with fresh grief. Picking up the helmet and peering inside, she was just able to make out the words stamped into the metal in blocky, official font. Captain Shining Armor.

Twilight let out a shaky moan as she clutched the helmet to her chest and broke down into sobs. Of course she had known that her brother was long dead, and she still remembered the tears she had shed for him when she and her friends had first escaped Canterlot. She had cried for him as she had cried for the rest of her family, but she had buried the grief deep, deep beneath and thrown herself completely into the quest of fixing Equestria, of saving it from its future.

In truth, she had never truly stopped to consider what she was trying to do. She pored over books and explored ancient ruins, never giving herself time to rest, because to rest would be to think, and if she gave herself time to think then she might never recover. She had been running from her sorrow like a pony fleeing a timberwolf, too frightened to look back or to look where she was going, and now she had collided headfirst with an unavoidable and very visceral reminder that almost everyone she had ever loved was dead.

“Why are you crying, little flower?”

Twilight looked up. Midnight frowned down at her, its brow furrowed with thought. “M-my BBBFF.” Her lip trembled as she stroked the helmet under her chin.

“We have known him to be dead,” Midnight said, its head cocked. “Why is it only now that you mourn?”

Twilight shook her head as she peered down into the helmet, imagining her brother’s smile. “I—I don’t know! I g-guess I had h-h-hoped it had been easy, but—” She grimaced at the jagged gaps that had been punctured through her brother’s armor, and found herself unable to force the words past the tightness in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push away the images of him lying on the ground, still as death, the last drops of his life seeping out through his wounds.

“He was a warrior. He died a warrior’s death.”

“W-what would you know of it?” Twilight snapped. “You’ve n-never even b-been outside of my head!”

“With every hour, I glimpse more of our memories,” Midnight said. It paused, and Twilight could feel it choosing its next words with care. “Shining Armor would not have protested a death protecting those he was charged to defend.”

Twilight clenched her jaw as hot anger surged through her, overcoming her tears. “You’ll n-never understand, will you?” She opened her eyes, setting the helmet back into place before standing up on shaky hooves. “How could you ever understand what it’s like to lose someone? You’re just a—” she licked her lips, searching for the right word to convey her malices “—a construct, words and hatred spawned by this dark magic in my head, and you have no right to talk about any of my friends!”

She rounded on Midnight, and it regarded her with cold silence from where it lay with forelegs crossed on her bed. Twilight let out a deep-throated groan as she turned away, approaching her old desk and the notebook that waited on its surface.

It was familiar to her; Princess Celestia had gifted her the day planner as a housewarming gift after her first Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville, lightly enchanted to survive the rigorous use that all of Twilight’s scheduling implements were put through, and she had used it every day since. She had brought it with her to Canterlot for the wedding, and it hadn’t even been half filled at the time, so the bookmark placed in the back of the book was unexpected. Her hoof was shaking so heavily that she could barely get a grip on the cover, and so she used her magic to flip it open to the marked page.

“Shining Armor is dead. It’s my fault.”

The script was instantly recognizable to her, even with the jittery edges and faded ink. Spike had written this. Pausing to wipe away the tears still budding in her eyes, Twilight read on.

“I hid when they evacuated Canterlot. I knew that you were still in the city somewhere, being held captive by those monsters, and I thought that maybe I could find you. I could save you. I guess it was stupid of me to think that I could do what nopony else could. I’m so stupid.”

“Oh, Spike.” Twilight looked away, clutching at her chest, and saw Midnight watching.

“He was a fool.”

“He was just a child!” Twilight shot back. She sighed and turned back to the page. “He didn’t know any better.”

“I don’t know how long it’s been. I can’t tell time with this giant dome over the city, and the clock fell off the wall and broke during the invasion. Shining Armor arrived a few days ago, I think. He brought some guards with him to look for you. He says that there’s some dark magic taking over Equestria, turning ponies violent. I told him about how the changelings have started fighting each other. He says that Celestia has a plan. She misses you.”

“The whelp survived here all alone?” Midnight let out a quiet grunt. “Weak of mind and body, but strong of heart.”

“The guards aren’t as good at hiding as I am. They’re too big, and their armor is loud. The changelings followed us back to the tower. Shining told me to hide, and made me promise not to come out no matter what, or who, I heard.”

Twilight couldn’t control her shaking. Old water stains marred the paper, and it was all too easy for her to imagine the little dragon squirreled away in some dark corner, listening to the sounds of ponies dying just feet away. She should have been there. Why couldn’t she have been there for him?

“I’m not sure how long I waited. When I came out again, I was the only one left. When it got quiet out, I buried the bodies in the garden and put their armor out of the way. It didn’t feel right to just leave them there. I still wish I could have done more.”

The letters began to slant harder, almost running into each other like the members of a panicked crowd rushing to escape a confined space.

“I’m not even sure if you’ll ever read this. I don’t like the idea of writing a letter to you, because it makes me feel like maybe I won’t be able to see you again. I don’t know. I miss you, Twilight. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.

“Shining brought some papers with him. It didn’t feel right for me to look at them, but I left his saddlebags under the bed. Maybe you’d like to read them.

“I love you, Twilight. I hope I’ll find you soon.”

Violent sobs rocked Twilight’s body as she reached the end of the letter. She frantically turned the page and let out a shuddering sigh of relief when she saw more words, and she devoured them just as quickly. Page after page passed underhoof, Twilight unable to look away even as each letter, each adventure described to her, each near-death experience written about with uneven lines and each lonely self-reflection inscribed with carefully measured script tore at her worse than any monster she’d ever faced.

Small moments of light broke through the darkness, and she couldn’t help but smile sadly when Spike talked about all the books he read during the empty hours between hiding, fighting, and exploring the ruins, sharing his thoughts on how she might feel about them. She watched him grow up across the steam of letters, watched him grow ever more convinced that he was truly the only one left and ever more callous in his dealings with the changelings. It was a lifetime’s worth of letters to her, and by the time she reached the final letter, her throat tight with the apprehension of saying goodbye, she was all out of tears.

“I’m losing myself, Twilight. It’s this darkness that’s corrupted Equestria, I’m sure of it. The changelings have all turned into monsters, or perhaps beasts would be a better word. It’s affecting me, too. Sometimes I wake up, my memories slipping through my mind like sand, with changeling bodies around me and a fire in my chest. My claws are long now, and my wings wide, and they give me a wide berth. Only Chrysalis, or what little of her still remains in that body, will still face me. Both of our bodies bear the scars of our many conflicts.

“I considered leaving you, as much as it shames me to admit it. I felt that I needed the company of ponies, some break from this dark place, before I become like them. I was barely able to fit into the tunnel that Celestia burned through the mountain when they evacuated the city, but there is nothing but water at the end. I could not reach the bottom, and I can hold my breath for a long time. It seems that we are trapped here, together. There are worse fates.

“I hear a voice in my head, Twilight. It whispers sinister things, but I shall not give in. So long as I can hear my own thoughts, I will remain myself.”

A cold chill ran down Twilight’s spine. She read the line again, searching for some other interpretation, but there was no way around it; Spike had become a victim of the same dark magic that was plaguing her now.

“Still, I’m old enough to know that sometimes things don’t go the way we wish. With some effort, I have managed to remove the Elements of Harmony from their vault. I’ve placed them in your bedroom, along with these last words to you, and sealed the door shut. I can only hope that my draconic instincts won’t lead me to them again, should I find myself lacking the rational thought to restrain them.

“After so long, it feels silly for me to still be writing to you. But… if you are out there, if you do find these words, don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault, Twilight. I’m sure you did everything you could.

“Your number one assistant, Spike.”

Midnight scoffed. “He no longer believed you were there, and yet still he wrote to you like a foal to their imaginary companion. Weak of mind to the end.”

Twilight felt too empty inside to offer any rebuttal. She stooped over the old planner staring at the last blotches of ink stained into the paper next to old singes and water marks. There was a dragon still roaming Canterlot, bestial and deadly, and she wasn’t sure who it was anymore. What she did know was that she held Spike’s last words to her, and he had written them with a mature acceptance that felt alien compared to the little dragon she had raised.

She flipped between the first and last letters, comparing the differences in diction. How long had he spent among the ruins, scrounging out what he needed to survive as the changelings mutated from an occupying force into a pack of beasts? His writing had become so well developed even with nobody else to speak to, and she thought of him spending long nights in her tower, reading every book on the shelves in an attempt to drive off the same lonely apprehension that haunted Twilight.

Closing her eyes, she ran a hoof over the coarse edges of the page that seemed to have been blackened by heat. She pictured a purple dragon—a true dragon, no hatchling—hunched over a desk, the sharp edges of its green spines brushing against the ceiling as it delicately cradled a quill between two claws. Its scales were thick like armor, bearing the marks of many battles, and its tail was like a living mace that idly swayed side to side. Its nose was long and angular and dotted with small horns, and its breath was so hot that the paper blackened and curled underneath as it snorted at a clever thought. She frowned as she tried to see her Spike inside it.

It looked up, meeting her eyes, and smirked at her. Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the imagined sight. Yes, there he was.

When she opened her eyes again, Twilight felt strangely better. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of crying, or maybe it was the knowledge that, no matter what else happened, Spike never blamed her. She turned to Midnight, who was eyeing her with an arched brow.

“Are you done with your… emotions?”

“For now, mostly, I think so.” Twilight shook her head, bemused. “Are they really so strange to you?”

“Yours are, as you find mine,” Midnight said. “I don’t understand why you waste so much time remembering things that ended long ago.”

“Because if I didn’t, then I might forget.” Twilight crouched low and peered under her bed, using her magic to drag the saddlebags out from underneath. She spent a moment looking at the starburst crest embroidered on each bag. “And they deserve better than that.”

She flipped each bag open in turn. Old rations as hard as rock, canteen filled with something strong-smelling, compass, map, notebook, and maintenance supplies. She discarded most of it before slipping the old day planner with Spike’s last words next to the notebook inside and strapping the bags to her barrel.

Finally, she brought her attention to the gem-encrusted chest at the foot of her bed containing the Elements of Harmony. She ran a hoof over the rainbow of gems set beneath the latch, watching the way they caught the lavender light of her horn, and opened the box.

Twilight let out the breath she had been holding when she saw the Elements inside. Even up to the last moment, there was a part of her that had expected them to be absent, and for her to be sent on another harrowing trek across the city or beyond in search. Now, at last, something was going her way.

“These are powerful artefacts.” Midnight walked a slow circle around the box, leaning in close to inspect each Element in turn. “We will truly be unbeatable with these in our grasp. What shall we do with them?”

“We’ll save Equestria. We’ll make things right again.” The lavender aura of Twilight’s magic wrapped around the tiara at the front of the set, and an ethereal scream cut through her mind.

“Agh!”

Twilight’s vision went white as a lance of pain stabbed at her skull. Dizziness overcame her, and when she was finally able to think again she found herself lying on the ground in pitch darkness with a pounding ache at the base of her skull. Twilight clenched her jaw, ignored the pain, and lit her horn once more.

Midnight hissed at her as it drew back into the shadows at the corners of the room. It was little more than a fanged mouth and bloodshot eyes. “Are you trying to kill us, foal?!”

“That—ngh—wasn’t supposed to happen.” Twilight grunted as she climbed back to her hooves and eyed the open box. The Elements of Harmony remained inside, apparently undisturbed.

A cold pit formed in Twilight’s gut as she formed a probing tendril of magic and brushed it against the Element of Magic. She flinched back with a yelp at the jolt of pain that raced down her horn, reinforced by Midnight’s pained growl.

“It rejects us! Leave it be!”

Twilight fell to her knees in front of the box. She lifted a hoof as if to touch it, but drew up short. “But—why?”

Twilight’s ears twitched at the distant sound of heavy wingbeats. Her head snapped around and her eyes zeroed in on the sealed door as the wingbeats grew louder and louder until each one made the room shudder with its weight. The tower groaned in complaint as a great mass landed in the main room, the sound followed soon after by the scraping of sharp claws against the wood and the crackling snorts of a firebreather. For a long minute Twilight sat frozen against the ground, ears swiveling at every petrifying sound from beyond the bedroom door, before finally she wrested her eyes away and met Midnight’s gaze.

“What do we do?” Twilight whispered.

Midnight scoffed. “We shan't let a dragon impede us, ancient or not. Ready yourself for battle.”

“No!” Twilight hissed. “I won’t hurt him! We can take the Elements and teleport out.”

“The same Elements that burn us every time our magic touches them?”

Twilight blinked. “No, no, no!” Muttering under her breath, she began to gingerly wrap the Elements in her magic, but the feedback was too much. Closing the box, she let out a breath of relief when she was able to levitate it without pain, but the Elements resisted her when she tried to form a teleportation spell. She gnashed her teeth and poured more power into the spell, lighting the room with a sparkling kaleidoscope of lavender energy, but no matter what she tried, the Elements remained steadfast.

Twilight went limp with an exhausted groan. Why wouldn’t they let her touch them? Of all the things to refuse her, why?

From outside the room Twilight heard a rumbling snort. She stiffened, slowly turning around to face the door. A chill silence hung over the room.

The snort came again, this time accompanied by the rush of flame. A dull red glow formed in the center of the door, growing steadily larger and brighter.

Spike the dragon had returned home, and Twilight had nowhere to run.





“Spread out. Delta formation. Trails, take point.”

The quiet splashing of the submarine bobbing in the water drifted behind Rainbow Dash as she took her spot on the left trailing edge of the formation, quickly drowned out by the overlapping echoes of armored hoofsteps. Five pale beams of illumination danced ahead of the party, jittering like nervous fairies with each step as they pulled the world out of the pitch-black night of Canterlot. She glanced to her right, to Applejack’s position on the far side of the formation, but her old friend was nearly invisible to her. If not for the light cast from the cowpony’s shoulder and the dim glow of her helmet’s visor, it would be impossible to pick her out of the darkness.

Rainbow suppressed a shiver as she turned her attention forwards once more. In spite of all her previous efforts, this was the first time she had left the relative safety of the submarine, and the experience was enough to make her heart quicken all on its own. She had grown used to half of her world being taken by void, but now she had even less. The armor dulled nearly every sound into quiet vibrations that left her breath ringing like thunder in her ears, and the cone of light cast from her shoulder was barely wide enough to fill what little space she could see past her helmet.

Rainbow had never coped well with small spaces. Sometimes even her old home in Ponyville had been too small for her, but she had always been free to spread her wings and take flight in those days. Now she was trapped in this coffin of metal, and although the armor allowed her to stretch her wings, she was acutely aware of the stiff cast that encased them. Why hadn’t Twilight ever warned her about this?

What would happen if she just stopped walking? Would the others even notice if she shut her light off and fell behind, or would she be left alone in the dark, isolated, waiting for the dead air to consume her?

She jumped at the crack of static in her ear, followed by Sea Sabre’s voice. “Hold here.”

They had reached the edge of the city. Star Trails and Flintlock each crouched low, watching different directions, while Sabre hunched over a bundled up shape on the ground. As Rainbow came closer, she identified it for what it was: a changeling corpse, the cracked pieces of its shell hanging limply around its hollowed frame.

Applejack stepped up to Rainbow’s side. “Y’all see something?”

Sabre nodded. She flipped a piece of chitin over, shining her light on the last strips of meat inside. “See these teeth marks? Flat, like a pony’s teeth.”

Heat rose in Rainbow’s breast, and she couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of her voice when she spoke. “What are you trying to say? You think Twilight did this?”

Sabre shrugged as she straightened up. “I can only make observations and state my knowledge, and I know that changelings don’t have any flat teeth. It’s best that we keep moving.” She looked between Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Do you have any ideas as to where we should look first?”

Rainbow exchanged a glance with Applejack. “I, uh, don’t really know my way around the city that well.”

“I’m afraid I ain’t too familiar with it, either,” Applejack said. “I reckon she’d head for a library, or maybe her folk’s old home. Somewhere she’d feel safe.”

“Aren’t ye two supposed t’ be from here?” Flint grumbled.

Rainbow snorted, turning to glare at his back. “I’m from Cloudsdale, Flint. I’ve only been to Canterlot twice, and the second time was when the changelings attacked.”

“Why don’t we try the castle first?” Applejack stepped between the two, her tone diplomatic. “Twilight seemed to feel pretty cozy there, and at least we know how to get there.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Sabre said. “We’ll see if we find any more clues along the way.”

“Or some salvage,” Flint groused. “Sure as hay didn’t find any last time.”

Trails chuckled over the radio as she stood up and began leading the way, the white spiral of her suit’s horn glowing softly. “Oh, give it a rest, Flint.”

With the decision made, the five ponies slipped back into formation and pressed deeper into the ruins. Rainbow played her light over the buildings on either side of the cracked street, peering past the broken windows and empty door frames and trying to imagine how they had looked in their prime. She had never known Canterlot as much more than a silhouette in the sky, and at this point she had spent nearly as much time traversing its ruins as she had navigating its streets under the light of the sun, dodging ponies that pranced past her with their noses turned up in disdain.

“So have we got a plan for if we find Twilight?” Star Trails asked as she led them between the two halves of a collapsed building. A faded sign hung askew from the front, depicting an ecstatically grinning pony pointing at the broken end.

“We assess her for any symptoms of wyrd corruption,” Sabre said. “If she remains open to peaceful negotiation, then we’ll bring her in. Otherwise, we’ll terminate her.”

“Whoa, what?”  Rainbow sped up, cutting in front of Sabre. “Terminate her? Bring her in? What are you talking about?”

“She’s a threat, Rainbow,” Sabre said, stepping around her. “To herself and others. Even if she agrees to come back to Heighton, I’m not going to let her roam around my ship unwatched.”

Applejack cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “What’s all this ‘wyrd’ business y’all’re goin’ on about, anyways?” she asked. “I know ya said Owloysius was one of ’em, but I admit I still don’t quite know what it means.”

“It’s the handy-dandy catch-all term for anything that’s been corrupted by the ocean,” Trails explained. “We use it for all the ugly odds and ends that you’re bound to come across if you dive deep enough, long enough.”

“There’s a few stories about ponies turnin’ in t’ wyrds,” Flint added. He kept his gun pointed at the ruins as he slowly scanned the windows. “Never put much stock in ‘em, but yer friend seems t’ fit.”

“Hang on, so y’all’re tellin’ me that ya never seen somethin’ like this before?” Applejack asked. “Are y’all just as lost as we are?”

All five ponies crouched down as a thunderous dragon roar passed over the city, dislodging loose stones around them and making Rainbow’s teeth chatter. She looked up towards the source, narrowing her eye in a vain attempt to pierce the darkness. “What was that?”

“Dragon,” Flint said. “Definitely th’ dragon.”

A purple star suddenly burst into being atop a distant tower, the slim structure glowing like a giant torch rising up out of the shadowed city beneath. Lashes of green fire flared up past the shattered top of the tower, and the twinkling purple star was thrown out into the open air with a shower of rubble and a distinctive feminine scream.

“Twilight!” Rainbow took a step forward, her wings flaring as if to take off, but the armor weighed her down. She could only watch as a massive purple dragon soared out of the tower and dove down after the light, spewing a torrent of green fire from its maw.

A chorus of changeling calls raced around the city, some barely audible howls in the distance while others seemed to come from right on top of them. Rainbow glanced behind her at the sound of scrabbling hooves and caught a glimpse of a dark form jumping towards her. She cried out and instinctively lashed out with a wing. The changeling shrieked as the hardened spike on her wing joint collided with its skull and it fell to the ground with a thud, perfectly still.

Flint’s repeater spat fire as he stopped another changeling dead in its tracks. “Looks like dear ’Light woke up th’ whole damn city!”

“Ah, horseapples!” Applejack cursed as she twisted in place, eschewing the shotgun at her side and opting to instead buck the changeling that pounced her with both hind legs. It crumpled like a sack of potatoes, letting out a wheezy hiss. “Twilight needs us, y’all!”

“Stay together, ponies!” Sabre barked. “Trails, find us a route to that tower!”

“Got it, boss!” The tinkle of Star Trails’ magic was barely audible under the commotion as her javelin zipped through the air, spearing changelings in the chest before pulling back for another blow. The white lining around her horn glowed as she angled her head towards the tower before jumping into motion. “Follow me!”

Rainbow’s heart pounded in her ears as she followed after the unicorn. The hissing of changelings and the stomping of hooves seemed to chase her as she raced through the ruins of Canterlot, growing ever closer to the sound of the dragon’s wrath.





For a moment, Twilight was in free fall. She tumbled through the air, the chest containing the Elements clutched with all four hooves, eyes squeezed shut and mind focused solely on the life-preserving orb of magic around her.

Her panicked screaming cut off with a grunt as she collided with something solid, and it was all she could do to hang onto the pain in her horn as she bounced off. She shoved every sensation aside but that pain, her beacon in the whirlwind of confusion, and with it as her bulwark she held the spell together. She couldn’t even remember why she needed it anymore. All she had left was the terrified, animal instinct to survive.

“Get up.” Midnight’s harsh voice cut through the blinding pain, pulling her back to the shores of consciousness. “Get up, damn you!”

Twilight blinked her eyes open. Midnight was standing over her, its bloodstained face framed by the jagged remains of a shattered roof. She groaned as she forced herself off the hard floor with shivering legs, flinching in alarm when the Elements’ chest fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Thunder roared overhead, and it wasn’t until a loose pebble bounced off Twilight’s muzzle that she remembered her situation. Her heart skipped a beat as she scooped the Elements into her magic and frantically scanned her surroundings in search of escape. “Oh, no, oh, no!”

“Eyes forward, foal!” Twilight’s head turned of its own accord, looking up at the hole she had fallen through just as a clawed hand as large as her entire body tore the rest of the roof away. Green fire rushed towards her, and Twilight could only watch in shock as Midnight appeared in front of her, brandishing an arcane shield. The inferno splashed around the glittering lavender barrier like a wave breaking on the coast, sweeping past her close enough to singe her fur.

The fire broke, and Midnight roared back at the fearsome dragon peering down at them, the shield shattering and reforming into a lance of energy. With a gasp, Twilight re-asserted control, holding the attack back. “Stop! You’ll hurt him!”

“Let us go, you suicidal idiot!” Midnight rounded on Twilight with fire in its eyes, fangs bared with fury. At the same time, the deadly bludgeon that was Spike’s tail came crashing through the wall, and Twilight shrieked as she threw herself to the side.

The stones groaned in complaint at the punishment, and Twilight’s stomach lurched at the sensation of the floor sliding underneath her. Realizing that the building was beginning to collapse, she scooped up the Elements in her magic and raced for the nearest window. She let out a strangled cry as she leapt through the frame, plummeting a dozen feet to the street below as the falling structure kicked up a choking cloud of dust.

“What are you doing, little flower?!” Midnight spat. Twilight scrambled off the ground, coughing with one hoof held to her muzzle as her sneering shadow approached her. “You’re going to get us both killed!”

“We can’t hurt him!” Twilight shot back. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”

“I know what he’s doing! He’s trying to kill us!”

“No, it’s the corruption! My Spike is still in there—”

A powerful gust of wind blew through the street, nearly throwing her off her hooves as it carried the cloud of dust away. Twilight and Midnight both looked up to watch Spike land heavily on the cracked cobblestones in front of them, the darkness fleeing in terror as small gouts of green flame burst from his nostrils. His deep, rumbling growl was so powerful that Twilight felt as if her eyes were about to shake out of her skull, and a cloud of thick purple magic seeped from his eyes as they darted between the two mares.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “He can see us! He sees both of us!”

“Finally, I can speak to something on my own terms.” Midnight stepped forwards, its legs spread and its back straight. “Stand down, creature! I will not hesitate to end you!”

Spike snarled at it, lunging forwards with jaw stretched wide. Midnight’s horn flashed brilliant lavender just as his teeth went to snap closed around it, and he reared back with a howl of pain.

Twilight gaped at the exchange in shock. She could feel her magic twisting about unbidden, feel her limbs moving of their own accord, even as she stood back and watched from a few steps away. Her blood went cold as she realized that she was losing control of her own body, and Spike could be the one to pay for it if she didn’t stop it soon.

She stomped her hooves against the ground, putting as much command into her voice as she could muster. “Stop!”

She blinked, and now it was her standing in front of Spike’s towering form. He glowered down at her as Midnight hissed furiously in her ears. “If you won’t let me strike at the beast, at least don’t stop me from defending ourselves!”

Spike lashed out with a claw, and Twilight raised a hasty shield. The shield shattered on impact, sending her tumbling down the street with a cry of pain. A weak groan escaped her as she rolled clumsily onto her hooves, blinking past the blood dripping in her eyes to watch Spike stalk towards her. The blow had thrown her nearly to the end of the street.

“Twilight! Hang on!”

Twilight frowned, confused. Rainbow Dash? She looked behind her, and her heart sank.





Rainbow practically fell to the ground at Twilight’s side, one armored hoof reaching out to touch at her lost friend’s bloodied face. She couldn’t keep her voice from cracking as she pushed the words out past her grin. “We found you!”

Twilight stared back at her with wide eyes, her jaw hanging loose, and Rainbow’s grin faltered as she noticed the pointed fangs framing the unicorn’s mouth. After several seconds, Twilight seemed to regain her bearings. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean?” Rainbow asked. She tried to pull her into a hug, but Twilight danced away. “We came looking for you!”

Twilight jumped as the rest of the dive team finally caught up, their armored hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust. “No, no, no. I’m s-supposed to be alone!”

Sea Sabre galloped past them, Star Trails and Flintlock fanning out to either side of her and forming a line between them and the growling dragon as she barked orders over the radio. “Flint, load the hornbane rounds.”

“Ah, I love it when ye let me shoot th’ expensive ones!”

“Trails, find me a weak spot.”

“Already looking, Boss. Looks like an old wound on his rear right leg that isn’t healed right.”

“Rainbow, keep that mare under control.” Sabre glanced back for just a moment before turning her attention back to Spike, steam hissing from her armor as a port opened on her shoulder. He flared his wings in response, matching the sound with a hiss of his own. “We’ll handle the dragon.”

“What are they doing?” Twilight asked, stepping towards them. She grimaced, nearly falling over, and her next words came out in a harsh sneer. “Too weak to stand, little flower?”

Applejack stepped in front of her, lending a shoulder to catch her weight. “Howdy there, Twilight. Y’all know you had us worried sick.”

“I told you not to follow me.” Twilight’s voice was hoarse and accusing as she pushed the cowpony away and stumbled past her. “They’re beneath us. Let us focus on the matter at hoof. Don’t talk about my friends like that! It matters not. I will vanquish the beast. No, shut up!”

Rainbow exchanged a look of concern with Applejack. She spared a glance towards Spike and saw the dragon steadily crossing the distance towards the group, his head bobbing side to side as he sized up the newcomers. Gingerly she laid a hoof on Twilight’s back. “Twi, who are you talking to?”

“What?” Twilight spun around, her eyes wide. “You can’t hear it?”

“Slow down, sugar cube,” Applejack said softly. “We’ve got ya.”

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, muttering under her breath. “Of course you don’t hear it. Stupid, stupid, I’ve been talking to it out loud all this time.”

A roar from Spike drew Rainbow’s attention. She watched the dragon rear up and flare his wings, raising his claws high to crush the three divers.

“Fire and maneuver!” Sabre shouted.

Flint’s repeater spat fire, the bullets zipping into Spike’s hind right leg and flashing on impact like miniature shooting stars. Star Trails’ javelin sprang forth next, piercing the ragged scales left behind by the barrage of gunfire and drawing a frustrated hiss from the dragon. A jet of steam vented from Sabre’s suit as she launched a weighted bola at the injured leg, the balls barely reaching enough to wrap around once before they began to buzz with electricity.

Spike screamed as his leg finally gave out, and the three divers each darted in different directions as his gargantuan head crashed to the ground where they had been standing. Rainbow felt a pang of sympathy as she watched his eyes roll about in his head, smoke curling from his mouth as he gnashed his teeth in fury. 

She clicked her radio on. “Sabre, you’re gonna kill him!”

“That’s the plan, Rainbow,” Sabre said, breathing hard. “There’s only room for killers and corpses in the ocean, and I’m not letting my ponies die.”

Twilight was huddled up on the ground, muttering words under her breath too quiet for Rainbow to hear, her eyes locked on the battle in front of them. Sea Sabre rushed out of cover, her wingblades catching the flickering light of Spike’s fire, and pounced towards his head.

There was a flash of lavender light, and Rainbow yelped as she was thrown back to the ground hard enough to knock the breath from her. When she rolled back to her hooves, gasping for breath, she saw Twilight standing protectively in front of Spike, glaring at each of the ponies sprawled out in the ruins around her, her pupils turned to dark slits. “He is ours!”

“Twilight, no!” Rainbow ran forwards, heart pounding in her ears. This could be it. Please don’t make me choose! “Just calm down!”

“Stay down, Rainbow!” Rainbow grunted in pain as she was forced to the ground face first by an unseen force. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Change of plans.” Sabre’s voice was strained but calm over the radio. “Go for the unicorn first. We’ll get the dragon next.”





“We have to save him!”

“We must destroy him!”

“I won’t let you hurt him!”

“He will kill them all if we don’t.”

“Or they’ll kill him.”

“We can subdue him, if we act as one.”

“Nobody else has to die.”

“We have the power to stop it.”

Together, Twilight and Midnight looked up. They saw Spike on the ground, one bleeding hind leg splayed out behind him as he was peppered with gunfire and gored by a floating javelin. They watched Sea Sabre bound towards him, her blades bared like fangs sinking towards his throat.

Calling on their magic, they teleported between the two, throwing the armored ponies back with a wave of force powerful enough to daze without crushing the soft bodies inside. They looked to each pony in turn, and Midnight cast its voice out over them. “He is ours!”

“Twilight, no!” Rainbow Dash, quick as ever, was the first to bounce back to her hooves. She ran towards them at full speed, wings half-extended. “Just calm down!”

Midnight hissed its irritation, but Twilight intervened, pinning her friend in place with an arcane force that should keep her safely out of harm’s way. “Stay down, Rainbow! I don’t want to hurt you!”

With a sharp glance towards Applejack to ensure she didn’t try to interfere, they turned to Spike. The dragon spewed fire, and they deflected the blast with an unflinching wall of magic. He propped himself up off the ground with his forelegs, his rear end still dragging limply through the stones, and met their gaze with a deep growl.

The clouds of dark magic stemming from his bloodshot eyes pulsed with light, and Twilight winced as she felt a sharp pressure on the inside of her skull. She thought back to her confrontation with Owloysius, when she had faced a very similar attack, but it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it had been then.

Midnight laughed, stretching their lips into a prideful sneer. “Is that all you have, dragon? I had expected a challenge!” Their magic twisted in strange ways alien to Twilight, and she watched as Spike flinched back, jets of flame spewing from his snout as he glared defiantly into their eyes.

What are you doing to him? Twilight asked. What is this magic?

He is in two, as we are. I can feel it, Midnight said. They stepped closer as it spoke, driving him back. But both his halves are weak in spirit. His darkness is like a wild animal, fleeing craven before my power!

Twilight turned the words over in her racing mind. If there were two halves to him, like there were to her, then that meant that her Spike had to still be in there! And if Midnight was able to drive the dark mind inside him away, then that meant…

“Spike!” Twilight reached a pleading hoof out towards the dragon, tears budding in her eyes as she saw his massive green eyes flinching in pain. “I’m here, Spike! You’ve found me!”

“See how he submits to our strength?” Midnight boasted, stretching their face into a wide grin. “Submit to us, dragon! Bow!”

Midnight pushed them towards him, pressing even more magic against his mind. Slowly, the malice in his eyes gave way to pain, and then from pain to fear as the ancient dragon gave ground. He scrabbled backwards like a cornered animal, unable to truly escape with his lame leg.

Stop it! Twilight clenched their jaw, re-asserting her will.

Midnight gasped as their magic was cut off, the swirling energies that had surrounded their horn fizzling out with a colorful spark of energy. What are you doing? We have him!

He’s not some monster to subjugate, Twilight said sternly. He’s my number one assistant, and I want him back!

The ruins had fallen deathly still. Twilight looked up to Spike with one hoof gingerly outstretched, and he looked down at her with wide, fearful eyes. They were not the eager eyes of the young drake that had helped her sort books in simpler times, nor the clever eyes she had imagined in the mature dragon that had grown up in the dead city as he searched for her, but they were also not the hungry, malicious eyes of the monster that had chased her and her friends out of Canterlot what felt like forever ago. They were confused, caught between the instincts of fight and flight. They reminded her of when he was barely a hatchling, a little bundle of energy that barely came up to her shoulder when she was just a filly and who seemed to approach every new object wondering if he should eat it or run away. 

“As long as you can hear your own thoughts, you’re still yourself,” Twilight said softly. Slowly, she laid her hoof against the hot scales of his nearest leg, staring up into his eyes. “You remember, don’t you? You’ll always be my number one assistant.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, plumes of smoke chuffing from his snout with every thunderous breath.

She heard a hiss of steam behind her. Spike jerked his head around with a curious snort, looking away. Following his gaze, Twilight turned to see Star Trails crouched low, the javelin thrower built into her shoulder aimed for her heart.

The javelin flew forth with a sharp twang, and Twilight cried out as Spike’s claws flashed into motion.
> VI: Of Friendship
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Twilight, look out!” Feeling the magic holding her slipping, Rainbow made to jump forwards, but Flint tackled her to the ground. She strained against him in vain. “Let me go, Flint!”

“No can do, lass,” Flint growled at her. “It’s best t’ follow Sabre’s orders.”

“Consarnit, Sabre, show some damned courtesy!” Applejack bellowed. She made to dash towards Twilight, but Sabre darted in her path and tripped her with a leg.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk my ponies. This is the best chance we have.” Sabre spread her stance wide, bracing herself to intercept any further attempts from Applejack. “Trails, fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trails voice shook only slightly as she lined her javelin up with Twilight’s back. Rainbow twisted against Flint with a grunt of exertion, leveraging her wings and the past days training to break free from his grip, but she was too slow. Even free from his hold, she couldn’t fly in her armor.

Time seemed to slow. Rainbow let out a strangled cry, but the javelin was already flying, cutting through the air with a barely audible whistle as Twilight’s eyes widened in alarm.

Spike’s furious roar struck Rainbow with enough force to make her stagger backwards as small chunks of stone pinged off her armor. When the dust cleared, Twilight was nowhere to be seen, and the entire street was blocked off by a snarling Spike, the javelin freshly embedded in his foreleg still shaking from the impact. His head reared up, plumes of acrid smoke billowing from his jaw as green fire flickered in his nostrils.

“Oh, buck!” Star Trails twisted in place, sprinting for the nearest collapsed building. “Incoming!”

“Aw, hay, Sabre!” Applejack cursed. “Y’all gone and pissed ‘em off now!”

Rainbow scrambled to the side, diving into a crater behind a pile of loose bricks just as the inferno of dragonfire stormed across the street.

The crackle of the fire was nearly deafening even through the metal of her helmet, and she curled up into a ball and screamed as her suit began to grow painfully hot against her sides. The air in her helmet grew baking hot, her radio bursting with the pop of static, and the sweat on her forehead sizzled and popped as it dripped off her muzzle. Still the heat grew more and more intense.

“Spike, stop!”

Twilight’s magically amplified voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, and the fire stopped an instant later. Rainbow’s hooves scrabbled against her neck and released the seal around her helmet, and she threw it to the ground before sucking in a deep, gasping breath. The air was still hot outside of her armor, but it felt like a cool spring breeze compared to the suffocating heat she had endured inside it.

After taking several heaping gulps of air, Rainbow’s mind jumped to her friends. She struggled to her hooves and climbed out of the crater, surveying the scorched street with a frantic eye. Applejack was hunched over a prone Flintlock in the recess of an empty fountain, smoke trailing from both of their discarded helmets. Star Trails poked her head out from a heap of bricks before clawing her way free and tossing her own headgear aside. Sea Sabre was nowhere to be seen.

At the end of the street Spike loomed over it all like a reptilian roadblock, his wide eyes focused on the lavender unicorn standing in front of him with a hoof raised.

Rainbow looked from one friend to another, torn between her loyalties, but it only took a moment for her to decide where she was needed most. With a nervous gulp, she pushed her sweat-soaked mane back with a hoof and shoved herself into motion.

Twilight was still focused on Spike, her back to the other ponies, and Spike snorted a warning as Rainbow approached. Twilight calmed him with a hoof against one massive scale and some quiet words. Rainbow drew up short a half dozen steps away, opened her mouth to say something, and suddenly realized that she wasn’t sure what to say.

Rainbow flinched back a step as Twilight turned to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dark purple slits, and if not for the faint red trails stained into her cheeks Rainbow might have assumed that her friend had been possessed by Nightmare Moon. Her wings flared reflexively at the thought, the metal of her wingblades sliding across each other with a distinctive rasp before she realized what she was doing. She kept her sight focused on Twilight as Spike mirrored the motion with a growl of warning.

Rainbow had just carved a path of violence through the changelings of Canterlot with barely a flinch, but now the tips of her wings were trembling inside her armor. She could only stare, her whole body aching from the hell it had just been through, and pray to Celestia that she wouldn’t have to decide what loyalty meant. Please don’t make me fight you.

Twilight’s lips parted into an uneasy smile, revealing the fangs nestled among her teeth. “Rainbow, it’s me.”

Rainbow let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her own nervous grin breaking through. “Sorry, Twi, you just look kinda… y’know.” Like a villain from an old mare’s tale.

Twilight’s ears drooped as her smile died. She looked to Rainbow’s side, focusing on something unseen. “I-I know how it looks.” A silence fell between the two friends. After several seconds, Twilight met Rainbow’s gaze once more, her eyes brimming with murky red tears. “But it’s s-still me.”

Rainbow gave a little nod. After a moment it occurred to her that Twilight might not have seen the subtle movement. She glanced up to Spike, who was glowering at her with undisguised suspicion. “And that’s still Spike?”

Twilight sighed, looking away as the first tear fell down her cheek. “What’s left of him.”

Rainbow nodded a few more times as she processed the words. She folded her wings by her sides. “Y-you wanna come back to the ship?” She stretched her lips into what she hoped was an encouraging grin. “We could talk about it.”

Twilight glanced up at Spike. The dragon snorted at her, releasing twin plumes of smoke, and she turned back to Rainbow with a weary smile. “I would love to talk, but I don’t think I’m ready to leave Canterlot yet. A lot has happened while—” she grimaced, looking down at her hooves “—while we’ve been apart.”

“Right.” Rainbow’s grin became a bit more earnest. It had been a long time since Twilight had expressed any interest in opening up to her, and she would accept any chance she was given, even if it had to be in a ruined city at the bottom of the ocean. “You can pick a spot, Twi. Anywhere you want, and we’re there.”

Twilight smiled at her, and Rainbow could feel the weight of the past week lifting from her shoulders. They were back together again, and this time there wouldn’t be any bounty hunters or sudden invasions to break them apart.

The clunk of an armored hoof sounded to the side, and both mares turned towards it with ears up. Sea Sabre staggered out of a gaping doorway just a few steps away, her flared wings hanging low with exhaustion and her hard red eyes visible through the cracked visor of her helmet. She took a step forwards, drawing a hiss from Spike.

Rainbow stepped into her path, straightening her stance. “Stand down, Sabre.”

Sabre cocked her head. Her voice was dulled by the armor, but it was as firm as ever. “Is that an order?”

“They’re not any threat,” Rainbow said, meeting the other pegasus’ glare with her own. “It’s handled, ma’am.”

An uneasy silence passed between the two mares. Sabre looked behind Rainbow, narrowing her eyes just as she always did at the beginning of a practice fight. Rainbow let her own wings open just enough for the blades set into the armor to be visible.

After a few seconds, Sabre gave a curt nod. “Acknowledged.”

She turned away and started towards the rest of the dive team with a stiff gait. Rainbow watched her go, ears twitching at the barely audible sound of Sabre calling for a status report over the radio.

Twilight’s quiet voice behind her caught her attention. “Rainbow… what did you think you were coming here to do?”

Save you, whatever that might mean. Rainbow couldn’t bring herself to turn and meet Twilight’s eyes. “You should pick a spot where we can settle down and catch up, Twi,” she said, following in Sabre’s wake. “I’m gonna go check on AJ and the others.”

She walked away without looking back, and tried not to think about how close she had come to making an impossible choice.





I told you I didn’t want you making anymore changes, Twilight said.

And I agreed, for then, but it was not I who made this change. Midnight’s toothy smile was clear in the back of Twilight’s mind. We moved as one, and our body embraced it along with our minds.

Please stop talking like that.

It is only truth, as I always speak. We are not enemies unless you force it to be so.

Twilight grimaced as she crested the long, winding steps that surrounded her old tower for the second time in as many hours. After so long spent jumping at every imagined sound and shadow in the dead city, she was still getting used to the sound of hearing hoofsteps behind her and not immediately bolting for the closest hiding spot. Spike had flown ahead once they got near the tower, and she could hear his great weight shuffling around inside even through the closed doors.

She turned to the side, putting a hoof up on the stone railing and taking in the city that stretched beneath her. She cocked her head to one side. “Do the ruins look brighter to you, girls?” 

“Still about as dark as the outhouse on a snowy winter night,” Applejack said, grunting as she helped Flint up the last part of the steps. “Why?”

Twilight frowned. “I can see all the way to the edge of the dome.” She lifted a hoof, tracing an imaginary path up the gradually curving stone wall to the mantle of rock that hung far above the tallest remaining towers of the city. “And all the towers.” She blinked at a sudden burst of movement. “A-and changelings watching us.”

“Maybe it’s your, uh, eyes?” Rainbow’s voice cracked, and when Twilight turned to face her she looked away with obvious unease. “They look kinda like Nightmare Moon’s did now, so, y’know, maybe.”

“Right.” Twilight looked back to the shadowed horizon, her eyes coming to rest on a smirking Midnight standing in the air in front of her as if it were solid rock. She shot it a glare. “That makes sense.”

Did you prefer the darkness, little flower?

Twilight pursed her lips as she picked out more and more changelings among the ruins, several of them pausing to stare up at her with their eerily blank eyes. Have they been watching us the whole time?

I was just as pitifully blind as you, until recently. Though there is one thing I can feel which you clearly cannot. Midnight guided their gaze upwards, and Twilight stiffened as she saw the massive changeling queen hanging from the rock above them, her green eyes almost glowing with a dim light.

Chrysalis! How long has she been watching us?

It is the same entity I felt when we scavenged the changeling that we cooked, I’m certain of it. Twilight could feel Midnight bristling inside her, causing their hooves to twitch in agitation. It feels similar to the dragon’s darkness, almost, though his seemed far less clever.

Maybe she remembers me too. Twilight was certain that Chrysalis had lost herself to the corruption just as Spike had, but what parts of her still remained? Spike’s protective instincts towards her and the Elements had survived his corruption. Had the changeling queen somehow held on to her disdain of Twilight all this time? Twilight shivered as Chrysalis crawled across the domed roof of Canterlot, her eyes unmoving.

She tore her gaze away, looking instead to the armored ponies gathering on what was once her front balcony. “I think it’s best if everyone but Rainbow and AJ stay out here for now. I don’t know how Spike will react if I bring ponies he doesn’t recognize into his lair, but you should be safe here. It looks like the changelings give him a wide berth.”

Flintlock gave a loud snort as Applejack eased him down against the wall. He’d been leaning against her for support during the walk, having taken the most severe damage from Spike’s fire. Between Twilight’s magical assistance and his own natural hardiness as a Gifted earth pony, he had avoided any truly lasting injuries, but it was clear that he would need time to completely recover. “Ye don’t want us sittin’ in on yer wee reunion, ‘Light? I’d bet th’ month’s pay yer pet dragon’s got all th’ good salvage in Canterlot in that room.” His strained grin cut off with a groan as he settled onto his rump.

“We’ll stay out here,” Sabre said. She paused to give a meaningful look towards Rainbow before turning to Star Trails. “Trails, see if you can’t map out the city from here.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Star Trails flicked Flint with her tail as she stepped up to the railing, horn glowing, drawing a dramatic moan from him. “No manners whatsoever, you big goof.”

Twilight was the first to enter. Spike lifted his angular head from where it rested on his hoard, his wings shuffling against his sides, and she offered him a reassuring smile as Rainbow Dash and Applejack followed behind her. “It’s okay, Spike. You remember them, right?”

Spike eyed them warily, the spines running down his neck rising. Applejack let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe we should just stick to this side of the room, y’all. I know better than to approach a rooster atop his hen.”

Rainbow cocked her head with a frown. “Y’know you don’t have to relate every situation to farm animals, right?”

“I don’t have to, but I like to,” Applejack said. “Point is, he ain’t lookin’ like he quite recognizes us as much as he’s just toleratin’ us for Twilight’s sake.”

Twilight sighed as she led the way to the old flat pillows that adorned a small reading nook opposite the room from the pile of treasure. “I think you’re probably right, Applejack. After what he’s been through, I’m glad that he at least still seems to recognize me.”

The three mares arrayed themselves in a rough triangle around a dusty table that had once had hundreds of books read upon it. Twilight stretched the soreness out of her body as she slid Shining Armor’s saddlebags off her back, but she kept Princess Celestia’s tiara tucked close against her chest with one hoof. Midnight made a big show of sitting in between Twilight’s friends, turning to sneer at each one in turn, and Twilight couldn’t help but flick her tail as she met its disdainful frown with a glare of her own.

They sat there for a long moment in awkward silence. Twilight’s eyes roamed the room as she realized that this was the first time any of her friends had seen her old home. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she imagined frantically cleaning the place in preparation for their arrival, clearing away centuries of dust and decay so that they could sit at this very table. She would give anything to prowl the shelves and pull out a new Daring Do book, to roll her eyes at Rainbow’s far-too-vocal reactions to every paragraph or arch a curious eyebrow at whatever apple-based publication Applejack brought with her, all over cups of tea and snack rolls that Spike might have prepared for the occasion.

Such foalish fantasy. Twilight’s smile vanished in an instant. What is tea and stories when we hold the greatest power in Equestria within ourselves?

I don’t want power. I just want my friends.

Your friends aren’t the ones who saved Spike.

Rainbow cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “So… what’s up?”

Such casual words, but the answer was so complicated. Twilight turned to her friends, her gaze lingering on the brightly colored lightning bolt stitched into Rainbow’s otherwise black eyepatch. Rarity’s work, she wondered? She decided that the time for evasiveness was long past.

“I’ve been possessed by a malignant entity,” she said. “I believe it might be the same thing, or at least similar, to the corruption that spread across Equestria in our absence.”

Applejack blinked, her eyebrows rising as she gave a slight shake of her head. Rainbow’s lips tightened. Midnight snorted petulantly between them.

“And it’s the same thing y’all told me about before?” Applejack asked. She exchanged a brief glance with Rainbow. “Is that the thing that was sayin’ those wild things, back on Altalusia?”

Twilight nodded hesitantly. “Its name is Midnight. It’s been—” she paused, considering the best word “—haunting me constantly since then.”

“Whoa, hold up.” Rainbow raised a hoof, her brow furrowing. “Is it here right now?”

You know, I would never talk about you as if you weren’t here.

Twilight frowned. You have nobody else to talk to anyways. “It’s sitting between you two, yes.”

Both mares looked to the space between them with wide eyes. Rainbow reached out a hoof and prodded at the air experimentally. “I don’t feel anything.”

She truly does resemble the idiot from our memories, Midnight said. Tell her that.

Twilight ignored the comment, but found herself unable to open her mouth. She blinked, turning to glare at Midnight. Let me talk!

You cannot ignore me, little flower. Midnight smirked. Or are you still learning that lesson?

Applejack glanced back and forth between Twilight and Midnight, clearly unable to see the latter. “Twi, y’all good?”

Twilight sighed, and Midnight let her speak freely as it sensed her compromise. “It wants me to convey an insult towards your intelligence, Rainbow.”

“What?!” Rainbow shot up out of her seat, glaring in Midnight’s direction. “Why don’t you say that to my face, chump?”

“Please don’t ask for that,” Twilight said as Midnight’s grin grew unnaturally wide. “I’ve been trying to keep it away from my body ever since Altalusia.”

Applejack leaned back, one hoof rubbing at her chin. “And as much as I hate to say it, sugar cube, it looks like you ain’t been doin’ all too hot at that on y’all’s own.”

Twilight flinched away at the words. Midnight let out an affectionate coo, draping its phantom form over Applejack’s shoulders. Oh, this one isn’t so bad.

“Y-you’re right.” Twilight shook her head as she rubbed her hoof over the smooth metal of the tiara hanging under her neck. “I’ve developed some… mutations.”

Is that all you’re going to tell them? I’m sure they’d love to hear about the changeling we butchered for food.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head harder. Would you just shut up for once?

Midnight’s irritation pulsed in the back of her head. And here I was thinking that you’d finally show some gratitude, but perhaps your recalcitrance truly knows no bounds.

“Twilight?”

Twilight looked up. Applejack and Rainbow were both leaning forwards with clear concern in their eyes, the former stretching a hoof across the table towards her. “We know y’all ain’t no monster, filly. Just tell us how we can help.”

Rainbow glanced sideways towards Applejack before giving Twilight an emphatic, grinning nod. “We won’t leave you hanging, Twi.”

A warm hope bloomed in Twilight’s breast like the embers of a dying fire stirring in the wake of a morning breeze. She met their comforting expressions with a small smile of her own, her hoof still plucking at the tiara in its grip. Hadn’t she already decided to talk to them about what was happening to her? These were her best friends, after all, and they had already stopped two apocalypses together by the power of their friendship. She opened her mouth to speak, but Midnight held her words back.

If you intend to tell them our tale, it will be the truth. Our truth, and not just your own.

Twilight looked up, meeting Midnight’s eyes. She gave it a hesitant nod. Fine.

The hardest part was deciding where to begin. Should she start at the moment she suspected to be Midnight’s genesis, the malediction she had broken over Fluttershy? Perhaps the first time that Midnight had spoken to her? She bit her lip while her friends waited before her. No, Altalusia was the logical place to start. That’s where everything had truly fallen apart.

The story came haltingly at first, and she found herself repeating the same things and going back to make small corrections as she told Rainbow Dash and Applejack about how Gava and Ana had exploited her momentary desire for isolation to capture her. She spoke of her fears for their well being, and Midnight’s promise to help her protect them, and the rush of power that had come with its help. She shivered as she described the sensation of being trapped in her own body, forced to watch as the island was broken under the weight of her magic, and how she was only able to retake control with the surge of emotion she’d felt when she thought she might have killed Pinkie Pie.

“Y’all didn’t kill her, thank Celestia,” Applejack interjected. “Though the poor filly ain’t been able to move her hind legs ever since.”

“She seemed to be taking it pretty well, at least.” Rainbow shrugged. “Kinda felt like everybody else cared about it more than her, but I dunno. We didn’t spend much time on Altalusia after you left.”

Twilight felt a small weight lift from her shoulders at the news, but now that she had started her story it was impossible to hold it in any longer. She told them of the three days she had spent at the bottom of the ocean without food or water, harried all the while by the voice in her head and unable to rest for more than a few minutes at a time lest her magic give out. She cried as she told them about how close she had come to just giving in and letting it all end, and they held her when she explained how desperately hungry she had been when she allowed her teeth to be warped into carnivorous fangs, how she had eaten the dead changeling she’d stumbled across in the darkness.

The words came faster still. Endless hours spent shuffling through the pitch-black ruins as unseen hooves scraped over the stone around her, the ashen taste of the dozens of mushrooms she had eaten, the fear that she was becoming a monster. She cringed at their shocked expressions when she told them about the changeling she had butchered and cooked for sustenance.

“You don’t think I’m a monster, do you?” Her whole body stiffened around Celestia’s tiara as she waited for the answer.

Rainbow gave a nonchalant shrug, but it wasn’t enough to hide the unease in her eye. “You’re not the first, uh, meat-eater I’ve been friends with, Twi. It’s weird, for sure, but it’s hardly a dealbreaker for an awesome mare like you.”

Applejack’s lips were set into a firm line. “Y’all did what ya had to do. Ain’t no shame in that.”

Twilight gave her friends a grateful smile. At the same time, Midnight shook her head with a disappointed frown. They judge us.

They’re trying their best, Twilight countered. It’s a lot to take in.

They cannot hope to understand us, no matter how hard they try.

Twilight paused, considering whether to mention the books she had taken from the Royal Archives. She hadn’t come to any especially noteworthy conclusions from the reading, and she could already imagine Rainbow yawning and poking fun at her for going to the ruins of Canterlot just to visit the library, and so she moved on with a sheepish smile, recounting her discovery of Celestia’s lost tiara and her experience in the Hall of Relics. It felt like she had been talking for hours by the time she described her arrival in her old tower. Her throat was dry and her lips tingling, but she was eager to finish.

The tears came back to her as she told her friends about what she had found in her bedroom. She pulled Spike’s journal and Shining Armor’s log out and placed them on the table, sharing what she had learned of Spike’s life after their disappearance in a hoarse throat. Applejack and Rainbow Dash both moved to comfort her, sometimes glancing towards Spike with shock or concern. Midnight remained seated alone on the far side of the table, leering down at Twilight with her forelegs crossed.

When Twilight finally reached the end of Spike’s story, Applejack was watching her with wide eyes. “I never woulda thought the little fella had it in ’im.”

“Of course he did,” Rainbow said with a teary grin. “He had us to look up to.”

“There’s more,” Twilight said, pushing herself off of Applejack’s shoulder. “He hid the Elements of Harmony in my bedroom.”

“Whoa, what?!” Rainbow’s grin grew even wider. “Did you find them?”

Twilight answered with a slow nod, her voice quiet. “Yes, Rainbow, they were all there.”

“Hay, that’s the best thing I’ve heard this century, Twi,” Applejack said. “So why do y’all sound so glum about it?”

“Because they rejected me,” Twilight breathed.

“Speak up, Twi.” Rainbow Dash leaned in, cocking her head. “Sounded like you said they rejected you or something.”

“That’s what I said!” Twilight’s frown hardened as she looked up to meet Rainbow’s gaze, making the pegasus flinch back. “The Elements won’t even let me touch them, because they can tell that I’m a monster!”

Her shout seemed to hang in the air. Spike raised his head at the disturbance, and Midnight watched in silence with an amused smirk. Rainbow and Applejack exchanged a glance before the latter spoke. “Now y’all don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes I do!” Twilight snapped. “They burn me if I try to touch them, with my magic or my hooves! Why else would they do that other than them knowing what I really am?”

Applejack rested a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “I ain’t no mage, sugar cube, but I’m pretty sure magic ain’t that simple.”

“Yeah, don’t you want to run some experiments or something?” Rainbow asked. “Anything could have happened to them while we were gone, right?”

Twilight grimaced. She looked up, catching Midnight’s eye, and it stared back impassively. We know the truth of it, don’t we, little flower? We don’t need the sweet honey lies.

“The Elements won’t work without harmony, girls,” Twilight said quietly. “And harmony isn’t something I’ve felt in weeks.”

“Well…” Rainbow trailed off, looking to Applejack for support.

“Maybe we should look at ’em?” Applejack suggested. “Where are they right now?”

Twilight nodded towards where Spike was watching sharp-eyed from atop his treasure pile. “Spike took them. I think he remembers that they’re important.”

“Oh.” Applejack let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, shucks, could y’all get the big guy to give ’em up?”

“Maybe. I don’t really feel like trying it right now. Sorry.” Twilight sighed, leaning back and scooping Spike’s journal back into her bags. Reliving everything since Altalusia with her friends had been almost as emotionally draining as it had been the first time, and right then she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book and forget where she was.

Rainbow scrunched her muzzle up. “So like, what do we do now?”

Twilight’s eyes lingered on Shining Armor’s logbook. Captain Shining Armor, 1st Guards Division, was printed across the front in his blocky script. She still hadn’t read it.

“I’m going to do some reading,” she said, grabbing the book in her magic. “It’s been a while. Sea Sabre has been very patient.”

She vanished with a purple flash and the crack of teleportation, grunting as she landed on the stiff cushioning of her old mattress. The door had been torn off its hinges by Spike, but it was simple enough for her to levitate it back into place and secure it with a small spell.

Midnight walked through the door as if it didn’t exist, approaching the bed and settling down at Twilight’s side without a word. The chill of its presence sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine, but she didn’t mind. She was already getting used to the cold.

They kept their eyes trained on the logbook as they opened to the first page with their magic.





Rainbow Dash flinched back at the sudden flash and crack of Twilight teleporting away, the close-proximity magic causing her feathers to tingle. She met Applejack’s eyes, seeing her own worries reflected inside them.

“We done screwed up, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad.”

“It could still be worse,” Rainbow said. “She’s still Twilight, right?”

“She is, but for how long?” Applejack ran a hoof through her mane where her hat normally rested. “We gotta bring her back to us before it’s too late.”

“But how?” Rainbow asked. She started, glancing around the room with her eye wide. “Do you think, uh, Midnight is still listening?”

“Hay if I know, and what’s it matter anyway?” Applejack glared at the shadows in the dimly lit room intently. “An Apple don’t sneak around like some shakin’ varmint hidin’ in a bush. That Midnight’s a pest, and I ain’t gonna let it sit.” She stood up, raising her voice. “Ya hear me, varmint? Y’all got the top spot on this farmpony’s list!”

Spike flared his wings, his lips curling back to reveal massive fangs as he growled at Applejack. She paled, plopping back into her seat with a quiet, “Whoa, nelly!”

Rainbow offered him a sheepish smile, leaning over to whisper into Applejack’s ear. “Maybe we should get out of his lair until Twilight gets back?”

“I reckon ya might be right, Rainbow,” Applejack whispered back. “Slow movements. We don’t want to startle the big fella.”

Rainbow stood slowly, creeping towards the front door at a snail’s pace with Applejack close behind her. She kept her eye fixed on Spike, who kept both of his on her, his tail swishing side to side, the treasure underneath jingling and ringing with each movement.

She let out an audible sigh of relief when she finally stepped out onto the open balcony outside Twilight’s door. Star Trails and Flintlock were seated opposite each other, each one holding a small metal cup, while Sea Sabre frowned out at the rest of the city from behind the railing. All three turned at the sound of Applejack closing the door behind them.

“Ye finally finish hidin’ th’ dragon’s whole hoard?” Flint asked, a hint of pain hidden under the humor in his voice. “I’d have brought lunch if I knew ye’d take so long.”

“Oh, relax,” Trails said as she shook the cup in her hooves. The dice inside rattled loudly as she slapped the cup down onto the floor. “C’mon, roll.”

Sabre beckoned with a nod of her head, and Rainbow and Applejack both joined her at the railing. She looked between them each in turn. “Tell me what we’re still doing here.”

“Twilight just finished telling us how she’s been since Altalusia,” Rainbow said, straightening up to match Sabre’s posture.

“So what are we waiting on?” Sabre asked, glancing towards Applejack. “I want to be back aboard the Argo with Twilight Sparkle and return to Heighton as soon as possible.”

“She just needs a little bit of alone time, Sabre,” Applejack said. “She’s right stressed, but she’ll be ready soon enough I’m sure.”

Sabre’s ear twitched, and her lips grew even tighter. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re currently in the middle of possibly the most dangerous place in Equestria. We had to fight our way through at least two dozen changelings before we reached Twilight, and the only reason they aren’t attacking us this very moment is because they’re too afraid of the wild dragon whose lair we’re waiting outside, the very same dragon that nearly roasted us all alive.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “We're all stressed. She can relax as much as she wants once we’re back on the ship.”

“Well, she teleported off to her room with her dead brother’s notebook, Sabre,” Rainbow said with an apologetic shrug. “None of us can get to her without getting past Spike, and I don’t want to antagonize him.”

Flint snorted as he rolled the dice in his cup and slapped them down onto the ground. “Ach, we can take th’ drake.” He pulled the cup up and peeked inside. “Five twos.”

Rainbow rounded on him. “I don’t want you to take him! He’s our friend!”

Flint just shook his head. “I’ve never had a friend try ‘n cook me alive before.”

“Probably because nobody wants the taste of gunpowder in their mouths,” Trails quipped as she checked her own dice. “Five threes.”

Rainbow opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the tower door opening. Twilight stepped into view, holding Shining Armor’s logbook close to her chest. Her mouth hung slightly open, and the red stains on her cheeks glistened.

“Y’alright, sugar cube?” Applejack asked.

“Princess Celestia didn’t want Shiny to come here.” Twilight’s voice was soft. “He came anyways, even with all of Equestria falling apart around him, because that’s what big brothers are supposed to do. He’s dead because of me.”

Sea Sabre stepped forwards, getting Twilight’s attention. “I’m sorry for your loss, but we need to move. The Argo is waiting for us on the surface.”

Twilight frowned, looking to Rainbow and Applejack with obvious confusion. “I’m not going back to the Argo.”

Rainbow stiffened. She let out a nervous laugh. “Twi, please tell me we didn’t come all this way just for you to decide you want to stay in Canterlot?”

Applejack gave a firm nod. “Y’all need to think this through, Twilight. It wasn’t easy to find ya.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to put any of you in danger,” Twilight said. Her eyes flicked towards an empty space to her side as she squeezed the weathered book in her hooves tighter. “Where is Princess Luna?”

“She’s still on the Argo,” Star Trails said, perking up. “Why?”

Twilight nodded. “I’m heading for the Frozen North, and I’ll need you to bring her there for me.”

Flint snorted. “And how’re ye gonna get there, eh? Ye gonna walk th’ length of Equestria from th’ ocean floor?”

“I’ll be teleporting, actually,” Twilight corrected with a small smile. “That’s how I got here from Altalusia.”

“But why the Frozen North?” Rainbow asked. She sat down with a heavy sigh. “Why won’t you come back to Heighton with us?”

“It’s from Shiny’s logs. Princess Celestia sent Princess Cadance there to search for something, though I’m not sure what.” She paused, levitating the book up to her face and flipping through the pages as her eyes darted side to side. “It seems like she had an idea about stopping the corruption. She must not have found what she needed, or maybe not in time, but there may still be something there. We might be able to wake up Luna, or help Spike!”

“Or get rid of Midnight,” Applejack added grimly.

Twilight glanced off to one side. “R-right.”

Sea Sabre looked to Rainbow. “Who?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Rainbow promised. She followed Twilight’s gaze, a slight shiver passing over her as she imagined the vicious creature that Twilight had described to her standing there and watching as they talked about destroying it. “So you want us to follow you there, then?”

Twilight nodded. “I’ll be leaving once I get some rest.” She turned for the door before pausing and looking back. “Y-you can spend the night if you want.”

“A sleepover in Canterlot, huh?” Applejack asked with a wry smile. “Rarity would be jealous.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rainbow said, grinning. She turned to Sea Sabre. “You in?”

The other pegasus looked over her team for a moment before replying. “One night, but we leave in the morning.”

Rainbow nodded. After the past week she had spent worrying over Twilight and fearing she’d have to fight one of her own best friends, the mounting feeling that her world was falling apart was finally starting to abate. Twilight was still Twilight, and now she had a plan.

As Rainbow followed Twilight into the dark interior of her old home, she closed the door behind her and shut out the dead, crumbling ruins of Canterlot. For tonight at least, maybe they could just be three friends spending time together.
> VII: Of Discussions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anatami jerked awake at the heavy click of the prison trapdoor opening.

She lay still, keeping her breath at the same steady rhythm as the groaning complaints of the old hinges bounced off the cold stones. The day’s meal had already been delivered, and her chamber bucket wasn’t due to be emptied for another two nights at least. Was the Duke finally getting around to her execution?

The hoofsteps that climbed out of the tower stairwell were unfamiliar to her. The jingling-mail and grumbled sighs of her usual warden were absent, though she did detect a heaviness to her unexpected visitor’s breath. The climb had left him short of breath; he was unlikely to be one of the Duke’s rigorously drilled soldiers.

Whoever it may be, Ana saw no reason to betray her alertness. She remained as she was, cuddled up on the thin pile of dry straw that had served as her bed for the past week with her back to the entrance. She had precious little advantage in this hard place, and information was something to be valued.

The stallion cleared his throat. “Anatami?”

His voice was clear in spite of his breathiness, each syllable pronounced with the careful, polite enunciation of an educated central Equestrian. He certainly wasn’t from Altalusia; even the urban ponies on the western coast spoke with somewhat of an accent.

“I imagine you’ve been rather lonely since the wedding, but I’ve brought good news, and word from Gava.”

Ana’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t allow any reaction from her body. She had watched with her own two eyes as her sister’s limp form had plummeted out of sight to the ocean below. Had she somehow recovered before impact? Gava had always had a habit of getting herself into more trouble than she could handle, but she also possessed a talent for surviving each ordeal by the tuft of her tail. She mentally chastised herself for her hopeful naivete. What’s it matter what a random pony says? You can’t know for sure either way until you see it yourself.

The stallion let out an amused hum. “She said you might do this. I’ve been told that it’s generally wise to always assume you’re awake. I admit, I’m sure I’d be more than convinced otherwise.”

The distinctive jingling of keys sounded from behind her, followed by a click and the squeal of her cell door opening. Her body remained still, but her mind jumped into action. Most ponies wouldn’t be able to react before she was on her hooves and in their face, but she hadn’t lived so long by making assumptions based on most ponies. She had met skilled warriors before who enjoyed acting like foppish politicians, and she was drained from the week of confinement and malnutrition. Perhaps instead she could evade him and bolt down the stairwell.

The keys jingled again, off to the side, and there was the sound of the adjacent cell being opened. One of the cells with an open window. “I suppose I don’t need you to talk to me, even if I’d prefer us to develop a cordial working relationship. Gava is waiting for you in what remains of the woods to the northwest. I do hope you’ll oblige me a proper introduction next time we meet, but until then, I’ll leave you be.”

The trapdoor shut with a solid thud, and Ana waited for the sound of his hoofsteps to recede before jumping to her hooves. She took the room in with one sweep of her wide amber eyes, confirming that she was alone and the two barred doors had been left open. She wasted no time in entering the adjacent cell and poking her head out of the open window. The chill breeze of the open air sent a shiver of pleasure down her back, but she focused on scanning the landscape below for danger instead of indulging in the sensation.

Laborers milled over the estate, putting the finishing touches on the repairs sustained by the manor. The pits of dirt and jagged abysses that had maimed the land had been replaced with fresh grass and brick soil beds blossoming with flowers, bushes, and young trees. The field beyond the walls wasn’t as lucky, still bearing the wounds of Twilight Sparkle’s rampage, though the largest of them had been marked out with brightly painted wooden stakes. Ana looked northwest, easily picking out the mostly burnt out forest in the distance. There were a few soldiers patrolling the grounds or watching from simple wooden posts, all facing outwards, and none of them ever looked up.

Ana gave each of her wings an exploratory flap. Sore, but her exercises had kept the damage to a minimum. She took a few steps back, feeling out the ache in her muscles, and galloped headlong for the window.

The rush of the air in her ears brought a toothy grin to her face, and she flapped hard to gain altitude before filling her lungs with a shockingly cold breath of it. She angled to one side and glanced down at the estate from above. A single pony was crouched on the roof beside a palette of vibrant paints, dutifully filling in the damage done to the battle murals depicted on its surface.

With a mocking salute to her old prison, Ana veered towards the forest. The details grew clearer as she approached, revealing the hollowed out husks of dead trees and the green of fresh growth rushing into the gaps left by the fire. Her heart soared at the sight of Gava waiting patiently atop one of the tallest remaining branches, and she angled lower, picking up speed.

She tackled the griffon with enough force that she had to spread her own wings and flap to keep balance as they embraced each other in a warm hug. Gava’s paws dug into her back. “Good to see that unicorn kept his word.”

“I thought you were dead!” Ana pulled back, tears brimming as she looked into her sister’s dark blue eyes. “That fall must have been a mile at least!”

Gava shook her head and looked away, but not fast enough to hide the wetness in her eyes. “There’s a bunch of old mines in these islands. It wasn’t that hard to grab a passing beam.”

“Well in that case, what took you so long?” Ana gave the griffon a good-natured punch with one hoof, being careful to avoid her bandages. “I would’ve had you out within two days, tops!”

Gava reacted with an exaggerated wince. “And I would’ve been back to try within a day, but stuff came up. Did you meet our new boss?”

“I’m gone for one week and you go and sign us into a mercenary job?” Ana smirked. “You remember the last time you negotiated a job without me? Now that was a jailbreak.”

Gava rolled her eyes. “You’re already making me regret this.”

Ana couldn’t help but laugh as she finally extricated herself from the hug and alighted on the branch at Gava’s side with a little twirl. “I think I met him, yeah. Talks like he knows it all. So what’s the job?”

“Well, as he put it, we’re making a new world.” Gava shrugged at her cocked head. “He wants us on support till it’s done.”

Ana blinked. “You agreed to a job with no limits?”

“Well, uh…” Gava scratched at the back of her head. “I mean, he paid pretty well, and he said there’d be more.”

“Whatever, it’s fine. I can renegotiate it.” Ana waved the matter away with a wing. “Are we gonna be needed soon? I need to get some meat in me.”

“Yes, actually,” Gava said. “Him and the Duke are attending a conference between the bigshot nobles in Altalusia. He wants us keeping tabs.”

“Ah, no wonder he finally bailed me out then.” Ana winked as Gava frowned down at her. “Any particular requests?”

“Just to not be seen, and to watch out for anything exploitable. Looks like they’re leaving now.” Gava nodded towards the estate, and Ana turned to follow her gaze. Three wagons displaying orange banners pulled out from between the open gates, escorted by eight soldiers in similarly-colored tabards. “His name is Whitehorn, by the way.”

“Whitehorn, huh? Sounds kinda familiar.” Ana narrowed her eyes. “How far is the meeting place?”

“Far enough for us to find something to eat on the way there.”

Ana grinned, meeting her sister’s eye. “What are we waiting for, then?”

Together they spread their wings, falling off the branch and letting the air catch them. Ana’s grin only grew wider as they weaved between the trees in search of prey. It had been months since the two of them had gone on a simple hunt together, and the sun warming her back promised a good time to come.





It was a bumpy ride to the conference, though not a quiet one. It never was when Pinkie Pie came along, and the bouncy mare had kept up a steady stream of conversation for the whole journey, pestering poor Pontius with questions about every village they passed and every landmark they saw. He had been enthusiastic in answering her at first, but his resolve was flagging under the endless onslaught. Every now and then he would glance towards Rarity with a desperate, pleading look, and she would grant him a small smile and say a few words, but her mind was elsewhere.

The meeting was to take place at Kingsfall Field, an open, grassy stretch between two forested hills in central Altalusia, and nearly every noble outside the western city was to be there. Tensions were high after the calamity preceding Twilight’s departure from the island, and the nobles were keen to pin the blame on someone.

“Don’t be surprised if it comes to open war,” Whitehorn had warned her. “The Altalusians have never been overly fond of peace, and after years of calm no doubt some of them will be eager to take advantage.”

Rarity winced as the wagon passed over a roughshod wooden bridge spanning a ragged tear in the land. They had needed to use two others before it, sometimes backtracking to do so, and there were more signs of damage besides. She saw windmills lying in pieces on the ground and shattered homes surrounded by sweating families rushing to repair them. In one instance they had passed an entire village burned to the ground. A lantern had been shaken from its place, Pontius had said, and the wood and thatch homes were little more than tinder. No deaths, thankfully, but the villagers had been unable to put the blaze out in time to save their livelihoods.

“Oooh, I think we’re here!” Pinkie exclaimed. She leaned her head out the window, mane bouncing in the open air, leaving Pontius to lean back with a sigh of relief. “Wowee, Rarity, these ponies camp like you do!”

“These ruffians?” Rarity scoffed, waiting for the wagon to turn and bring the meeting grounds into view from the window. “I find that highly—oh my goodness, is that a three-story tent?”

Kingsfall Field was awash with colors. Tents bigger than a villager’s hovel dotted the green expanse, massive banners waving in the air displaying the crests of their owners while soldiers leered at their neighbors underneath in aggressively polished barding that gleamed in the sun. Servants in every color rushed across the encampment with messenger bags slung over their shoulders, darting from one tent to another. In the center one great white tent rose above every other, bereft of flags but bearing far more traffic than the rest as ponies filed inside.

“It seems we’ve arrived just in time,” Pontius said. He shook his head in disdain. “Father says th’ most insignificant nobles always bring th’ gaudiest tents. He’ll be glad to get straight to business.”

“There’s so many,” Rarity said, counting the rows. “There must be at least a hundred tents!”

Pontius nodded. “Aye, but only a few that matter. Th’ earls and barons come mostly for scheming among their rivals, and are unlikely to speak during th’ conference. It’s th’ dukes and counts that shall do th’ decision making.”

“And you know them all?” Rarity asked.

“Aye, my Lady, mostly.”

Pinkie gasped. “Oh, oh, what’s that one?!”

Pontius leaned forwards, squinting out the window to follow her hoof. “With th’ gear and propeller?” Pinkie answered with a trio of vigorous nods. “House Windstrider, from th’ Percheron Demesne to the northwest. I hear th’ heiress recently obtained a cutie mark.”

“Ooooh, snazzy! What about that one?”

Pontius blinked, mouthing hanging open a few moments as he thought. “Ah, that’s Count Tatom’s crest. Aye, his land is just north of ours.”

“And that one?”

Pontius shot Rarity a nervous glance, and she caught Pinkie’s attention with a polite cough. “Darling, surely you don’t expect dear Pontius to recite the details of every noble on the island for you?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “I mean, there’s only a hundred.”

Pontius paled, but was saved by the wagon finally rolling to a stop and the click of the door being opened. Onyx stood on the other side, the soldier’s dark coat only barely visible under his mail and tabard. He looked to each of the occupants in turn, dipping his head in greeting. “We’ve arrived. Countess?”

He extended a hoof to Rarity, who accepted it with a gracious smile as she stepped out onto the springy grass. “Thank you, darling.” She spared a moment to straighten out her outfit, a bright yellow affair that caught the sun like a flower atop a grassy knoll, and ensure the matching hat was properly positioned between her ears.

Next was Pinkie. Rarity and Onyx helped support her weight as she slid out of the wagon, and a second soldier approached to help secure the wheelchair that had been stowed for the journey. She took in a gigantic sniff of the air, scanning the field with an eager grin. The scent of spiced soups and stew drifted past. “Rarity, if you need me, I’ll be at the nearest kitchen!”

She darted off, wooden wheels squealing in complaint. Onyx gestured towards the second soldier with a hoof, and he nodded before jogging gamely after the mare.

Pontius sighed in relief as he climbed out of the carriage. “Yer friend is very energetic, my Lady.”

“One of her most charming traits, dear.” She offered him a prim smile before turning to Onyx, who was eyeing another pair of soldiers as they set up a large tent under the guidance of one of Titus’ servants. “I haven’t seen you all week, Onyx. How are you doing?”

He nodded curtly, but didn’t look at her. “Fine, Countess.”

“And where’s Ivory?” Rarity looked around, searching for the dour pegasus mare. “This must be the first time I’ve seen you two apart.”

Onyx grunted. He turned and met Rarity’s eyes, his lips set into a firm line. “Dead, Countess.”

“O-oh.” Rarity drew back, one hoof rising to her chest. Stupid girl! A soldier disappears after a battle, and you go asking after her like a witless filly! “I, uh—”

“Twas a good death,” he said, cutting her off. “She saved th’ Duke with it, and he honors his warriors.”

Pontius stepped forwards with a stern frown. “Ye interrupt her again and ye’ll be getting lashes when we return home, soldier.”

“It’s fine, darling, really.” Rarity warded him off with a wave, keeping her eyes on Onyx. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know.”

Oynx’s face twisted into a grim smile. “Aye, ye wouldn’t. I don’t blame ye. Ye two had best get t’ th’ conference, if ye plan t’ attend.”

Pontius was still glowering at the other stallion, but Rarity guided his face towards her with a hoof and a smile. “Shall we go, then, Pontius? I’d hate to miss anything.”

Pontius snorted, nostrils flaring, but he relented. His ears twitched low against his head as he led her away from the wagons and deeper into the sea of tents. “Ye shouldn’t let th’ commoners speak to ye that way, Countess. Ye’re a Lady of Canterthusia now, and it isn’t proper.”

“I have little care for what words they use, as long as they’re said with respect,” Rarity countered. “Onyx has been nothing but kind to me since my arrival, and I won’t have him punished for speaking honestly when he’s in mourning.” She pursed her lips as she eyed the soldiers and servants alike milling past in their myriad of colors. “I can’t believe I never heard about her death until just now. How could I be so heartless?”

Pontius shot her a confused sideways look. “My Lady, two dozen soldiers died th’ night of th’ attack. I would hardly expect ye to know of every one.”

Rarity stumbled, one hoof crossing over another and catching on the hem of her dress, and she toppled forwards. She let out a cry, cutting off with a sharp “Oof!” as Pontius stretched out a hoof to catch her.

“My Lady, are ye well?” he asked, looking her over with a concerned frown.

“Oh goodness. I’m fine, dear, thank you.” Rarity got her hooves back under her, using his larger body for support. Then she remembered why she had tripped in the first place, and would have fallen over again if Pontius wasn’t still holding her up. “T-two dozen, you said?”

He gave her a grim nod. “Aye, my Lady, though Nettlekiss lost at least twice as many. Twas a victory, but a red one.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I see.”

“Ye’re shaking.” Pontius glared at the few ponies that had stopped to watch, sending them on their way. “Would ye like to head back?”

“No, no, thank you.” Rarity shook her head as she gently pushed him away and adjusted her mane with a hoof. “Your concern is admirable, Pontius, but we really should keep going. I’d hate to miss anything.”

“Aye, my Lady.” He dipped his head, gaze lingering on her for just a moment before he turned away.

Rarity followed him wearing a mask of carefully measured politeness, her eyes taking in the campsite without seeing. Two dozen dead, including a pony that she had counted among one of her friends, and she hadn’t even noticed. Had she not spent hours in the hectic dining hall of Titus’ manor tending to injured soldiers? It had all become such a blur, and she found that she couldn’t remember if any of the wounded she and Fluttershy had attended had died in their care. She only remembered the tearing of fabric, the stench of blood, the heat of the fires, and Fluttershy’s soft, kind voice guiding her through it all. Her lip trembled as she realized that she couldn’t even remember any of their faces.

She should have noticed the change in the guards. She hadn’t left her room much in the week following the battle, but she had done it enough to walk past guards posted in the halls several times, and what of all the time she had spent peering out from her balcony watching the repairs being made? She had spent so much pointless attention measuring the growth of the new plants, appreciating the masonry of the repaired walls, and not once had it occurred to her that she was walking past soldiers she had never seen before.

Had Ivory had a funeral? Had she been invited? She had sent servants away from her room many times during those dark days.

Despite her brooding, snippets of conversation came to her attention as they weaved between tents, almost all of it carrying the heat of argument. She heard ponies fighting over taxes, conscription, and scandal. A pair of nobles reared up across from each other, armored forelegs jabbing out as they danced around an open clearing surrounded by solemn onlookers, spewing insults about each other’s parentage and honor. Everywhere she looked, baronlanders were arguing, and not one of them mentioned Nettlekiss.

She looked to Pontius. “Isn’t this meeting supposed to be about the attack on your father’s estate? It seems as if they’re discussing everything but.”

“Meetings such as this do not happen often, my Lady,” he said. “Disputes between neighboring lords and ladies often pile up before it’s worth taking th’ trip to resolve them, but as long as we’re here, one pony can confront many others without even leaving camp. Nettlekiss is just one great issue among many smaller ones.”

Rarity nodded, her ears twitching at a barrage of expletives booming from a nearby tent. “I see.”

Not a minute later, she and Pontius were standing in front of the great white three-story tent she had seen earlier at the center of camp. A servant pulled the flap open with a flourish, and Pontius gave him a small nod before beckoning her inside.

“Presenting Sir Pontius and Lady Rarity, hailing from the Duchy of Canterthusia!”

Rarity’s eyes widened as she stepped into the shade of the tent. Lush carpeting had been rolled out over the hard earth and a long wooden table stretched down the middle, laden with steaming plates of colorful foods and flanked by a dozen sitting cushions. Every seat was taken and the nobles in them were all shouting over each other in an attempt to be heard.

“That Nettlekiss has gone too far!”

“I lost a whole village t’ her—”

“—seized my mill durin’ th’ chaos—”

Wooden scaffolding had been erected to the sides, providing a raised surface accessible by stairway from which to watch the proceedings, and already there was a crowd of ponies all dressed in vibrant livery with prominently displayed crests on their flanks. They filled the space above and below the raised platform, snacking from trays carried through their ranks by smiling servants and reclining on wide cushions. They stood in quiet, whispering among themselves. A few curious glances lingered briefly on the new arrivals, but otherwise all eyes were fixed on the table and its occupants.

A weathered stone statue dominated the far end of the tent, tall enough for the head to look down on the ponies on the improvised mezzanine, the details of the face lost to time. It depicted a lean earth pony stallion wearing a simple tunic, his hooves wrapped in cloth and his mane covered by a wide-brimmed helmet. He was crouched in front of a large bow that stood before him, the lower limb secured in the ground with a sharp spike. A barbed arrow was nocked to the string and drawn back by his muzzle.

“—rubble th’ next day! If anythin’ ye should be payin’ me fer—”

“—a burnin’ forest, and only just escaped with his life!”

“Where is th’ harlot? Doesn’t she even have th’ guts t’ show ‘er face?”

Pontius led her deeper into the tent with a polite tug, and Rarity allowed herself to be brought towards the chaos of the table. Titus was seated near the middle on the left side, his usual breastplate hidden behind orange robes embroidered with golden lace. Whitehorn was hunched over behind him, the two in the midst of some quiet conversation, but he waved the unicorn off as he saw the two approaching.

“Ah, there ye are, lad!” He had to raise his voice to be heard even up close. “Ye stand on my right today.”

A boyish grin broke out on Pontius’ face as he took the indicated position behind the Duke’s right shoulder, leaving Rarity standing alone a few steps behind them. “It’s an honor, father.”

Titus slapped his son on the back with a wing. “Ye got yer own wife now, and ye’ve seen real battle. Ye shouldn’t be watching up with th’ riffraff anymore.”

“—stealin’ peasants from my mines—”

“—th’ price of flowers in Friesland is beyond—”

“—and that was just th’ first day!”

Rarity turned her attention to Whitehorn, who had stepped back to join her at a safe distance from the energy of the table. “The Duke seems to have taken a liking to you,” she said.

He dipped into a low bow. “Neither of us are ponies who hold grudges once the deal is struck, Countess. Am I wrong, or is that a new dress?”

Rarity blushed. She turned away with a proud smile, subtly showing off the outfit’s best angles. “You noticed?”

“After spending so long at your beautiful side, my dear, it would be a crime if I didn’t.”

There was a soft humor in his voice, and she raised a hoof to her mouth as a girlish giggle escaped her. “If only the rest of the world felt like you did, darling.”

“All in good time, Countess. We’ll see them come around.”

Rarity looked back at him, meeting his eyes, and the two shared a brief moment. After a few seconds she cleared her throat and looked away, running a hoof through her mane. A lady does not titter like a schoolfilly!

“Ye’re touched in th’ head if ye think I’ll—”

“—doubt any of yer troops could hold their own against—”

“I paid good coin fer that labor and I demand—”

She scanned the room in search of a new topic of conversation. Her attention fell on the statue at the back. “I haven’t seen any bows in Altalusia.”

“They aren’t nearly as common as they once were,” Whitehorn said. She kept her eyes on the statue as he spoke. Words were engraved in a band along the archer’s tunic, but she was too far to read them. “Legend has it that the last king of Altalusia was killed in this field shortly after airship trade began with other islands.”

“There was a king?” Rarity asked.

“There were several,” Whitehorn continued. “Unification was a simpler prospect when there wasn’t any outside interference. The nobles rebelled many times, and sometimes won, but of course another general or diplomat would gather them together in time. The nobles all despise the idea of a king, even though they all secretly dream of the title.”

Rarity nodded, looking to him. “How did he die?”

“An arrow fired by a common archer found the gap in his armor.” Whitehorn let out a low chuckle. “The nobles were so pleased that they immediately granted the archer the title of the king’s home town and declared him of noble blood. He lost the title in another war a few years later, but he did manage to secure his bloodline before he died.”

“Yes, that does sound rather like Altalusia.” Rarity shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Are none of ye gonna speak of th’—”

“—completely insignificant compared t’ th’ affair in—”

“She’s my wife ’n I demand—”

Rarity sighed, curling her lip up at the uncouth display occupying the center of the tent. “Could you explain all this to me, darling?”

Whitehorn raised a brow. “However do you mean, Countess?”

“All—this.” She gestured at the table with a hoof as if she was afraid it would infect her. “I’m trying to understand what I’m seeing, but it just looks like a rabble of argumentative foals.”

“Ah, yes. Well, on a surface level, that’s more or less an accurate description.” He chuckled under his breath. “But yes, let’s see here.” He let out a thoughtful hum as he scratched at his chin.

“First is Duke Titus. You know him, of course. Most powerful noble in the countryside, and liege to much of the eastern coast of Altalusia. Directly opposed and balanced against Duchess Nettlekiss—absent, obviously—and the City of Friesland on the west coast.”

“The city is involved?” Rarity asked.

Whitehorn raised a hoof, nodding. “Certainly, but we’ll come back to it. Next we have Countess Silkie.” He pointed towards a well-groomed mare wearing a yellow tunic emblazoned with a bright red rooster on the front gesturing angrily at her neighbor. “Independent, and with several members of her house living in the city. Her lands border its territory as well, and she sends much trade through its ports. She tries not to upset the Frieslanders too much, but she’s still a country baron through and through.”

“A country baron, you say?” Rarity echoed.

“By which I mean she still hates Friesland and would be done with it at the first opportunity—but again, we’ll come back to that,” he added, seeing the question in her eyes. “That bearded stallion she’s arguing with is Count Dane, also independent, and known to be averse to risk. He’s been having some trouble securing his bloodline, and has a reputation for neutrality during times of conflict.”

Rarity nodded, but saved her questions. She grimaced at the bedraggled beard drooping from Count Dane’s muzzle and the weathered old cape hanging over his shoulder. An image of a dog under a bridge was stitched into the fabric, the colors long since faded.

“Over there we have Count Armet. Honorable, trustworthy, and also independent. He has several skilled foreign craftsponies that he contracts to live on his land, and enough muskets to equip his levies with them. Rarely gets involved in scandal.”

By Rarity’s eye, Count Armet was the best dressed pony at the table. He wore his mane in a long braid, and the design of a helmet in front of a field of trees was embroidered into the shoulders of his coat. He and Titus were the only nobles sitting in silence.

“The rest are vassals of one or the other, or otherwise not worth an introduction. Now about the city.” Whitehorn paused, waiting for a particularly loud outburst from the table to pass. “Friesland holds the ports and controls trade, and is allied with Nettlekiss and her grain farms and her armies. They’ve been an irremovable thorn in the barons’ sides for decades now. Thus the hostility.”

“But now Nettlekiss is weak.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “If the barons unite, then they could have the whole island.”

Whitehorn grinned. “Right you are, Countess. And that means every noble with soldiers to supply has some sway.”

“So they’re all just bickering to make sure they get as much as they can from the opportunity.” Rarity shook her head in disdain. “Of course they are.”

Titus looked back, beckoning at Whitehorn. The unicorn leaned into Rarity’s ear. “I’m afraid I’m needed, Countess. I doubt it’ll make any difference, but you should know that the nobles will not play nicely if you choose to speak up.”

He stepped up to the Duke’s left shoulder, leaving Rarity on her own among the loose collection of less distinguished ponies that formed a circle around the table. She frowned at the implied message from Titus.

Now Titus stood from his seat. Some of the nobles shied back at the sight, but others pressed on.

“She should be stripped of ’er lands!”

“We’ll have ’er hanged!”

“I demand a beheadin’!”

“Quiet!”

The tent stilled, silent but for the flapping of the fabric as Titus projected his deep voice over the assembled ponies.

“I did not call this conference t’ hear ye lot bicker over who was most affected and declare yer punishments of choice,” Titus growled. “I’d rather not have t’ spend even more time dealin’ with foals.”

“Is it true that she attacked ye durin’ yer lad’s weddin’, Titus?” Countess Silkie asked. She dipped her head at Pontius with a small smile. “Congratulations t’ ye, by th’ way.”

“Aye, Silkie, it’s true,” Titus said. Pontius returned the smile with a nod of his own.

Count Dane turned to her, his voice nearly as rough as his beard. “Ye woulda known as much if ye had attended t’ yer invitation, Countess.”

“I had my own business t’ attend, Count Dane,” Silkie countered. “Th’ Duke knows I bear no ill will towards ’im.”

Titus stomped a hoof, cutting off Count Dane’s response. “We’re here t’ speak of Nettlekiss, and by th’ waves, ye can wait till that’s settled t’ indulge yer own rivalries!” He stared them down, receiving a nod from each in turn before continuing. “Nettlekiss hired a griffon mercenary t’ attack me durin’ my lad’s weddin’, and unleashed ’er pet wyrd on all our lands. I think we can all agree that she needs t’ be punished.”

Rarity blinked. Pet wyrd? Was Titus claiming that Twilight had been intentionally unleashed by Nettlekiss like some wild animal she’d dug up from the ocean?

“Aye!” The word came at once from each of the eleven other nobles, reinforced by firm nods, stomped hooves, and raised mugs.

For the first time Rarity had seen, Count Armet spoke up. “Th’ witch’s retinue took great losses at th’ battle. She’ll be raisin’ ’er levies, expectin’ attack.”

“Aye, Count Armet.” Titus gave a firm nod. “I’m willin’ t’ send half of my own retinue on th’ march. With support from each of ye, we could easily storm Castle Urtica. But we must act now, before she has time t’ prepare!”

A round of mutters traveled around the table and a few of the standing advisors leaned in to whisper into their lieges’ ears. Count Dane was the first to speak clearly. “What can mere soldiers do against th’ monster that Nettlekiss controls? I’ll not send ponies t’ die against that thing. We’ve had no war on th’ island fer two years now, and I’m sure Nettlekiss would be willin’ t’ pay t’ make amends fer any unmeant collateral.”

“I killed th’ monster!” Titus retorted.

The table fell silent, disturbed only by the excited buzz of the watchers. Rarity found herself glowering at the back of Titus' head, ears twitching as the ponies behind her gossiped about whether or not one of her best friends was truly dead. Oh, how she wished to round on them all and shame them, to tell them that Twilight Sparkle was not a monster, was never a monster, and not one of them deserved to speak of her that way.

After a few seconds, Count Dane leaned forwards. “Do ye have a body?”

“Are ye callin’ me a liar?”

“I’m sayin’ that ye can’t be sure, and that ain’t good enough fer me!”

With a start, Rarity noticed that Titus was physically growling, the low rumble just barely audible from where she stood. Whitehorn leaned down and said a few words under his breath.

Titus snorted, calming himself. “Ye can split ’er lands among ye. As long as she’s taken care of, I won’t make any claims.”

Countess Silkie hummed thoughtfully. “Ye make a temptin’ offer, Duke Titus, but what’s t’ ensure our own lands don’t fall t’ th’ vultures while we’re away?”

“Honor,” Count Armet said. “We are all honorable lords and ladies, and we would not stoop so low as t’ strike another in th’ back while they’re dealin’ with a clear threat t’ th’ whole island.” He scanned the table, straightening up. “Or would any of ye prove me wrong?”

Nods and appreciative murmurs passed over the table. Rarity frowned as she inspected the nobles, seeing a mixture of pride, greed, and vindictive anger reflected in their eyes. A chill ran down her spine as she understood what was happening.

“So we are agreed, then?” Titus asked. He raised his mug, causing the brew inside to slosh over the edge and drip down the side. “It will be a brief campaign, and by th’ end of it ye’ll all be richer ’n lands and poorer ’n nuisance!”

They’re talking about war. Rarity let out a soft gasp as the seated nobles all shared nods amongst themselves. She thought of Ivory, and of Onyx’s grim expression when he told her of the mare’s death. Two dozen soldiers had died in the surprise attack on the Duke’s estate, plus who knew how many on the invader’s side or innocent civilians caught in the middle. How many more would die if the rest of the island mobilized to destroy Nettlekiss? Rarity didn’t know much of the Duchess, but from what she had heard it would not be beyond the mare to draft every villager in her lands and put them between her and the attacking force.

Somepony had to say something. Her eyes darted to Whitehorn, but he stood silent. Why isn’t he saying something?

One at a time, the other nobles raised their mugs with calls of “Aye!”. Rarity opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She had crossed one noble before, and it had cost her hoof in marriage. What would happen if she opposed a dozen all at once? How would Titus react if she countermanded him in front of everyone else?

She raised a hoof to step forwards.

To her shock, the voice that spoke up wasn’t hers. “Friesland will not allow it!”

All eyes turned towards the front of the tent. A stallion stepped forwards with a stern glare, his eyes shadowed by the tricorn on his head. Nettle leaf designs were embroidered onto the shoulders of his long grey cloak.

Titus slammed his mug down onto the table. “What business is this of Friesland’s? Ye lot ought t’ stay out of th’ barons’ affairs!”

“Governor Rhea has extended the city’s protection to Duchess Nettlekiss,” the stallion said. “She has already sent troops with rifles to Castle Urtica, and if you march against the Duchess, you will be cut off from our ports.”

Angry jeers rose up from the nobles, backed up by bitter murmurs from the watching crowd. 

Rarity watched as Titus very deliberately stood out of his seat, rising to his full height and bringing the tent to silence. “Ye best stand down, city dog,” he snarled. “Nettlekiss has gone too far, and if ye stand by ’er then ye’ll be ready t’ fall with ’er as well.”

Rarity could see the other nobles calculating, looking to their advisors and exchanging quick words. Her breath hitched as more and more of them turned back to the table with nods of solidarity. With Nettlekiss weakened, they saw their chance to solve two problems with one war, and all it would cost them were the lives of hundreds of ponies.

The tricorned stallion met Titus’ eyes without faltering. “Do you mean to go to war, sir?” he asked. “Take care with your words, as once spoken they cannot be so easily taken back.”

Countess Silkie stood up. “Aye, we mean t’ go t’ war, ye pompous rooster!”

Count Armet followed. “We’ve had enough of yer meddlin’!”

Count Dane glanced between the standing ponies before joining them with a firm nod. “Aye.”

One by one, the remaining nobles stood, declaring their support. All the while Titus and the tricorned stallion stared each other down, and all the while Rarity’s heart beat faster and faster. Could she hold them all in her magic and force them to see reason? There were so many, and what of all the ponies watching in the crowd? And above all else, why couldn’t she bring herself to move?

“Run back t’ yer walls,” Titus said, all twelve seats at the table now empty. “Th’ barons will march t’ war.”

“And you’ll march to your deaths,” the Frieslander responded. “Remember this moment when your precious lands burn.” He turned sharply, his cloak flapping out behind him, and stalked out of the tent.

The nobles all turned to each other with fire in their eyes. Titus grinned. “We’ll meet here again in an hour. Send messengers back t’ yer homes and raise yer levies. Tonight, we eat over plans of war!”

A chorus of “Aye!” filled the tent, and immediately the air was full of excited chatter. The nobles each began to file out into the open air while the crowds bustled about whispering of battles to come. Servants rushed to and fro, snatching the plates off the table and disappearing through two flaps at the back of the tent. Titus brushed past Rarity as he left, followed closely by Whitehorn and Pontius.

All at once Rarity’s body came back under her control. She burst into motion, running to follow them out of the tent. The sun was still high in the sky, and the camp seemed to throb with a new energy. Her mane flapped wildly in the rising wind as she searched for Titus among the crowd.

“Hey, Rarebear!” Rarity yelped in alarm as Pinkie Pie was suddenly in her face. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Sweet Celestia, Pinkie, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Pinkie cocked her head with a lopsided smile, raising one hoof to boop Rarity’s muzzle. “But I’m right in front of you, you silly filly! That’s not sneaky at all!”

“We don’t have time for this, Pinkie!” Rarity grabbed the pink mare’s shoulders, drawing a shrill squeak from her. “Where is Titus? I need to speak to him right now!”

“Oh, uh, o-okay!” Pinkie let out an exaggerated hum as she looked around. “Over there!”

Rarity followed Pinkie’s hoof, finally picking the orange of Titus’ robe out of a gap in the crowd. She took off without hesitation, not even looking over her shoulder as she shouted, “Many thanks, darling!” back at Pinkie.

“Wait, Rarity!” Pinkie called after her. “Is the dinner canceled? I just finished desert!”

Rarity ran through the camp as quick as she could while dodging the ponies walking every which way. The soldiers had a grim countenance about them, and she could already see messengers galloping out of the camp with saddlebags bouncing on their flanks. Was she too late?

At last she caught up. “Titus, a word, please!”

Titus, Pontius, and Whitehorn all looked back with expressions of annoyance, curiosity, and concern, respectively. He didn’t bother hiding the irritation in his voice. “What do ye need, lass? I’ve business t’ attend.”

“Like Tartarus you do!” She marched up to him, looking up with as much force as she could muster. “You can’t start a war over this!”

Titus blinked. He looked to Whitehorn and then Pontius as an amused grin slowly broke out on his face. “What say ye, lads? Can I start a war over this?”

Pontius looked to Rarity with an apologetic shrug. “My Lady, perhaps ye don’t understand what—”

“No, I understand, darling, though I appreciate your input!” Rarity snapped, keeping her eyes fixed on Titus. “You’re willing to burn this island to the ground if it means a little more power for you, and I won’t allow it!”

“Neigh, ye won’t allow it?” Titus echoed, his eyes wide with false surprise. “What are ye gonna do t’ stop me?”

“I’ll—I’ll—” Rarity’s horn sparked to life as the anger welled up inside her. Why hadn’t she said anything sooner? She had just stood and watched.

Whitehorn stepped in between them. “Countess—”

“Don’t you ‘Countess’ me, you scoundrel!” Rarity rounded on the other unicorn. “Why are you letting this happen? I thought you wanted to help ponies, and now you’re ready to send them to war?!”

He raised his forehooves in surrender. “Rarity, please, let me speak before you try to take my eye out!”

She clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring as she spat the words out. “Go on, then.”

“We need this island unified if we’re to see success at Parliament,” Whitehorn said, speaking cautiously. “Friesland is unlikely to allow a delegation to depart that doesn’t favor them, and they certainly won’t listen to diplomacy.” He sighed, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “War is a terrible thing, yes, but it’s what must be done.”

She slapped his hoof away, jabbing her own into the soft fabric of his vest. “You haven’t even tried diplomacy!”

Titus let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late, ye daft mare! Friesland and Nettlekiss have had this reckonin’ comin’ fer longer than ye know, and nothin’ is goin’ t’ stop it happenin’ now.”

“Why not?” Rarity demanded, turning on him. “Let me do it! Pinkie and I will go to Friesland, and we’ll get them to see reason since you clearly won’t! There’s no need for anymore bloodshed!”

Titus laughed in her face. “Aye, and ye’ll accomplish what no noble has in a century, then?”

The light of Rarity’s horn died down as she pushed her anger down into a cold ball of determination. “I think you’ll find that I’m not like any other noble, darling.”

The two of them stared each other down. After several long seconds, Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could offer a compromise?” Both ponies turned to him, and he flashed a quick smile before continuing. “It will take time for the levies to be raised, and I’m sure you’ll be laying the city to siege before any kind of assault, correct?”

Titus nodded. “Aye. A direct assault would be foalish t’ th’ extreme.”

“So then you’ll need time to prepare siege engines.” Whitehorn nodded along as he spoke. “It’ll be weeks before you’re ready to take the city, and maybe months before you finally do. What harm could it do if the Countess and I attempt a diplomatic approach in the meanwhile? At the very worst, we’ll be taken prisoner for you to free after your eventual victory. At best, we’ll unify the island and strike back at Nettlekiss with no unnecessary bloodshed.” He paused to let the words sink in. “I know you have no wish to waste the lives of your ponies on a needless war.”

Titus frowned down at him. His jaw worked side to side for several seconds before he finally gave a small nod. “Aye, there’s no harm t’ it.” He snorted, his frown turning to a small grin. “Yer not much good in a war either way, so I’ll not stop ye if ye seek yer own means of victory.” He leaned in, lowering his voice to a stern growl. “But ye don’t tell anyone outside th’ city I agreed t’ this. I’ll not be seen lookin’ weak fer one mare’s foalishness.”

Whitehorn dipped his head. “You’re quite gracious, my Lord.” He looked sideways at Rarity.

Rarity pursed her lips, brow furrowing, but eventually let out a sigh. I suppose it’s the best chance I’ll have. “Fine, then. Just be ready to put your weapons down when the time comes.”

“Ye have my word, lass.” Titus turned to leave.

“I shall accompany them!”

He paused. Slowly he looked back over his shoulder at Pontius, who was standing resolutely at Rarity’s side. “Ye what?”

“She’s my w-wife,” Pontius stammered, meeting his father’s eyes. “She’ll need someone with martial skill to protect her within th’ walls.”

Titus sighed, turning back to face his son. “Lad, it’s yer first real war. Ye should be marchin’ with troops of yer own and standing by me at th’ war table, not prancin’ around Friesland searchin’ fer peace.”

Pontius gulped, but remained steadfast. “She’s my wife, father. I won’t leave her unguarded.”

“I could assign ‘er a guard,” Titus offered. “And th’ Friesland troops won’t harm ‘er when they know they can ransom ‘er off.”

Pontius just stood there in silence. Rarity laid a hoof on his shoulder. “That’s quite sweet of you, Pontius, but I can take care of myself, and I’ll have Pinkie and Whitehorn with me.”

His eyes darted briefly in her direction before turning back to his father. “It’s th’ right thing to do.”

“Ach, fine!” Titus turned away with a flick of his tail, his wings shuffling with annoyance. “Yer a stallion, I suppose. Do what ye will, lad, but I best not hear ye let yerself be beaten by soft Frieslanders!”

The Duke stalked away at a brisk trot, leaving the three ponies alone in the crowd. Rarity’s heart was still pounding in her chest as she exchanged looks with each of her two companions.

“I’ll need to make some arrangements,” Whitehorn said, turning away. “Meet me at our wagons once you’re both prepared.”

Rarity watched him go before turning to Pontius, who had gone pale in the face. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed that he was shivering. “That was very brave of you, darling. I appreciate it.”

“A-aye, m-my Lady.”

“Whoa!” Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as Pinkie Pie shrieked into her ear. “Pontisnack, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Rarity sighed, turning to Pinkie with an exhausted smile. “I’m afraid we won’t be making desert, Pinkie,” she said. “At least not until we stop this war.”





Twilight couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. She had suffered them ever since waking up that day, and she was beginning to fantasize about pulling them out with magic and eating them whole.

Oh, how vicious, Midnight mused beside her. I like that.

She bit her lip, scanning the ruins again. She could only see a single pair of changelings, the two bug-eyed creatures watching the odd procession pass through the cratered street beneath them in silence. Star Trails was in the lead, followed by Sea Sabre and Flintlock on either side. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were walking just slightly ahead of Twilight, close enough for them to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies, but far ahead enough that they didn’t disturb Spike, who was following dutifully behind her.

They had their helmets back on, and Twilight’s newly acquired night vision had allowed her to take in every detail of their dive suits during the walk to the edge of Canterlot. Her eyes lingered on the stains of changeling blood that painted drooping shapes down their sides. The lack of color in her sight made Applejack’s suit almost look like the bloodstains were an intentional paint job, like the camouflage patterns she had sometimes seen on the outfits of bird watchers and forest rangers that sometimes passed through Ponyville. No such illusion was possible with Rainbow’s; the brash pegasus had painted her armor with lightning bolts and racing stripes, and the blood splattered over the designs obviously didn’t belong.

Applejack glanced back at her. “Y’all sure ya don’t want to travel with us, Twi?” Her voice was dulled by the bulk of her helmet. “It can get mighty lonely on the open road all by yourself.”

Twilight offered up a false smile. “I’ll be fine, AJ. Thank you.” I wish I could be lonely.

No, you don’t, Midnight whispered into her ear. Twilight didn’t waste energy on arguing the point.

“You could at least let us take the Elements,” Rainbow said. She kept her voice low, though it was unlikely that the salvage ponies would hear her from how far ahead they were. “It doesn’t feel right leaving them behind.”

“They’ll be safer here with Spike,” Twilight said. Spike let out a low rumble at the sound of his name, and a pang of anxiety stabbed into her heart. “And we can’t use them anyways.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Rainbow sighed.

Twilight’s pulse quickened as they turned a corner and the tunnel leading out of Canterlot came into view. It was wide enough for many ponies to travel abreast, and tall enough to fit an alicorn with room to spare, but far too small to fit a fully grown dragon. She glanced back at Spike, who snorted curiously at her.

Her hooves seemed to carry her forward of their own accord. She lifted one to Celestia’s necklace, taking comfort in the jewelry hanging over her chest as the tunnel drew ever closer. She had packed everything she would need for the trip: navigational tools from Shining’s kit, his logbook, Spike’s journal, and a few other books containing spells that might be useful and topics that interested her. It was a shame that she could only fit a half dozen books in her bags, and she had spent an agonizing hour deliberating over what to grab. She was almost tempted to run back and spend another couple hours on the matter, but what was the point? She had to leave Canterlot, and stalling wouldn’t accomplish anything.

She just wished she could take Spike with her.

Finally they reached the mouth of the tunnel. Twilight’s hooves came to a stop, and the other ponies looked back questioningly.

“I-I’ll catch up,” she said.

Sea Sabre nodded, leading her team deeper into the tunnel without a word. Applejack and Rainbow exchanged concerned glances.

“Y’all take as much time as ya need, Twilight,” Applejack said.

Rainbow trotted back and gave Twilight a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Spike, Twi. He’s the big bad dragon around here.”

Twilight huffed out a short laugh, and by the time the two other mares were beginning to disappear behind the curve of the tunnel, that laugh had turned into a sob. She turned around to face Spike, who was hunched low to the ground, his massive head just barely fitting into the mouth of the cave behind her.

He was just lying there watching her with those glittering green eyes, and she could barely form a word. It took her several tries before she was able to get her tears under control enough to speak.

“I-I’ve got to go, Spike,” she said, her voice wavering. He snorted at her, twin gouts of green flame flaring from his nostrils. “Y-you take c-care of the Elements for me, o—okay?”

He cocked his head, the scales on the top and bottom of his head scraping against the stone.

“I’m s-sorry,” Twilight whispered. She raised a hoof and scratched at the tip of his muzzle, and he squeezed his head a little closer to her with a low hum that echoed around the cave like thunder. “You k-know you’re m-my number one assistant, right?”

He shuffled his wings behind him, the ensuing gust tossing her mane into her face, and she choked out a tearful laugh. She reared up and did her best to wrap her forelegs around his muzzle, reaching her hooves around his twisted fangs.

“I love you, Spike.” Her voice was hoarse, and it cracked mid-word. “I-I’ll come back f-for you. Y-you—you’ve d-done good, okay?”

She lay there against him for perhaps a minute, feeling the vibrations of his content humming. He had so many scars. She rubbed a hoof over the hard ridges, trying to connect the marks left by the life he had lived without her to the stories from his journal.

Midnight draped a hoof over her shoulder, the chill contrasting sharply with the heat of Spike’s scales. He’s alive, little flower, and he’ll be alive when we return.

Twilight sniffled. How can we know?

He’s survived this long. It paused, and she could feel its hesitation. Perhaps he could have even beaten us, if he was one of mind.

Spike huffed, and Twilight imagined him laughing at the confession. She smirked, looking up as Midnight looked away with a curl of its lip. Are you trying to comfort me?

I’m trying to get us moving, Midnight shot back.

That’s okay, Twilight teased. It worked.

With one last shuddering sigh, she tore herself away. Spike’s humming stopped as she stepped deeper into the tunnel. 

“Goodbye, Spike,” Twilight said. “Be safe.”

She heard him snort behind her, his scales scraping against the stone as he tried to push himself after her. She kept her eyes forward, focused on Midnight waiting patiently ahead, because she knew that if she looked back she would never leave Canterlot again.

We shall return, dragon, it said, and then it too turned to walk by Twilight’s side.

Spike growled. His claws scraped against the rock and his wings beat vainly against the air. Twilight sped up her pace as more thick tears began to fall. The growling turned into a keening whine, and her heart broke.

Twilight’s horn glowed as she cast a bubble of silence over herself, and she wept as she galloped away from the oldest, most loyal friend she’d ever had.
> VIII: Of Soldiers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A solid thunk roused Rarity from her sleep, her eyes fluttering open with a startled yelp. The carriage had fallen still at an odd angle. Her horn glowed as she pulled the nearest curtain back, squinting into the dawn sun, and poked her head out the window set into the door.

Onyx was frowning down at one of the wheels in the back. He looked up and dipped into an apologetic bow, revealing the bags under his eyes. “Apologies, Countess. Th’ wheel’s broke.”

“That’s fine, dear. How—oh, my.” She raised a hoof to cover her muzzle as a tremendous yawn passed over her. “How long until we can continue on?”

“It’ll just be a few minutes t’ swap in th’ spare, Countess. Though ye may prefer t’ walk.”

Rarity cocked her head as she followed the orange-clad soldier’s outstretched hoof. A small hill overlooked the path, crowned by a narrow trench and surrounded by a collection of pale tents. A banner fluttered over the peak, the colors only just visible through the shadow cast by the sun: yellow, with a bright red rooster in the center.

“Yes, I think we’ll manage on our own from here, Onyx. My sincere thanks for your service.”

Rarity pulled her head back into the wagon, turning to see Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie rousing from their respective slumbers. It had been a hectic night after the nobles’ conference; Whitehorn and Pontius had traveled forwards with Countess Silkie, while Rarity and Pinkie had made their way back to Titus’ estate with great haste to reunite with Fluttershy and pack appropriate provisions for an extended stay in Friesland. She had barely been able to keep her eyes open when they left the estate again, even with the wagon bouncing and creaking underneath her. The nap she’d stolen during the ride wasn’t nearly enough.

“Is everything okay, Rarity?” Fluttershy asked.

“Just a minor inconvenience, darling.” Rarity swung the wagon door open with her magic. “Fortunately, it’s only a quick walk to our destination. I think it’ll be nice to stretch our legs after so long cooped up, don’t you?”

“I know I do!” Pinkie squealed in delight as she rolled out of the wagon, kicking up a small cloud of dust as she landed on her back in the dirt of the path.

Rarity cringed back. “Pinkie, be careful with that dirt!”

“What?” Pinkie whined, causing Onyx to wince beside her as he fetched her wheelchair. “You’re all the way up there!”

Fluttershy departed next, wings barely disturbing the drifting cloud as she alighted next to Pinkie and helped her up. “You really should be more careful, Pinkie. Rarity works very hard on her dresses.”

“It’s not like she didn’t bring spares!” Fluttershy yelped as Pinkie drew her into a tight hug, whispering loudly into her ear. “Her trunk is full of dresses, Fluttershy! I don’t know how she did it, but she squeezed her whole closet into it. A Rarity closet!”

Rarity smiled with pride as she gingerly stepped out onto the dirt road. “Perhaps if you folded your clothes you could do the same, darling.” Her horn glowed, floating the bags they had packed just a few hours previously and placing them snugly on their owners' respective backs. A few stray strands of confetti slipped out past the flap of Pinkie’s bags, drawing an excited giggle from the pink mare as she strapped herself into her wheelchair.

Next came her wardrobe trunk. “Pinkie, dear, could you carry this for me?” Rarity set her jaw, focusing on the carefully folded clothes inside the heavy tin chest. The carriage groaned in relief, rising up off the strained suspension as it was relieved of the weight. 

“No problem, Rarebear! Just hook it onto my train!”

Pinkie’s smile was infectious, and Rarity couldn’t help but match it with her own as she tied her trunk to the back of Pinkie’s chair with a knot of string. Pinkie started up the hill with a cheery hum, the trunk bouncing along behind her as she pronked up the slope. Rarity and Fluttershy followed at a more relaxed pace.

The camp was all but bare of activity; most of the motion came from the yellow banners fluttering in the breeze. Plain white tents were scattered around the foot of the hill in little groups of threes and fours, clustered around the smoldering embers of their fire pits as if seeking refuge from the biting wind. Rarity picked out Whitehorn waiting near the edge of the camp, exchanging a few words with a hawkish unicorn soldier. His ear twitched at the sound of Pinkie’s humming and he turned to the trio with a smile.

“Countess, Pinkie, Fluttershy.” He dipped into a quick bow. “It puts my heart at ease to see you all made it here in one piece.”

Fluttershy shot a nervous glance towards a group of passing soldiers, stepping closer to Rarity’s side. “Um, why wouldn’t we, uh, make it in one piece?”

“You can never be too cautious when there are soldiers on the march,” Whitehorn said. He turned to Rarity, and she was suddenly sharply aware of how she must look after the harrowing back and forth journey. “Pontius is breaking his fast with Countess Silkie right now. She extended an invitation for you to join them.”

“Oh, goodness, already? But I’ve just arrived.” Rarity raised a hoof to her mane with a distressed titter. “And what of Pinkie and Fluttershy?”

“I’m afraid the Countess is not accustomed to dining with those of lower birth.” Whitehorn raised a hoof to beckon Pinkie and Fluttershy towards him. “I’ll get them settled in, Countess. When did you intend to leave, if I might ask?”

“Well, I’d certainly hate to linger too long when there’s a war to be stopped.” Rarity let out a theatrical sigh. “Where am I expected?”

“Countess Silkie’s tent is on the crest of the hill, in the very center. You couldn’t possibly miss it.” Whitehorn dipped into another bow before turning away. “Come along, fillies. There’s much to do.”

With a smile from Fluttershy and a wave from Pinkie, Rarity was left alone among the tents with nothing but her thoughts and the gusting wind to accompany her. She glanced around, eyeing the few soldiers scattered around the otherwise empty camp. Some dipped their heads in respect, but most turned their stony gazes to the horizon.

Raising a hoof to adjust the shade provided by her sun hat, Rarity strode up the hillside with a carefully measured gait. She had to make a brief detour upon reaching the trench at the top to cross using a wooden plank that spanned the gap, the wood bending precariously under her weight. She looked down as she crossed, paled as she saw the sharpened stakes staring back up at her, and sped into a hasty hop to the other side before stopping to recompose herself.

It was just a short walk from there to the top of the hill and the large square tent that commanded it. A pair of guards wearing bright red capes over their shoulders stood out front, and one poked his head inside to say a few words as she approached. The other held the tent flap open, lowering his eyes in respect. Smiling her thanks, Rarity stepped inside.

Pontius and Countess Silkie were seated on cushions around a long, round table laden with plates of steamed vegetables, cheese, and bread. Rolled up maps were stored securely in a small scroll shelf in one corner next to a pair of closed trunks decorated with red lace. The back half of the tent was cordoned off from the front with a thin curtain, but the light streaming through the fabric made it easy to see the small bed and wardrobe behind it. Pontius was wearing his usual breastplate and orange tabard, while Silkie had put a wool coat on over the red tunic she’d been wearing previously.

Both ponies looked up as Rarity entered. Pontius immediately rose up out of his seat, stepped to Rarity’s side, and extended a wing to hover over her shoulder with a wide smile. “Countess Silkie, I present to ye my wife, Countess Rarity.”

Inwardly Rarity couldn’t help but cringe. Outwardly she put on a warm smile of her own and dipped into a perfect curtsey, the fringe of the white cloak draped over her shoulders hanging just off the floor. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess.”

Countess Silkie stood to return both the curtsey and the smile. “So it is, lass. We can dispense with th’ titles if ye don’t mind. Just call me Silkie while we’re among ourselves.”

Rarity nodded. “And you may feel free to call me Rarity.”

“I’m glad we have an understandin’, then. Take a seat, will ye? Before th’ food chills.”

Rarity obliged, levitating a cushion to a position a comfortable distance to Pontius’ position before settling into place.

He sat down as well, turning to Rarity. “Silkie and I were just discussing th’ siege.”

Rarity blinked. “Siege? Already? But I thought—well, it’s only been a day!”

Silkie snorted. “Neigh, not quite a siege yet. This is just th’ vanguard. Th’ rest of th’ force shall take a week t’ assemble, at least.” She paused, regarding Rarity with an appraising eye. “I hear ye intend t’ put a stop t’ it.”

“That is the plan, yes.” Rarity’s horn twinkled as she filled her plate as fast as was proper. It had been some time since she last ate, and she expected it might be even longer before she was given another opportunity. “I presume this displeases you?”

“Neigh, I wouldn’t say displeasure is quite th’ word. My lands are the closest t’ Friesland, and most likely t’ burn if we’re unable t’ break them. A quick surrender would be best fer all parties, at least fer now.”

Rarity frowned, but couldn’t respond with her mouth full. She raised a hoof to signal that she had something to say, covering her muzzle as she swallowed. “How do you mean, for now? Surely that would be the end of it?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? If th’ city has an army in its streets ’n a blade t’ Governor Rhea’s neck, well, we take what we want and that’s that,” Silkie leaned forwards. “But if we’re speakin’ of negotiations, then they’ve got a bit more t’ bargain with, eh? Suddenly compromise becomes an option, as much as th’ barons’ll hate it. Maybe they throw Nettlekiss t’ th’ dogs after all in exchange fer their continued independence, and they open their ports t’ whatever we please fer a time, but that doesn’t solve th’ matter. The city’s still there, and in a few years once th’ treaties expire and some other quarrel rears up, I’ll be right back here drawin’ up th’ same lines.” She paused, leaning back with a wistful expression. “Though I’ll be sure t’ get some more cannon in between.”

“But why does there have to be another quarrel?” Rarity asked, gesturing with a hoof. “There’s no reason you can’t all get along!”

Silkie chuckled, reaching a hoof to give Pontius a good-natured shove. “Where’d yer father find such a mare as this, lad? And Gifted, too!”

Pontius nodded with a tentative smile. “She is certainly a remarkable mare.”

Silkie turned back to face Rarity, who was watching her with a stern frown. “Th’ barons and th’ city have been clashin’ ever since th’ first ships showed up, lass. When th’ last king fell, we were all so busy squabblin’ over who’d be th’ next one that we didn’t even notice th’ city had become its own power until it started threatenin’ t’ cut us off if we crossed it. That was generations ago, and it’s only gotten stronger since. If we don’t stop it, I figure eventually the governor’ll decide she’s in charge of th’ whole island, and by then there won’t be nothin’ t’ do but go along. Can’t be more than a few decades off now.”

“So if you don’t defeat it decisively, then it’ll take over the whole island,” Rarity said. She pursed her lips, frowning down at her plate.

“Aye, now yer gettin’ it. Maybe not every baron knows it yet, but one of us is gonna have t’ give in t’ th’ other in th’ end, and I don’t think th’ winner’s gonna give th’ loser a second chance.”

“Or,” Rarity began, looking up to meet Silkie’s eyes, “a mare of proper manners teaches you how to live in peace.”

“Ach, yer worse than that Whitehorn lad.” Silkie waved a hoof in the air with a scoff. “Idealist nonsense.”

Rarity cocked her head. “You know Whitehorn?”

“Of course I know ’im!” Silkie snorted. “First time Titus sent ’im away empty-hooved, he did some diggin’ and came sweet-talkin’ me next. Th’ stallion’s relentless.”

“What did he want from you?” Rarity asked.

“My help with Titus.” Silkie smirked. “Old soldier’s still got a soft spot fer me.”

“O-oh.” Rarity glanced towards Pontius, eyes wide. He had his eyes very intently focused on a hunk of bread on his plate. “So you’re—”

“Neigh, lass, nothin’ like that.” Silkie shook her head wistfully. “Just a few years of fun, back before politics took over our lives.”

“Ah. Of course.”

Unsure what else to say, Rarity turned her attention back to her food. Countess Silkie seemed content to sip at her drink and reminisce in silence, and Rarity saw no reason to interrupt, so she occupied herself by grabbing a long slice of bread from the middle of the table in her magic and applying a thin coating of butter. Not too much, of course; she had to watch her figure.

So conflict was inevitable, or so Silkie believed. Surely there was some way the two sides could coexist in peace? These negotiations would be even more important than Rarity had thought; she would not have to just stop one war, but perhaps even find a way to stop them all.

The boom of thunder rolled over the tent. Rarity looked up with a jump, seeing her own surprise reflected in Pontius’ eyes as the plates, table, and even the ground under their hooves seemed to shudder in sympathy.

Silkie, however, let out a groan of exasperation. She raised a hoof to rub at her temple and shook her head. “That daft idiot…”

“Goodness, that was unexpected.” Rarity let out a breathy titter. “The sky was still clear when I arrived.”

“That’s not thunder, I’m afraid.” Silkie popped a square of cheese into her mouth and stood up, continuing to speak as she chewed. “That’ll be th’ Frieslanders.”

Rarity blinked. “The Frieslanders?” Two more booms joined the first in quick succession, knocking over Silkie’s mug and spilling its contents onto the ground.

“Feel free t’ stay and eat t’ yer fill, Rarity. I expect I’ll be needed.” She slipped out of the tent, drawing her wool coat closer as she turned into the wind.

Rarity turned to Pontius. “Do you know what she means, darling?”

Pontius’ lips were set in a grim line. “Aye, my Lady. Th’ Frieslanders are th’ name of the great mortars that defend th’ city. They must have just fired.”

“W-what?” Rarity shot out of her seat as her pace quickened. “Are we in danger? What of my friends?”

Pontius stood up as well, raising a calming hoof. “Ye need not worry! Th’ camp is well outside of their range. Most like they were just firing upon th’ vanguard in th’ field.”

“And we’re sitting here eating bread and cheese?” Rarity scooped a daisy sandwich up in her magic as she stormed out of the tent, tearing half of it off in one bite and scanning the horizon. She hadn’t realized it before, but the hillside gave an excellent view of the surrounding land. It was mostly open farmland, broken only by scattered hills, copses of trees, and simple cottages, with the high walls of Friesland dominating the horizon to the west. There was a flash of light from atop the wall, and the rumble of thunder followed a few seconds later.

She looked down into the fields surrounding the city, where a group of ponies were running frantically towards the camp. She flinched at the sudden blast in their midst, throwing up thick clods of dirt and—she gasped, falling onto her haunches as a hoof rose to her chest. Were those limbs flying through the air? The half-eaten sandwich fell to the ground beside her as a surge of bile threatened to eject her breakfast.

Pontius came up beside her, his wings hovering just a few inches from his sides. “My Lady, we should make fer our tent! We should be careful not to get in th’ way.”

Rarity barely heard him. She burst into motion, her carefully manicured hooves digging into the dirt as she leapt over the trench and down the hillside. Her mind was back in Titus’ dining room, accompanied by the stench of blood.

The fleeing soldiers swarmed into the camp in a rush, bringing with them the moans of their wounded. The red of their uniforms made it impossible to see the bloodstains as ponies were dragged into a long white tent towards the center of the camp, some of them missing limbs. Rarity caught sight of Countess Silkie in the middle of it all exchanging heated words with a panting earth stallion, and she angled herself towards them.

“Forgive him, Countess,” the soldier was saying, his head lowered. “Th’ Captain gave us th’ order t’ chase, Countess, and he right paid fer it. Lost both legs in th’ first shot, Countess. We had t’ leave ‘im behind.”

“Idiot foal, chasin’ skirmishers int’ cannon range!” Silkie swore, stomping her hooves. “Tartarus! Get yer wounded seen t’, Sergeant, and establish a picket with those that’re able t’ walk. Did th’ Frieslanders give chase?”

The sergeant shook his head. “They just about disappeared th’ instant we lost sight of ’em, Countess.”

“Ach, I suppose it’s too much t’ hope th’ commander on their side would be as fool as mine,” Silkie grumbled. “Yer dismissed fer now, Sergeant.” She looked up as Rarity approached, fixing her with a commanding glare. “Countess Rarity. I’m afraid yer needs will have t’ wait, whatever they may be. I must see t’ my ponies.”

Rarity hesitated as she came to a stop, heart racing. The mare she faced now was a far cry from the one she had just eaten with. “I only wish to help, Countess. Where am I needed?”

Silkie arched a brow. “Ye ain’t needed anywhere in here, fer certain.”

“But—surely the wounded—”

“We have healers of our own,” Silkie snapped. “I ain’t th’ fool that marches t’ war with no accommodation fer my troops. If ye wish t’ lend aid, ye can find th’ triage tent yerself, but if ye wish t’ make a difference?” She jerked her head west, towards the thin layer of trees that ran between the camp and the city. “Ye go do yer talkin’, and leave th’ fightin’ t’ those that know how.”

Rarity stared open-mouthed as Silkie marched away without even waiting for a response. After a few seconds a pained scream from the triage tent shook her from her trance. She turned towards it just as Pontius caught up to her, breathing hard.

“My Lady, please—”

“Come with me, darling!”  Rarity galloped towards the triage tent, bursting through the open entrance and into the chaos within. At least two dozen soldiers were strewn around the tent, huddled up on soiled bedrolls while a few able-bodied healers rushed between them, shouting commands for healthy troops to fetch them water or alcohol or linens or tools. Fluttershy and Pinkie were already among them, hunched over a green unicorn mare with a missing leg.

“Oooh, hold on, Night Rose!” Pinkie had one of the mare’s forelegs clutched in her own, holding her attention while Fluttershy worked on the severed stump. “And don’t you worry, cause you don’t need four legs to dance! As long as you’ve got a tune inside you, you can dance with your heart!”

Night Rose blinked slowly up at Pinkie, her mouth hanging open in a faint frown, but said nothing. A piece of ripped cloth had been tied tight around her leg, slowing the bleeding to a trickle.

Rarity skidded to a stop at Fluttershy’s side. “Fluttershy, Pinkie! How can I help, dears? Do you need me to fetch anything for you?”

Fluttershy gave a slight shake of her head, but kept her eyes focused on the wound as she cleaned it with a dampened cloth. “That’s okay, Rarity. Brownie is bringing my kit for me.”

Rarity frowned. “Brownie?”

“It’s what I named ’Shy’s pet bear!” Pinkie chirped. “Remember the little baby she found in the woods? She’s brown and she’s sweet and I just wanna gobble her up, ahh!”

It was at that moment that Rarity saw a bear cub stumble into the tent, its body almost completely hidden beneath Fluttershy’s saddlebags. It waddled up to Fluttershy’s side, settling down with a muffled grunt.

“Thank you, Brownie,” Fluttershy said, reaching over to open one of the bags and pulling out a small jar. She popped it open with her mouth and dipped the tip of a primary in its contents, using the feather to dab the thick paste inside over the wound. “Just a little bit of this, and then we can get a bandage on and take that nasty tourniquet off.”

Rarity grimaced as she watched the wounded mare squirm and groan on the bedroll in spite of Pinkie’s best attempts to distract her. Looking around, she saw a wounded stallion gasp out a haggard breath and fall still on his bedroll. A healer came by, checked the stallion’s neck for a pulse, and barked some words to a pair of watching soldiers. Slowly they bent down to pick the dead pony up and carry him out of the tent.

All this pain, and on only the first day. Rarity’s hooves kneaded at the ground. She desperately needed to do something, but Silkie was right: she wouldn’t be making a difference here. This was an army camp, and there was already a dedicated detachment of healers working to save lives, and they had no need of one more mare to fetch bandages or hold wounds. The tent was clogged with bodies as it was.

The heat in the air was too much. “I-I’ll be outside if you need me, girls.”

The chill air outside the tent was a sweet relief compared to the stuffy interior. Pontius and Whitehorn were standing a short distance from the open flap, and she turned to join them.

“Ah, Lady Rarity.” Whitehorn dipped into a low bow. “Is all well?”

“Nothing is well,” Rarity said, looking west. “We should be in Friesland already.”

“Already? Surely some time to rest and plan can only do good,” Whitehorn said. 

Pontius nodded. “Ye must be exhausted after yer travels last night, my Lady. Ye should rest.”

“I won’t be getting any sleep in this camp, that is for certain!” Rarity shot back. “Not when there are ponies dying a few steps away and I’m not doing anything to help them!”

Pontius and Whitehorn flinched back. The latter’s eyes darted towards the triage tent as another body was hauled out, his lips set in a grim line. “It is a dirty business, war. I admit I’ve never had a stomach for it, myself. How is it looking in there?”

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Rarity asked, curling her lip at him. Come to think of it, where had he been during the surprise attack on Titus’ estate? She shook her head, dislodging the distracting thought. She had to focus on what mattered. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”

Whitehorn raised his hooves in surrender. “Well, I certainly know better than to argue with you when you have that look on your face. Countess Silkie’s provided us with a white flag, but I’d advise you give it an hour or two at least. Battle was just met, and it’s best not to approach soldiers while their blood is still hot.”

Rarity nodded. As much as the waiting would kill her, it made sense. “Very well. We leave as soon as Fluttershy and Pinkie are finished with the wounded.” She took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to slow, and looked between him and Pontius. “Until then, I suppose we can spend some time discussing our approach.”





Useless.

Silence had always been a rare treat aboard the Argo. The ticking gears hidden behind the walls, the bursts of steam venting from the pipes, the rattling of the metal plating and the buzzing of the propellers had been Rainbow’s constant companions for most of her time in the drowned future. They had annoyed her at first, but with time she had come to find comfort in the staccato melody of the ship’s song.

Why am I so useless?

But the ship was laughing at her now. She paced through the darkened halls, the pale starlight of the fading night mixing with the feeble yellow of dawn before filtering through the passing windows in tight columns. The gears gossiped in her wake, sharing sinister jokes with the metal plating that nattered away underhoof. She approached a door, and the steam vented by its opening tickled at her ears. The door slammed shut behind her, steam hissing at her back as she stalked away.

“I’ll be fine, girls. Don’t worry about me.”

A few words exchanged, a heartfelt hug, and then they had climbed back into the submarine and made for the surface. Star Trails had made for the flight deck to plot a course to the Frozen North—now known as The Grey—and Flintlock had been almost literally tugged to the medical room by Dusty Tome to have his burns examined. Sea Sabre had spared her a firm nod before vanishing to wherever she had gone.

Rainbow had walked with Applejack to the cargo hold to check on Luna, and then the cowpony had put her hat on and announced she felt like “a half-strung haybale” before slipping into her quarters. Rainbow was left alone with her thoughts.

She had flown up on top of the ship’s balloon and run through her stances for hours. She had polished and oiled her wingblades almost to the point of damage. She had stood in the little supply closet where she’d lost her eye, staring at the too-clean floor where the faded brown stain was supposed to mark the panicked motions of her wings through her blood. Who had scrubbed it clean?

It was past dawn now and she still couldn’t rest. She should be out in the open air, feathers catching the wind, speeding north with every pump of her wings.

A door opened in front of her with the hiss of steam and she found herself stepping onto the flight deck. Sunfeather was nowhere to be seen, but Star Trails looked up from where she stood on the control dias.

“Oh, hey, Dash.” She smiled in greeting before turning her attention back to the controls. “You’re up early.”

Rainbow’s tail flicked side to side behind her. She didn’t feel like talking, but now she was trapped. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Wow, been up all night?” Trails chuckled as she shook her head, her navy blue mane sweeping over her shoulders. “Flint always crashes into bed and sleeps like a brick after a dive.”

Rainbow realized she was clenching her jaw. She forced herself to take a deep breath, wings shuffling at her sides as she stepped down to the lower level that held the controls. “What about you?”

Trails didn’t answer for a few seconds. She consulted a chart splayed out over several knobs besides her. “Well, I’ve always been one of Luna’s children. I do my best work at night.”

Rainbow nodded, but Trails was too busy with her work to notice. She seemed content to fiddle with the controls in silence, and Rainbow saw her opportunity to leave. She turned for the exit, but her hooves wouldn’t move.

Why did you shoot Twilight?

She shook her head, her eye squeezed tightly shut. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to be alone, but the question just kept bouncing around inside her head, louder and louder. Her wings twitched at her sides. She felt naked without her blades.

Why did you shoot Twilight?

She should leave it be. She couldn’t leave it be. Rainbow Dash would never let harm come to one of her friends, and yet it would have happened anyways. She was in the ruins again, watching that murderous javelin fly for Twilight’s heart. What would she have done if it had struck true?

“Why did you shoot Twilight?”

Rainbow blinked, startled by the sound of her own voice. She heard a sharp inhalation behind her, and turned to see Trails looking at her with tired green eyes.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You tried to shoot her.” Rainbow was in the other mare’s face now, her wings flared out. What was the point of all the training if she still couldn’t protect the ones she loved? Darkness crept into the corners of her vision as she raised a hoof and shoved Trails back. “You tried to kill her!”

Trails stumbled back, raising her hooves in surrender. “It was an order, Dash! Sabre doesn’t give them lightly, and when she gives them, you follow.” She paused before adding in a quieter voice, “That’s just how it works.”

“That’s how it works?” Rainbow spat. She slammed into Star Trails with a vicious snarl. The unicorn cried out as she was brought to the ground, flinching back as Rainbow screamed into her face. “You tried to kill my best friend!”

“D-Dash, stop!” Trails raised her forelegs in defense. “I—I didn’t—”

“Let me show you how this works!” Rainbow’s voice broke as she raised a hoof. Trails squirmed beneath her, but she was helpless underneath the pinning force of the pegasus’ beating wings.

“Rainbow Dash, stand down!”

The command wrapped around Rainbow’s body like a vice, holding her back, and Trails seized the moment to kick her off and scramble back to her hooves. Rainbow blinked, the anger falling to confusion as she looked up to see Sea Sabre frowning down at her.

“Sabre—”

“No!” Sabre stomped a hoof. “I will not have you, nor anyone else, attacking my ponies on my ship!”

Rainbow shrunk back, wide-eyed under the sheer force behind the words. She’d been on the receiving end of Sabre’s shouted commands many times during her training, but this was different. She’d heard Sabre be demanding, stern, even disappointed. But as she looked up into those fiery red eyes and the sharply angled brow above them, Rainbow realized that this was the first time she was seeing Sabre angry.

Rainbow’s own outrage rose to the challenge, her wings catching the heat in her chest and pushing her off the ground as she shouted back, “She attacked my friend!”

“She was following my orders!” Sabre snarled, her own wings flaring. “Twilight was a threat to my crew, and I don’t take risks with their lives!”

“You think you’re always right, don’t you?” Rainbow shot back. “You can’t stand the idea that you might have made the wrong choice! She was just trying to protect Spike, and you tried to kill her for it!”

“Guys, chill!” Star Trails called out. “This is crazy!”

“I’ll handle this, Trails!” Sabre said, keeping her glare on Rainbow. She took a deep breath, folding her wings at her side. When next she spoke, her voice was almost too quiet to hear. “You’re right.”

Rainbow frowned, hovering mid-air with her brow furrowed. “W-what?”

“I made a bad call, Rainbow,” Sabre said, her eyes hard. “I’m not perfect. I have to make quick decisions with what I know.”

“Well, uh, looks like you two have this handled,” Trails said, slipping past Sabre and towards the door. “I’ll handle morning corrections after breakfast, Boss. See you later!”

With a hiss and a thud, the two pegasi were left alone in the room. Rainbow’s wings drooped at her sides as she slowly lost altitude, her hooves coming to rest against the floor. Without any resistance to rally against, the anger in her chest sputtered out, leaving only a cold emptiness behind.

“I—I don’t know what I would’ve done,” she said. “If she’d died.”

Sabre’s eyes softened as she climbed down the steps to the lower level and placed a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder. “I understand. I don’t blame you.”

“How could you understand?” Rainbow asked. All she could think about was that moment in the dark depths of Canterlot, watching a javelin fly for her best friend’s heart, every muscle burning with exertion and her mind racing to find some way to stop it. In the end, she hadn’t been good enough. She might as well have not even been there. She bit her lip as a shudder ran through her body.

Sabre didn’t say anything. The gears gossiped in the corners of Rainbow’s ears, causing the floor to vibrate beneath her as if barely restraining a laugh, and yet she couldn’t stop the words from flowing.

“I wasn’t tough enough to beat Gava. I’m not skilled enough to beat you. I wasn’t fast enough to stop Star Trails. Every time one of my friends is in danger, I’m not good enough to save them. How could you ever understand that?” Rainbow looked towards the sun, clenching her jaw and surrendering to the burning in her eyes. “You never make mistakes.”

Sabre let out a soft snort. “I thought I was wrong to order the attack on Twilight?”

“No you weren’t!” Rainbow’s voice cracked. “I wasn’t even sure of it myself. I spent the whole dive up to that moment wondering if I’d have to—if I’d have to s-save her from herself, you know?” She shook her head as her vision began to blur, tears dripping down both cheeks. “I was so close to d-doing it myself, but I would’ve been wrong. I came so close to killing my own best friend, and I hate myself for it!”

“It’s not your fault,” Sabre said, squeezing her shoulder. “Come on. I’m going to show you something.”

There was a part of Rainbow that bristled at the command in Sabre’s voice. The rest of her was exhausted, and was beginning to feel a creeping embarrassment. She took a deep breath as she blinked the tears away, straightening up. “O-okay.”

Sabre beckoned with a wing, leading her out into the hall outside the flight deck, past the medical room, and to a nondescript door of thin metal by the top of the stairs that led down to the lower level. It opened with a soft click, the hinges swinging open without complaint.

Rainbow peered past Sabre’s shoulder with a curious frown. A simple cot was pushed up against the left wall, supporting a mattress, pillow, and sheet that all looked too thin for comfort. Against the opposite wall was an old wooden desk, its surface protected behind a closed rolling cover. The far wall was shared by a wide bookshelf, short enough so as to not block the light from the one window, and a weapon rack where a set of gleaming wing blades were carefully hung.

“What’s this?” Rainbow asked.

Sabre stepped inside, beckoning with a nod of her head. “My quarters.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed as she followed. “This is it?”

“What were you expecting, gold engraving and landscape paintings?” Sabre smirked as she rolled the cover on the desk open. “No, the bits are better spent elsewhere. It’s hard for me to find comfort in too much comfort, either way.”

Whatever that means. Rainbow walked up to the bookshelf, leaning closer to inspect the titles. On the lower shelf she picked out a few that she recognized from stories she’d been told as a filly in Cloudsdale, such as Sun Jay and the Argomares and The Siege of Pegasopolis. She pulled the latter out, a small smile tugging at her lips as she saw the colorful image of a cloud city occupying the cover. Looking up, she saw the books on the higher shelf were much thicker, with long titles written in small, blocky font that she had to squint to read.

“Do you read?”

Rainbow jumped, turning to see Sabre eyeing her impassively. “U-uh—I mean, a little bit, I guess. I used to.”

Sabre nodded to the book in Rainbow’s hooves. “That story is one of my favorites. Is it true?”

“Um.” Rainbow hastily reshelved the book. “I don’t know. It’s just a myth I recognized from when I was a filly.”

“So that story survived the end of Equestria.” Sabre let out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe some ponies really will be remembered forever.”

“Did you bring me here to talk about books?” Rainbow asked, tail flicking behind her. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“Not those books, no.” Sabre stepped aside, gesturing to the surface of her desk. “This one.”

Rainbow stiffened. A small notebook bound in black cloth rested on the center of the desk, flanked on one side by quill and ink. She’d seen it a few times before, cradled between Sabre’s hooves as she ate dinner in the mess hall or propped up between charts while she checked over the ship’s course. She’d asked Flintlock once about the book’s contents, but he had only laughed and shaken his head.

She took a tentative step forwards, reaching a hoof out to flip the cover open. Carefully spaced lines of clean, rigid script waited inside. She leaned in to scan the first line.

Astral Thunder, 17. Plays harmonica. Lost two legs when cannon shot penetrated his cover. X

She blinked, looking up to meet Sea Sabre’s gaze. “What is this?”

“A record,” she said. She paused, looking to the window while her jaw moved side to side. “Every pony I’ve ever had under my command.”

Rainbow wasn’t sure what to say to that. If the look in Sabre’s eyes was any indication, maybe it was best not to say anything at all. She turned her attention back to the book.

Sunflower, 16. Carries flowers to give foals. Hip broken by sniper fire.
Velvet Crunch, 17. Volunteered along with siblings. Ear bitten off during ambush.
Ivory Eyes, 35. Speaks fondly of husband’s cooking. Shot in the face breaching a building. X

Rainbow licked her dry lips, her missing eye pulsing with a phantom pain as she scanned further down the page, and then to the page after, and the one after that. Names and ages were accompanied by short descriptions of personality and final fates. Sometimes there would be brief stretches where as many as a dozen ponies would leave Sabre’s care whole in body and mind, but these were rare. In one case she saw ten names all marked as dead, all with the same cause listed: crushed in collapsing building under artillery fire. Still the names went on. Rainbow shook herself, flipping through several pages in quick succession.

Aqua Aura, 30. Enjoys ocean swimming. Interrogated to death by griffon mercenary. X
Ice Charm, 29. Loses half of each paycheck courting mares. Retired healthy after big payout.
Silver Shine, 24. Designs board games with trinkets found in ruins. Suit malfunction. X

The names kept coming. The next page went blank about halfway down.

Star Trails, 25. Dives for curiosity instead of greed.
Dusty Tome, 37. Writes fiction in his spare time.
Sunfeather, 35. Brightens up when around family.

Rainbow blinked, looking up with a frown. “Where’s Flintlock?”

Sabre was leaning against the wall, still as a statue. “First page.”

The pages fluttered under Rainbow’s hoof. There, near the bottom of the first page, was a line she had skimmed over before.

Flintlock, 20. Stocks up on cider during family reunions.

Rainbow shook her head, eye wide. “He’s been with you all this time.”

“Just over eleven years,” Sabre said.

“And… all these other ponies?” Rainbow looked up.

“There’s something about being Gifted.” Sabre narrowed her eyes, her wings shuffling at her sides. “When you get a cutie mark, you’re an adult. Some ponies will send you into battle even though you aren’t ready, and even more will follow you.” She paused, stepping up closer to look down at the list of names in the notebook.

“There’s an island far southeast of here. Berchninny. War broke out a little after my 15th birthday, and I signed up. It felt right, I guess. I got my cutie mark a few months later, and they gave me a squad. Flint’s mercenary company was involved too, and he ended up attached to my platoon.

“It was urban warfare. House to house, and artillery going day and night. One day our unit was cut off, surrounded. Most of us didn’t make it back, the lieutenant included. We were short on ponies, and there I was with a blade burned on my flanks, so some brass somewhere decided I should be the one to take charge. Nobody else protested.” She pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring. “Idiots.”

“I learned a lot of lessons in that war, but I didn’t pay for any of them. The higher ups didn’t care as long as I won the day in the end. They just kept giving me—” she paused, shaking her head “—more ponies. Ponies even younger than I was, sometimes. I couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves; I had no choice but to keep going. There were a few times I came close to breaking, but I couldn’t do it. They were counting on me to protect them, so I learned, and one day I stopped feeling like the world was ending every time another fresh face showed up.”

Sabre reached over and flipped the book closed. “I was a soldier by the time the war ended. There was no going back to how things were, so Flint and I struck out on our own. Mercenary work is better, anyways. You can turn down the suicide missions and stay away from the wars.”

Rainbow looked down at the book in silence. She thought back to the battle at Altalusia, where she had sliced through flesh and broken bone thinking only of protecting her friends and the innocent villagers caught in between. Did those soldiers have their names written down in another book like this, alongside an ‘X’ and a short sentence that read, “Cut down in an instant by a pegasus with a rainbow mane”?

She looked up at Sabre. “Why are you showing me this?”

“We all make mistakes, Rainbow. Even me.” Sabre paused, a distant look in her eyes. “We can only do what we think is right at the time, and sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes we’re wrong. I don’t think Twilight would blame you for your thoughts, and I don’t think she’d want you tearing yourself apart over it. When it comes down to it, you’re the one that prevented the situation from escalating.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow straightened up as she felt the weight lifting from her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good.” Sabre stepped back with a firm nod. “You look terrible. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Sabre. I needed this.” Rainbow stood up and started towards the door. She paused in the threshold as a thought occurred to her, looking back over her shoulder. “I do have a question, though.”

Sabre arched a brow. After only a brief hesitation, Rainbow pressed on.

“How do you deal with the times you really do mess up?” She paused, licking her lips. “You know, when it really counts?”

Sabre looked away. Her jaw worked side to side for a few seconds before she answered, her eyes focused on something unseen. “You just tell yourself they were the right mistakes to make.”

Rainbow wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She felt like she should say something comforting, but she realized that she couldn’t find the words. Part of her wondered if Sabre would even hear them.

“I’ll see you for training later,” she said, walking out into the hall.





“Fluttershy, darling, you can’t be serious.” Rarity gestured helplessly with a hoof. “On your own, in the camp?”

“Well, um, I won’t really be alone.” Fluttershy looked down and pulled the bear cub at her hooves into a one-legged hug. “I have Brownie with me, after all.”

They were assembled at the edge of the camp, which had since settled from the hectic post-battle rush into a tense calm. The soldiers were back around their tents, laughing at jokes shared in raucous voices as they passed bottles of booze around in defiance of their close calls and bandaged wounds. Some campfires were quieter than others, either due to a lack of numbers or a lack of energy, but the healers had done good work, and casualties had been kept low.

Rarity had spent the two hours since the battle in front of a mirror borrowed from Countess Silkie’s tent, distracting herself with the careful application of makeup and discussions of diplomacy. No makeup could ever truly substitute for a proper beauty sleep, but she did feel somewhat more confident about striding into Friesland and calling for peace now that she looked less like a ragged drifter and had replaced her traveling clothes with a pale blue dress more suitable for a diplomat.

That confidence had begun to crack, however, when Fluttershy had told them that she intended to stay behind.

“But do you really have to, Fluttershy?” Pinkie asked, her brow creased with worry. “I just—I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up like this. What if something happens?”

“I have the whole army with me, girls” Fluttershy said. “I know I’m not, um, as tough as you two are, but this is where I can make the most difference.” She blushed, hiding behind her mane, and forced her next words out in a quiet rush. “And if I’m being honest, I think the idea of, um, facing down all the mean ponies in Friesland scares me more than staying behind and helping here.”

Whitehorn cleared his throat from behind them. “She’ll be safe in the camp. It’s well outside the range of the walls, and she’ll come to no harm from the troops here.”

“Yes, I know, of course, but I just—” Rarity sighed, shaking her head. “Bad things tend to happen when we split up.”

“Rarity.” Fluttershy stepped close, placing a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder and meeting her eyes. “I can’t talk to ponies like you or Pinkie do. I would only get in the way if I came to Friesland, and I’d hate to hold you two back from doing what you do best.” She blinked, as if suddenly realizing how firm she’d been speaking, and looked down to her hooves. “So just, I mean, let me do what I do best, OK? I mean, as long as you don’t mind.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the display. She rushed forward and pulled Fluttershy into a tight hug, drawing a startled squeak from the mare. “Very well, darling. But do take care of yourself.”

Pinkie joined the hug with an affectionate sigh. “We’ll be back soon! Brownie, you take care of her!” The bear cub let out a tiny growl as it rolled onto its side.

Pontius tapped Rarity on the back with a hoof. “My Lady, we’d best be going before th’ sun starts to set.”

With a sigh, Rarity pulled herself out of the hug. The three friends shared one last smile before Fluttershy turned away and walked deeper into the camp, Brownie playfully pouncing on her tail as it bobbed above the ground.

There was nothing left to do now but leave, and with a few nods of confirmation the little group stepped past the boundaries of the camp and headed west. Pontius led the way, one hoof wrapped around a tall wooden pole with a fluttering white flag flying from the top. Rarity was next, alongside Whitehorn, who was wearing a clean grey vest over his shirt. Pinkie pronked along in the back of the group, the wheels of her chair and the trunk seeming to beat out a cheery rhythm behind her. Each of them had full saddlebags tied around their barrels; it would most likely be days at the very least before they returned.

There was a sparse layer of trees between the hill the siege camp was on and the open farmland that surrounded the city, and Rarity realized that her hooves were shaking as they stepped beyond their protection. Her eyes lingered on a patch of torn up dirt beside the road where a cannon shell must have landed, picking out the stains of red left behind among the dislodged cabbages. Eerily enough, she didn’t see any bodies.

Pontius came to a halt so suddenly that they nearly bumped into him. She turned her eyes forward to see a stern-faced unicorn mare standing in front of them, in the open next to a field of tall wheat. She was wearing a coat of light blue with a grey and white band on each of the sleeves. A collar with several small pouches wrapped around her neck, and she wore a rifle in a harness at her side. A shield-shaped crest was emblazoned on each of her uniform’s flanks, depicting a black wall framed by a pair of light blue blocks.

Pontius dipped into a low bow. “We’ve come t’ parley.”

“Parley?” The mare spoke loudly, as if for an audience. She smirked. “One volley from the Frieslanders and the Berries are already racing to surrender!”

“We are not here to surrender.” Rarity stepped forwards, ignoring the mare’s inciting tone. “We are here to prevent any more bloodshed than is necessary.”

“Anymore country blood, you mean?” She made an exaggerated motion of scanning the fields. “I don’t think any Friesland blood has stained the crops yet.”

“You’re being mean!” Pinkie said, her nostrils flaring. “You shouldn’t laugh at ponies dying!”

“Well baronlanders hardly qualify as ponies, so I think I’m fine on that count.”

Whitehorn let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to escort us to the gates or not?”

The mare’s tail flicked in annoyance behind her. She stomped a hoof, and a smaller soldier in similar gear, a pegasus stallion, stepped out from the field. “Who requests parley?” she asked.

Pontius straightened up. “Sir Whitehorn of Heighton, Lord Pontius of Canterthusia, his wife Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Equestria, and Mistress Pinkie Pie, her hoofmaiden.”

The mare rolled her eyes as she turned to the waiting stallion. “Run ahead and announce them. I’ll escort them in myself.” The stallion clicked his hooves together in salute before starting down the road at a gallop.

Rarity offered up a disarming smile as the mare turned back to them. “And how shall we refer to you, madame?”

“You can call me Lieutenant Rollkur, but I’d prefer if you didn’t speak at all.”

She started towards the city at a brisk trot, and with a brief exchange of looks Pontius led the little party after her. Their hooves beat a staggered rhythm on the smooth cobbles of the road, accompanied by the soft swishing of the fields and the whispering of the wind. They passed several simple farmhouses, though if the boarded up windows and the scattered tools and toys forgotten on the porches were any indication, they had been abandoned with the beginning of the siege.

Rarity’s eyes, however, were fixed on the city. A sheer stone wall surrounded it, just about twice the height of her old boutique by her guess, the silhouettes of massive cannons perched atop with their barrels looking out over the fields to the east like fat hawks watching for prey. The ramparts made it difficult to see, but she did pick up on a few flashes of motion here and there, suggesting the presence of soldiers ready to fire at short notice. As they came closer Rarity realized that there was in fact a second wall, perhaps half the height of the inner one but with a noticeable slope to it. It carved a zig-zag path around the city, and although she saw only a few troops patrolling the top, she counted dozens of smaller cannon barrels poking out from protected firing positions. She wasn’t a military mare by any standard, but even she could tell that any assault on the city would be a bloody and savage affair.

The large wooden gate nestled in the shadow of a pair of squat towers cracked open with a ponderous groan, and a cream coated unicorn mare swaggered out, her two-toned pink mane tied into a neat ponytail. She wore the same blue coat as the other soldiers, though she wore it open, leaving the carefully polished silver buttons on the lapel to swing freely, and had a white epaulette hanging over her right shoulder.

Lieutenant Rollkur motioned for the party to stop with a raised hoof. “So what’s the decision?”

“Governor Rhea accepts the offer of parley,” the unicorn said with a relaxed grin. Her voice was firm but soft, a far cry from Rollkur’s irritated growl. “Do excuse my sister for the delightful entertainment I’m sure she’s supplied in the brief time you’ve known her. My name is Captain Piaffe, and I’ll be taking you from here.”

Rollkur sighed. “Really? Whatever.” She turned to trot back the way they had come, turning to shout over her shoulder. “Try not to trip on your coat, Piaffe. I’ve got more Berries to kill.”

Rarity looked after her with a shake of her head. “Such a rude mare.” 

“And why did she keep calling us berries?” Pinkie asked. “Am I the only one who kinda got the feeling she meant it as an insult?”

“It’s a pejorative some of the Frieslanders use for the country ponies,” Whitehorn explained. “Berry, derived from the name of the last Altalusian king, Berry Brawl.”

“Oh! Wait, but what kind of berry was he?”

Captain Piaffe cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “If you’ll follow me, friends? And you can leave the flag here.”

Although the road itself was wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast, the gap in the door was just wide enough for them to walk through single file, and Rarity soon found herself in the streets of Friesland proper. Skinny stone buildings with flat roofs were squashed side-by-side into neat rows, their roofs blooming with plant life and the signs hanging over their doors decorated with brightly painted designs. A pair of ponies wearing the same blue coats as Lieutenant Rollkur fell in on either side of the party, though Rarity noticed that the crest on their flanks was different, depicting only a white star on a blue shield.

Rarity raised her head high as they were led through the city, drawing the curious eyes of passing civilians. Most of them were going about their business as Rarity imagined they usually would, with shopkeepers shouting their best deals from the steps of their storefronts and stout work ponies tugging wagons laden with supplies behind them. She pursed her lips, repressing the urge to flick her tail in anger. Didn’t these ponies realize that there was an army camped just a short walk outside their walls?  All the effort she was going through to stop the war, and yet still they chatted and laughed over drinks in their open air cafes.

But there were yet signs of the war visible among the peace. She saw a stallion leaving his home with a blue coat slung over his shoulders before making towards the middle of the city, a wet redness around his eyes. A colt stood on a wooden box at one street corner, his high voice ringing out over the crowd as ponies came up to buy papers from an older stallion beside him.

“War with the barons!” he cried. “Fool Titus blames the quakes on Duchess Nettlekiss and demands blood!”

Rarity snorted. “It is her fault.”

Whitehorn leaned towards her, his voice low. “Well, that’s unlikely to sell any sheets here, is it, Countess?”

“It’s not about what sells,” Rarity said. “It’s about what’s true.”

“As a journalist, I can assure you that you have that backwards,” Whitehorn said. “A city broadsheet’s only concern is finding the most sensational headline they can. That, or to push their angle.”

Captain Piaffe came to a stop in front of a stone two-story house perhaps half again wider than its neighbors. She climbed the steps and slipped a key into the door, grunting as she jimmied the lock open, before pushing it open with a flourish. “And here we are. My home is open to you.”

Rarity frowned, turning to her friends and seeing her own confusion reflected in their eyes. “Are we not going to see Governor Rhea?”

“Laden down with all your bags?” Piaffe chuckled and shook her head. “You’re a gorgeous mare, love, but I think even you should slip those saddlebags off before you go speaking to governors.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected compliment, looking away with a flustered titter. “Oh, well, I suppose we should freshen up a bit first.”

Piaffe winked at her before stepping inside, and Rarity reached a hoof up to adjust her mane before following, ducking her head so as not to catch her hat on the door frame. The building was surprisingly spacious on the inside, with a combination kitchen and sitting area taking up the entire first floor. Colorful sitting cushions were arranged around a low metal table atop a thick rug, flanked on one side by a quietly crackling hearth. A wooden display case and tin bookshelf were squeezed into the narrow wall space under the stairs along the far wall, displaying a collection of military medals and books. Piaffe stepped over to the nearest window and pulled the curtains open, allowing sunlight to stream in from the street, where the two soldiers escorting them had posted up next to the door.

“A very charming residence,” Rarity said, stepping aside to make room for Pinkie and Whitehorn to enter behind her. “I suppose there are rooms for the four of us upstairs?”

“There are two, yes, though I’ll have to prepare my bedroom before you can use it, dearheart.” Piaffe winked again as she sat down in front of the fireplace, throwing a few logs in before stirring it with a poker.

Rarity blinked, a faint blush coming to her face. Pontius stepped in front of her with a stern frown. “What do ye mean to imply, lass?”

Piaffe turned to him, looking him over with a small smirk. “Nothing at all. I’m merely letting you know that I’ll have to get my things out of my room before you can use it.”

Recovering from her brief shock, Rarity laid a calming hoof on Pontius’ shoulder. “Certainly we couldn’t take your own bed from you, darling. I’m sure we could find accommodations elsewhere.”

“It’s no trouble at all, really. Tradition says that when dignitaries enter the city through my gate, I house them. That’s how it works.” Piaffe straightened up with a stretch before walking towards the kitchen area. “I know it’s probably a little smaller than you might be used to, but that’s what you get for arriving on hoof and from the east. If you wanted a guest suite then you should’ve arrived by airship. The harbormaster’s home is much more lavish. Would you like some drinks? I hope you don’t mind imported spirits.”

“Oh, oh, I want some!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Have you got anything fizzy?”

“I’m afraid we’d rather not wait any longer than necessary,” Rarity said, shooting a meaningful look Pinkie’s way. The other mare blew a loud raspberry in her direction, but relented. Rarity turned back to Captain Piaffe, who was pouring a dark, bubbly liquid into two glasses. “Please, where is Governor Rhea? We’d much desire to speak with her.”

“The Governor’s a busy mare, love. You’re on her schedule, I can assure you, but I’d be stunned if you were able to see her anytime today or tomorrow. Best to settle in for now. Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” Piaffe swished the bottle around enticingly. “A friend in customs got this for me.”

“No, thank you.” Rarity set her lips into a firm line, straightening up. “I am Countess Rarity of Cantherthusia, Last Lady of Equestria, and I demand an audience with the Governor this instant! There are ponies dying outside that wall and every moment we waste is—”

Whitehorn stepped in front of her, his voice low and urgent. “My Lady, we are not in any position to be making demands.”

Rarity frowned fiercely down at him, hissing, “To the contrary, darling, we’re not in any position to be wasting time!”

“I understand you’re upset, but we won’t save any lives by being kicked out before we even drop our saddlebags,” he whispered back. “We must tread lightly while we’re here, and we should accept the hospitality we’ve been granted.”

“Woohoo!” Pinkie let out a whoop as she kicked the trunk and her saddlebags into a corner, zipping over to grab Piaffe’s offered glass in her muzzle and chug it down in a few seconds. She spat the empty glass back onto the counter, where it bounced once before landing perfectly on its bottom. “Wow, that is good!”

Rarity’s nostrils flared as she clenched her jaw. She saw Pontius and Whitehorn both exchanging nervous glances as if wondering whether she was going to stand down or escalate the situation. With a sigh, she gave a small nod of her head. “You’re right.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Countess.” Whitehorn turned to where Piaffe was pouring Pinkie Pie a second glass, raising his voice to his usual clear speaking volume. “We appreciate your hospitality, Captain. It’s been a stressful time for us of late, and I think we’d all quite like to get these saddlebags off our backs and settle in. Could you show us to the available room?”

Piaffe grinned at him. “I’d like nothing more. Come with me, and you can all get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll show you around town.”

Polishing off the last of her drink, Captain Piaffe weaved her way through the group and up the stairs, her neatly tied tail bouncing behind her with every step.

Rarity waited for the others to follow before ascending them. She didn’t want anyone to see the ugly glower on her face.





From high up in the sky, the soldiers in the field looked almost like carefully trained ants, dancing back and forth in a choreography only they understood. Anatami watched with detached interest as small groups of baronland soldiers warded off gangs of Friesland skirmishers, protecting the still growing siege camp while trying to stay out of range of the giant cannons on the walls. There was a great deal of back and forth, with the skirmishers unleashing volleys of musket fire before disappearing through wheat fields or concealed boltholes dug into the ground, and the baronlanders charging in with shouts of fury only to lose their nerve as they reached the torn up earth that marked previous cannon shots.

Gava swung close to her, brushing their wingtips together to get her attention. “Follow me.”

She angled her wings, falling into a gentle descent. Ana drifted a little to one side so as to take advantage of her larger sister’s slipstream before following.

It was about sunset now, and the airships loitering in Friesland’s ports were little more than shaded silhouettes in front of the brilliant red and orange hues of the horizon. The city was clearly designed to be a fortress; from above Ana could see two supporting sets of walls, plus reinforced strongpoints spaced evenly among the civilian buildings. One of the great cannons spat fire as they descended, the thunderous shockwave tingling at her sensitive wingtips even from as far as she was, and a baron unit rushed to scatter before impact.

The city grew steadily larger beneath them as they bled altitude, its blue-coated soldiers patrolling the walls with hawkish glares that never turned more than a few degrees skyward. As they dipped below a hundred meters, they angled into a steep dive, shooting into a shadowed alleyway before pulling up and landing.

“And that’s how you run a siege,” Gava said.

“I’m so very proud of you,” Ana said with a roll of her eyes. “Somehow you’ve managed to fly over ponies that never look up.”

Gava gave her a playful shove before starting down the alley. “C’mon, sis. Our room’s not far from here.”

Ana sped up into a trot to catch up before slowing to a walk. “Did the innkeeper give you any trouble?”

Gava shook her head. “He was one of the no-question types.” They came out into the street, and she shot a brief glance to the left before leading them in the other direction.

They had landed in one of the seedier parts of town. Ponies walked with purpose and kept their eyes to themselves here, and the bluecoats moved in groups of three and four instead of lingering alone on street corners. Nobody batted an eye at the sight of a griffon and a thestral prowling through the city; they knew that questions weren’t worth the trouble they brought.

The inn in question was almost indistinguishable from its neighbors; the sign had fallen off its post, leaving just a wooden stick jutting out with a pair of iron rings embedded underneath. Then a drunk patron stumbled out the door, bringing with him the stench of cheap booze and vomit.

“Classy place,” Ana said.

“You don’t belong in classy places,” Gava shot back, shoving the door open with a shoulder.

“What, and you do?”

Rather than answer, Gava swatted Ana’s muzzle with the plume of her tail.

The bar was mostly empty, with just a few ponies seated in somber silence at one table. The stallion at the bar, in time-honored tradition, idly polished a dirty glass while a disheveled bluecoat mare stared down into a mug across from him.

“Wasn’t supposed to be a war,” the mare was mumbling. “I was supposed to get an easy job on the wall.”

The innkeeper grunted, his eyes tracking the two new arrivals as he spoke. “S’how it is sometimes.”

Gava nodded in greeting, tossing a small pouch onto the bar as they made for the stairs. It landed with a quiet jingle. “Give me another week.” The innkeeper scooped the bag up without a word.

The stairs creaked underhoof, and the door to their room wobbled threateningly on its hinges. The room’s window was boarded over from the outside, allowing only a few slivers of the last light of day to leak through, and the one mattress’ straw stuffing was clearly visible through its patchy fabric.

Ana stepped ahead, lighting a gas lamp waiting on the bedside end table. “And you’re paying for this?”

Gava shrugged. “I wasn’t sleeping in it very often, and it’s cheap. I mostly got it to store this.” She walked to the far corner, pulling a pile of blankets aside to reveal an iron-bound wooden chest.

Ana gasped. “You found Dad!”

Gava nodded. “Didn’t think I’d leave him lying around in the wreck of his own ship, did you?”

Both sisters sat side-by-side in front of the chest, and Ana gingerly reached a hoof out. It opened with a soft click, revealing the skull of her long-dead father. She picked it up in both hooves and held it close to her chest. “Any other survivors?”

Gava shrugged again, shuffling her wings as she stepped away. “Just bodies.”

Ana glanced to the side. In the corner of her eye she could see Gava looking at a rotten patch of wall, her talons clicking against the floor, deep in thought. Ana seized her opportunity and reached back into the chest, silently flipping up the corner of the soft padding within. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the soft, midnight blue fabric hidden underneath. Rarity’s dress was safe.

She jumped, tucking the dress away once more, as Gava spoke up. “You remember what Dad used to say about motivated idealists?”

Ana turned to face her sister fully, the skull cradled in her lap. “He said to stay away from them. The world changes too fast when they’re around, and people like us only get ground up in it.”

“Yeah.” Gava nodded. “But now it looks like we’re working for one, one with a lot of connections, and not even a day after he gives us our first job the island’s at war.” A moment passed in silence. “It just makes me think, is all. We’ve lost a lot already.”

“Wow, is that caution I’m hearing?” Ana grinned, but the expression faded when she saw the terse look on her sister’s face. She carefully placed her father’s skull back in its chest before coming up to Gava’s side, wrapping a wing around her bulk. “Hey, look, we’re all together now,  right? Me, you, Dad—we’ve been through worse. If it really comes down to it then we can bail, but right now we need the bits. And from what I’ve seen of Whitehorn so far, well—” she grimaced, looking away “—pulling out on him might make it hard to find work in the future.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gava sighed and shook her head. “Listen to me. One bad hunt and I’m talking like a fledgling too scared to leave the nest.”

“That doesn’t mean you should forget everything you’ve learned and go charging at superpony Gifted, by the way,” Ana teased. She grinned as she hopped onto the bed, wincing at the way the coarse fabric rubbed against her coat. “Hot fucks, are you sure this is a bed? Is it too late to go find a nice bush to sleep in?”

“Make some room, bat. I paid good bits for this room.” Gava yawned as she slid into place beside Ana, almost shoving her off the other side of the little bed.

Ana sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Been a long time since we shared a bed.”

“Not since we were young.”

“Yeah.”

A tired silence settled into place over the duo. After a few minutes Ana rolled over onto her side, and Gava draped one of her massive wings over her like a blanket.

A small, content smile tugged at Ana’s lips as she closed her eyes. She’d never said as much, but she missed the warmth of a shared bed.

“Night, sis.”

“Night, Ana.”
> IX: Of Diplomacy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity leaned in close to the mirror hanging on the wall, her horn tinkling softly, and tugged at her eyelashes with precise, measured motions. She paused to dip the applicator wand back into the tube before turning her attention to her other eye, an aimless hum drifting from her lips as she—

A resounding boom rocked the room, causing the mirror, the dresser, the bed and everything else not nailed down to rattle in sympathy. The little wand jerked at her eyelashes as she jumped in alarm, and she let out a frustrated scream as her eye watered in pain. She blinked furiously, reaching a hoof out to steady the mirror before it fell off the wall again and developed another crack.

After a couple seconds, the room fell still once more. Rarity closed her eyes, her tail lashing side to side, and took a deep breath.

Accursed Frieslanders and their giant cannons. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced the aftershock of their firing; it wasn’t even the first time that day. It had been two days since her arrival in the city, and every day the cannons’ reports would thunder across the city with increasing frequency. Each time she would stiffen, her pulse quickening at the unexpected shockwave that rocked the city, and then wonder how many ponies had just died, and whether she could have done something different to save them. It made her want to scream.

Oh, just one couldn’t hurt. She turned to the bed and stuffed her face into the pillows, stomping her hooves against the thin rug on the floor and letting out a frustrated shriek.

She came up for air perhaps half a minute later, sucking in a deep breath and feeling much better. She jumped at a knock at the door, followed by Whitehorn’s muffled voice.

“Are you ready, Countess? We’re expected in a half hour.”

“Just a minute, darling!” she called. “I’ll be right out!”

She turned back to the mirror, adjusting its place on the wall with a touch of magic. She was dressed to impress in a pale blue couture, accented with white lace and a shawl of embroidered royal purple that hung almost to her knees. She had forgone a hat, opting instead to let her mane hang free in an intricate braid that hung down one side of her neck, and wore a matching set of purple shoes she had picked up at a local cobbler. The mascara wand dipped in and out, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She would only have one chance to give Governor Rhea a good first impression, and the ponies outside the walls couldn’t afford any mistakes on her part.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, Rarity strutted out of the little room and squeezed into the equally small hallway outside. Her brow furrowed with consternation as she tugged her dress in to keep it from scraping up against the stone walls. Captain Piaffe’s home, quaint thought it was, was far too small to host the entire diplomatic party in comfort, and she was beginning to wonder if the selection was intentional. Had they been housed there truly out of respect to tradition, or was it a subtle message from the Governor? We don’t want you here.

Either way, it would take more than sharing a single-sized bed with Pinkie Pie to deter her from her quest.

The fire in the hearth crackled merrily as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Whitehorn and Pinkie were seated around the table, the former smartly dressed in an orange vest and white shirt with rolled up sleeves and the latter wearing a polka-dotted blue and yellow bowtie. Pontius was seated in front of the wooden display case with a glass of dark liquid cradled in one hoof. All three of them were listening with varied levels of interest as Piaffe gestured towards the contents.

“Here we have my grandpapa Capriole’s commission, bought with the funds from selling his shop. And here, this medal here—” she pointed to a badge with the image of a tower engraved into the blue-tinted surface “—was given to him after he caught a group of baron spies in the midst of opening the eastern gatehouse. He told my sister and I the story many times. It was a dark night, and a fierce rainstorm had just passed up the coast, so—”

Rarity cleared her throat, drawing the room’s attention. She offered up a prim smile. “I do believe we should be leaving, dears.”

Piaffe looked up at her with wide eyes, her mouth twisting into a coy grin. She turned to nudge at Pontius with one of her hind legs. “Such a lucky stallion you are! I don’t know how you manage to sleep at nights without her in your bed.”

Pontius blanched, his glass slamming down onto the table as he choked. Pinkie Pie snickered into her hoof while Rarity turned to frown sharply at Piaffe.

“That is absolutely none of your business!” she snapped.

“You’ll have to excuse me, dearheart.” Piaffe dipped her head, the grin staying on her face as she spoke. “I’ve been known to forget myself around beautiful mares.”

“Well, you would do well to learn to remember yourself!” Rarity stalked towards the front door with an indignant “hmph!” before opening it with her magic. “I will be waiting outside!”

She didn’t have to wait long before Pinkie bounced out to join her, followed shortly by Whitehorn and Pontius. His nostrils flared as he glowered back at Captain Piaffe, who took one last sip from a small flask in her hooves before slipping it into her coat and striding briskly down the street.

“Come along then, all,” she called back at them. “It’s a short walk, but a pleasant one!”

They followed in their usual order, with the two bluecoats that had been stationed outside the house falling in behind them. Rarity came up to Pontius’ side, keeping her voice low so Piaffe wouldn’t overhear. “Are you well, darling?”

“I don’t like her,” he said, glaring at the back of Piaffe’s head. “She keeps botherin’ me, askin’ why ye don’t sleep with me.”

“O-oh.” Rarity looked away, watching the passing scenery. They passed under the arch of an old stone gatehouse, its doors forever open. The wall it had once guarded was long gone now, its stones having been pilfered to serve the needs of the ever-expanding city. “You shouldn’t pay her any heed.”

“How can I not?” Pontius hissed. “She keeps makin’ eyes at ye, and yer supposed to be my wife!”

“Pontius, dear, you don’t need to be jealous on my part.” Rarity offered him a small smile. It was somewhat endearing to see him being protective of her in this way, but it was best she nip it in the bud. “Our arrangement is purely political.”

He took a deep breath, his lips set into a thin frown. After a few seconds he dipped his head into a terse nod. “Aye. Political.”

Rarity couldn’t help but grimace at the clear signs of distress. She had no fantasies of any romance with Pontius, but she didn’t like seeing him so disturbed.

The party came out into a wide, circular courtyard, with ponies milling in every direction as they crossed from one street to another. A towering old cathedral dominated one side, the silver crescent moons on each face of its bell towers announcing its allegiance to Princess Luna. Cafes and restaurants lined the plaza, crisp new brick buildings standing side-by-side squat old stone, each competing with its neighbors for passing hoof traffic. The middle of the courtyard was occupied by a haphazard array of colorful stalls, each merchant shouting to be heard over the others while young colts and fillies attempted to drag passing ponies towards the wares of their employers. Piaffe paused, glancing around the courtyard before cutting a path along one edge. 

An old, square stone tower sat on the corner of one of the wide avenues that led into the plaza, contrasting sharply with the restaurant next to it. A squad of bluecoats filed out of the tower as they approached, dipping their heads in greeting to Piaffe before picking up into a trot, and she offered them a warm smile in return.

The governor’s palace waited at the end of the avenue, guarded by a tall metal fence and a thick wall of topiary. A pair of soldiers stood watch by the open gate, their hooves clicking together in salute as Captain Piaffe approached.

“Oh, you know you don’t have to do that for me, colts,” she said. She nodded towards Rarity’s party. “Diplomats here for the governor, unless she’s changed her mind?”

“No, ma’am.” One of the guards shook his head, keeping his eyes forward.

“Exquisite. Come along then, dearhearts!”

The palace was brick, and smaller than Titus’ manse. A gently curving paved path wound between the bushes and the trees, which were beginning to lose their leaves in the chill of autumn. A few steps led up to a small circular landing shaded by a balcony on the second floor, and Piaffe ascended the stairs with a cheery hum before raising a hoof and knocking on the polished wooden door.

The door swung open, revealing a stone-faced pegasus stallion wearing a simple shirt and vest. He bowed low, stepping aside to beckon them in, and Piaffe beckoned with a flick of her tail before leading the party inside.

Rarity let out a soft gasp as she crossed over the threshold, a hoof rising to her chest. The interior was decorated in pleasing shades of cool blue and white, with a marble fountain surrounded by a bed of vibrant flowers serving as the circular foyer’s centerpiece. A circle of evenly spaced columns lined the room, wrapped in the tight embrace of vines that displayed both blooming flowers and threatening thorns. An earth mare was stooped down over the flower bed as they entered, a spade held in her muzzle and her hooves protected by thick canvas boots, and Rarity watched as she gently placed a young sapling into place before pushing the soil in around it with her hooves.

“Sweet Celestia,” she said, taking it all in with wide eyes. “How marvelous!”

Piaffe glanced back at her with an amused smirk. “Impressed, love? I imagine you don’t see anything like this out in the baronlands.”

Pontius snorted. “We have no need fer such wasteful follies in the baronlands.”

Pinkie bounced inside with an excited squeal, her wheels clattering loudly behind her. “This place looks amazing! Rarity, isn’t your birthday coming up? Imagine a party in here! Oh oh, we could fill the fountain with chocolate!”

Piaffe’s smirk turned into a warm smile. “Do you know, Pinkie, I think you’re my favorite one of this bunch. What would you say to some drinks out on the town later tonight?”

“Duh! I would say yes oh my gosh that sounds like so much fun you’ve got to show me all your favorite places!”

“Fillies, please.” Whitehorn gestured onwards with a hoof. “Let’s not get too distracted.”

“The Governor certainly has an eye for beauty,” Rarity said as Piaffe led them down a hall divided by a long, narrow bed of flowers. And if we’re lucky, perhaps she’ll have an appreciation for diplomacy as well.

The hall ended in tall, arched double doors decorated with carvings of blossoming vines, their flowers painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. One door hung ajar, and Piaffe pushed it open further, beckoning inside with an exaggerated flourish.

Pontius led the way as they each filed over the threshold and into an open room decorated with a variety of potted plants, paintings, and large cushions. A wide, circular table rested in the middle, bearing platters of cookies, clear bottles of wine, and glasses to drink from. Colorful sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows, providing clear sight of the garden outside and silhouetting the three ponies that were waiting within.

Piaffe had informed them as to proper etiquette the day before. Rarity and Pontius stood side-by-side in the center of the room, their eyes lowered in respect. Pinkie bounced to a stop behind them, bowing low to the ground with a quiet giggle.

Whitehorn cleared his throat as he stepped ahead. “Presenting Sir Pontius, heir to the Duchy of Canterthusia, and his wife, Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Equestria.” He bowed as he stepped back to join Pinkie at the back of the group, and Rarity and Pontius both looked up to meet the judging gaze of the earth mare sitting in the middle of the waiting trio.

“Welcome to my home, Sir Pontius and Countess Rarity. I am Governor Rhea.” Her voice was quiet, but carried a firmness that indicated an old familiarity with authority. She wore a simple yellow dress decorated with a sash of pastel flowers that matched nicely with her soft yellow coat and curling pink mane, and she held a glass of white wine in one hoof. With her free hoof she gestured first to the heavyset, suited unicorn stallion on her right and then to the older pegasus mare on her left. “This is Mister Robber Baron, speaker for the trade guilds of Friesland, and Lady Hemlock, speaker for my cousin, Duchess Nettlekiss.” She paused to extend the wine glass towards the table before her, causing the liquid inside to swirl about and catch the light. “Pour them some drinks, Captain.”

“Yes, Governor.” Captain Piaffe snapped off a salute so crisp and respectful that Rarity did a brief double take, momentarily wondering if some other mare had replaced her. Piaffe wasted no time in fetching a pair of glasses and filling them with sweet smelling white wine.

“For their aides as well,” Governor Rhea said, turning to regard Whitehorn and Pinkie Pie in turn. “What are your names?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie, her hoofmaiden! Heehee!”

“Whitehorn of Heighton, at your service, Governor.”

Two more glasses were poured. Piaffe stepped away to a respectful distance while Rarity and the rest of her party took seats around the table. She levitated the glass to her lips and took a polite sip, a hum of contentment escaping her as the pungent flavor pooled on her tongue.

“Tell me, how is it?” Rhea asked, her eyes lingering on Rarity’s glowing horn. “And do be honest. My vintner cannot improve without feedback.”

Rarity set the glass down with a small smile. “It’s divine, madame. You should be quite proud.” She glanced towards Pontius only to see that he had forgone tasting his wine in favor of glowering at the governor with poorly concealed disdain.

“I’m told that you come bringing an offer of peace from the barons,” Rhea said, setting her own glass down, “though I doubt that they would honor any such agreement, judging by who they’ve sent.”

Rarity’s smile dipped down into a frown. “I can assure you, madame, we have every intent of bringing this conflict to an amicable end with a minimum of bloodshed.”

As if to punctuate her words, the rumbling report of one of the Frieslanders firing shook the room. The wine glasses threatened to topple over, their contents spilling over their rims and onto the wooden table, while Rhea arched a brow.

“You would have me believe that the barons honestly want peace? Then why have they sent a foal and a traveler to speak with me?”

Pontius narrowed his eyes. “You would do well to address me as befits my position, mare.”

Rarity’s lips stretched into a diplomatic smile as she flicked her tail over to touch at Pontius’ as a gentle reminder. “I believe you’re mistaken, madame. I’m no traveler, and my husband is well-respected by the ponies of his land as their lord. We assure you that the barons will honor any agreement that we come to today.”

The be-tied unicorn, Robber Baron, snorted with bemusement. “Not a traveler? I’ve heard plenty of stories that would indicate otherwise! Shows up in Heighton as part of some show put on by Crazy Rich, and then drifts to Fellis to do charity work, and wed only weeks after your arrival on Altalusia. No doubt you imagine you’ve done quite well by yourself, Last Lady. That is what they call you, no?”

“Ah.” Rarity’s smile remained firmly in place despite the implications, reinforced with years of practice against surly customers. “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Certainly I’ve heard of you!” Robber Baron said. “The refugees from Fellis are so busy singing your praises that I sometimes wonder if they think they’re being paid to gossip!”

Rhea raised her free hoof, and the stallion fell silent with a brief dip of his head. “If the barons are willing to talk peace, then I will talk peace. What are your terms, Countess?”

Rarity’s smile grew wider as relief surged inside her. Finally, a pony willing to see reason! “Nothing too difficult, I’d hope. An end to the hostilities, and return to status quo.”

“Status quo,” Lady Hemlock mused. “So Duke Titus is willing t’ return the lands he took from my liege lady?”

Rarity shot a glance towards Pontius, who had turned his glower on the aged pegasus mare. She spoke carefully and intently, ensuring he was paying attention to her words. “I’m sure Duke Titus would agree to return any land occupied during the past few days.”

Pontius gave a brief nod of his head. “Aye, it would be agreeable, as long as Duchess Nettlekiss is brought to justice fer her crimes.”

Lady Hemlock’s lips drew up into a thin smile. “I’m not speaking only of th’ land taken by his army on its march t’ Castle Urtica, lad. Yer father would return what fiefs he stole two years prior as well if he desires peace.”

Pontius shot up out of his seat. “That land is rightfully ours, and yer kind will not step hoof on it while House Pike draws breath!”

“Mm, as I thought.” Lady Hemlock let out a dramatic sigh as she sipped from her glass. “They have no real intent of peace, Governor. This is a waste of time.”

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty, darlings.” Rarity tugged Pontius back down to the ground with a magical tug on his outfit, straining to maintain her facade of a smile after the outburst. She thought back to her brief discussion with Countess Silkie in the siege camp. “There is much to discuss if we’re to come to an agreement that leads to a lasting peace on the island, but for now surely we can all agree that there’s no need for bloodshed? We can all meet together once we’ve set our weapons aside and come to some accordance that’s mutually beneficial to all.”

A few seconds passed while Governor Rhea raised her glass to her lips. Slowly she turned to Robber Baron. “Tell me, Mister Baron, how does the price of grains from Nimbusea compare to local imports?”

“Oh, by the bushel? Nearly half again as expensive, in fact. But we’ve already sent a delegation of our best ponies to negotiate a bulk price, and if discussion with the Merchant’s Guild is any indication they’d actually be willing to cut a dozen or more cents from the rate once they see the sudden excess of demand in—”

Governor Rhea cut him off with a hoof, turning to Lady Hemlock. “How long does the Duchess expect the walls of Castle Urtica could withstand a siege?”

The pegasus snorted. “With th’ soldiers and cannon ye’ve sent, we could hold th’ walls until we died of old age! Titus will have t’ pay a heavy toll in blood if he wishes t’ take th’ stronghold.”

Governor Rhea nodded before turning to look past Rarity, to where Captain Piaffe was standing. “Captain, have the skirmishers reported any casualties since the beginning of the conflict?”

“Only a single fatality as of yet, Governor.”

Rarity’s heart sank as Rhea turned to look her in the eye. “Then let us get to the heart of this matter. Do you have anything to offer aside from words? Anything of worth? Either of you?”

Rarity pursed her lips, her jaw clenching at the bored dismissal in Rhea’s voice. “I would think that peace is worth a great deal.”

“Peace is worth only as much as war costs, Countess, and this war costs very little.” The governor turned to look at Piaffe once more. “Captain, I’d like you to take the diplomats to see the Frieslanders in action tomorrow. I believe she could use a more refined perspective on this conflict.”

“As you command, Governor.”

“Good.” Rhea sighed, looking to Rarity once more. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess. You are perhaps the most refined and courteous pony to ever speak with the voice of the baronlands, but fortunately I am not young enough to be moved by notions as empty as refinement or courtesy. If you have something real to offer, then you may ask Captain Piaffe to request another meeting. Until then, you are free to lodge with her for as long as you wish, or to arrange an escort outside the city. I’m sure you would feel more comfortable in your own bed.”

Rhea stood, turning away and stepping to look through the nearest window before Rarity could muster any response. Her muzzle flapped uselessly as she searched for some way to get past the dismissal, but what could she do? She didn’t have anything real to offer, and everyone in the room knew it. She looked back to Whitehorn and Pinkie, hoping in vain for one of them to point out some avenue she had missed, but the former only offered an apologetic grimace, and even Pinkie could only shrug.

Lady Hemlock cleared her throat, drawing Rarity’s attention. The older mare regarded her with open contempt. “Captain Piaffe, please help them find the door.”

Piaffe’s hooves clicked in salute. “If you’ll come with me, dearhearts?”

Rarity’s whole body felt numb as she rose from her plush cushion. She dipped into a prim curtsey almost without thinking, mumbling out a distracted “Thank you for your time” before turning to follow Whitehorn out into the halls.

She didn’t understand. Why didn’t anybody in this wretched future seem to have any interest in peace? Didn’t they care for the ponies getting their limbs blown off by cannon fire and their guts gored by shot? Her mind wandered in circles as Piaffe led them towards the exit. Perhaps Governor Rhea had never seen the inside of a tent filled with wounded, and that was why she didn’t flinch at the distant rumble of gunpowder? Yes, that must be it. She could go back, convince the governor to accompany her to the siege camp and really see all the harm that was being done, and then surely she would agree to a cease fire at the very least. 

She had seemed so regal during the meeting. Surely she wasn’t completely heartless?

She blinked, looking up, and realized that they had reached the sun-swathed cobbles of the street. There wasn’t any time to waste. The governor would no doubt still be in her parlor, and if she was quick—

Whitehorn laid a hoof on her shoulder. Rarity jumped, turning to meet his gaze. He gave a small shake of his head. “We have nothing she wants, Countess. She was never going to agree to anything but a baron surrender.”

“But—she must not understand.” Rarity licked her lips, looking back at the two guards standing to either side of the gate to the gardens. “If I could just make her understand then—”

“Rarity.” She flinched at the firmness in his voice. She had never heard anything like it from him before. “She isn’t like us. None of the ponies driving this conflict are like us. This is why we need the Gifted Table, you see? There must be an authority of harmony to prevent senseless violence like this.”

“But that doesn’t help us now.” Piaffe led them into the plaza, and Rarity’s jaw clenched as she looked out over the ponies that milled across it, oblivious to all the carnage just a short walk away. “We can’t just let this continue. There must be another way!”

Whitehorn shot a quick glance towards Pinkie, who had been plodding along beside them with her head down. “Pinkie, didn’t Piaffe offer to take you out for drinks tonight?”

Pinkie looked up, but her frown remained fix in place. “Y-yeah? But I had kinda been thinking they’d be like celebrate-y drinks, and now we don’t have anything to celebrate…”

“Perhaps they could be consoling drinks instead?” Whitehorn nodded towards Piaffe. “You should ask.”

“I-I dunno. I don’t really feel like any kind of drinks right now.”

Whitehorn leaned in, lowering his voice so that Rarity had to step closer to make out what he was saying. “I have an idea, Pinkie, but we need the Captain to be distracted. Can you do that for us?”

Pinkie’s ears perked up. She looked to Rarity, head cocked with curiosity, and Rarity gave her an encouraging nod and a little smile.

“Well, in that case!” Pinkie’s mane popped back to full poofiness with a spray of confetti, and she pronked up to Piaffe’s side with an eager grin on her face. “Hey, Capitán! Didn’t you mention getting some drinks tonight?”

Piaffe jumped in alarm as Pinkie blew a multi-hued party horn in her ear, turning to look at the mare with wide eyes, but Rarity didn’t bother paying any attention to what she said. She instead turned to Whitehorn with a questioning gaze. Pontius drew close as well, leaning in on Whitehorn’s opposite side.

“Governor Rhea holds the singular authority to declare war or peace,” he explained, his voice low. “But she won’t agree to any peace until she’s convinced that the war won’t go in her favor. The only way that’ll happen is if she begins taking significant losses and loses her strategic position.”

Pontius nodded. “Aye. My father’s taken our forces north to besiege Castle Urtica. Once Nettlekiss loses her last stronghold, we’ll be able to concentrate every soldier in th’ baronlands on Friesland. I expect th’ governor would be more open to negotiation then.”

“That is not acceptable!” Rarity hissed back. They turned down a street, leaving the plaza behind as Pinkie chattered loudly in Piaffe’s ear. “We came here to stop the fighting before it happens, not after!”

Pontius grimaced. “With all due respect, my Lady, th’ fighting’s already started.”

Whitehorn nodded. “It’s up to the governor, and she won’t budge while her position remains secure.”

Rarity pursed her lips, tuning out the sound of a trio of giggling fillies running past them and turning his words over in her head. It’s up to the governor. She blinked, her eyes widening. “Could we… replace her?”

Pontius cocked his head. “Ye mean like a coup? My Lady, we’re hardly a dozen ponies.”

“No, not a coup, you brute!” Rarity snapped. He flinched back, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, really. But surely there’s some way to replace her? She’s elected, isn’t she?”

Whitehorn quirked his lips in thought. “I believe the city governor is elected by a council of local guildmasters, yes.”

“Yes, that!” Rarity pressed on, speaking quicker. “What is it you told me before, the pressure runs both ways? The governor herself might not be willing to listen to reason, but if we could get to the guildmasters—”

“We could inspire a vote of no confidence,” Whitehorn finished. He nodded along, giving her an impressed smile. “You know, my Lady, most ponies would take a firm denial from the local ruler as a sign to give up.”

Pontius snorted. “She isn’t most ponies.”

Rarity beamed as a shiver of excited relief passed through her. It isn’t over yet. We still have a chance!

In the distance, one of the Frieslanders fired. The city blocked their sight of the walls from here, but she could still see the plume of acrid smoke billowing up, marking the site of the cannon. The street came to a brief standstill as ponies paused to grab onto their foals or secure their belongings. Even the ever-hawking street sellers paused to reach out and steady their wares, their voices falling silent while they waited for the thunder to pass.

The shuddering of the cobbles underhoof caused Rarity to stumble with a yelp, but Pontius caught her with an extended wing. He looked down at her with concern, and she responded with a sheepish smile as she regained her balance. “Thank you, dear.”

He nodded. “I shall always be nearby to catch ye, my Lady.”

A lifetime ago, Rarity might have swooned to hear a young noble speak to her as such, but those times were long past. Still, she gave him a gracious smile as she brushed a few miniscule motes of dust from her dress. He straightened up, returning the expression.

“Almost took quite a fall there, love.” Captain Piaffe observed. She and Pinkie had stopped, looking back at her. “Would be a shame to break that pretty muzzle of yours open on Friesland stone!”

Rarity couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mare’s tone as she stepped away from Pontius, who had fixed the mare with a steely glare. “Your concern is duly appreciated, Captain.”

“Not much further now, if you feel a desire to rest your legs,” Piaffe said, winking. “My mother sent over some of her delicious eggplant lasagna! I do hope you’ll dine with me.”

“And then we’re going out on the town!” Pinkie added, her wheels clattering against the ground as she bounced in place. She drew a few odd looks from passing ponies, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Just two mares on a mission!”

Piaffe arched a brow, a curious grin on her face. “A mission?”

“A mission to have a night the city will never forget! Teehee!”

Whitehorn cleared his throat, speaking clearly. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to miss dinner tonight, if you don’t mind. I have a few old acquaintances I’d like to catch up with.”

“Acquaintances?” Piaffe asked, her ears perking up. She looked to Whitehorn, her soft green eyes suddenly sharper. “In Friesland?”

Whitehorn nodded with a disarming smile. “Indeed. I’m a journalist by trade, you see. I like to maintain connections with publications all across Equestria. So if you’ll excuse me.” He dipped his head in a series of short bows. “Countess, Captain, my Lord. I take my leave.”

“Oh. Certainly.” Rarity shot a brief smile towards Piaffe. “He really does have a fascinatingly large circle of friends. When can we expect you back, darling?”

“I won’t be gone too long, my Lady. Do save some lasagna for me.” With one last bow, Whitehorn turned back towards the plaza, walking away at a relaxed pace.

“Well, shall we get moving then, darlings?” Rarity made a show of tossing her mane as she strutted past Piaffe, drawing her attention away from Whitehorn’s back. “It’s this way, isn’t it? It’s been too long since I had some fine urban fare!”





“This is dumb.”

Ana looked back, towards where Gava was leaned against one of the stone corners of the bell tower, her talons clicking impatiently, and stuck her tongue out. “You’re dumb.”

Gava shot her a look. Ana waggled her tongue around. Gava sighed and looked away.

Ana smirked as she turned her attention back to the city beneath them. They were perched high up in the southwest bell tower of the old Lunar cathedral that dominated the city’s central plaza, and had been for an hour now. Whitehorn had instructed for them to follow and observe in the absence of any other orders, and it was an excellent position from which they could see most of the city center. Gava never had the patience for a good stakeout, but Ana had been watching with rapt attention as he followed Countess Rarity’s entourage into the governor’s palace. If the body language of the delegation after they finally left was any indication, then the diplomatic approach had been a complete failure. No surprise there.

The massive bell behind them was still ringing in sympathy with the latest shot from the Frieslanders, and it was approaching noon. They’d have to relocate soon if they wanted to avoid being deafened by the ringing, but for now Ana could still see the party weaving through the streets, so she stayed.

Her mind wandered, toying with passing thoughts even as her eyes soaked in every detail of the city below her. How would Princess Luna feel if she saw one of these great cathedrals that had been erected in her honor? Nobody knew what either Princess was like, no matter how firmly the priests of each denomination shouted to be heard over each other with their given truth. 

At least, nobody from this time knows.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie claimed to be from the past, didn’t they? And their friends had found Princess Luna, somehow. Ana prided herself on practicing a healthy skepticism, but she was beginning to wonder if there was some truth to the strange Gifteds’ claims. Would the Princess be pleased to see ponies worshipping her in her absence? Would she be proud of what Equestrian society had become since the floods?

How would she feel about me?

Ana blinked the thought away as she saw Whitehorn parting from the delegation and turning back to the plaza. He walked at a casual pace, slowly weaving through the crowds. Once he reached the plaza he turned for the cathedral and picked up into a trot. She stiffened as he looked up, his eyes fixed on the very tower she was watching from.

Had he seen her? Ponies never looked up. It was a fact that Ana and her sister had exploited dozens of times in their lives, and yet this pony had shot a glance directly at her.

The bulk of the cathedral blocked her sight of him as he came closer, but she didn’t need to see to know that he had walked inside. 

“Hey, sis.” She turned to Gava, who stirred from her nap with an arched brow. “I think he wants to talk. I’m gonna head down.”

Gava frowned. “What, you mean he saw us?”

Ana shrugged as she spread her wings. “Something like that. Make sure you’re not in the tower when this bell rings.”

She crouched down, ready to take flight, but Gava rushed up to her side. “Hey, whoa, I’m coming, too.”

Ana made a show of looking her up and down. “You?”

Gava clacked her beak. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re a big mean bird that stands a head taller than every pony in town.”

Gava narrowed her eyes.

“Point is, this guy’s trying to be subtle. And no offense, sis, but—” Ana reached a hoof out to prod at Gava’s soft black plumage. “You’re not subtle.”

Gava snorted. “I can do subtle.”

Ana arched a brow.

“Bah, fine! I’ll be waiting on the roof. Don’t be too long.”

With a wink and a smile, Ana jumped out into the open air and let her wings catch her weight. There was plenty of open space around the cathedral, so Ana drifted down into a lazy circle and alighted in an alley a short walk away before pulling her hood up. She was wearing a simple cloak of indigo blue, the hem lined with warm wool. It was exactly the sort of outfit that a common Frieslander mare might wear on a nippy autumn day, and it did well to hide her leathery wings and slitted orange eyes.

As impressive as the cathedral had appeared from the outside, it took Ana’s breath away when she passed beneath the heavy stone arch of its entrance. Columns of sparkling aquamarine ran down both sides of the aisle, flanked by long pews of blue marble cushioned with thick pillows of midnight blue satin. There were no lights within the cathedral, but large circular windows of silvery stained glass watched from on high on each wall, the sunlight filtering through like rays of dim moonlight and illuminating statues of thestrals bowed low in subservience towards the altar at the back of the vaulted room. Above it all was a single mighty statue of Princess Luna herself, her great wings spread as if in warning to any who would dare threaten her ponies, her head raised high, regarding the ponies before her with an imperious facade. Her mane sparkled with embedded sapphire and swirling lines of silver gilding, matching the pitch black mural of the night sky that had been painted onto the ceiling.

Ana generally avoided Lunar cathedrals in the past. It had been years since she’d set hoof in one. Now, subjected to the full majesty of Princess Luna and her tapestry of stars, she was reminded of why. It was almost too tempting to join the statuesque stone thestrals in prostration before the Night Mistress.

She set her jaw and shook herself, turning her attention to the ponies inside. The dim light was no obstacle to her, and it only took her a moment to pick out the pale blue coat of Whitehorn sitting on one of the pews. He was looking back, watching her through the white frames of his eyeglasses, a cordial smile on his lips.

Idiot filly. She had walked in with a disguise, and then immediately lost herself gawking at the setting like a breathless pilgrim. She flicked her tail behind her as she lowered her eyes into the shadow of her cloak and closed the distance, sitting at his side.

“We meet face to face at last,” he said. “Well, for a certain definition of face to face. Is it your first time here?”

His voice was familiar. After a few seconds she placed it: this was the same stallion that had left the door of her jail cell open. “Did you want to talk?”

He didn’t answer at first. Ana kept her eyes forward, but she got the impression that he was sizing her up. “I did, yes. Tell me, how have you and your sister been faring?”

Ana’s brow furrowed. “We’re fine, even if you’ve tricked her into a messy contract.”

“Tricked her? She was free to refuse my offer if she wished, and my payment is more than fair.”

“You know what I mean,” Ana said, rolling her eyes under her hood. So he’s one of those wordy types. “The contract has no deadline or limit. It’s messy.”

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Well, I only made it with her directly. I suppose it would be bad form to hold you to an agreement that you weren’t present for. If you wish, you may feel free to leave for other work at any time.”

Ana turned, fixing his calm gaze with a sharp glare of her own. She knew how her eyes would look in the dim light of the cathedral. To her surprise, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sight. “And Gava?”

“A contract, even one as informal as ours, is only as binding as its enforcement,” Whitehorn said, reaching a hoof up to adjust his glasses. “And without a ship, I expect you two wouldn’t be too difficult to track down.”

Ana pursed her lips, staring him down. After several seconds she looked away. “So what do you want?”

“I want to stop this war before it gets any further out of hoof.”

Ana arched a brow. “I didn’t take you for the hero.”

He let out a little chuckle at that. “To put it simply, I need Governor Rhea deposed, and I’m afraid talking and good faith will be rather slow to take. The guildmasters will need a more immediate threat if they’re to back any change in leadership.”

“More immediate than a siege?”

“Much more immediate, yes. This city could withstand a siege for years, and that’s far outside of my timeline.”

And a schemer, too. Ana had worked with schemers before. She didn’t like them. “So what are you asking me to do?”

“I want you to apply pressure, however that may be,” Whitehorn said. “For whatever reason, the city needs to think the siege is hopeless. You’re free to use whatever methods you deem appropriate, and when it’s done then perhaps we can revisit the question of Gava’s contract.”

He wants chaos. “How does the Countess feel about all this?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, frankly. I’m your employer, and this is what I require of you.” He paused, letting her process his words. “Do you understand?”

Ana felt a strange sense of relief at his words. Of course Rarity wouldn’t approve of any of this. After a few seconds, she nodded. “I understand.”

“Excellent!” He slipped off the pew, the clop of his hooves against the cold stone echoing around them. “If you need to speak with me, I’ll be sure to arrange some time alone every few days at least. For now, I have other matters to attend to. Good luck, Ana. I have every confidence in your ability.”

He walked away without waiting for her response. Ana kept her eyes forwards, her ears twitching under her hood at the sound of his receding hoofsteps.

Ana looked up into Princess Luna’s face, meeting the glaring sapphires that so fiercely threatened retribution against all who wished harm on her ponies, and wondered if she would be proud.





“And y’all attacked her?!”

“Well—I mean, it was just a shove!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack’s nostrils flared as she glowered at Rainbow under the brim of her hat. “That is not how ya should be treatin’ our friends!”

Rainbow grimaced. She had come to Applejack’s little room in the cargo hold hoping to find some support. “Are they really our friends, though?”

“After all they’ve done for us? Darn tootin’ they’re our friends! And even if they weren’t—” Applejack sighed, leaning back against her bunk. “Look, Dash, I know y’all’re stressed. We’re all stressed. But we gotta stick together in this. Ya can’t be goin’ around attackin’ ponies.”

Rainbow looked down at her hooves with a heavy sigh. She knew it was wrong, but it had felt so right at the time. It had felt like there wasn’t even any choice in the matter. A thought occurred to her, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. In a quiet voice she said, “Twilight started getting anger issues before—y’know.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Applejack drew close and put a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. “It ain’t like that, sugar cube. Twi had that magic all up in her horn, right? All y’all got in you is stress and concern. Ain’t nothin’ unnatural about that.”

Rainbow clenched her jaw, fighting the burning in her eyes. “I hope you’re right, AJ.”

The hiss of steam caught their attention. Both mares looked up, exchanging a couple small, comforting smiles before heading out into the cargo hold together. Star Trails was standing in the open doorway, her eyes wide as if she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.

“Trails!” Rainbow took an uncertain step forward, causing the unicorn to jump in alarm. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize.”

Trails stared at her wide-eyed, but said nothing. Her gaze darted between Rainbow, Applejack, and then to Twilight’s room, where Princess Luna was sound asleep.

“C’mon now, girl,” Applejack said warmly. “Rainbow ain’t gonna bite ya. Not a second time at least, I’ll make sure of that much.”

Trails opened her mouth stiffly. She put on a nervous smile as her hooves kneaded at the floor.

“Uh, Trails?” Rainbow asked, cocking her head. “You alright?”

In a sudden blur of motion, Star Trails twisted around and bolted back into the hallway. The rapid beat of her hooves receded into the distance until it was drowned out by the thrumming of the engine.

Rainbow looked to Applejack, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. “What was that?”

Applejack gave a half-hearted shrug. “Reckon she’s still dealin’ with her feelings about things.”

“It’s just… unlike her. She’s normally so talkative.” Rainbow’s eyes widened as a sudden yawn overtook her. The anxious antics of the past night seemed to catch up to her all at once, her eyelids growing heavy. “Oh, wow. I think I’m finally ready to hit the hay.”

Applejack arched a brow. “Don’t y’all have trainin’ with Sabre later today?”

“AJ, I am a champion napper.” Rainbow smirked as she spread her wings, her hooves rising up off the ground. “I just need to rest my eyes a bit, replenish my awesome sauce.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Rainbow. I’m gonna go grab some breakfast with all the other productive members of the crew.”

Rainbow waved a hoof at her, smirking as she turned away, aiming for her little cloud room hovering along the ceiling. “Ah, give it a rest. You farmers think you’re so special just cause you wake up at the crack of dawn.”

Applejack chuckled. “Sleep tight, RD.”

“Oh, you know I will!”

The cargo door slammed shut with a hiss of steam, leaving Rainbow alone. Her cloud home had no need of a door, so she flew in through a window and alighted with a tired sigh, her wings drooping at her side. She was exhausted both physically and emotionally, her body having finally used up the last dregs of nervous energy since leaving Canterlot. How long had it been since she’d woken up for that dive, terrified at the prospect of having to fight some monstrous Twilight?

And now she couldn’t shake the fear that it was happening to her, too. Puffs of cloudstuff drifted into the air as she slumped into her bed, burying her eye in the soft material and drenching herself in the warm darkness. Why had she tried to hurt Star Trails?

Rainbow had never been a violent pony. Competitive, confrontational, sure, but even when Gilda had come to Ponyville and shown her true nature, Rainbow hadn’t tried to hurt anyone. A flash of annoyance creased her lips into a frown as she thought of her old foalhood friend. Her beak had always had a sharp edge to it, almost like—

Gava. The annoyance turned to anger. Rainbow wasn’t a violent pony, but if there was one person in this world who deserved violence, it was the heartless griffon that had stolen her eye and hurt her friends.

Rainbow rolled onto her other side, growling to herself. She didn’t know what terrified her more, the possibility that her mind was being twisted by some dark corrupting force, or that Applejack may be right and that it was all coming from her.

As disconcerting as it was, Rainbow didn’t have the energy to stay up tossing and turning and wondering. Her thoughts grew sluggish as sleep approached, and soon she was drifting into its comforting embrace.

The last thought she had was of Gava, broken and bloodied at her hooves and begging for mercy. The corner of her lips quirked up into a small smile.

She felt neither triumph nor glee. Just a content satisfaction.
> X: Of Sieges
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d been flying for a little over four hours by Ana’s guess, and her wings were starting to ache.

It helped that they’d found a good thermal to loiter on, but even with the warm air pushing them back up at the end of every circle, holding one’s wings out for so long without rest was a sure way to develop the low, pulsing ache of strained muscles. She glanced over to her sister, gliding opposite her in the pattern they’d established. Griffons weren’t built for endurance flight. No matter how hard Gava might clench her jaw and glare at the clouds and try to pretend otherwise, Ana could tell that she was struggling.

They were circling high above the bustling docks that dominated the West Quarter of Friesland, using the clouds for concealment. Airships came to and fro, the sailors and dock workers alike hustling to unload heavy bundles of supplies via crane and hoof: grain, munitions, and the little imported niceties that made life bearable even with an army encamped outside the walls. Those in command had been sure to keep a reserve of such vital commodities in case of siege, but imports from abroad would let them last far longer. The hike in prices was noticeable, but not harmful. Yet.

Ana narrowed her eyes, picking out a new ship crossing the horizon. It was a hefty construct of dark metal, with a wide base supported by a long balloon affixed on either side, and large propellers on the front and back of each balloon pushing its bulk. A pair of long wings jutted down underneath it at an angle, perhaps to give space for control surfaces or just for balance. It was unique compared to the simpler one-balloon underslung design most common in the docks; a southern ship, most likely. Its captain must have come a long way in the hopes of greater profits.

Ana angled her body, passing over Gava as she guided herself towards the approaching ship. Gava fell into place beside her with a grimace, pumping her wings to catch up.

“You finally find a target you’re satisfied with?” she asked, a little short of breath.

Ana nodded, pointing a hoof. “That one.”

“Finally.” Gava flexed her talons, the sharpened tips gleaming in the sunlight. “Any longer and I might’ve fallen into the ocean of boredom.”

“Hey, put those things away.” Ana did a brief twirl, dusting the tip of her tail over Gava’s beak and drawing an indignant squawk. “Nobody’s gonna cooperate if you get all bloody.”

“What’s it matter if they cooperate? It’s just a bunch of ponies, Ana. Claws are faster, and they’ll probably just surrender once they see me in action.”

Ana pursed her lips, but didn’t offer any further rebuttal. Many hard and frequently bloody years on the job had dulled whatever sense of righteousness she might have once nurtured. This was the wrong business for remorse. Not that she’d had much opportunity for it.

Until they came along. And how did you thank them?

Ana shook her head with an annoyed growl. Focus. You don’t owe them anything.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the ship. It was making a beeline for the island, and as Ana drew closer she began to pick out more details. The lower deck was open to the sky, secured only by a loose net, allowing the large stone bins and rope-secured bundles inside to be loaded and unloaded with ease by any dock crane. She could only see a couple ponies walking around the deck with pens in their mouths, leaning over the netting and squinting at the cargo before making small notes on their clipboards. The deck ended in a small cabin towards the bow with a wide glass window, where she expected the pilot would be stationed.

By her guess, the ship probably had about a dozen ponies in the crew, plus the captain and an officer. Not one would see them coming.

She glanced down at the metal shoe fitted snugly around one of her hooves. Small, sharp studs lined the bottom face, and a pair of curving blades rested against the foreleg above it. They were attached with a simple hinge, and it was a simple matter to pull the blades out and lock them in place, where they’d extend out from her hooves like a pair of cold metal talons. One of her pair had been lost in the crash of the Roc’s Screech, but even just the one arcata was enough to multiply her lethality ten-fold.

After a moment’s consideration, she shook her head and looked away. She didn’t need any blade to take out a few sailors, and it was difficult to walk with the two sharp prongs sticking out from her hoof. No, she’d keep all six limbs free for this.

She tugged at the strings of the thick cloth jerkin around her barrel, ensuring it was snug. “Ready, sis?”

Rather than answer with words, Gava folded her wings in and let gravity take her. Ana couldn’t help but grin as she followed suit, taking a moment to close her eyes and sink into the sensation of the wind rippling through her mane.

They veered to opposite sides, each aiming for one of the two ponies on the deck. There was a splash of glistening red as Gava landed, sinking her talons into her prey’s neck and drawing out a wet gasp. Ana’s target jumped in alarm, his face paling at the sight, and he was still watching with stiff-bodied shock when Ana’s armored hoof crashed into his face. He collapsed in an instant, his clipboard clattering against the metal beside him.

The sisters exchanged a quick glance. Ana pointed a hoof downwards. I’ll get below decks. Gava nodded, pausing only to lick some blood off her talons before pacing towards the closed door of the control room.

Ana’s eyes didn’t linger on the bloodied sailor. Her arcata flashed out, severing the netting over the cargo hold with a quick tug, and she dropped inside, alighting on the lower deck without a sound.

There was the clatter of cutlery hitting a plate. Ana turned to see a pegasus mare and unicorn stallion watching her with wide eyes, each seated on either side of a simple table and wearing worn work overalls. She pounced, spinning mid-air to land a double-legged buck against the stallion’s chest. His yelp cut off with a groan as his head slammed against the hard wall behind him.

The mare was quick on her hooves, turning the table up with a quick buck. Ana rolled under it with ease, but the mare was already galloping away, her lungs belting out a panicky scream.

“Raiders! Raiders!”

Ana launched herself forwards, wings pumping at her sides and ears twitching at the muffled sound of pounding hooves around her. She caught up with the mare just as she opened a door leading out of the open-air cargo hold, bringing her to the ground and cutting off her shriek with a kick to the gut.

Ana looked up as the mare doubled over. Hammocks lined the walls, gently swaying with the motion of the ship. A half-dozen sailors all looked up from their dice, eyes darting between Ana and the mare gagging on the ground. A bottle tipped over with a quiet clinking, spilling its contents.

Ana waved a hoof. “Hello, there.”

The sailors stood up and spread across the room, glowering down at her. One of them, a unicorn stallion with a burnt red coat, stepped forwards. “What’re you doing on our ship, bat pony?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was stealing it?” Ana asked.

The stallion snorted. “And you’re gonna take all of us on? On your own, little bat?”

Ana shrugged. “If you want me to.” She paused, taking a moment to consider drawing her arcata before dismissing the thought once more. “You’d probably like it more than if my sister did it.”

A wave of laughter passed over the sailors. “And where might she be, then?”

Ana screwed her muzzle up as if in deep thought. “Probably in the control room with a few bloody bodies. I imagine even a gang of idiots like you might’ve heard of her. Does ‘Gava the Griffon’ ring any bells?”

That got their attention. She grinned as they all frowned at her with a sudden gravity.

A mare stepped forward, her voice low and her lip curled back. “The same Gava that bit off Jester’s horn in Leviathan Wakes?”

Ana blinked. “Wait, she did what?”

She knew Jester. The mare owned the biggest bar in the traveling ocean city, and over any given year she’d count almost every free-roaming mercenary, pirate, and salvage diver among her patronage. She was everybody’s friend, she had a hoof in every pot, and if you wanted to piss off every ship-bound pony in Equestria, biting her horn off would be the quickest way to do it.

It occurred to Ana that she really ought to have a long talk with her sister about long-term thinking.

“Didn’t think her actions would ever catch up with her, did she?” the mare sneered. She stepped forwards, the other sailors close behind. 

“Are you threatening my sister?” Ana bared her fangs, her tail lashing out behind her. Her pulse quickened, bringing with it the jittery thrill of adrenaline and pushing out any concerns over lethality. “Kinda sounds like that’s what you’re doing.”

“Not just her, bat,” the stallion spat. “Course the bounty’s on the dead hen herself, but I don’t think Jester would turn down a bat wing necklace.”

“That’s a little grotesque, don’t you think?” Ana stepped back, her tail brushing up against the wall behind her. “Look, I’m kinda trying something new today. How about you all get together and tie yourselves up, and I guarantee you’ll live to set hoof on land again.”

They grinned at each other as they closed in further. They were just a few steps away now. “I think you should be more worried about your own life for now, bat,” the mare said.

Ana grimaced. This would be a lot easier if I could just magic them all in place. She looked between the two ponies in charge, the ones that had threatened Gava, and a surge of bitter anger flared up in her breast. Why should she bother trying to keep them alive anyway? They sneered down at her, perhaps mistaking the expression for one of fear.

Well, I tried. She raised a foreleg and flicked her hoof. The mare that had been cowering on the ground beside her whimpered as the arcata blades snapped into place with a loud click, drawing the assembled sailors’ eyes. At the same time, she hooked her wing claws around the throwing blades tucked away into each side of her jerkin. The sailors were oblivious to the motion, distracted by the more obvious weapon on her hoof.

With a flick of her wings, the mare and the stallion who had threatened Gava fell to the ground like puppets cut loose from their strings, blades embedded in their eyes up to the tang.

The remaining four sailors jerked back, eyes wide as the last twitches of life fled from the fresh corpses. Slowly they looked back to Ana’s cold gaze.

“Against my better judgment, I’ll give you one more shot,” Ana growled. “I know my sister can be a bitch, but is it really worth your lives?”

The distrust was clear in their eyes, and she couldn’t blame them. Everybody knew that you couldn’t trust a thestral. 

Well, guess there’s always next time.

Guttural roars filled the little barracks as the sailors rushed her all at once. Ana snarled as she threw two more blades, each striking true but doing little more than stagger their targets. She lashed out at the first pony to reach her with her arcata, cutting two deep gashes across his neck. He fell to the ground, clutching at the wound in a vain attempt to staunch the spurting blood.

She flapped her wings as the second sailor reached her, vaulting over his lowered horn and sending him sprawling with a kick to his rear. The third sailor had a small work knife held in his feathers, and she knocked it loose with a quick jab. She was too slow to catch the fourth, who tackled her with a furious roar and drove her up against the wall.

Ana gasped as the breath was knocked out of her. She grit her teeth, grabbing her last pair of knives from her outfit and plunging them into her attacker’s flanks. The small blades were hardly lethal in such a place, but it was enough to draw a scream of pain, and she seized the opportunity to push him back and squeeze her arcata into the space between them. A wet, red gurgle slipped past his lips as the sharp points slid into his neck.

She tossed him off just as the other two ponies were recovering. One of them ripped a hammock off the wall, tossing the makeshift net over her while his companion kept her hemmed in. She flared her wings wide as the net landed, keeping it from tangling her legs, and lunged forward, bearing the nearest sailor to the ground.

She made to lunge with her arcata, growling as it caught on the netting. Instead she opened her maw wide, pressing down onto him and sinking her fangs into his neck.

He screamed as warm blood flooded into her mouth and dribbled down her chin. “Ah, fuck! It’s drinking my blood!”

It.

Ana caught movement in her peripheral vision. She lashed out with a hind leg and was rewarded with the vibration of impact and a grunt of pain. She bit harder, pulling back with a vicious snarl. The pony’s screams were cut off abruptly, and his struggles died down shortly after.

She spat the blood out as she turned to face the last sailor, who had opted to remain curled up against the wall instead of rising to face her once more. In his fearful eyes she saw her image reflected—a thestral panting with exertion, the thick blood of a pony staining fangs bared in a rictus grin, and glimmering golden eyes spread wide with the heart-pounding rush of battle.

She took a deep breath. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds, and she’d added four kills to her name.

“D-d-don’t kill me!” the sailor begged, hiding under his forelegs.

Ana took a step forwards.

“P-please! I’m sorry! I d-d-don’t want to d-die!”

She reached a wing over to pull a knife out of a corpse’s eye with a wet squelch.

“Oh, fuck, oh, please. Oh, Luna, s-save me!”

Luna.

Ana paused. She thought of the great cathedral in Friesland and the likeness of Princess Luna frowning down at her. She thought of Gava describing how peaceful the Princess had looked, even as battle raged all around her on the Argo. She thought of overheard conversations between Countess Rarity and Pinkie Pie, and of a midnight blue dress hidden away beneath her father’s skull.

She licked the blood from her lips. A cold chill ran down her spine before settling into a stony weight in her gut.

The throwing knife splashed into a pool of blood on the ground, spraying a few red drops onto her coat. The stallion whimpered and flinched as she stormed past him without a word, past the cowering mare she had initially chased inside, and back into the open air of the cargo bay.

She shoved her arcata back into the sheathed position. She raised a hoof to scrub the blood off her muzzle, but all she did was smear more onto it.

Idiot filly! What are you doing? Why was she stressing out over a little blood? She may not have ever eaten pony flesh like her sister, but she’d gotten blood on her tongue plenty of times in her life. It tasted good. And why wouldn’t her heart stop racing? The danger was past!

She shook her head as she flew back up to the upper deck. She needed to focus until the job was done. Distractions would only endanger her or her sister. With renewed determination she flew through the open door of the control room.

There were only three bodies here, but if anything there was even more red on the scene than she had left down below. A few stray limbs sat in puddles of it in the corners, far from the terrified, frozen faces of their former owners.

Focus! Gava stood at the front of the room, eyes forward, talons idly occupied by the controls, and dark smears of red on her curved beak. The West Quarter was just passing under them.

Gava glanced back. “Finally. So how many were there?”

“E-eight.” Ana stepped up to Gava’s side, swallowing and putting more force into her voice. “Maybe if I had it as easy as you I’d have finished sooner.”

Gava shot her a sideways glance,  but Ana kept her gaze resolutely forward. At length she finally spoke. “Yeah. Guess you had twice as many as me.”

“I left a couple survivors.”

Gava snorted. “Not for long. We’re almost there now.”

She pointed a talon at the approaching shape of their objective, the garrison fortress. It was constructed in the old style, a castle of sheer stone walls and towers that the city had long since outgrown. Where once there had been fields of wheat, now mismatching stone buildings squatted around the castle’s base. In the past it would have housed a company of trained archers and warriors, but now it served as training grounds, administration, and storage for the city’s police force.

Most importantly to them, however, it was the site of one of Friesland’s two central granaries, as well as a sizeable stockade of munitions.

A small airship was approaching from the opposite side of the city. A pegasus stood on the prow, waving colorful flags in her wings. Ana didn’t know flag code, but she imagined it probably meant something like, ‘turn back now,’ ‘prepare to be boarded,’ or ‘this is your final warning.’ 

“Any trouble while I was gone?” Ana asked.

“Nah. You know me.” Gava grinned, nudging Ana with a wing. “I’m quick when I wanna be, even if I’m not sneaky like you.”

Ana nodded, half-heartedly returning her sister’s expression. “Glad you finally admit it.”

Gava wrapped a talon around each of the two throttles, slowly pushing them each as far forwards as they would go. The ship shuddered as the propellers spun faster, and bursts of steam spewed from pipes meandering across the walls.

“Think I’m on target?” Gava asked, her voice casual.

Ana gave a quick nod. “We should get going before it hits.”

“You think? What would I do without you, sis?”

Ana rolled her eyes as she shoved Gava off the controls. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Whoa, alright, fine!” Gava grumbled, turning for the door. “What’s up with you, huh?”

“We’ll talk when we’re safe.”

The wind whistled past them as they stepped out onto the deck. From this angle, Ana could see another one of the small Friesland ships approaching from the side, the pegasus signalmare aboard it frantically waving her wings. They were close enough that she could just make out the mare’s voice shouting commands.

A hatch in the deck opened, and Ana stiffened as the stallion she had spared climbed out, followed shortly after by the one she had knocked out with one buck. 

They looked to her and Gava with wide eyes. “What the hay are you doing?!”

“You didn’t tie them up?” Gava asked. Ana could only offer up a weak shrug. “Whatever. More done than doing, anyways.” She spread her wings, flying up and away from the soon-to-be crash site.

“Wait, stop!” The sailors broke into a gallop, sprinting across the deck. “We’re flying too low!”

Ana knew they wouldn’t have time to correct course even if they did make it. Her hooves lifted off the ground as she took flight, but she found herself hesitating.

She turned to face the sailors as the ship drifted past beneath her. “You can’t save it! Abandon ship while you still can!”

They didn’t listen. One paused to shout some expletive at her, but the wind carried it away. They filed into the control room without hesitation, slamming the door shut behind them.

With a sigh, Ana looked up and flew after her sister. An odd phrase was lingering in her mind, and with a start she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had meant it.

I’m sorry.





“Whoa, apple pancakes?”

The pancakes slid onto Rainbow’s plate with a quiet plop. A small smile tugged at Applejack’s lips as she walked to her own plate, slid a few more cakes onto it, and set the pan aside on the stovetop. “Heh. Yer welcome.”

Rainbow rubbed her hooves together as she grinned down at the plate. The thick, fluffy cakes were stuffed with dried apple slices. “Where’d you get apples?”

“Heighton, before we left. Got enough to last us a good while too, I reckon.” Applejack doused her plate with a healthy helping of syrup before pushing the bottle across the table and sitting down. “Shame I couldn’t find the tree, but it’s good to taste apple again anywho.”

Rainbow caught the bottle with a wing. She upended it over her plate without hesitation, drowning the pancakes in a miniature flood of sweetness. She had barely put the bottle down before she leaned into the plate in earnest, tearing off a huge bite.

Applejack snorted, shaking her head. “Good to see yer feelin’ better, at least. Might wanna go a bit easy on that syrup, though. It’s a long trip north, and Sabre ain’t plannin’ on makin’ any stops she ain’t got to.”

Rainbow nodded enthusiastically as she swallowed. “Good! Twilight needs us there as soon as possible.”

Applejack didn’t say anything to that, but Rainbow was more than content to focus on her breakfast. It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to enjoy Apple Family cooking, and the familiar flavor was a welcome escape from the fears that had haunted the corners of her mind since Altalusia. The world may have ended, but there were some things that remained constant; Rainbow Dash was awesome, Applejack made delicious apple pancakes, and Twilight Sparkle would always be her friend.

Rainbow looked up, eager to share the sentiment, but the smile on her face faltered as she saw the way Applejack was looking at her plate. The cowpony had a tight-lipped frown on her face, a faint wetness pooling in her eyes.

“AJ? You alright?”

Applejack sighed, raising a hoof to her eyes. “Aw, hay, Rainbow. I’m just bein’ a silly pony. Don’t y’all mind me none.”

Rainbow licked the syrup from her lips, stealing one last glance down at her half-eaten breakfast before standing up. She walked around to her friend’s side and put a comforting wing around her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

“I know.” Applejack shook her head down at the plate. “It’s just—well, I ain’t had an apple pancake since—y’know?”

Rainbow frowned. After a moment she gave a nod. “Yeah.”

“And it’s just, my whole life used to revolve around these li’l fruits. Apples’re what brought my family together every mornin’ and every afternoon, every day of my life. I got up today and I thought I’d make y’all breakfast, and apple pancakes just feels so right, but—” She looked up, her lower lip quivering as she looked at the empty table before her. “Oh, Celestia, I just w-wanna see my baby sister smile again!”

A sob wracked Applejack’s body, and she leaned into Rainbow’s embrace, her hat falling to the floor. Rainbow’s eye widened as her normally stoic friend began to cry in earnest, and she raised a hoof to awkwardly pat her mane in consolation.

“H-hey, it’s okay,” Rainbow said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. What was she supposed to say? Applejack always knew just what to say when ponies needed her to be there for them.

With a start, Rainbow realized that she hadn’t seen Applejack cry or show any signs of mourning since they first arrived in Heighton. How long had it been now? Almost a month, and Applejack had remained resolutely calm, a steady rock in the emotional storm of the apocalypse, lending a shoulder or a hoof whenever it was needed and never asking for anything in return.

It wasn’t right, Rainbow decided. Applejack didn’t deserve to carry that burden alone anymore than the rest of them did. Rainbow’s hooves tightened around her shoulders, pulling her best friend close.

She still didn’t know what to say. Maybe she didn’t have to say anything.

Some of her own tears dripped down her cheeks as she thought of her parents. She’d always gotten so annoyed with them, and now she’d never have the chance to to tell them both how much they really meant to her.

But no, she would be strong, for Applejack if nothing else. She thought of Gava, tempering her tears with the smoldering heat of her anger. There would be time to mourn later.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before Applejack’s sobs died away. She let out a shuddering sigh, shaking her head against Rainbow’s chest. “Shucks, the pancakes’re gonna be all cold now.”

“I’ve eaten cold pancakes before,” Rainbow said. “They’re still pretty good.”

“I guess so. Sorry. And thanks.” Applejack pulled away, wiping her tears with a hoof as she gave Rainbow a weary smile. “Guess I’ve been holdin’ some of that in for a while.”

Rainbow grinned, picking Applejack’s hat off the ground and placing it back on her head. “I’m here for you, AJ. Just don’t let anyone else know about it, okay? I’ve got my reputation to think about!”

Applejack snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” She turned back to look down at her plate. After a few seconds, “Reckon I’d better eat these. Granny’d hate for me to waste good apples.”

She sniffled, and for a moment Rainbow thought that the crying was going to start again, but Applejack pulled through. She leaned down and took a small bite, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“Land’s sakes,” she breathed, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “These’re some good apple pancakes.”

There was a hiss of steam to the side, and both mares turned to see Flintlock step into the galley, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked between them both, perhaps noting the redness in their eyes or the wetness on their cheeks, before clearing his throat. “Either of ye seen my helmet?”

Rainbow cocked her head, exchanging a confused glance with Applejack. “Like your dive helmet?”

He nodded, walking past them to the pantry door. “Aye. Ain’t been workin’ ever since that dragon damn near burnt it off me in Old Canterlot. I set it down in th’ workshop t’ make some repairs, but th’ damn thing seems t’ have just up ’n walked off on me!”

Rainbow shrugged. “Sure you didn’t just misplace it?”

“Dash, I do not just misplace my gear,” Flint growled back at her. He opened the pantry and stepped inside, picking up a small mug and placing it under the tap of a keg of cider. He turned the spigot, frowning as nothing came out. “What th’...” He moved the mug to another keg, only to get the same result. “Wh—where’s my cider?!”

“Cider?” Rainbow echoed. “In the morning?”

“Aye, cider, at any time of day!” Flint re-emerged from the pantry with his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I got three full kegs in Heighton, ‘n two of ‘em are empty! Now every member of th’ crew knows not t’ touch my cider, so which of ye did it?”

“We didn’t do nothin’ to y’all’s cider,” Applejack said. She cocked an eye towards Rainbow. “Did we?”

“Nuh uh!” Rainbow raised a hoof, crossed it over her chest, and stuck it up to her eyepatch. “Pinkie Promise, Flint.”

Flint cocked his head, his mouth hanging slightly open. His gunmetal blue eyes darted between both mares.

“I made some pancakes,” Applejack offered, nodding towards where the last pancakes were waiting in the pan. “If’n y’all’re hungry.”

Flint’s stomach answered for him, letting out a growl that sounded even more irritated than he often did. With one last flick of his tail he walked around the table to the stovetop, grumbling under his breath, and picked up the whole pan. He mumbled out a muffled “Thanks” before taking the pancakes, pan and all, out of the galley. The door closed behind him with a burst of steam.

Rainbow immediately turned to meet Applejack’s eyes, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. Rainbow knew Applejack would never lie, and she knew Applejack knew that she wouldn’t dare make a false Pinkie Promise, even if the party pony was separated from them by a week of airship travel across an ocean filled with monsters.

“Real mystery, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow rubbed at her muzzle with a wing. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Let’s finish eating first.”

Applejack let out a soft chuckle, her eyes twinkling as she turned back to her plate. “Bet I’ll clear my plate before y’all do.”

“You’re on!”





The ocean floor was a place of darkness, and with a small start Twilight realized that she was getting used to it.

She drifted over the submerged sands surrounded in a lavender bubble, leaving a small trail of bubbles and swirling black and red wisps in her wake. In her first experiences with the ocean, it had seemed like a malicious entity to her, almost alive. The sheer darkness that rushed in to swallow up any part of her surroundings not protected by suit or horn lights had felt like a leering monster always waiting for her to drop her guard, ready to pounce and snap her up in an instant.

Of course, Twilight had a much better idea of what a monster was now than she once did. She was no longer afraid of the dark. She couldn’t even see it anymore.

In spite of herself, she had to admit that the vision Midnight had forced upon her was useful. Past the dim glow of her shield, what was once an imposing wall of black was now revealed to be the sunken ruins of the Equestrian countryside, made all the bleaker by the complete lack of color. Most of it was unrecognizable after a millennia of deep sea erosion, but every now and then Twilight could pick out details. There, a great tree skeleton fossilized by the immense pressure of the surrounding water, and there the tarnished helmet of a Royal Guard next to a half-buried chariot.

Twilight blinked, and Midnight was standing on one of the tree branches. She looked away, only to see her dark passenger watching her from an approaching hillside. Everywhere she looked, Midnight waited in silence.

Twilight grimaced. Her horn glowed, and the crackling tingle of teleportation rushed over her body as she flung herself across the depths.

She drifted higher, rising over the fallen in corpse of what was once a large brick building, the last survivor of whatever community it may have been part of. Midnight was watching from the ruins.

She’d worn herself out in her rush to reach Canterlot after Altalusia, and now she knew to pace herself. Giving herself a few minutes between teleports ensured she could cross distances quickly without exhausting her reserves, pausing only to cook more of the changeling meat she had brought with her or take brief naps while Midnight maintained the shield spell.

Midnight.

Twilight’s doppelganger had been entirely silent since leaving Canterlot. It helped eat, it helped maintain the magic barriers that kept the ocean pressure at bay, but otherwise it just watched her with the same bloodshot smirk.

A herd of seaponies swam into view, their blind eyes snapping in her direction. They hissed, but didn’t dare to approach, giving her a wide berth as she floated past.

Midnight wanted something from her, clearly. Twilight had an idea of what it was, too, but she was loathe to grant it even if it was deserved. She let out an irritated growl as she caught sight of Midnight standing ahead on the ocean floor.

I know what you’re doing, she thought. It’s foalish.

Midnight didn’t respond, but it didn’t have to to convey its thoughts. They were two minds in one body, and it was easy to tell when one thought the other was being a hypocrite.

Twilight sighed. What was the point of it all? She had to admit that she preferred the endless mental prodding and biting humor over this dead silence. She was the one acting like a foal, and both of them knew it.

Thank you.

Oh, my. Midnight was floating in front of her, a hoof raised to its chest in mock surprise. What was that, little flower?

Twilight grit her teeth. Her horn flared, teleporting them across the sunken horizon once more. You heard me. Thank you.

Mm, isn’t that just delicious.

Could you please not make this any worse than it has to be? Twilight asked, rolling her eyes. You helped me save Spike. You helped me save my friends.

Midnight’s grin widened as it floated closer. And I saved our lives. Neither us nor them would have made it out of those ruins without me.

Twilight glared back it. I doubt they would have made it out without me, either.

Midnight arched a brow, pulling back. After a few moments it coiled its body around hers, bringing its muzzle up to her ear. A fine point, little flower. Perhaps now you realize how unstoppable we are when you move with me, hmm?

Twilight shot it a sideways scowl as she lit her horn, casting yet another teleport.

As the light of the spell faded away, Twilight took in her surroundings. Looking down, she saw that the water displaced by her teleportation had revealed the buried remains of an old railway, the wooden planks long lost to time.

It heads north.

Twilight sent a ping out north, along the direction of the rails. It came back a few seconds later, and her eyes widened with a sudden energy. A city!

Let’s not get distracted.

It’s not a distraction! We can just stop here along the way.

That sounds like a distraction!

Twilight pursed her lips. She raised a hoof to her chin in thought. We’re almost out of changeling meat. We can just stop here to— She paused, thoughts stumbling over the next word. —to replenish our supplies.

Midnight glowered at her. Both of them knew that she was more interested in exploring ruins than in food, but Twilight hadn’t been lying.

Very well. We will detour for a day, and no longer.

Twilight clapped her hooves in excitement, sending out a rapid burst of magical pings towards the city as her little glowing air bubble raced through the water. It was big, far bigger than Ponyville, and clearly urbanized. The spells came back to her, outlining the image of towering concrete buildings arranged in rigid blocks, many listing to either side or completely collapsed after weathering the floods. She ran through what she knew of Equestrian geography, trying to think of cities so directly north of Canterlot, and only one answer came to mind.

It didn’t take long for the hazy, drowned skyline of the city to come into view, confirming her theories. It was the largest inland city in North Equestria, built on the shores of the Foalga River, and with a thrill she realized that she could even make out the still-standing silhouette of the old Stallion’s Palace.

Twilight’s horn sparked a brilliant lavender as she cast a final teleport, leaving nothing but the cold, rushing water to take her place.





The siege camp had grown immensely in the three days since Rarity left it. The hill with Countess Silkie’s banner was now completely covered in her colorful tents. Copses of trees had been felled en masse, fueling the great cooking pits and lending their thick protective bark to the palisade being constructed around the camp. Even from her distant position atop Friesland’s inner wall she could see the soldiers milling about, the light sometimes flashing off the sharpened ends of the pikes swinging over their heads. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn’t make out any distinctive coat colors, let alone the soft yellow of Fluttershy’s form. 

Other sites had been claimed as well. Count Armet’s helmet emblem fluttered in the wind over the barricade he’d established across the eastern road, and Count Dane’s snarling dog could be seen standing guard in several positions within his camp, which stretched across the wide open space between the road and a distant forest. Thin columns of smoke from cooking fires filled the sky, and when the wind blew towards the city Rarity imagined she could smell the scent of meals being prepared.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it, love?”

Rarity turned to where Captain Piaffe was standing beside her. Both mares were weighed down by the rimmed helmets of the Friesland Guard, their ears tucked within thick protective covers. Though unlike Rarity, who was constantly fretting with her helmet in some vain attempt to keep it from ruining her carefully styled mane, Piaffe’s ponytail rested against her cream-coated neck just as neatly as it ever did.

With a grimace Rarity realized that Piaffe was referring to the bulwark of defenses surrounding the city. “I’m afraid I’ve never been a mare with an appreciation for military architecture.”

“Are you not an artist, Countess?” Piaffe asked, looking back with a smirk. “Or were you just pulling my tail last night, Pinkie?”

“Nuh uh!” Pinkie’s helmet seemed to be struggling to contain the wild puffiness of her mane. She gave an exaggerated shake of her head, the helmet teetering dangerously with the motion. “She’s an artiste from nose to toes!”

“I am a seamstress,” Rarity corrected, turning her muzzle up as Pinkie giggled behind them. “A mare of culture. I don’t see how it’s at all relevant.”

“Well, as a mare of culture, I imagine you can appreciate the production of generations of talent and earnest labor.” Piaffe draped one hoof over Rarity’s shoulder, pulling her in close and directing her vision down to the defenses below. “You see how the strongpoints of the first wall cover each other, ensuring that no defender is ever left unsupported? Cannons in receded firing positions, and rails so they can be quickly pulled back to the second level if the first is overwhelmed. And the Frieslanders themselves!”

If Piaffe noticed the way that Rarity had stiffened at the contact, she didn’t have the decency to care. She instead directed her attention up to the wide, squat tower that melded into the wall behind them. The wide bore of the Frieslander was just visible from where they stood, poking over the edge of the tower.

“The ultimate defenders of the city, the great mortars that no cannon on the island can ever hope to match, designed by one of Friesland’s own Gifted on her deathbed! They’re the final stroke on a canvas of military engineering unparalleled in all of northern Equestria!”

Rarity rolled her eyes as she peeled Piaffe’s hoof away from her shoulder and took a meaningful step to the side. “Don’t you think you’re being rather melodramatic, darling?” Pinkie let out a quiet snort behind them.

“Ah, perhaps I am.” Piaffe raised a hoof to adjust the lapels of her coat, looking down at the bluecoated soldiers garrisoning the lower wall with obvious pride. “But it is an art, dearheart, even if you don’t understand it. It’s the art of all of Friesland. Have you never had to deal with a pony who didn’t respect your art?”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking away with a begrudging frown. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

It was madness, wasn’t it? Here this mare stood, speaking of weapons of war and instruments of destruction with the same breathless energy with which Rarity herself once explained the latest fashions of each Canterlot season to her friends. Rarity looked down at the craters that disfigured the shattered farms outside of Friesland and she saw the work of monsters. And yet, in spite of herself, she could empathize.

How many times had Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and fallen asleep in the dressing room after Rarity excitedly dragged her into modeling for her? How often did she get into pointless squabbles over Applejack when the farm mare derided her most passionate works as little more than petty wastes of time? And now here she was doing the same thing to a whole city of ponies, if Piaffe was to be believed. Thousands of them must have collectively toiled over the fortifications over a century of effort, and all she could bring herself to do was curl her lip and dismiss it as some sinister mistake.

It was an art, wasn’t it, in its own bloody, horrifying, destructive way? Was the process of creation deserving of respect, even if the end product was a source of such pain?

At length, Rarity let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Captain. From one artist to another.”

“No apology necessary, love. I’m sure you’ve dealt with the same many times before.”

“Ready!”

Rarity’s eyes shot wide open at the hoarse voice of the sergeant directing the cannon crew behind and above them. She dropped onto her haunches, slapping her hooves tight over her earmuffs and pressing the scratchy wool against her head.

For a few, brief seconds, silence reigned. Rarity caught movement in the distance as a squad of Friesland skirmishers ran into view, baron troopers hot on their heels.

“Fire!”

It was the single loudest thing Rarity had ever heard in her life, louder than she had ever imagined were possible. The blast of the cannon made her hooves sore, pressed against her eyelids no matter how hard she shut them, and made every bone in her body shudder with such violence that for a moment she was stricken with a heart-wrenching fear that her skeleton might simply burst free in panic.

She had no sense of how long it took for the thunder to pass. Her ears will still ringing when she opened her eyes, and there was still a distant rumble racing into the distance like a menacing dragon chasing the horizon. She blinked the blurriness from her eyes just in time to see the blast of the impact. She thanked Celestia that she wasn’t close enough to make out any details among the debris tossed into the air.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the cannon crew, audible even through the stone of the tower and the ringing in Rarity’s ears by the sheer weight of their numbers. With another blink, Rarity realized that she had thrown herself to the ground in her panic, and that Captain Piaffe was stomping her hooves in applause.

“Good shot, loves!” she cheered, raising a hoof in salute to the ponies silhouetted along the top of the tower. “That’s the Friesland way!”

“Load!”

The crew’s cheers faded to an excited chatter as the sergeant’s stern command pushed them into action. Rarity could see the cannon’s smoking barrel being lowered to rest even with the rim of the tower. A pair of thickset mares climbed up with a wooden rod between them, the exertion clear on their soot-stained faces as they jammed a wool sponge into the massive bore.

Pinkie Pie slowly straightened back up, her brow furrowed and her mane having gone limp enough for her helmet to finally fit snugly against her head. “W-what did you need to do that for?”

“They’re invaders, Pinkie,” Piaffe said as Rarity picked herself up off the ground. “They want to take our way of life from us, and they’ll do it by force if we let them. We’re merely defending ourselves. They can leave at any time.”

“Except they don’t want to fight you.” Rarity’s voice was soft and bitter, her eyes fixated on the newest crater. Would Fluttershy be able to save any of the ponies struck by the blast? “This whole ordeal is over the question of one mare paying for the damages that she alone caused!”

“With respect, Countess, this conflict has little to do with the fate of one mare, even one as influential as Duchess Nettlekiss.”

Rarity frowned, but said nothing. Piaffe nodded to herself as she continued.

“Friesland has been at ends with the rest of the island since its founding. We’ve clashed with the barons many times, though thankfully they’ve always been so busy posturing against each other that we never had to deal with more than a few at a time. It’s because they know what we are, you see? Free cities are not common in baronlands, Countess. Inevitably one side will destroy the other, and, well.” Piaffe nodded up towards the Frieslander’s tower, where pairs of cannoneers rushed to roll bundles of powder half as big as they were into place to be rammed into the barrel. “Defenses like these are not built without purpose. In some ways, Friesland has always been under siege, even if the barons weren’t clever enough to realize it.”

“And you’re fine with all that?” Rarity asked, glaring at the other unicorn.

Piaffe shrugged. The confident smile never left her face. “Truthfully, love, philosophy and politics isn’t my place. On the day to day I’m just another soldier defending her home, but the mind does tend to wander when you spend a few years standing on this wall.”

There was the sound of clicking machinery from the Frieslander, and Rarity looked up to see a heavy iron ball raised up to the rim of the tower. Two ponies rolled it into place in front of the lowered barrel, where another duo shoved it inside with grunts of exertion. All four of them climbed down out of sight as the barrel was raised back into the firing position.

“Ready!”

“Say, isn’t that airship flying really low?”

Rarity arched a brow as she followed Pinkie’s extended hoof. A large trade ship was hurtling over the city, angled down towards the ground. A trio of small Friesland patrol boats were advancing on it from all sides attempting to cut it off, but it was clear even from a quick glance that the ship wasn’t attempting any escape.

A pair of winged silhouettes separated from the ship and raced upwards. Rarity stiffened as she recognized the shapes, one large and bulky, the other thin and graceful.

She barely had time to contemplate it before the airship crashed into the city, colliding at full speed with the blocky stone architecture of an old keep. The stones may have once been formidable defenses, but they were old and worn down, and either way were no match for the might of a hundred tons of hard metal. Likewise the ship was not designed to be used as a battering ram, and it fragmented into a dozen pieces on impact, a few large chunks bouncing off and spinning into the surrounding city.

Rarity hissed in pain as a brilliant flash of light flared into being and burned at her eyes, forcing her to lower her head and raise a hoof to protect herself. The sound of the explosion hit her barely a second after, the hot shockwave pushing her back a step with its strength. By the time the light faded enough for her to look up, the screams had already started.

A great plume of smoke was rising up in the middle of the city, pushed upwards in angry, swirling clouds by the hot flames curling up beneath them. Chunks of stone arced through the air, leaving black trails in their wake as they crashed back down onto the city, the sharp cracks of their impact quickly drowned out by the rumble of collapsing architecture.

“Oh my gosh!” Pinkie broke out into a gallop without hesitation, her wheels bouncing along behind her. “Those ponies need our help!”

Captain Piaffe stomped a hoof. “Stop her!”

A trio of the bluecoats on the wall jumped into action at the sharp command. They cut Pinkie off, hemming her in with the rifles at their sides and the sharp horns on their helmets.

“W-what? Why?!” Pinkie turned around with tears in her eyes. “I just want to help, Piaffe! I thought we were friends!”

“Captain Piaffe, we don’t have time for this!” Rarity insisted, stepping forward. “We must render aid as soon as we can!”

Piaffe rounded on her, eyes hard. “You will do no such thing.”

Rarity frowned at the unusual coldness of her tone. “Surely you aren’t suggesting—”

“You’re diplomats of the very armies camped outside our walls, and one of our munitions stockpiles has just been destroyed in a clear act of sabotage,” Piaffe said curtly. “Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I’m responsible for all of you, and you will be escorted back to my home immediately for your own safety. As a lady of fine bearing, I assume you will go peacefully.”

Rarity pursed her lips, meeting Piaffe’s narrowed eyes with confidence. She was confident that no member of her delegation would be involved in such a bloody and heartless act, but she could see there was no point in arguing it here.

“Very well, then,”  she said, keeping her voice carefully level. “We will return to our rooms, for now.”

Piaffe nodded. “Good.” She turned to the watching soldiers. “Bring these two to my residence. Nobody is to leave or enter aside from myself and the delegates.”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Well, with that handled—” Piaffe turned so sharply that her ponytail bounced around to her other shoulder. She didn’t look back as she trotted for the nearest stairwell. “Until later, dearhearts! Don’t cause any trouble!”

Rarity watched her go with her legs shaking underneath her. She turned to Pinkie and saw her own shock reflected back at her, but there was nothing either one of them could do. Trying to run would only make things worse.

As the soldiers led Rarity and Pinkie down the narrow stairwell underneath the Frieslander, she found herself wondering if she had just become a prisoner.
> XI: Of Sacrifice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room felt even more cramped than usual.

Of course, all of Captain Piaffe’s residence was cramped, but the bedroom that Rarity and Pinkie Pie had been granted normally had a warm, homely feel to it. Now that Rarity had spent the last hour or so pacing restlessly across the small room, however, the walls were beginning to creep in whenever she looked away. Perhaps it was the shadow under the door that marked the presence of the bluecoat standing guard out in the hall. Perhaps every room felt smaller when you were no longer allowed to leave.

Rarity pursed her lips, bringing her mind back to the present. They had been rushed back to Piaffe’s home hours ago in the wake of the explosion, earning several suspicious leers from the Friesland soldiers. Captain Piaffe had barely spared them a word as they were pushed through the streets, but rumor traveled almost as fast as the shockwave of the blast. The barons had sent saboteurs into the city, or they had hired mercenaries from abroad, or they had dug a tunnel under the wall, or it was sympathizers among the Frieslanders themselves, or, or, or.

By the time Piaffe had ushered them over the threshold of her home, all Rarity knew for certain was that a ship had crashed into a munitions depot, destroying one of the city’s granaries and who knew how many lives. The strange, sheltered distance with which the common citizens had regarded the war had been shattered in an instant, and Rarity found herself glancing towards the door every few minutes, her ears twitching at every distant thud, wondering if a squad of bluecoats was going to storm inside and declare her and Pinkie guilty of sabotage.

Piaffe had assured them they’d be safe. They had been at the wall during the act, giving them a solid alibi. The guards stationed outside her home confirmed that Pontius had been at the table downstairs writing a letter to his father, and the younger stallion was now sequestered alone inside the guest room, despite his loud complaints about being separated from his wife. He had kept it up for several minutes, pounding his hooves on the door and demanding to see Rarity, but thankfully he’d settled down before the guards grew annoyed enough to do something about it.

Whitehorn, however, was nowhere to be found. He had left that morning with no details as to his destination, and was yet to return.

Rarity shivered as she thought back to the fire in Piaffe’s eyes, of the sharp flap of her coat around her hooves as she marched out into the street, of the two soldiers that had fallen in behind her and the rhythmic creaking of the harnesses holding their guns at their sides. 

“You wait here, dearhearts,” she had said, the playful lilt gone from her voice. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

It was approaching sunset already, and the Captain had not come back.

“Hey, Rares?”

Rarity jumped, looking up to where Pinkie was standing by the open window, one hoof resting on the sill. Her lips were quirked in a concerned frown, an expression that did nothing for the fluttering in Rarity’s breast. “Yes, Pinkie?”

Pinkie tipped her head towards the street. Her mane had lost most of its poof, the curling tip of her bangs drooping low between her glistening blue eyes. “Do you hear this?”

Rarity’s ears turned forwards as she approached the window. The street was bathed in the red of sunset, the light flickering with the distant heat of the fire towards the core of the city, and ponies trotted past with their heads down and their lips set. She glanced west, towards the fire, but couldn’t tell if it had grown or diminished in ferocity since the attack. A thin, acrid smog hung in the air, stinging at her eyes and nose.

A filly stood on a crate next to a stack of thick papers, her little lungs casting her voice over the scene as the stallion beside her waved the broadsheets at whoever would spare him a glance.

“Baron’s launch terror attack against Old Westfort! A hundred deaths and rising, fire spreading through Rampart as Fool Titus marches to enslave us! One bit for Governor Rhea’s official statement and more!”

With a start, Rarity realized that some of the ponies stopping to buy broadsheets were glaring up towards their window, chattering amongst themselves in a resentful hush. She pulled Pinkie away from the window, slamming the panes shut with her hooves.

“Hey!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“I’m afraid it would be best if we keep our heads down, darling, at least for the moment,” Rarity said, eyeing the guard’s shadow under the door. Could she get him to buy a broadsheet for them? Was it worth the risk?

“But we didn’t do anything!”

Rarity’s pacing resumed in earnest. She was glad the carpet kept her hoofsteps from resonating. “No, we didn’t, but ponies don’t always think rationally in times of stress. We should wait for Captain Piaffe to return before getting ourselves involved. She has the respect of the citizens, and she—” Rarity let out a soft gasp, looking to Pinkie and lowering her voice. “Can we trust her?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Huh?”

“The Captain, darling.” Rarity glanced towards the door as she drew Pinkie in close. “You and her spent a night out on the town, yes? She’s our alibi, but there’s no guarantee that she’d speak for us. What do you think?”

Pinkie gave an adamant shake of her head. “Piaffe isn’t like that, Rarity! She just wants to protect her friends like anypony does!”

Rarity let out a slow breath. “Goodness, that’s a relief. Now if only we knew where Whitehorn was I might actually be able to sit down.”

“You don’t think he did it, do you?” Pinkie asked.

“Heavens, no! He’s a gentlecolt, not a terrorist. I’m merely worried for his well-being.” Rarity bit her lip, thinking of him being caught by a crowd of angry citizens on his own. She tugged at her mane with a hoof, driving the disturbing image from her mind. “Did you see them? Before the crash?”

“You mean Ana and Gava?”

“Hush, dear! Not so loud.” Rarity raised a hoof to Pinkie’s muzzle, glancing back at the shadow under the door. Had it moved? Did the guard mare have her ear to the door? Rarity turned back to her Pinkie, speaking in a quiet whisper. “Familiarity may be mistaken with partnership in times of tension. We should wait until we can all discuss it together before associating ourselves with the perpetrators.”

Pinkie frowned, tugging Rarity’s hoof away with one of her own. She at least had the decency to whisper back. “But they could be getting away right now! And what if they come back to hurt more ponies? We were on the wall, Rare-bear! How could we have helped them steal a ship?”

“Pinkie, you saw how those ponies were looking at us.” Rarity jerked her head at the shut window. A thought occurred to her, and her horn glowed as she pulled the curtains closed, just to be safe. “Suffice to say, darling, they weren’t exactly wondering how to replicate our manestyles. We must tread carefully.”

Pinkie’s looked down as she tapped a hoof against her chin. After a couple seconds she let out a sudden gasp, her lips turning up into a bright smile. “I could talk to them! I’m sure they’ll understand once I get everyone to laugh a little!”

“Pinkie, nobody is going to feel like laughing!” Rarity hissed. “This is not the time!”

Pinkie waggled her eyebrows with a confident smirk before turning for the window. “Pfft! I’m perfectly positive there’s no pack of ponies on the planet that Pinkie Pie, pink party pony prodigy, couldn’t possibly palliate to parley!”

“Pinkie Pie, please, pacify yourself!” Rarity rushed in front of her, holding a hoof to the other mare’s shoulder. “This isn’t Ponyville anymore, darling. I know you mean well, but we can’t keep acting like it is!” She sighed, slumping down onto her haunches and resting her head in her hooves with a weak moan. “Sweet Celestia, I can’t keep acting like it is.”

How many times had she failed now? She’d been unable to defend herself from Duke Titus and helpless in her attempts at negotiation with Governor Rhea, and every day more ponies died. How was she supposed to bring peace to an Equestria that rejected it at every turn?

Rarity stiffened at a solid thud from downstairs, followed by muffled hoofsteps. Another thud was followed by the scraping of moving furniture and soft voices. Rarity turned to Pinkie, gesturing towards the bedroom door and whispering, “Watch the door, please.”

Pinkie gave an emphatic nod, sneaking over to the door with an exaggerated gait that, for whatever reason, seemed to keep her wheels from creaking. Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the rug off the ground, rolled it up, and leaned it neatly against a wall before she leaned down and pressed her ear to the tiles.

It was difficult to hear through the stone floor, but after screwing her eyes up and making a few adjustments to her position she found herself able to make out scattered words.

“...too easy going… shouldn’t be… escorts.” 

That sounded like Piaffe, speaking in the stern tone of her rank instead of the casual tour guide’s persona she’d presented so far.

The next voice was easy to identify as Whitehorn. Calm, personable. 

“...hardly necessary… Countess Rarity?”

Rarity imagined him sitting with his usual cordial posture, his glasses dirtied from the smoke of the fire and his vest rumpled from whatever roughness the soldiers must have put him through. Was there a gun barrel pointed at his head? Manacles holding his hooves down? Rarity’s pulse quickened as she held her breath and pushed her ear further against a crack in the stone, straining to hear more.

“The Countess and her hoofmaiden are none of your concern at the moment. I’ve been lenient, Whitehorn, allowing you to come and go without asking for details. I’ll find out if you’ve betrayed my trust.”

“Captain, I understand that tensions are high. I’m certainly as eager as you are to find justice for this act, but jumping to conclusions is just as likely to ensure they go free as it is to catch them.”

“Let’s cut the doubletalk, Whitehorn.”

“Of course. I’m only trying to help.” Rarity could practically hear the apologetic smile on his face. “I spent the day visiting local printing presses, looking into rates. I can provide a list of establishments if you wish, and I’m sure they’d all corroborate my story.”

“Planning on distributing sheets? Fair warning, love, propaganda against Governor Rhea can be considered treason.”

“I assure you, I have no quarrel with your governor. I see you have my book on your shelf?”

Rarity frowned at that. Whitehorn had written a book? Why hadn’t he ever mentioned it before?

“A riveting read, but we aren’t here to discuss political philosophy over drinks.”

“My apologies, Captain. I like to carry instances of my writing with me, you see, but unfortunately have been unable to replenish my stocks after certain calamities that befell me before coming here. I was simply looking to print a few copies for personal use.”

Her frown deepened. Surely by now he would have shared his writings with her, or mentioned the loss of them after Fellis Island? And couldn’t he have printed more copies at Straterra before they left for Altalusia?

Had she ever actually read anything penned under his name?

She shook herself, refocusing back on her eavesdropping before she missed too much.

“...held in your room while further investigations are made,” Captain Piaffe was saying. “And I will be following up on this list.”

The scraping of chairs and the stomping of hooves reached Rarity’s ear, and with a start she realized that there were ponies ascending the stairs. She threw herself back against the bed, scrambling to return the rug to its proper place with a flick of her horn.

Pinkie arched a brow, leaning in to whisper, “What’d you hear?”

“I’ll tell you later, Pinkie,” Rarity whispered back, brow furrowing as she fussed with the rug. “Does this rug look right? Perhaps over here?”

“It looks fine to me! You’re better at this kinda thing than I am anyways.”

“Yes, darling, but I don’t need to satisfy us!” The hooves were in the hall now. Was that two sets, or three? The shadow under the door shifted as the guard outside snapped to attention. “I need to satisfy them!”

Pinkie cocked her head, her lips scrunched up in confusion. “I dunno, Rares, I think you might find your interior decoration career more fulfilling if you focused on what you want to do instead of pleasing crowds and critics.”

“Ugh!”

There wasn’t time to get it perfect, and she couldn’t exactly remember how the rug had been arranged anyways. She could hear the door across the hall, the guest room where Pontius and Whitehorn slept, opening and closing, and hooves shuffling about outside. With one last push of magic she flattened the rug against the floor and tugged the wrinkles out of her dress.

It was only when the door began to open that Rarity realized her mane still looked as if it had been pressed up against the floor.

“Sorry I took so long, dearhearts.” Piaffe stepped into the room with a calm smile, her voice soft and warm. She blinked, eyes widening as she focused on Rarity. “By the wall, Countess, are you well?”

Rarity smiled sheepishly as she levitated a brush to her mane. She decided to embrace her breathless nerves instead of trying to hide them. “I’ll survive, Captain, even if this dreadful stress and arid air takes its toll on my mane. I hope things are well in the city?”

“As well as they can be, I’m afraid.” Piaffe sighed, closing the door shut behind her. The shadow of the guard outside was nowhere to be seen. “The fire’s contained, for now, and relief efforts are underway. We found Whitehorn as well.” She paused, looking up expectantly.

“Oh, Celestia!” Rarity raised a hoof to her forehead and feigned a fall against the bed frame. She saw Pinkie suppressing a giggle out of the corner of her eye, but Piaffe didn’t seem to notice. “We were so worried! Is he hurt?”

“Just a few scratches, luckily,” Piaffe said, watching as Pinkie stepped over to help Rarity back to her hooves. “We would’ve found him quicker if you’d told us where he went.”

Rarity looked up to Piaffe with wide eyes, fanning at her face with a hoof. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but he doesn’t normally keep us abreast of his every move. I do so hope he hasn’t gotten himself caught up in anything dangerous.”

“That’s yet to be seen, Countess.” Piaffe’s eyes performed a quick scan of the room, causing Rarity’s heart to skip a beat. “For now, however, you should both remain here, for your own safety. I can bring you some food, if you wish.”

“Oh, that would be simply divine, but I don’t think I could stomach a meal while there’s so many ponies in danger.” Rarity breathed a heavy sigh. “Is there anything we could do to help? It would go a long way toward easing my mind.”

Piaffe arched a brow. “You should stay here, love. You could barely even stand when I walked in, and now you intend to go play hero?”

“I was merely overcome with relief, Captain. I know it may seem otherwise at times, but I am a mare of action, and there is little more harmful to my composure than being cooped up inside while those I care about may be trapped in a blazing inferno.” Rarity looked up to meet the other mare’s eyes, taking a deep breath and straightening her stance. “I would remind you that my hoofmaiden and I are powerful Gifted. We could do much to aid the relief efforts.” She paused, tossing her disheveled mane and fluttering her eyes. “Perhaps you could provide escort?”

Piaffe hardened her gaze, turning away and causing her coat to flutter about behind her. “Not until we finish our investigation.”

Rarity blinked, watching open-mouthed as Piaffe opened the door. “Wha—Captain—”

“I’ll bring you some dinner.” Piaffe didn’t even look back.

So that’s it, then? Rarity wondered. The door would close, and she would have failed yet again. Charm, manners, courtesy; none of it seemed capable of getting her into a position to help the ponies of Altalusia. All of her skills were worthless.

But no, there was another side to her. It was not behavior proper for a lady, but as Rarity’s brow furrowed into an ugly crease and her lips pulled back into a shivering snarl, she found that she was getting rather tired of having others tell her when she could and couldn’t help.

“Do not walk away from me!”

Rarity’s horn burst into light, the telltale blue sparkling of her magic wrapping around Piaffe’s coat and tugging the mare roughly back into the room. The Captain yelped in alarm as the magic twisted her back to face Rarity and slammed the door behind her.

“I am trying to help, darling!” Rarity snapped. “I understand you have your suspicions, I truly do, but there are ponies in pain out there and we have done nothing to indicate anything but the best intentions for all ponies involved in this mess!”

Piaffe blinked. One of her hooves reached for something under her coat, but was wrenched back into place by the magic tight around her outfit.

“Why are all you ponies constantly so caught up in your little petty rivalries?! I have been nothing but courteous and polite in the face of your lecherous behavior, cordial in spite of your governor’s callous dismissal of my attempts at peace, and respectful of your every request, and yet you think to lock me away in this room like some—some renegade saboteur! Pinkie and I have barely left your sight since we walked through your gatehouse, Captain! I don’t even care if you want to keep a gun trained on me the whole time, but with Celestia as my witness, I am going to help somepony in this wretched world if it kills me!”

Her breath came out in a heated snort. With a slight start she noticed that the door had been opened again during her tirade, and a bluecoat stallion was standing in the threshold, his eyes uncertain and the trigger string of his rifle between his teeth.

Rarity’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she saw the gun barrel pointed in her direction. A part of her immediately regretted her last statement.

Piaffe coughed, raising a hoof to the soldier. “Down, Ensign. I have this handled, thank you.”

The stallion arched a brow. “You’re sure, Captain?”

“Yes, just a minor diplomatic dispute with the delegates,” Piaffe said, straining to speak past the tightness of her uniform. “I’ll call if you’re needed.”

Pinkie waved a hoof as the soldier hesitated. “Hiya! Don’t worry, Rarity isn’t gonna hurt anypony! We’re just here to help!”

With an uncertain nod, the stallion dropped his trigger string and stepped outside, slowly closing the door behind him.

After a few seconds, Piaffe spoke. “Excuse me, dearheart, but could you slacken up about the neck a tad?”

“O-oh! My apologies. That wasn’t very appropriate behavior.” Rarity gently set Piaffe’s hooves back onto the floor, straightening the other mare’s coat out with her magic.

“It’s fine, Countess, though I’d caution you about doing that around any of the more veteran troops.” Piaffe blew a relieved breath out through her mouth, shaking her head. “I believe perhaps I can empathize with your position.”

Rarity leaned in. “So… you’ll reconsider, then?”

Piaffe sighed. “Yes, yes. I shall escort you to the relief site, for the citizens’ sake. Just you,” she added, turning to where Pinkie was clapping her hooves together with an eager grin.

Pinkie’s face fell. “Aww.”

“I’m taking a risk here, you understand, but—” Piaffe shrugged, meeting Rarity’s gaze once more. “My instincts tell me that you mean well. Be a dear and don’t prove me wrong, or I’ll have to send the rest of your delegation to the dungeons.”

Rarity grimaced, glancing towards Pinkie. The bouncy mare gave her an exaggerated nod and wink. “I understand. Thank you.”

“Exquisite. In that case—” Piaffe gestured towards the door with a flourish “—let us depart immediately.”

It was a short walk out into the street, and Piaffe’s epaulette-decorated blue coat parted the leering crowds like sharpened scissors on fine cloth as they broke out into a steady canter. Rarity had opted to put her mussed up mane into a makeshift bun rather than waste time straightening it. As much as it pained her, there were ponies in danger, and she was finally being allowed to help.

The sun had dipped down below the island line now, and the brilliant red it painted over the clouds was beginning to give way to the flickering yellows and oranges of the fires. Glancing back, Rarity saw an airship floating high to the east, roughly over where she estimated the baron’s siege camps to be. She gasped as it dropped a flickering ball of flame which plummeted through the sky like a miniature meteor before dipping out of sight behind the wall.

“What are they doing?!” she cried, pulling up to Piaffe’s side. “Those airships!”

“It’s called retaliation, love,” Piaffe said. She kept her eyes forward, not even out of breath from the quick pace. “Or did you think we’d take this lying down? Governor Rhea would be a fool to let the barons strike at us like this without some kind of counterattack, and she doesn’t take kindly to the deaths of civilians.”

“Wh—but it isn’t just soldiers in those camps!” Rarity said breathlessly. They turned a corner, allowing Rarity to get a clearer sight of the airship angling away from the burning silhouettes of giant arrows zipping up around it. “I have a friend in there! She’s just a healer!”

“The barons should’ve considered that before they destroyed a fort so old it served more as a landmark than an actual military facility,” Piaffe growled. “There were only a few militiaponies stationed there, but the fire threatened the whole district!”

Rarity couldn’t come up with a real argument for that, and either way she was having trouble keeping her breath as it was. Fluttershy isn’t as helpless as she acts, she assured herself. She’ll be fine.

Or, more likely, she would be rushing to help the wounded. And she may not have anyone to hold her back until the bombing stopped.

The thin layer of smoke in the air stung at her eyes, and Rarity squeezed them shut as she tried to focus on the aching stitch in her chest instead. Stressing over Fluttershy wasn’t going to do anything but impair her efforts to help the ponies she could reach.

Finally, Piaffe began to slow. Rarity sucked in a deep breath as she stumbled to a stop beside the Captain and took in her surroundings.

She had never seen the old fort up close when it still stood, but the shape of the foundation was still apparent in spite of the damage done. The fort’s towers had all collapsed into long lines of rubble two or three times taller than the ponies climbing over them in search of those trapped underneath, and even those parts of the plaza surrounding the fort not blocked off by rubble were pockmarked by loose stones heavy enough to seriously injure anyone they struck. The surrounding buildings, mostly stone, were stained black from the fires that had consumed anything flammable inside them, their tops open to the sky like mouths gaping in shock.

At the center of it all, almost hidden behind the surviving foundations of the fort, was a deep crater with the wreck of an airship half-buried inside. Most of the ship had been scattered around the plaza with the force of the explosion, several of the sharp metal pieces visible embedded in surrounding buildings or even in the street itself, but the prow was still stuck in the center. A few ponies were clambering over the tilted surface, prying at the half-melted door of a cabin with a crowbar.

Rarity’s eyes were fixated on the charred bodies organized into a neat pile like discarded spools of thread, their coats the same ashen black as the teeth visible in their silently screaming muzzles. Moans of pain drifted from a large, burnt out building just beside the pile, and she watched as an exhausted earth mare dragged a stretcher with a deathly still pony towards it. She tipped the stretcher over, dumping the body on the pile with a sound like autumn leaves crunching underhoof. It had been a pegasus once, but now only a pair of red-black stumps poked from its back. 

There was a stench in the air. Rarity had never smelled anything like it before, but it was easy for her to make the connection to the bodies. She doubled over with a grunt, mixing her bile in with the ash coating the cobbles.

Piaffe gave Rarity a sympathetic pat on the back as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “You see what we’re fighting for now, Countess?” she asked softly. “This is why we build our walls.”

Rarity wasn’t sure if she was shaking with fury, pity, or guilt. Anatami’s cocky grin was stuck in her head, mocking her with its predator’s smile. How could she have put her soul into making a dress for a being that would commit such an act? How could she have ever trusted such a monster?

Never again, she resolved. If she was ever unlucky enough to cross paths with the thestral again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Are you sure you’re up for it, love?” Piaffe asked. “We can head back if it’s too much.”

“N-no, it’s—I’ll manage, thank you.” Rarity straightened up, setting her jaw. “I’ll—I’ll help tend to the wounded.”

Piaffe nodded. “A noble goal. We’ll each do our part.”

Rarity led the way, weaving around the loose rubble and stepping into the stone skeleton of the field hospital. The smell was even stronger here, threatening to overwhelm her, but she would not back down.

A new voice reached her ears. It was a mare’s voice, rough with the accent of the baronlands. “Countess Rarity? Sun ’n sky, is that ye?”

Rarity turned to see a soft pink earth mare approaching her with awe in her eyes, her mane tied up in a high ponytail, her cheeks marred with ash, and her white apron stained with the dark red of dried blood. For a moment, Rarity didn’t recognize her, but then a name jumped to the front of her mind in a flash of memory.

“River Pie,” she breathed, brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Piaffe was eyeing the skinny mare with undisguised suspicion. “You know this baronlander, Countess?”

Rarity gave a slow nod. “Indeed I do. She and five others attempted to capture me for ransom out in the countryside.”

Piaffe straightened up, reaching into her coat and retrieving a pair of iron manacles. River flinched back at the sound, and several other ponies stole quick glances towards the trio before focusing back on their work. “I shall have her taken to Old Westfort at once.” Piaffe stiffened, glancing out one of the empty windows towards the crash site. “Or, well, I suppose the Rampart Post shall suffice for now.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, Captain,” Rarity said, placing a soft hoof on Piaffe’s shoulder. “I later made a great sacrifice for this mare and her companions, and she’s the only one that didn’t spit in my face for it. Last I recall, however, they were still in the Duke’s dungeon.”

River kept her eyes down, one hoof rubbing anxiously over the other. “Th’ Duke set us free after yer weddin’, Countess.”

Rarity frowned. “I was never told of this.”

“I tried t’ speak with ye,” River said to Rarity’s hooves. “Th’ guards wouldn’t allow me past th’ gate, ’n they kept tellin’ me ye were busy in yer rooms, ’n after th’ first night they started threatenin’ me, so—” she grimaced, shaking her head. “I figured ye were right t’ hate me.”

Rarity raised her hoof to her lips as a soft gasp escaped her. The days following her wedding had since blurred together into a broken mess of self-pity with only a few brief glimpses of lucidity. She knew she had turned callers away from her door many times, everything from servants delivering meals to her friends asking after her well-being. How many times had she rejected River’s requests for an audience without realizing, so caught up in her wallowing that she couldn’t even spare the time to speak to one of the ponies she had sacrificed so greatly for?

“I don’t hate you, River.” She sighed, pursing her lips. “Well, perhaps I did hate you at the time, but I wasn’t quite… in my best mind at the time. I just felt so stupid, so—ugh!” River cringed backwards at the outburst, drawing a grimace from Rarity. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve just been so stressed lately, and… confused.”

She fell silent, and for a few seconds neither mare said anything. Piaffe raised the manacles again. “Shall I arrest her, dearheart?”

River bowed her head at the question, dipping into a low bow. “Aye, ye should, Captain. Me and mine wronged th’ Countess fer th’ sake of our greed, and we never deserved her.” She paused, taking a deep breath and straightening up to face Piaffe directly. “But I’ve tried my best t’ live up t’ her gift. I work honest labor here in Friesland now, ’n give what time I can t’ th’ service of my fellow pony. If’n ye see fit t’ judge me here, I won’t stop ye.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, her lips parting as a strange fluttering stirred in her core. “I… don’t believe any further punishment is warranted here, Captain. River Pie has already been sentenced for her crimes, and it’s clear to me that she’s seen the error of her ways.”

Piaffe shrugged, stowing her manacles once more. “That’s a relief. It’s more than a stroll to Rampart Post.”

Rarity raised a hoof to River Pie’s shoulder. “Face me, Miss Pie. I’d rather prefer to speak to you eye to eye if it can be helped.”

River stiffened at Rarity’s touch, but complied. Still, her eyes darted from side to side like flighty birds, never staying on Rarity’s face for long. “Thank ye fer yer mercy, my Lady.”

Rarity brought her hoof to River’s chin, guiding the mare’s gaze until it steadied into her own. She offered up a tentative smile. “Would you like to help me make the world a better place, Miss Pie?”

For a long, silent moment, Rarity’s world focused in on the other mare, this one mare whom she had sacrificed so much for in the spirit of harmony. It hadn’t felt like a choice at the time, but the shadow of the decision had haunted her ever since.

But now, at last, Rarity had a sign. A sign that her efforts weren’t for naught. In that moment she knew, if she had truly influenced just this one mare to embrace the forgotten ways of harmony, she might sleep easy again.

At last, River gave a firm nod. “Aye, my Lady. I dunno if I can, but I’ll do everythin’ in my power t’ be worthy of yer gift.”

Rarity released a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as she blinked the wetness out of the corners of her eyes. The uncertainty haunting her faded into memory, giving way to the warmth that pulled her cheeks up into a wide smile.

“You’ve already done enough, darling.”

I made the right decision. It was worth it.

River shot a nervous glance towards Piaffe with a hesitant smile of her own. “Shall we get t’ it, then?”

Rarity shook her head, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “Yes, of course. Where are we needed?”

River waved a hoof around the field hospital. There were over two dozen ponies splayed out on bedrolls, hay stacks, and rag piles. “Everywhere, Countess.”

“We can handle it, Miss Pie, together.” Rarity took a deep breath as she scanned the rows of wounded. There were a few other ponies helping with the healing, but they were clearly overworked. “We’ll just take it one pony at a time.”





Twilight had thought that she understood nightmares.

How many had she been through now? She’d trudged through the broken bones of her home and read the last words of a desperate mare, traversed the literal nightmare realm of an old soldier and a slumbering alicorn, dug through the rubble of a sinking city searching for the bodies of her best friends, and lived through the torment of a malicious entity that sought to twist her mind to match its own image. She’d spent days in the ruins of Canterlot, watching her own body mutate to match the form of the monsters she hid from and witnessing the final result of the transformation in one of her closest friends.

But even she, it seemed, still hadn’t seen it all.

Country mare’s first time in the big city? Midnight asked from atop a pile of bones twice as tall as she was.

Just as much for you as for me, Twilight grumbled.

Midnight snorted. She leaned back with a wistful sigh. Breathtaking, isn’t it?

Stalliongrad had been a city with hundreds of thousands of ponies within its limits, and it showed. The imposing concrete blocks of its buildings had acted like giant drain grates during the floods, catching the bodies of the drowned in their shattered windows and narrow alleys. Looking up, Twilight could see the bony limbs of hundreds of bodies protruding from the cracked building faces like wildflowers, swaying with the gentle ministrations of the ocean current.

But… Canterlot wasn’t like this. She watched as a seapony swam up to the tallest surviving floor and tugged on one of the grisly weeds, snapping it free before disappearing with its treat ensnared between its fangs. Canterlot’s population was almost half as large, and there weren’t nearly as many bodies.

A mystery for the ages, little flower, Midnight mused. I’d prefer if we focused on the mystery of our next meal.

Twilight pursed her lips, turning to the apparition with a sharp frown. It can wait!

For the moment, yes. But you can’t truly expect to parade me through such a plentiful buffet without accepting a few distractions.

There were hundreds of seaponies in Stalliongrad, and other creatures besides. Everywhere Twilight looked she caught glimpses of mutated ponies swimming through the sea, twisted dogs burrowing into the sand, and flocks of small birds swarming through the streets, their beaks rimmed with fangs that were almost comically large compared to their bodies.

It can wait, Twilight repeated, ignoring the way Midnight’s smirk hovered in the back of her mind. It knew she was just stalling. She was loath to kill an innocent creature, even a monster like a seapony, but they both knew she would have to eventually. She was a predator now, whether she liked it or not.

She tried not to think about the fact that they all seemed to be avoiding her. She didn’t like the way that Midnight would cackle in her ear everytime a seapony caught sight of her and sped away.

The thoughtful frown on her face faded as she turned a corner, bringing Stallion’s Palace back into view. She could’ve easily teleported past all the tightly condensed city blocks to save time, but she had opted instead to travel on hoof, taking in the image of Stalliongrad from ground level through the soft glow of her shield, and so it had taken her a couple hours to find her way here.

The Palace was huge, towering over the surrounding buildings so high that Twilight had to sit down and crane her neck to see the massive statue of three rearing ponies on the top, one of each tribe. The central tower jutted out from atop a half dozen lower tiers, each one a wider circle than the one above it and displaying proud rows of thick columns, and the whole building was raised off the ground by a massive slab of concrete accessible only by a long flight of dozens of steps. It had been a marvel of Equestrian architecture at the time of its construction, and the fact that it still stood after everything that happened sent Twilight’s mind racing with questions.

If only she had been able to see it before it was surrounded by bodies at the bottom of an ocean.

She trotted forwards, grimacing at the skeletons that clung to the palace’s stairs and wrapped around its many columns and being cautious to avoid stepping on any bodies. The corpses here were different from those in the rest of the city; many of them wore armor, either rusting plates haphazardly strapped onto the body or the carefully curved outfits of the Royal Guard, and signs of violent death were commonplace. Many of these ponies hadn’t been crushed by rushing waves or slammed against unyielding buildings, but had instead had their skulls caved in by powerful bucks or their bones chipped and scraped by sharp weapons.

Whatever they might have fought over, their bodies had all collected in the same piles in the end.

Ooh, I like that one, Midnight said. A delicious thought.

Twilight rolled her eyes as she started up the steps. A trio of seaponies that had been scrapping over a body at the top scattered as she approached.

What’s your plan here, little flower? Midnight asked. It’s quite a large building to search on hoof, and we only agreed on a day-long detour.

Instead of answering, Twilight poured a burst of magic into her horn. She cast a series of powerful, focused pings, piercing the imposing facade of the Palace in an even pattern. She cocked her head as her attention was drawn downwards, to a large block of magically reinforced steel, set deep in the foundation and almost as wide.

That feels like a vault, Twilight thought. If anything survived the floods, it’ll be down there.

Mm, there’s an idea. Midnight draped a chilling hoof over Twilight’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. Do you think there’s any survivors?

Twilight’s heart fluttered at the idea. Could it be possible for ponies to have survived down here all this time, their whole world condensed to a miniscule steel stable? Perhaps if it had been built with such a purpose in mind, with farms and recycling equipment and a sustainable source of power, but why would anypony have thought to prepare for such a terrible calamity?

No, most likely the vault was made for short-term storage, or as a bunker to wait out shorter disasters, more on the timespan of weeks or months than centuries. Most likely she wouldn’t find anything there but more bodies, and whatever the bodies had brought with them.

But there was still that chance, wasn’t there?

Would they even see her as a pony? Would they even be aware of the horrifying nightmares swimming only a short teleport away? For all she knew, any survivors could have regressed into stunted tribal societies, scrabbling over the limited regenerating resources of their artificial home with no knowledge of the world beyond.

For all she knew, they could hail her as a goddess.

That’d be nice.

Twilight gave a slight shake of her head. She closed her eyes, forming the teleport spell in her mind, and vanished in a flash of magic.





Rainbow Dash woke with a start.

She was in her soft bed of clouds aboard the Argo, wrapped in its warm embrace. The image of Gava standing over her, framed in red, lingered in her mind for only a moment before she blinked it away, replacing it with the dimness of her bedroom. The scratchy scream in her ears gave way to the steady tick of the hull and the low drone of the propellers.

She was safe. There was no Gava hunting her aboard the Argo. She rolled over with an irritated grunt and fluffed the cloud up beneath her with a shuffle of her wings before squeezing her eye tightly shut.

Minutes passed. She didn’t fall asleep.

Rainbow fluttered out of the bed with a groan. Sleep had developed a habit of evading her lately, but she was never one to surrender easily. A few laps around the ship should wear her out, and then she’d try again.

She floated out of her room with a soft flap of her wings, angling herself into a lazy circle. The makeshift sleeping quarters that’d been assembled in the cargo hold didn’t have any tops, so she could see the dim outline of Applejack sleeping soundly under her sheets. Princess Luna’s dark form was harder to make out, but if she squinted Rainbow could spot the gentle motion of the peaceful alicorn’s breathing.

Rainbow glided down towards the door, prompting it to open with a short burst of steam. The cargo hold had been dimmed for the night, but the hall lights remained at full strength. She wasted only a few moments stretching her wings out before picking a direction and pumping her wings.

The wind tugged her mane back around her ears, drawing a grin from her and pushing the dark memories to the back of her mind. Here, there were no griffons hanging over her with bloody smirks, or green-coated soldiers falling in flashes of red as fire blazed all around her, or old friends battling the dark magic occupying their minds. There were only her wings, and the wind, and the mental stopwatch urging her forwards.

She passed by the cargo hold in a prismatic blur. Twenty-three seconds. Not an impressive time for a straightaway, but the curve and enclosed space limited her speed. Still, she could do better.

The ship’s layout was simple enough. An elongated oval-shaped hallway surrounded the submarine dock on the lower deck, with thin tin doors running along the outer side that led to the various quarters, workshops, and storage rooms. The door to the cargo hold was the aft end of the loop, and a small observation deck on the forward side doubled as a rec room.

The next lap only took her twenty-one seconds. She knew she could get her time down, but there were ponies sleeping soundly all around her. If she wanted to go faster, to lose herself in the burn of her muscles, she would have to go outside. Opening either of the hatches on the lower level might wake somepony, but there was a hatch on the upper level further away from any bedrooms.

She hovered up the stairs at a quick pace, eager to feel the crisp ocean air between her feathers, and noticed with a small frown that the door to Dusty Tome’s shipboard clinic was hanging open. Huh.

She flew closer, nose crinkling at the strange smell hanging in the air. It was heavy, with a metallic tint to it, and Rainbow’s pulse quickened as she recognized the scent of blood. Probably just someone hurt themselves and getting patched up, she assured herself. Nothing to freak out over.

“Hey, Dusty.” She kept her voice low as she reached the door; Sea Sabre’s room was just a few steps down the hall. “Hello?”

The prodding joke about eggheads and sleep schedules on Rainbow’s mind died in her throat as she turned the corner to see Dusty Tome sprawled out on his back next to the clinic’s bed, his eyes wide in unblinking terror. His old brown jacket was stained a deep red by the trail of blood dripping from the ragged gash in his neck, and she could see glimpses of his exposed guts glistening in the harsh light of the airship through the tears in his belly.

A flood of adrenaline rushed through Rainbow’s veins. She dropped lightly to the floor to keep her wings free, flaring them wide and suddenly missing the comforting weight of her wingblades, and scanned the room. Aside from the slowly growing puddle around Dusty’s body, most of the room was clean of blood, and surprisingly orderly for the site of a recent murder.

A murder.

The Argo wasn’t safe.

She backed out of the room until her tail hit the opposite side of the wall, head darting from side to side. The hall was just as empty as it had been before.

She needed to raise the alarm, but what if whatever had killed Dusty was still around? What if Gava was on the ship? She looked to the right, and the ticking of the hull turned into the clicking of a revolver's hammer being pulled back behind her. She spun around, taking to the air, only to see more empty hallway.

“Calm down, Dash,” she breathed, backing towards the control room with her eye fixed on the stairs. “What’ve you got to panic about, huh? You’re the most awesome thing on this ship. You should be happy if Gava’s around, yeah.” Rainbow stole a glance behind her. “You had her last time. She’s nothing.”

A heart-wrenching thunk shook the hull, and Rainbow had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out. With the sound of grinding metal, the ship fell silent.

No steady ticking. No propeller drone.

The lights dimmed to nothingness. Only the pale beams of moonlight shining through the portholes that lined the hall remained.

Gava’s grinning, bloodstained beak lingered in Rainbow’s mind.

The click of a door opening behind her struck Rainbow like a bolt of lightning, and she twisted around with a shout before pouncing for the winged shadow that had appeared before her. It ducked the blow, hooves catching Rainbow in the gut and throwing her to the ground.

“Stand down, Rainbow!” Sea Sabre hissed. “What’s going on?”

After a few seconds of stunned confusion, Rainbow’s mind finally caught up with the question. She pointed a hoof. “H-he’s dead.”

Sabre’s eyes shot wide open. She whirled, stepping up to the open door to the clinic. Moonlight played against her face as she peered inside, giving Rainbow a clear sight of the way her lip twisted back and her brow furrowed down into a hard vee. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Rainbow stood up, suddenly acutely aware of how loud her hooves were against the metal floor. “I just found him, and then—” she gestured with a hoof “—everything’s quiet.”

Sabre’s jaw clenched, her lips twitching as she took a deep breath. Another breath, and the shaking of her body drew still. She turned, wings half-flared, and fixed Rainbow with a gaze of such intensity that it was all she could do but stare back in open-mouthed shock.

“Wait here.”

Sabre breezed past her without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the shadow of her room. She emerged a few seconds later with one blade fastened on her right wing before dropping the other at Rainbow’s hooves.

“Put this on.”

Rainbow blinked, looking down at the perfectly polished steel catching the moonlight below her. Sabre never let another pony handle her equipment. Even Flintlock treated her gear with a quiet reverence. “Sabre—”

“Now.”

The mare’s voice was nearly as sharp as the blade. Rainbow bent down, strapping the weapon to her left wing in a rush.

Sabre leaned in, biting one of the straps around Rainbow’s wing and pulling hard until the blade fell snug against her feathers. She spat the strap out with a curt nod before trotting towards the control room without a word.

Rainbow followed with a grimace, glancing behind her as their hoofsteps echoed into the darkness lingering at the top of the stairs. The hull groaned around them, sending a shiver down her spine. When they reached the control room door, Sabre unfurled her left wing to reveal the crowbar she’d tucked underneath.

“Cover me.”

Rainbow nodded, but Sabre had already turned away and set the crowbar’s teeth into the metal door. A grunt of exertion escaped her as the door slowly began to give.

With a shrill screech that nearly made Rainbow’s heart stop, one side of the door slid open far enough for a pony to slide through. Sabre glanced back and beckoned with a wing before tucking the crowbar against her side again and squeezing through.

The wide window at the front of the control room provided an ample supply of pale starlight, painting the room in a dim midnight blue that was a welcome relief from the dark shadows of the hall outside. Rainbow stepped to the side once she entered, putting her back to the wall while Sabre trotted down to the control dias.

“Sabre, what’s going on?” Rainbow whispered. “What happened to the ship?”

“Relic engine’s down,” Sabre said as she stepped onto the dias. “Intruder must’ve stolen the power source.”

“What? Relic?” There was the sound of shifting metal, and Rainbow’s eyes snapped back to the half-open door. Nothing moved.

“The Argo runs off old Equestrian magic. No relic, no power.” Sabre tugged at a long lever with both hooves, and Rainbow’s ears twitched at the staccato clicking of the mechanism. “We can talk more once the ship’s clear.”

With a soft, barely audible buzz, a dull red light flickered on above the door. Rainbow jumped back as the door suddenly slammed shut. “Whoa!”

“Reserve steam will keep the doors working, for now,” Sabre said, trotting up from the lower level. “Where’s Applejack?”

Rainbow nodded. “She was sleeping in the cargo hold a few minutes ago.”

“Good. Let’s find the others.”

The hiss of the door opening felt far louder without the ship’s usual ambience, and it slid open with a series of halting, sluggish jerks that made Rainbow think of a wounded pony dragging herself to safety. A line of dim red lights was set into the top of the hall on the other side, spaced between the moonlit windows and painting the metal in an alternating pattern of dull red and pale blue.

“You lead. Bottom of the stairs,” Sabre said. “I’ll watch our six.”

“Right.” Rainbow stepped forward with a gulp, testing the weight of the blade on her left wing as she went. Distant hoofsteps echoed towards them from the far side of the hall, and for a moment Rainbow thought she could even hear them above and below her.

A shadow poked up at the end of the hall.

“W-who’s there?!” Rainbow called. She crouched low, straining to make out details in the low light. Were those wingtips raised up behind it? What could she do if it started shooting?

“Rainbow? Y’alright?” Rainbow let out a relieved sigh as Applejack’s voice reached her. “There was a thunk like Tartarus a bit ago, ’n all the lights went out. The hay’s goin’ on, gal?”

“Someone’s on the ship,” Rainbow explained as they met at the top of the stairs. She reached out and pulled Applejack into a tight hug, careful to keep her wingblade at a safe distance. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Whoa. Uh, alright then.” Applejack let out a soft chuckle as she rubbed a hoof between Rainbow’s wings. “What’s got y’all, RD? Somepony up ’n die?”

Rainbow stiffened, pulling back to look Applejack in the eyes. The cowpony’s nervous grin fell from her face, eyes widening.

More hoofsteps drifted from the shadows at the bottom of the steps. Rainbow put herself between Applejack and the approaching noise, relaxing as she caught sight of Star Trails and Flintlock. Trails came first, the faint blue glow of her magic wrapped around her javelin floating beside her. Flint was scanning the hall behind them with his eyes narrowed. HIs shotgun was strapped to his side, a string running from the trigger to a collar around his neck.

Sea Sabre cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Where’s Sunfeather?”

“She wasn’t in ’er room,” Flint said. “Didn’t see Dusty either.”

“What’s up with the power?” Trails asked. “I’ve never seen a relic engine just give out like this.”

“Dusty Tome is dead.” Sabre’s voice was steady, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t lost any of its edge. “An intruder sabotaged the engine.”

The silence rushed back into place as Sabre’s words hung in the air. Trails gaped up at her, her hind legs giving out and allowing her flank to plop against the floor, while Applejack took her hat off with a grimace and glanced into the darkness around her.

Flint let out a low growl. “Orders?”

Sabre nodded. “We’ll mourn later. For now, we need to locate Sunfeather and find the intruder before they accomplish their objectives. We keep to groups of two or more. Is the Princess safe?”

Applejack blinked as she realized the question was addressed to her. “I, uh, ain’t checked.”

“Flint, take Applejack and safeguard the Princess. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Aye, boss. C’mon then, Jackie.”

The cargo hold door groaned in complaint as the reserve steam dragged it half open, giving enough room for Flintlock to lead Applejack through. Sea Sabre placed a hoof on the door, holding it open as she turned to face Trails and Rainbow.

“Sunfeather probably went down to the engine herself to investigate the malfunction,” she said. “You two, find her and then meet us back here. She’s top priority, then retrieving the relic, and only then catching the intruder. Don’t run off alone.” She spoke the last words directly to Rainbow. “Star Trails is in charge. Don’t let me down, Rainbow Dash.” She glanced back to Trails. “Understood?”

Trails gave a curt nod. “Got it.”

“You can count on us,” Rainbow added.

“I know I can.”

Sabre turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the cargo hold, leaving the two mares alone with the weak steam of the closing door.

Trails shot a brief, sideways glance at Rainbow and beckoned with her head. “C’mon. Watch my back, okay?”

“Right.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but grimace as she followed the unicorn down the hall towards the observation room, keeping her eye trained on the shadows behind them. The image of Trails flinching beneath her, raising her hooves to protect her face, was still fresh in her mind, and now Rainbow was following her into the bowels of the ship searching for whoever had killed Dusty.

What had been a twenty-second flight took far longer at this pace, giving Rainbow ample time to imagine griffons hiding in every shadow and jump at every distant creak or burst of steam. Rainbow glanced ahead and caught Trails quickly looking away, her ears swiveling forwards.

It occurred to her that she should say something before they ended up in a life-or-death situation with only each other to count on.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Rainbow sighed. Here goes. “I’m sorry. About, uh, y’know.” She offered up an awkward chuckle as Trails looked back, only to cut it off with a frustrated grunt. Not good enough! “I’m sorry about losing my cool with you.”

After a long moment, Trails nodded and turned her attention forwards once again. “It’s fine, Dash. I know it was a rough situation, and I don’t blame you for getting upset. Thanks for apologizing.” A few seconds passed. “I’m sorry for avoiding you these past couple days.”

“Heh, yeah.” Rainbow broke out into a relieved grin. “That was kinda awkward back in the cargo hold yesterday.”

Trails stopped so abruptly that Rainbow nearly bumped into her. She turned fully, a frown on her face. “Yesterday?”

“Yeah?” Rainbow arched a brow. “Y’know, when you came into the cargo hold and kinda froze up?” She smirked, laying a comforting hoof on Trails’ shoulder. “Hey, it’s no big deal, right? Things were still pretty weird, and I don’t blame you.”

Trails cocked her head. “Dash… I haven’t seen you since our fight.”

Rainbow blinked. “But AJ was there, too. She saw you!“

“Dash, whoever you spoke to? That wasn’t me.”

A cold chill ran down Rainbow’s back, sending a shiver through her body. She twisted around, wings fluttering her into a low hover, and peered into the dark hall behind her.

The silence was really starting to get to her.

Trails spoke up uncertainly.  “Hey, you okay?”

“Shush!” Rainbow snapped. “I’m thinking.”

The awkward, silent Star Trails she had spoken to a couple days ago wasn’t Star Trails. Applejack had been there, so she couldn’t have been hallucinating. Had it been a dream? Or maybe—

She whirled, pointing a hoof at the other mare. “Have I ever told you the story of how I did a Sonic Rainboom?”

Trails cocked her head. “Dash, you’ve told me that story like ten times already. This isn’t the time.”

“How many times?” Rainbow pressed. “How many times exactly have I told you the story?”

“Uh… “ Trails rubbed at her chin with a hoof. “Three? Am I missing something?”

Rainbow nodded, letting her hooves fall to the floor once more. She beckoned Trails close and leaned into her ear to whisper, “I think a changeling killed Dusty.”

Trails stiffened. “What?”

“Think about it! I spoke to a Star Trails, and it wasn’t you.” Rainbow bit her lip as she thought back to the past few days. “And Flint’s cider! There were two kegs empty, but nopony on the crew would have drank any. His helmet was missing and—” she paused, her mouth going dry “—like it just walked off.”

“But how would a changeling do all that? Why?” Trails shook her head. “And that still doesn’t explain what you saw. It’s not like a changeling can just transform into another pony at will.”

Rainbow shot her a look. Trails narrowed her eyes.

“Wait. Can changelings transform into another pony at will?”

“Of course they can!” Rainbow hissed. “Why do you think they’re called changelings?!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a historian!” Trails shot back. “I thought they were just mutated Canterlot ponies, like seaponies, but without water!”

“We need to get back,” Rainbow said, turning around. “Sabre needs to know.”

“They’ll be fine, Dash. There’s three of them.” Trails stepped in front of her. “But Sunfeather’s probably on her own down in the engine, and she isn’t a fighter. If that changeling catches her looking like one of us… “

“Right. Let’s move, fast!”

They broke out into a trot, closing the distance to the front of the ship at a quick pace. The red emergency light above the rec room door came into sight, beckoning them forwards.

Trails came to a stop in front of it, but instead of approaching the door and prompting it open, she turned to face the opposite direction. A small trapdoor was set low into the wall at an angle, reminding Rainbow of the entrance to Applejack’s old cellar. The door hung open, swallowing up the dim red light like a hungry monster waiting for prey to wander inside.

“We’re going down there?” Rainbow asked.

“There’s a few maintenance tunnels around the ship,” Trails said. She floated her javelin down first, illuminating the surface of a mesh catwalk within. “This one leads to the engine. If anyone wanted to break or fix it, this is where they’d go. C’mon!”

Rainbow grimaced as she watched Trails squeeze herself through the little hole and step out of sight. Taking a deep breath, she poked her head inside and looked around.

The maintenance tunnel was even tighter than she had first thought. The walkway ran between two walls made of interlocking brass piping, and unlike the rest of the ship there were no red emergency lights to fend off the darkness. Only the soft glow of Trails’ magic lit the way, and even that was mostly blocked by the unicorn’s body. Rainbow wasn’t even sure if she could get one wing half-flared in the little space. How easy would it be for a changeling to jump out of some unseen crevice and rip her throat out while she struggled to even bring her weapon to bear?

She shook herself, dislodging the bloody image. “C’mon, Rainbow,” she muttered. “You’re not afraid of a little tunnel, are you? Gonna take more than two walls to stop the most awesome pony in Equestria. Yeah.”

She eased herself through the trapdoor as she spoke, trying not to cringe at the way her feathers brushed against both walls as she followed after Trails. The mesh of the catwalk trembled underhoof, and looking down past it Rainbow caught brief glimpses of clockwork gears catching the light from Trails’ horn.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until they reached the end of the tunnel, coming out into a small but busy room filled with still gears and brass tubing. A single red emergency light was set into the floor, throwing shadows upwards against the two boilers running along the top of the room.

A platform inscribed with arcane runes was set against the far wall, surrounded by strange instruments and symbols made from a grainy white material that Rainbow couldn’t recognize. The space above it was conspicuously empty.

“Well, that confirms that,” Trails said. “Relic’s gone, but hopefully not far. Now we just need to find Sunfeather.”

The sound of approaching hooves echoed out of another narrow maintenance tunnel, this one in one of the far corners, and both mares pointed their weapons towards it. A second later another set of hooves became audible from a different maintenance tunnel, opposite the corner the first one was in. Rainbow and Trails exchanged a brief glance, and Rainbow adjusted to face the other direction.

“There’s an intruder on the ship,” Sunfeather said as she stepped out of the first tunnel. She had a toolbag perched on her back, and her silver mane and gray coat were both smudged with the stains of recent work.

Trails breathed a sigh of relief. “We know. He got Dusty.”

“There’s an intruder on the ship,” Sunfeather said as she stepped out of the second tunnel. This one’s toolbag was a different color, and the stains in her coat and mane had a different pattern to them.

“Oh, fuck,” Trails muttered, pointing her javelin at the second Sunfeather as it looked to the other with mild interest. “What the fuck.”

“Quick, ask them something only the real Sunfeather would know!” Rainbow hissed. She stood sideways to both of them, holding her one wingblade out in front of her.

“We’re not that close!” Trails hissed back. “We barely talk!”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” the first Sunfeather droned, her voice carrying all the energy of a mare reviewing her taxes. “I came down to investigate the power outage, and I saw that thing—” she pointed at the other Sunfeather “—messing with the relic. I chased it into the maintenance tunnels, but I lost track of it.”

The second Sunfeather blinked. “I’ll save you the trouble,” she began, voice filled with the excitement of a mare who had just finished sorting her laundry. “I came down—”

Trails’ javelin lashed out at the second one. It let out a shrill screech as green flames burst from its body, and the revealed changeling ducked under the strike before leveling its glowing horn on its attacker.

Trails threw herself to the side just as a beam of glimmering green energy shot forth, striking the pipe behind her with a loud crack. Hot steam burst out of the pipe, the hiss joined by a strained curse from Star Trails, and Rainbow raised a wing to protect her face from the heat as she flinched back.

By the time the steam dissipated enough for her to lower her wing, the changeling was gone. Sunfeather was bent over Trails, who lay on the floor nursing an apparent wound on her flank.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Trails spat through clenched teeth.

“It ran off!” Sunfeather shouted, looking to the tunnel that led back to the rest of the ship. “It still has the relic!”

Rainbow went to give chase, but she hesitated. Sabre’s words were still clear in her mind. “Don’t run off alone. Star Trails is in charge. Don’t let me down, Rainbow Dash.” She looked to Trails, the question clear in her mind.

“Just go!” Trails waved her off with a hoof. “If it gets away, we’re dead in the air!”

With a nod, Rainbow galloped into the tunnel. She caught just a brief glimpse of the changeling jumping out the trapdoor at the end and wasted no time in pouring on the speed, her hooves pounding against the wire mesh beneath her.

She shot out into the hall with a challenging shout, but nothing rose up to meet her. The sound of the changeling’s hooves seemed to come from both directions at once, growing fainter, and with a frustrated growl Rainbow picked one at random and spread her wings.

The hall blurred past, the alternating red and blue flashing in her eyes a dozen times in ten seconds before she drew up short in front of the cargo hold door. The changeling turned the opposite corner at the same time, and as it skidded to a stop Rainbow got her first good look at it.

She’d seen plenty of changelings in her life, both during the siege of Canterlot a thousand years ago and in the pockmarked streets of its ruins a millenia later. They always appeared misshapen, either with limbs too long and spindly for their barrels or chests bulging with unnatural muscle, their chitin often cracked and warped from the vain effort of trying to contain their bodies. But this one appeared almost normal. If not for the bloody claws sticking out of its hooves like nails that had pounded into its skin, the curling fangs jutting out past its muzzle in every direction, or the heavy edge of chitin running along its tattered gossamer wings, it could’ve easily been one of the cackling creatures that had invaded Canterlot so long ago.

It was the appearance that made her hesitate. She raised a hoof, putting as much force into her voice as she could. “Stop!”

It hissed at her, seizing the opportunity to fire a bolt of blazing green fire in her direction. She yelped as she ducked the shot, catching a brief glimpse of the monster bounding up the steps to the upper level hallway.

“Oh no you don’t!” She gave chase with a flap of her wings, cresting the stairs just in time to see the changeling dart through the still-open door of the clinic.

Rainbow darted into the clinic without hesitation, her bladed wing raised high and a warcry on her lips. The changeling was nowhere to be seen.

She scanned the room, breathing hard. Dusty’s body was still splayed out in the same place, and aside from a few loose tools rolling around the room was empty. She frowned as she noticed the toolbag the changeling had been carrying resting on the counter. She took a step forwards.

Green fire flickered behind her, followed by her own voice. “Oh, no you don’t!”

Rainbow whipped around, bringing her bladed wing up just barely in time to catch her doppelganger’s own wing coming down. She blinked, eye widening as her blade got caught in the outer feathers instead of slicing through with ease, doing little more than drawing a few beads of green ichor.

For a fraction of an instant, Rainbow stared into a reflection of her own face, the space where her eyepatch should be replaced with a smooth expanse of unbroken cyan fur. The changeling’s one fiery cerise eye glared down at her, held back only by the clashing wings and loose strands of prismatic mane.

Rainbow’s lips curled back in a furious snarl. She shoved the changeling back, throwing it against the window above Dusty’s body. “Stop copying me!”

“Stop copying me!” the changeling shot back. Green fire raced over its form as it jumped upwards, crashing through a closed grate in the ceiling.

“And stop running!” Rainbow shouted, crouching down to give chase. She paused, glancing behind her to the toolbag the changeling had left behind. A faint white glow drifted up from its innards, casting strange, twisting symbols against the wall behind it.

She knew she shouldn’t give chase. She’d saved the relic, and the smart thing would be to bring it back to the rest of the crew, share what she’d found out, and then make a plan to take it out together.

But that thing had had the audacity to mock her with her own face. She already knew where it was. And she was the most awesome pony in Equestria. She’d taken out plenty of changelings before, and Dusty’s body was right there, staring at her as if begging for someone to avenge him.

She flapped her wings, tucking them against her sides and shooting through the remains of the grate.

She came out into near total darkness, the dim red light spilling up from the clinic outlining the shape of a ladder before her. The motion of the air around her feathers told her that she was still inside, but this space was bigger than any other she’d seen on the Argo. She followed the ladder up, turning slow circles and squinting into the darkness, until it ended at a mesh catwalk.

“Ugh, another one of these?” Rainbow settled gingerly onto the catwalk, her bladed wing held out in front of her as she crept further away from the dull red beam, ears straining to make out any noise between every step. “C’mon out, little changeling.”

Her own voice echoed back to her from the dark. “C’mon out, little changeling.”

Okay, that’s creepy. Rainbow’s ears twitched at the sound of rustling fabric to her side.

Sickly green light flared up in front of her. She squinted into the brightness, catching a brief glimpse of the changeling on the catwalk in front of her and round, bulbous shapes that seemed to float on either side like dark clouds, and then she threw herself into the air as a bolt of green fire raced towards her, splashing against the metal where she had just been standing with a crackling hiss.

The afterimage of the room was still burned in her vision when the changeling pounced. Rainbow lashed out towards the sound with her wing. Rushing wind tugged at her mane as the changeling hissed into her ear, and she turned the strike into a spinning slash at the air below her before twisting around to land on her hooves.

The changeling had landed behind her, the red beam of light from the clinic grate outlining it in a hazy silhouette that seemed to bleed into the surrounding emptiness when it moved. She gave ground as its heavy wings beat against her defense, praying to Celestia that the catwalk wouldn’t suddenly end behind her.

She ducked a swipe from one of the changeling’s wings, wincing at the sound of tearing canvas behind her. Starlight streamed into the room, picking out the changeling’s form in detail, and Rainbow seized the opportunity to shoot back up with a fearsome shout, striking the changeling’s chest with both forelegs and sending it falling off the catwalk with a pained shriek.

Rainbow barely had time to catch her breath before blasts of green fire began spewing up from the darkness under the catwalk. She yelped as she took to the air, dodging each attack with quick flutters of her wings. Twinkling beams of moonlight crisscrossed the wide room as each bolt blew a new hole in the walls, picking out the metal skeleton that lined the edges and the floating canvas balloons lining the catwalk in neat rows.

Rainbow stole a glance at the changeling as she ducked behind one balloon, spotting it perched on a metal beam that ran along the bottom of the long, cylindrical room. Her eyes widened as the next blast popped the balloon she’d hid behind, throwing her back in a wild spin.

Rainbow cried out as she tore through the canvas wall, falling into the open air outside the Argo and arresting her spin just in time to avoid gutting herself on the sharp metal blades of one of its massive propellers. She shook herself, regaining her bearings, and looked back to the hole she’d left in the Argo’s balloon envelope.

The envelope was in tatters, with loose flaps of canvas fluttering in the ocean wind and moonlight reflecting off the exposed surface of the metal skeleton inside. Rainbow didn’t know much about airship engineering, but she knew that the balloon was what kept it up, and she had to put a stop to the fight before the changeling caused so much damage that the ship could no longer maintain altitude. She set her jaw as she flew out in a wide arc, aiming to pierce the canvas near the bottom of the balloon where she remembered the changeling to be.

The tearing of the canvas screamed in her ears as she punched through to the inside, bringing a new beam of starlight that picked out the changeling crouched low on the balloon’s skeleton, its eyes still fixed on where it had last seen her. It turned with an odd, strangled shriek that Rainbow could only think of as shocked, bringing a grin to her face.

“Gotcha.”

She slammed into it with both hooves, bearing it to the ground and dragging the back of its armored shell across the metal with her momentum. It hissed its defiance at her, disappearing in a flash of cold green fire and glaring up at her with her own face contorted in fury.

She snarled as she raised a hoof, stomping hard against one wing and wrenching it backwards with a wet snap that sent its scream up an octave. With her blade she stabbed through the chitin at the base of its other wing, wrenching the tip in the wound and shooting a spurt of green blood against her bared teeth.

Spittle flew into Rainbow’s face as the changeling screamed up at her, the sharp claws on its hooves digging into her belly. She screamed back in fury as much as pain, rolling to the side and off the edge of the thin metal girder they were fighting on.

Both of them tumbled through the envelope and back into open air. Rainbow kicked it loose, hissing as the claws tore more flesh loose on the way out, and caught herself on her wings.

The changeling’s wings, however, were mangled beyond use. It shrieked up at her as she watched it plummet into the night, its ragged voice growing steadily fainter, until finally she couldn’t pick its dark chitin out from the ocean any longer. She thought she might have heard a splash, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just the ocean swells.

With a groan, Rainbow pushed her hooves up against the twin gashes in her belly, wincing with every breath. The warm ocean air tickled at her tongue, its salt mixing in with the bitter tang of the changeling’s thick blood.

She fluttered back towards the envelope with gritted teeth, straining against the sudden ache in her wings. She blinked, and suddenly she was back on the catwalk. Where am I?

Right, changeling. She limped towards the warm red light that highlighted the ladder back to Dusty Tome’s clinic. He can fix me up. I’ll be fine.

She blinked again, gasping as she fell through the open grate and back into the clinic. She bounced off the bed with a grunt, rolling to a stop on the floor. She’d landed in something wet and oddly warm. With a moan she looked to the side and saw Dusty’s body gaping at her as if in shock.

She choked out a bitter laugh. Right. He’s dead. Ponyfeathers.

Rainbow pulled her dry lips apart, pushing the words out as hard as she could. “AJ! I’m up here!” She paused to suck in a breath, dragging herself towards the open door to the hall. “Trails! Sabre!”

She didn’t remember the door being so far away last time. Her head fell against the floor with an irritated grunt. That better not be my blood.

Darkness began to drip in along the corners of her sight. She really hated that. She rolled onto her back with her lips twisted into a determined grimace. I’m not gonna die. It takes more than one changeling to kill Rainbow Dash!

Was that the sound of hooves approaching? The buzzing in her ears was too loud for her to be sure.

As the black tendrils crept over her vision, Rainbow imagined she was resting on a soft bed of clouds.
> XII: Of Lessons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The tearing of the canvas screamed in Rainbow’s ears as she punched through to the inside, bringing a new beam of starlight that picked out the changeling crouched low on the balloon’s skeleton, its eyes still fixed on where it had last seen her. It turned with an odd, strangled shriek that Rainbow could only think of as shocked, bringing a grin to her face.

“Gotcha.”

She slammed into it with both hooves, bearing it to the ground and dragging the back of its armored shell across the metal with her momentum. It hissed its defiance at her, disappearing in a flash of cold green fire and glaring up at her with her own face contorted in fury.

She snarled as she raised a hoof, but the changeling seized the opportunity to buck underneath her, throwing her off balance before she could strike. The hard chitin along the edge of its wings struck against her shoulder with a wet snap, and Rainbow’s vision blanked out as white-hot pain lanced through her wing with the blade strapped to it. She bit back a scream as the changeling pushed her onto her back, snapping its mess of oversized fangs into the joint of her good wing.

A shriek escaped her as it wrenched her side-to-side like a toy, scraping her back against the hard metal underneath her, and then suddenly she was falling. There was a brief moment of resistance, the rip of fabric, and Rainbow finally was suddenly aware of the howling wind in her ears.

She blinked, gritted her teeth, and focused on the alternating images of the Argo and the ocean tumbling through her sight. She was in freefall. No big deal. She was the greatest flier in Equestria, and she could pull out of a tailspin that would nauseate even a Wonderbolt without issue.

She twitched her wings and received a flash of pain as a reward. Her spin wasn’t easing out. The first tinge of worry bled through the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she struggled to look back and focus on her wings.

Rainbow’s breath hitched. The hot blood that had been surging through her turned ice cold and she let out a strangled whimper.

Her wings were ruined. One had been mangled beyond repair, splayed out stiffly, twitching in agony, and ignoring her every command. The other was completely absent, with nothing more than a trail of blood in the space where it should have been.

Far above her, stark against the backdrop of winking stars, Rainbow saw the changeling hovering in place beside the Argo, staring down at her impassively.

“No!” Rainbow reached a hoof up to the dim shadows of the clouds. Tears streamed from her eyes as she struggled to get her remaining wing under control, to do something to slow her fall. “Not like this! Please!”

The wind was deafening. It screeched in her ears like some bloodthirsty monster, a demon awaiting her beneath the waves, maw open wide, growing ever louder as she tumbled and twisted through the uncaring air until it dominated her every thought.

She just had time to catch the reflection of her own horrified face in the water before—

Rainbow shot up out of the bed with a scream, right into Applejack’s hooves.

“Whoa, nelly! It’s alright, sugar cube. I got ya. Y’alright.”

A shuddering sob wracked Rainbow’s body as she took in her surroundings. She was in the cramped shipboard clinic, her midriff wrapped in bandages and her shoulders wrapped in her friend’s warm embrace. Applejack’s soft reassurances cooed in her ears, barely audible past the drumming of her pulse.

She twisted around, ignoring the pain that flared up in her chest, and examined her wings. She fluttered each one in turn, letting out a trembling breath when her mind finally slowed down enough for her to think.

It had been a nightmare. Her wings were fine, healthy and toned and responsive and agile as ever. She was still a pegasus.

Rainbow leaned into the soft warmth of Applejack’s chest, closing her eye and listening to the other mare’s steady heart and consoling voice. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that, struggling to hold her tears back, but she didn’t pull back until her own pulse had slowed to the same calm rhythm as Applejack’s.

“Bad dream?” Applejack looked down at her with a half-cocked smile. “Y’all gave us a mighty fright, RD.”

“S-sorry.” Rainbow looked away, wiping her cheeks with a wing.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head. She didn’t even want to think about it. Nightmares of falling had plagued her as a young filly, and it had been over a decade since she’d had one. She clenched her jaw and pushed it out of her mind, searching for something else to focus on. “Where’re the others?”

“In the cargo hold.” Applejack’s voice was soft. Respectful. “Holdin’ a service for Dusty.”

Rainbow bit her lip. She stole a glance to the ground where she’d found the unicorn’s body and found it clean of blood. She thought of the little workshop where somepony must have scrubbed away her own blood in much the same way. Who kept cleaning all the bloodstains on this ship? Couldn’t they leave just a little bit behind? Just a small patch of brown to mark the site, an altar burned into the metal to acknowledge to all who came after, a pony bled here. A pony died here.

She blinked, tearing her gaze away from the spotless floor, and frowned as she saw the little plastic tube sticking out of her hoof. She followed it up to a bag suspended from the ceiling, gorged with a thick red liquid that almost sparkled in the sunlight from the porthole.

“Y’all lost a lot of blood,” Applejack said. “Hope y’all don’t mind takin’ some of mine.”

Rainbow frowned, pulling back and looking at the cowpony more closely. She did seem a little pale in the cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did.” Applejack looked away, her voice hardening. She took a deep breath, and Rainbow thought she could hear a slight trembling in her voice. “Couldn’t have ya leavin’ me all alone over here, ya know?”

“Oh.” Rainbow grimaced as she settled back into the bed, wincing at the soreness of her body. “Sorry.”

“S’alright. Just glad y’all’re okay.”

Both mares jumped at the sound of the door opening. They turned to watch Sea Sabre step into the little space, holding the door open behind her with a wing. She looked to each of them in turn, her expression as firm and unreadable as ever, before focusing on Applejack. “I’d like some time alone with her.”

Applejack bristled as she turned fully around and spread her stance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sabre.”

Sabre cocked her head a fraction of an inch. Rainbow tensed, her eye darting between the two mares. She thought back to the way the older pegasus had carried herself in the wake of Dusty’s death.

At last, Sabre spoke. “At least sit down and let us talk, then. I won’t take long.”

Applejack nodded, stepping to the side with a snort and sitting against a wall. “Reckon that’s fine, but I’ll be watchin’.”

Sabre approached with slow, measured steps, and Rainbow’s pulse quickened as she noticed the corner of a black notebook tucked beneath one of her wings. She sat down, her eyes focused on the window behind Rainbow.

“You never told me that changelings could shapeshift.”

There was no accusation in her tone; it was a simple statement of fact, delivered with a thin veneer of calm detachment, and yet Rainbow couldn’t help but hear so much more underneath it. Seconds passed as she mustered the courage to respond.

Sabre gave a slight shake of her head, cutting her off. “You have nothing to apologize for. It was my mistake. My responsibility.”

The wing with the journal tucked under it twitched, and Rainbow wasn’t sure if she had imagined the slight tremble in the other mare’s voice when she spoke. She stole a glance towards Applejack, who looked back at her with wide eyes.

Rainbow turned back to Sabre with a grimace. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have known,” Sabre countered. “If I had asked the right questions.”

Applejack sighed. She stepped up to Sabre’s side, raised a hoof as if to place it on her shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it. “Nobody’s perfect, sugar cube. It’s okay to make mistakes.”

“Only when they’re the right mistakes,” Sabre muttered. She looked up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze. “Tell me what happened after you left Star Trails.”

Rainbow cocked her head, thrown by the sudden shift in focus. “Huh?”

“We found you bleeding out on the floor, with the relic in a bag on the counter. You did well to retrieve it. Is the changeling dead?”

“Y-yeah.” Rainbow looked away, thinking of the way it had screamed up at her as it fell. “I chased it up into the envelope after it ditched the relic. Broke its wings and threw it into the ocean.”

Sabre frowned. Her wing snapped open, cradling her open notebook before her. “You chased it after retrieving the relic? Alone?”

A vague sense of alarm lit up in the back of Rainbow’s mind. Cautiously, “That’s right.”

“Do you recall my orders to you, Rainbow Dash?”

“Find Sunfeather, retrieve the relic, and… “ Rainbow sighed as realization dawned on her. “Only then catch the intruder.”

“And don’t run off alone,” Sabre added sternly.

“Well, what was I supposed to do, huh?” Rainbow quipped. “That thing killed Dusty!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Rainbow stiffened, suddenly aware of her foolishness. Sabre glared up at her with that same fire in her eyes, and for a moment it seemed almost as if she was seeing Dusty’s body for the first time again. This time, however, all the mare’s ire was directed straight at the prismatic pegasus before her.

“Do you think I wanted to sit in that cargo hold watching Luna?” Sabre spat. “Do you think that you were the only pony on this ship that wanted revenge?” She clenched her jaw, her lip curling up with barely restrained fury. “You barely even spoke to Dusty Tome, Rainbow Dash. Every pony on this ship wanted to get payback for what happened to him, but unlike you, every pony else displayed some discipline!”

Rainbow flinched back from the sudden heat in the commander’s voice. “Sabre—”

“What you should have done was retrieved the relic and then reported back to me, like you were ordered!” Sabre pressed on, bulling through Rainbow’s defense. “We would have regrouped, made a plan, and taken care of it together!”

“But—”

“But!” Sabre snapped. “But instead you decided to chase it down yourself, with no armor and only half a weapon, and you almost died for it!” She paused, taking a deep breath, and as she exhaled the fire began to dim, her eyes cooling like glowing hot steel quenched in water. “We could’ve had two deaths last night.”

Rainbow’s jaw hung open. She held Sabre’s gaze for a long moment, a pit of shame welling up inside her, before she finally found her voice. “I’m sorry.” She looked down, her ears drooping. “It w-won’t happen again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sabre growled. She shuffled her wings as she turned for the door, pushing Applejack away with the motion. “We’ll be detouring to the nearest island for repairs and resupply. Training’s suspended until further notice.” She stepped out into the hall without looking back. “Get some rest.”

She shut the door behind her, leaving Rainbow shooting a sideways, guilty glance towards Applejack. The cowpony gave a sympathetic shake of her head, but said nothing.

The muffled sound of hoofsteps receded into the distance, leaving only the steady ticking of the hull.





Twilight came out of the teleport with the crackle of magic and the swirling rush of bubbles, her hooves alighting on a slick, cracked tiled floor that had been submerged for centuries.

It didn’t take long for the water to settle, allowing her to see clearly past the lavender glow of her shield. She was standing in a wide hall, totally flooded, about wide enough for five ponies to walk abreast and at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. The walls had long since been stripped of paint, leaving behind only bare, flat stone.

A dozen ancient bodies were splayed across the floor at the end of the hall, their skeletal limbs tangled together like jumbled toys. A couple of them still wore the hard barding of guardsponies, and all were pushed up against a featureless steel vault door that blocked the hall off in its entirety. A few small scrapes marred the surface of the door, but if the shattered hooves of some of the skeletons were any indication, it had more than fulfilled its purpose.

Twilight ignored the corpses, instead sending a ping through the door. The door flickered with a pale red glow, and Twilight frowned as her ping bounced off and returned to her with no knowledge of what waited on the other side.

Magic wards. My, my. Twilight’s magic slithered towards her horn unbidden, gathering into a ball of brilliant energy. Not strong enough to keep us out, however.

Wait! Twilight set her jaw as she pulled the magic back. We can’t destroy it! What if there are ponies inside?

What if? Midnight appeared next to her with a derisive sneer. They deny us entry. It is our right.

We don’t have to destroy it! Twilight began twisting the magic into a teleport. We can brute force our way through and teleport to the other side.

And leave ourselves vulnerable to anything waiting within, yes. Midnight’s lips twisted into a snarl as it clamped down on their magic. A foalish risk!

I’d rather risk my own life than the lives of others! Twilight shot back.

And that’s where you’re wrong, little flower!

Twilight glared into her own bloodshot eyes, a pulsing ache beating at the back of her skull as she struggled to take control of her magic. Midnight snarled down at her, its dark influence wrapping around her horn like a viper, tightening with every passing second.

She wouldn’t be able to win this; neither of them would, and they both knew it. With both of their attentions fully focused on the arcane tug-of-war, all they would do is wear each other out, draining their magic reserves until they didn’t have the energy to bypass the door with either method. They’d have to go back into the city and hunt, weakened, and hope for the best.

Midnight grinned. Is that the game you wish to play, then?

Twilight grit her teeth. Her dark passenger would be more than willing to draw the conflict out as long as it meant that she didn’t win, but her own mind rebelled at the idea of so much wasted time and energy. Force wouldn’t get her anywhere.

But then when had she ever relied on force to solve her problems?

We can compromise! Twilight offered. We teleport through, but if anything threatens us on the other side—she pursed her lips, hesitating only briefly—then you can do as you wish. I won’t interfere.

Midnight cocked its head, opening its mouth to reveal the sharp points of her teeth. Even if they’re ponies?

Twilight held Midnight’s gaze as she nodded. Even if they’re ponies.

Mmm. You have yourself a deal, my sweet. Midnight stepped back, relinquishing its pull on her magic. See that you honor it.

Twilight held its gaze for only a moment before turning back to the vault and calling on her magic once more. Teleportation was a complex spell, but one she was intimately familiar with, and it would be a simple matter to focus the necessary power to get her past the vault’s defenses. 

Maybe she shouldn’t. If there were ponies living in there, even innocents, then could she fault them for attacking a strange mare with fangs and bleeding eyes who just shoved past their magic defenses? Midnight certainly wouldn’t hold back, and the blame for any resulting deaths would rest squarely at Twilight’s hooves.

But she couldn’t just walk away either. Whatever was inside the vault, it could be the key to learning what had happened to Equestria.

She would just have to trust that any ponies inside wouldn’t respond to her arrival with violence. They were Equestrians like her after all, right? They wouldn’t attack a strange pony unprovoked.

And if they did, then surely she couldn’t be blamed for defending herself?

The spell was ready, hovering on the tip of her horn as a twinkling ball of lavender. She shot a sideways glance towards Midnight, who smirked back at her, and released the magic.

The purple flash and familiar crackle washed over her. The vault resisted, pushing back, but its magic was old and her reserves were deep. A flash of pain arced up her horn as she broke through the enchantments, landing with a soft grunt.

Twilight wobbled slightly, unbalanced by the sudden absence of the crushing ocean against her magic, and performed a quick scan of her surroundings. She was standing in a short, narrow hallway of tarnished steel, the walls decorated by a trio of faded posters and a single unlit lamp. A cloud of dust had been kicked up by her arrival, the disturbed motes dancing through the air around her. She glanced behind herself to see the vault door, a browned skeleton huddled up under the heavy wheel in the center.

Oh, what a shame. Midnight let out a dramatic sigh. I had really been hoping they’d still be alive.

Maybe there are still survivors. Twilight held still, ears quirking in every direction, but she was met only with a haunting silence. After days in the changeling-infested ruins of Canterlot, the cramped, quiet tunnel was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

She started down the hall, cringing at the noise of her hooves against the steel, and turned her eyes up to the posters. Her greyscale night vision made it almost impossible to make out any of the faded colors, so she lit her horn, bringing a dull life back to the images. Heroic pony silhouettes against stark red backdrops posed in front of blocky cityscapes with thick, rigid text outlined underneath. “THE STALLION IS ALWAYS FIRST,” the first said, with the second calling to “REPORT ALL SUSPECTED CHANGELINGS.”

But it was the third that gave her pause. The mare silhouetted in the center was surrounded by smaller, fanged copies of herself, each looking up to her with hungry, fanged grins. “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.”

A chilling leg draped itself over Twilight’s shoulder, and she turned to see Midnight beside her, looking up at the poster with its slitted eyes narrowed in disdain. Weak. These foals held onto their denial to their deaths.

What were they supposed to do? Twilight looked away, bristling as she saw Midnight watching her from her other side. Give in? Lose themselves to the whispers of dark magic?

Midnight snorted. Look around, little flower. These ponies clung to their stubborn ideals much as you do, and we see how that resistance served them. Why do you insist on making the same mistake that millions have made before you?

It’s always about survival with you, isn’t it? Twilight rolled her eyes as she turned away from the posters, facing the rigid steel door placed on the opposite wall.

Of course. What else is there, without survival?

Twilight clenched her jaw, ignoring the question as she wrapped her magic around the wheel set into the door’s face. The metal groaned as the ancient mechanism resisted her, but gave after a few seconds of applied force. A low creak filled the little space as the heavy door swung open, revealing a small room dominated by a long wooden table. Squat chairs lined either side, their cushions flattened by age, and a chandelier had fallen onto the table, scattering shards of glass across the cold steel floor.

“Hello?” Twilight coughed, her voice hoarse after days without use, and tried again as the door settled against the wall with a ponderous thud. “Is anypony here?”

Silence. Dust swirled in the door’s wake.

Stepping over the threshold, Twilight’s breath hitched as she spied the unicorn skeleton huddled up under the table, its body framed in empty bottles and its head resting on a rolled newspaper. She wrapped the paper in her magic, cast a protective spell over the ancient material, and gingerly pulled it free.

“CORRUPTION SPREADING DESPITE CONTAINMENT,” the headline read, with a subtitle underneath. “Celestia gives assurances that Canterlot refugees not infectious; urges Equestrians to open their homes.”

Beneath the headline, Twilight saw a photo of Princess Celestia looking out over a crowd of ponies in Ponyville Town Square, an exhausted Shining Armor at her side. The Canterhorn was visible in the distance behind her, though the distinctive silhouette of Canterlot had been replaced with a rounded sphere that jutted out from the mountainside like some great grey pustule. A pang of nostalgia struck her as she took in the familiar horizon, a scene she’d taken for granted during her brief, magical stay in Ponyville. She would give anything to see the sun shining on Canterlot again.

So the city was evacuated, Midnight mused, breaking Twilight from her trance. That explains the lack of bodies.

It doesn’t explain the dome. Twilight floated Shining’s logbook out of her pack, casting a quick spell to copy the photograph over onto a blank page. The small font of the newspaper was impossible to read after so long, but the image was invaluable even on its own. It looks exactly like my brother’s shield spell in shape, but he couldn’t have cast it.

Then who could?

Nopony could. Even the Princesses couldn’t cast a spell like that by their own power.

Floating Shining’s logbook beside her, Twilight turned to the rest of the room and found more doors waiting on each wall. Rather than explore each option on hoof, she sent out a few pings, sighing in relief when they worked as expected.

Although she couldn’t detect anything outside of the vault, she was able to get a decent idea of the layout and size of the place. It was like a small apartment complex, only two stories deep and big enough to hold a couple families on each level.

There was a pile of bodies on the lower level. She hated how proficient she’d become at magically identifying the dead.

With another sigh, she pushed herself into motion.

It quickly became clear to her that the vault was designed to hold ponies, though most likely on the timescale of months as opposed to centuries. She found a pair of bedrooms on the upper level, with one room occupied by a trio of small, foal-sized beds. She didn’t let her eyes linger on the little bodies that had rotted away on the ragged mattresses, instead rushing into what she took to be the parents’ room. The corpse on the floor there showed signs of mutation, its teeth curved into vicious fangs and its bones marred by bulbous growths that almost looked as if they had begun to boil underneath their hosts’ skin. It was leaned up against the steel wall head-first, the deep cracks in its skull reflected in the dented surface of the wall.

Next to the bedrooms was a wide square room with a circular table in the middle. There were no chairs here, but several maps of northern Equestria were laid out on the table surface, all stained with blood. A collection of little red tokens were arranged around the middle of the map, where Stalliongrad was centered, facing off against broken lines of blue ones.

She pressed on, reaching a set of stairs at the back of the upper level that led down to another thick steel door. The wheel, rusted in place, snapped off when she tried to spin it, forcing her to teleport into the little open space on the other side.

More doors. They were ancient, the wood sometimes cracking under the force of her magic as she dislodged them, the sound of the splintering quickly absorbed by the small spaces as dust was kicked up in her wake. She stepped into a larger bedroom, a pegasus skeleton curled up on the floor with the bloodstained remains of an old dagger clutched against its chest. The frayed remains of a rope was wrapped around its neck, a matching rope hanging from the ceiling above as it swayed gingerly in the air displaced by the opened door.

Twilight’s eyes were drawn to an easel set up just in front of the bed. A canvas was perched atop it, the painting marred by old blood trails and tears, but not so disfigured that she couldn’t make out the somber-faced pegasus mare it depicted or the bloody, slit-eyed twin snarling behind her.

A portrait? Intriguing. Midnight struck a matching pose on the bed, its lips stretched freakishly wide and its eyes glowing like violet beacons in the dark. Unfortunate we hadn’t arrived sooner, or perhaps we could have had our own likenesses captured.

Twilight ignored it, her eyes roaming across the other paintings on display. Each one was a portrait of a different pony, all of them wearing collars or shirts bearing the decorations of state. She counted twenty in total, and they took up almost every inch of the limited wall space opposite the bed.

There’s a pattern, Twilight realized. The portraits on the left were life-like and stiff, with the dull colors and plain expressions like she’d seen in dozens of museums or historical textbooks before. But as she looked further to the right they became… unhinged was the only word she could think of. The lines grew blurry and jagged, and the colors became more vibrant as they began to run together. The expressions changed from dignified smiles or frowns into neurotic grimaces and manic grins. Most disturbing of all, she began to pick out shadowy faces hidden in the details, the abstract figures of the background coalescing into slitted eyes and fanged smirks.

She captured it all, as it was happening. All of their wyrds. Twilight looked back to the skeleton on the floor. Unlike some of the other bodies she’d seen in the vault, this one lacked any sign of mutation. It didn’t even have fangs. And she never gave in.

Is that admiration I’m sensing? Midnight’s dark chuckle echoed in the back of her mind. Surely you aren’t having thoughts of following in that corpse’s hoofsteps?

She was stronger than me. Twilight bit her lip as she turned back to the door. I gave in, let you twist me.

You’re mistaking weakness for strength again, little flower. There is no victory to be found in spiteful self-destruction. Midnight stood in the doorway, beckoning with a nod of its head. We will claim victory only with the domination of all who would oppose us. Death, no matter the cause, is the definition of failure.

Twilight followed it back into the hall with her eyes furrowed in thought. She had never wanted to hurt her friends, or become a fanged meat-eater, or to haunt the dark places of the world with slitted eyes. She just wanted to fix things, to see the Princess again, to go back to being an unimportant librarian whose biggest concern was plotting out her schedule every month.

It was her friends that kept her going. She might have fantasized about ending it all and becoming just another victim to the ocean, but how could she leave them behind? How could she let Princess Celestia, all of Equestria, down? In a thousand years, nopony had ever come as close to solving the mystery of the past as she had, and as resourceful and determined as her friends were, she couldn’t leave them to continue the effort without her. If she had to give up her soul to do what needed to be done, then she would do it. Anybody else might get it wrong.

Still, she couldn’t help but envy the resolve of the dead artist behind her. When everything was falling around her and all her peers had given in to the temptation, she’d held out to the end. She had died as her own pony.

Oh, you’re disgusting. Midnight’s scoff cut through her thoughts, drawing Twilight’s attention to the doppelganger standing in front of a door deeper into the vault. Let’s get on with this. We’re getting hungry.

Twilight grimaced, ignoring the sympathetic complaints of her stomach as she pushed through the door. She blinked as a familiar scent tickled at her nostrils, musty and dry. Paper.

She had walked into a little office. A single wooden desk was flush to the wall under a map of Equestria, browned paper scattered beneath the lamp perched on its corner. More papers were strewn across the floor, some even tucked into folders, and Twilight’s pulse quickened as she spotted a pair of filing cabinets squeezed into the corner. A soft magic tingled around them, carrying the signature of an expired preservation spell.

She held her breath as she crept forwards, horn glowing as she applied the softest telekinetic grip she could to one of the old metal drawers. It squealed as she pulled it out, peered inside, and saw—

Paper. Folders and folders of organized notes, the labels just barely legible after so long. A breathy laugh escaped her as she opened the next cabinet, finding a few books tucked away inside, and then more notes in the one after that. Old newspaper clippings, reports, and photographs.

Dozens of records from before the floods, records that these ponies had deemed important enough to save.

Twilight’s whole body trembled as she cleared a space on the desk for Shining Armor’s logbook and grabbed a pencil from a small cup placed in the corner. It was dull, but it only took a wave of her horn to sharpen the point. She poured a powerful burst of energy into an orb of light and floated it up to the ceiling, filling the little record room with bright lavender. A breathy giggle escaped her as she floated the first item up to her eyes.

Oh, wonderful. Midnight’s groan barely even registered as Twilight soaked the written words in like a starving mare in an oasis. We’re not eating tonight, are we?





Rarity didn’t realize just how long she’d been working until, looking up after clearing away a chunk of brick the size of two ponies, she saw the first rays of dawn arcing across the sky.

The sunlight swept over the city accompanied by a light rain, the winter-chilled drops carried into her coat by the gusting wind. They clung to her, carrying the grime and exhaustion with them as they carved trickling paths through the ash, and the small shivers they sent through her body were like breaths of fresh air after the numbness that had built up during the night.

She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, seeing the surrounding city clearly for the first time in hours. Where once the courtyard surrounding the destroyed old fort had been filled with loose stone and rubble, now there were only a few of the largest pieces left. The groaning of the wounded, which had floated from the improvised triage house all through the night like the low chanting of some dread choir, had finally gone quiet as the last of the survivors were carted away to proper facilities and the last of the dying, beyond the help of the exhausted nurses and surgeons, finally passed on. The other volunteers had gone home shortly after sunset, transforming the once bustling disaster zone into a sleepy, almost peaceful ruin.

Piaffe had left several hours ago, assigning a pair of bluecoat stallions to guard her. One was young, reminding her almost of Pontius with the wide-eyed manner in which he watched his more veteran partner when he thought nobody was looking. The other, old and quiet, communicated almost exclusively in a series of nods and frowns. He had reminded her of Ivory at first, but Rarity hadn’t spent long contemplating the likeness. She’d been far too busy for that.

She’d conscripted the two soldiers into serving as her assistants, directing them to help her wrap the heaviest piece of rubble in the fabric of a sturdy military tent. Once the material was in place her special talent came into play, allowing her to move weights that would otherwise take a whole team of muscled laborers. A short break would be taken while she waited for the ensuing headache to fade, and then she’d direct her watchful companions toward the next obstacle.

Right about then, Rarity’s skull was pounding worse than it had during even the most hectic fall fashion seasons. She felt as if she’d spent three straight days without sleep putting together enough new lines for a whole week’s worth of shows, and still there was more to do. She sighed through clenched teeth as she climbed to her hooves.

“Countess? Ye’re still here?”

It took Rarity’s tired mind a full second to recognize the voice. She turned to see River Pie approaching with obvious concern in her eyes. “Oh, Miss Pie. A pleasure—” she slapped a hoof over her mouth just in time to cover the ferocious yawn that overtook her “—to see you again. Would you be a dear and help me—”

River’s eyes narrowed. “Countess, ye need rest.”

Rarity blinked, her mouth still hanging open. After a brief bout of concentration she gathered her thoughts for a response. “But there’s still more to do.”

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean ye need t’ do it all on yer ownsome. Look at ye! Ye’re nearly fallin’ where ye stand!” River looked between the two watching bluecoats incredulously. “And ye two ain’t stopped ‘er?”

The young one looked to the older. He cleared his throat, making way for a few hoarse words. “We have our orders.”

“River, dear, let them be.” Rarity placed a hoof on River’s shoulder, holding the fuming baronlander back. “Captain Piaffe already tried this, but there was still so much to do, and she knew it. I couldn’t just leave!”

“Well ye can leave now!” River said, gesturing behind her. “Th’ Commoner’s Guild is here t’ clean up th’ rest.”

“Commoner’s Guild?” Rarity followed River’s hoof, picking out the gaggle of ponies stepping into view. There were perhaps two dozen of them, all dressed in well-worn work clothes and organized into teams hitched up to battered metal wagons. Wood and rope were piled into the wagons, including two pairs of wide wooden wheels big enough for a pony to walk inside.

“Aye. I go t’ their meetin’s.” River straightened up proudly. “We rounded up a few dock workers t’ come help with th’ biggest blocks. Manager didn’t like it o’ course, but not much she can do when ’er whole shift up ’n vanishes, cranes ’n all!”

One of the new arrivals approached the pair, an earth stallion with a ruddy green coat and a dark mane tied into a ponytail that hung down his neck. His work vest was a plain brown, and it might have gone nicely with the wide-brimmed hat he wore if not for the frayed threads hanging off the sleeves.

He came to a stop at River’s side, looking to her with a nervous smile. She beamed back at him, nodding in Rarity’s direction.

A few seconds passed. Rarity cocked her head as the stallion stole an awkward glance towards her.

“Er, Miss Pie?” Rarity asked. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce us?”

“Aye, looks as if that duty’s fallen t’ me.” River held a hoof out towards Rarity, who dipped into a quick, tired curtsey. “Countess Rarity of Canterthusia, the Gifted mare I’ve told ye about.” She brought the hoof towards the stallion, who was smiling at the space above Rarity’s head. “Twinkle Smith, a friend of mine from the Commoner’s Guild.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.” Rarity extended a hoof.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Countess!” He lunged forwards, pulling Rarity into a hug with alarming speed. 

“O-oh!” Rarity’s two guards stiffened off to the side, but she was quick to wave them down with a hoof. She tried to pull herself free of the hug, letting out a breathy giggle as she met resistance. “Some space perhaps, darling?”

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Twinkle stepped back, leaving Rarity to wobble slightly before regaining her balance. “I was just so excited to meet you! River’s told us all about you, you know?”

Rarity shot River a curious look, causing the mare to turn away with a barely perceptible blush. “Has she now?”

“Is it all true?” Twinkle leaned in, lowering his voice as if asking after some conspiracy. “Are you really from the past? You’re here to make Equestria like it used to be, when the Princesses were still around? Before the floods?”

“Ah, well—” Rarity hesitated, put off by the reverence in the stallion’s voice “—I will certainly do my best.”

Twinkle beamed, his eyes finally flicking up to meet hers for a brief moment. He turned to River Pie, who was watching with an apologetic smile. “Do you think she’ll attend a meeting?”

Rarity waved a lazy hoof, drawing his attention back. “Right here, Mr. Smith.”

“Ye’ll have to excuse him. He’s just a little excited is all.” River dipped her muzzle into the bag at her side, pulling out a small card. “Th’ members meet here every day, but most of ’em can’t attend except on Sundays.”

Rarity accepted the card in her magic, ignoring the little gasp from Twinkle Smith, and squinted down at the tiny font. It was difficult to focus on the words in her current state, so she just slipped the card into the pockets sewn into her ruined, rolled-up dress. “Apologies, what did you say the meetings were about, dear?”

“Common good!” Twinkle announced. “The Guild Masters of Friesland have little care for anything aside from business, and so we assembled into our own guild: the Commoner’s Guild!”

River nodded. “We help when th’ crop’s poor or homes start fallin’ apart ’n th’ like.” Behind her,  the dock workers had already started unloading their wagons. They moved with the casual precision of experience, assembling the cranes in stony quiet. “Though it’s difficult t’ do much more, seein’ as we can only rely on donations of time ’n bits.”

“I see,” Rarity mumbled. This ‘Commoner’s Guild’ could be useful allies in her attempts to stop the war, and Whitehorn would certainly be interested in hearing about them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another yawn, so powerful that she actually stumbled a step to the side when she raised a hoof to cover her mouth. “Oh, goodness!”

“Go home, Countess. Please.” River put a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder to steady her, the concern returning to her eyes. “Ye’ve done more’n yer fair share. We can handle th’ rest.”

Rarity opened her mouth to protest once more, but she was interrupted by a gruff call from the dock workers. The first crane had been assembled, and a pair of ponies had already wrapped a boulder-size chunk of rubble in a sling before hooking it to the thick rope that ran up to a pulley, down the crane leg, and to a winch suspended between a pair of large wooden wheels. The ponies inside each wheel began to walk, the crane leg groaning in complaint as the huge stone was hefted into the air, and a team of ponies on the ground began guiding the load into one of the now empty wagons.

The team hitched to the wagon pulled, tugging it into motion with quiet grunts of exertion, and within moments were guiding it down the street and out of sight. One of the ponies on the crane glanced towards Rarity and offered up a brief nod before turning back to his work.

Rarity blinked, sluggish thoughts pushing past the miasma of her exhaustion.

The hours caught up to her all at once. Her hind legs gave out as her rear plopped down to the ground, and she nearly blacked out right there, the darkness encroaching on her vision for a frightening moment before she shook her head and pushed it back. She groaned, raising a hoof to her head in a vain attempt to stem the pulsing ache at the base of her horn.

“Countess!” River stepped closer, supporting Rarity’s weight. “Are ye well?”

“I’m f-fine, darling, thank you.” Rarity winced as the vibration of her own voice bounced around in her skull. “I think I… just pushed myself a bit far.”

“We should get ye back t’ yer bed,” River said. “Where’re ye stayin’, by th’ way?”

The older bluecoat cleared his throat, drawing River’s attention. “That’s none of your concern, baronlander. The Friesland Guard will see to it that the Countess finds her way safely back to her lodging.”

As he spoke, the younger soldier stepped meaningfully forwards, and River backed away without complaint.

Rarity groaned as she forced herself back to her hooves. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Pie, but I do trust these, ah, gentlecolts to see me back.” She grimaced at the ache in her legs as she turned to face the courtyard’s eastern exit. “Truly a pleasure to see you again, despite the circumstances.”

River nodded, offering up a small smile. “With luck, our next meetin’ won’t be so dire.”

“Perhaps tomorrow, at the Guild meeting!” Twinkle Smith added.

Rarity let out a breathy chuckle. “If I’m up to it, darling. Ta-ta!”

With a nod, the older soldier led the way. The younger stayed by Rarity’s side as they walked, subtly stepping closer whenever she faltered to lend support. Rarity did her best to focus on her surroundings as they went, noting the quicker pace and quieted tones of the citizens. Plumes of smoke drifted across the eastern horizon, pushing a distant concern for Fluttershy past the thick blanket of her exhaustion.

She almost didn’t notice they had arrived until the very moment she stepped over the threshold of Piaffe’s home. The Captain was seated at the table with Whitehorn, each nursing drinks with a thin book splayed out between them, while Pontius had been standing by the window.

The coltish stallion rushed up to her at once, nearly bowling her over with his arrival, eyes wide as he took in her disheveled form. “My Lady! What’s happened t’ ye?!”

“Oh, heavens.” Rarity put a hoof to his chest, pushing him back. “I’m fine, thank you, dear. Some space, please?”

He stepped back with a grimace, giving her room to step towards the stairs. She paused, turning to face Captain Piaffe and Whitehorn and receiving understanding nods from each. With a weary smile, she began her ascent.

Pontius followed her, unfortunately. “I haven’t seen ye since th’ bombing! What happened to ye? Did those soldiers do this? My Lady!”

Rarity took a deep breath as she reached the top of the stairs. No need to be upset, Rarity. He only has the best intentions. She opened the door to her room with a hoof, turning in the threshold to face Pontius before he could follow her inside.

“It’s very noble of you to be worried, darling,” she said, slowly closing the door in his face. “But I’d quite like to get some sleep right now.”

The door shut with a satisfying click. She waited, counting three heartbeats, and let out a sigh of relief when she heard him walking back downstairs.

“Rarity!”

Rarity winced as Pinkie’s shrill voice jammed into her ears. Pink hooves wrapped around her neck a moment later.

“Oh my gosh I’m so glad you’re back! I was super duper worried when Piaffe came back without you when it got dark and she said you’d stayed behind and there were these big fires over in the camps where Fluttershy’s staying but nobody would tell me anything and it was so windy outside last night I could barely sleep cause I was thinking about how you might be out there shivering cause you didn’t dress for a cold night and then it started to rain!” Pinkie sucked in a great gasp of breath.

“Pinkie!” Rarity clumsily slapped a hoof over the other mare’s mouth. “It’s wonderful to see you again, darling, and I do appreciate your concern, but I’d quite like to—” she raised her other hoof to stifle a yawn, nearly falling over in the process “—catch up on my beauty sleep.”

Pinkie blinked, pulling back and looking Rarity over with her curious blue eyes. After a few moments, she broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, Rarity, you don’t need any beauty sleep! You don’t have any bags under your eyes, and your coat hasn’t lost its usual lustre, and your mane is just as vibrant and full as always, and you definitely haven’t been slurring your words under your breath this whole time!”

“Mm, quite, yes.” Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the ragged remains of her outfit free and hung them limply over her dresser. Her legs went limp as she dove face-first into the bed. She didn’t bother to pull her muzzle free from the comforting fabric when she spoke. “Wake me up at noon, dear.”

If the bed did anything to muffle her voice, Pinkie didn’t seem to have any issue understanding. Rarity was just cognizant enough to hear the other mare’s giggling response before the warm abyss of sleep overtook her.

A small smile graced her lips as she snuggled into the pillows.





I’ve got it. A wide grin split Twilight’s face as she turned a slow circle, taking in the documents and notes she’d pinned to the walls all around her.

A few seconds passed as she nodded in satisfaction, and nothing answered her. She cleared her throat and stomped a hoof, prodding at Midnight with a spike of impatience. “I said, I’ve got it!”

A pair of slitted eyes appeared in Twilight’s shadow, half-lidded with boredom. Twilight clapped her hooves together in glee as she beamed at her shadow, waiting for it to ask her about her findings.

And waited.

A mouth joined the eyes, its fanged maw stretching wide in an exaggerated yawn.

Twilight’s tail flicked behind her. “Ask me what I’ve learned!”

Midnight rolled her eyes. Go on, then. I can tell you’re just dying to share.

“Fine!” Twilight snapped. “Be that way! Ugh!”

Midnight’s low chuckle echoed in Twilight’s ears as she turned to face the notes she’d carefully laid out in the blank pages of Shining Armor’s journal.

“So, we have our beginning state: the Canterlot wedding, and our end state: flooded Equestria.” She levitated her pencil as she spoke, jabbing it eraser-first at the two ends of the timeline she’d doodled. The glow of her horn brightened as she pulled a dozen faded newspapers from their stack, all from dates shortly after the wedding, and scanned the headlines. Her eyes lingered on a faded black-and-white image of Celestia giving a speech before a crowd in Ponyville. “Canterlot was evacuated in the wake of the invasion, and somehow the Princesses cast a solid stone sphere around Shiny’s shield spell.” She stuck her pencil’s eraser between her lips, chewing on it in consternation. “Which is ridiculous. A spell like that is orders of magnitude beyond any earth-shaping magic I’ve read of before.”

She’s an alicorn, is she not? Midnight asked. With the way you fawn over Celestia, is it truly so shocking that she and her sister could muster such power?

Twilight shook her head. “They’re unmatched magic users within their domains, yes, but a strong unicorn can still keep up otherwise. Stone, spheres, shaping—I can’t think of any way that a spell like that could possibly be relevant to the sun or moon. With the sheer mass involved, even a dozen archmages with relevant cutie marks would burn their magic out!”

And yet the spell was cast. Midnight sidled up to Twilight’s side, peering over her shoulder. Perhaps you missed something?

“I’ve gone over everything in this room four times, and you watched me do it!” Twilight’s nostrils flared as she moved on from the nagging question marks in her notes. “The next thing we do know for sure is that the Royal Guard set up a defensive line around the city and began making preparations for a counter-attack, but then—” she pulled the pencil free from her gnawing teeth, pointing it at a photograph of a Guard mare with red tears dripping down her cheeks “—the corruption started.”

Midnight snorted. You ruined another pencil.

Twilight blinked. Her eyes focused in on what was once the pencil’s eraser, and a dejected sigh escaped her as she saw the eviscerated wooden stump. She threw it into the pile with the others before opening a desk drawer and pulling out a replacement. Luckily, whoever had used this office before her had practiced a level of office supply preparation bordering past obsessive. She stuck the pencil into the sharpener as she continued her presentation.

“It was most prominent around Canterlot at first, so the going theory was that the changelings were the source, but nobody could find a way to stop the spread.” She pulled the freshly-sharpened pencil out, pointing at a map of Equestria heavily annotated by her notes. “Corruption-related incidents happened all around Equestria with increasing severity up to the date of the flood, which seems to have happened only—” she grimaced, looking down at her notes “—two months after my capture.”

Blaming yourself again, little flower?

Twilight shook her head with a quiet sniffle. “I should’ve been there. They needed me.”

It is not the fault of the strong that the weak should perish. Midnight’s voice was sweet in Twilight’s head, the warmth only partially concealing an underpinning of pride. Why should a manticore mourn the passing of insects?

Twilight sucked in a deep breath, gritting her teeth and willing the thick red tears back as she turned to the three names written under the timeline. “Princess Luna disappeared during a research expedition to the Everfree three weeks after the wedding. My current theory is a self-induced dream coma once she realized she’d been infected by the corruption.” Twilight’s eyes flicked to the side, meeting Midnight’s toothy smile with silent accusation.

Don’t look at me. You know I had no involvement in any of that. We belong to each other and none else, my sweet.

Twilight shivered as she turned back to her notes. “Shiny’s journal mentions every thestral in the Guard disappearing around the same time. No indicators as to why or where they may have gone. His journal also mentions Princess Cadance leading a mission to the Frozen North on Celestia’s behalf just a week later. None of the newspapers here mention her return. It’s… probable that she also fell to the corruption.”

She does strike me as the weakest of the set, Midnight mused. I expect we’ll find her body.

Twilight’s voice hitched as she slid her pencil over to a photo, a black-and-white portrait of a bruised Shining Armor she’d cut out of a newspaper. “W-we know that Shiny—” she bit her lip, hesitating over the next word “—died during an attempted rescue mission in Canterlot just a week before the flood.”

Midnight was silent as Twilight’s magic wrapped around the journal, revealing a page conspicuously empty of notes. A wallet-sized photo of Princess Celestia, a mass-produced thing pilfered from the magically preserved filing cabinet, was pinned at the top. Even with the faded colors, Twilight felt her pulse quicken at the sight.

Beneath the photo was a form, one of many she’d found in a folder detailing official correspondence between the office of the Stalliongrad Premier and the subcommittees that ran the city. It was dated to just a day before the flood, the day when all the newspapers stopped printing and ponies all around the underground vault had written their deepest fears in their private diaries.

The message was short, to the point, and it sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine every time she read it.

Princess Celestia has vanished. We are on our own.
> XIII: Of Bonds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She wouldn’t leave us. She wouldn’t.

Twilight floated through the drowned avenues of Stalliongrad, suspended in a glowing orb of lavender magic. She scanned the half-buried alleys and the leaning rooftops, her eyes darting between flickers of movement at the corners of her vision.

You yourself found the message. What cause would the Premier have to lie to her own government?

Midnight had elected against projecting herself onto the physical realm for the moment, its cold, almost mocking voice echoing in Twilight’s head. Despite this, Twilight could clearly see an image of her dark passenger reclined in the sunlit reading nook of her old study, an untitled book laying ignored on the desk.

I don’t know! Maybe it was some kind of power play. Or maybe—she must have been misinformed. The Princess wouldn’t abandon Equestria.

Midnight hummed down at her book with faux contemplation. Is it really Equestria that you’re so concerned about?

Twilight drew up short. Wisps of red energy drifted from her bubble as she fixed Midnight with a tight-lipped scowl. Of course it is! Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve suffered—all of it’s for Equestria!

True, yes. Midnight looked up, meeting Twilight’s mental glare with her own bloodshot eyes. But this denial of yours only seems to appear when Celestia does.

Twilight grit her teeth. The butterflies in her chest fluttered about in panic as the pressure around them began to build. What exactly are you trying to say?

Don’t play dumb with me, little flower, Midnight scoffed. Your foalish worship for your princess does little more than leave us unfocused and vulnerable. We should be focused on feeding ourselves, not mewling over dead alicorns.

“She isn’t dead!”

A wave of energy burst from Twilight’s horn, slamming into the water outside her shield and obscuring the city in a rush of bubbling heat. The ruins groaned around them, disturbed by the sudden change in pressure, and for several seconds Twilight hovered perfectly still, listening to the distant thuds of displaced rubble sinking down to the streets.

Midnight’s soft chuckle echoed between Twilight’s ears. Your actions prove my words true, sweet blossom.

Don’t call me that! Twilight snapped, her chest heaving. It’s your constant prodding and mocking that’s doing this! If you’d just give it a rest then maybe I’d be able to focus for once!

Curious that the prodding works best when Celestia is involved, isn’t it?

Twilight let out a frustrated scream as she pushed herself deeper into the ruins, her eyes scanning her surroundings without really seeing. You’re insufferable! What is it that you get out of this?

I seek only our own improvement. It’s never my wish to hurt you, little flower. Midnight’s lips parted, revealing a bloodstained smile. We have only each other, after all. Sometimes the truth hurts, but do we not always seek the truth?

We do, Twilight admitted. Thick red tears began to well in her vision, obscuring the colorless ruins before her. And that’s what we’re doing! We’ll find more clues in the Frozen North, and then we’ll have a better idea of what happened, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions!

Twilight, have I ever lied to you?

Twilight drew up short. It was the first time she could remember the twisted facsimile of her voice uttering her name. Midnight hovered before her, a calm expression on its bloodied face.

What’s wrong? it asked, cocking its head. Did you not want me to call you Twilight, either?

I… Twilight found her thoughts wandering as she stared into her own eyes, seeing herself in the reflection. She looked just like Midnight now, didn’t she? You’ve… you’ve tried tricking me before.

Midnight gave a soft smile, but shook its head. When?

When you killed Philomena. You tried to make me sleep.

You were exhausted. Midnight’s voice was warm, lacking its usual edge. But I handled the creature, didn’t I? As I promised you I would.

Twilight grit her teeth, looking away as blood traced familiar paths over her cheeks. But I didn’t want you to! It was wrong!

Perhaps. But did I lie?

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, throwing herself back into her memories. Surely there must have been one time when her dark passenger had lied to her? It had been in the back of her head for weeks now, whispering into her ears, pushing her to violence and trying to manipulate her…

But to her horror, she couldn’t think of a single lie it had ever told. It had always been honest with her, perhaps even to a fault. Wouldn’t it have been easier for it to wrest control from her if it had presented itself differently? If it had tried to fool her perceptions and fill her head with treacherous falsehoods?

No. Twilight licked her dry lips, opening her eyes and meeting Midnight’s steady gaze. No, you’ve never lied to me.

Then you know I speak truth, Midnight continued. I’m the voice in the back of your head, Twilight. I cannot lie to you anymore than you can lie to yourself.

A soft sob escaped Twilight. The endless expanse of the ocean rumbled around her, uncaring. It’s not fair.

Don’t take it personal, my sweet, Midnight cooed, brushing an invisible hoof along Twilight’s cheek. Twilight flinched away at first, but the chill was oddly comforting to her. Even one as powerful as Celestia cannot surmount every threat that might oppose her. We can be stronger. We must strive to be so.

“She wouldn’t leave me.” Twilight shook her head, speaking in a quiet whimper. “Rarity saw her; she’s still alive. If I can just find her…”

In time, perhaps. For now, we must hunt. The cold, ghostly pressure of Midnight’s touch drew away, and Twilight looked up to see it floating before her, scanning the settling ruins. Weakness will invite danger, and we haven’t eaten in two days. This distraction has already gone on for too long.

Twilight bit her lip as a red tear fell from her chin, sizzling against the shield below. “I d-don’t want to—kill something.”

Midnight turned, looking back over its shoulder at her with eyes narrowed. We ate half a changeling just last week. Are we not over this?

“It’s different!” Twilight snapped, looking up with sudden heat. “We didn’t kill that changeling!”

Midnight cocked its head. And? We scavenged its body while its blood was still warm. It paused, looking away in thought. Though you insisted on draining the corpse before we ate. I’d like to keep the blood this time.

“How can you possibly not understand?” Twilight asked. “These fangs, these eyes, eating the flesh of another creature—I hate it, but I can bear it. A body doesn’t feel any pain. But to kill another living being just so I can survive? It’s monstrous!” She tried to stomp a hoof, but the effect was diminished by the lack of solid ground underneath her. “Who’s to say that my life is more important than that of any other?”

Midnight arched a brow. Us, obviously. Would you rather starve? When we’ve come so far?

Twilight’s whole body was shaking. She couldn’t deny its argument. Some part of her had known that this day would come ever since she first gave in, first bit into the meat of a changeling deep in the bowels of Canterlot, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be today. She had hoped it would never be today, that she would always find some way around it, some way to sustain herself without having to face that undefeatable fact of her cursed existence—she needed meat, and nothing was going to surrender its own flesh without a fight.

“I—” She paused as a sob interrupted her. “Okay. But I h-have conditions.” She winced at the piteous tone of her own voice.

Midnight regarded her with curiosity. Name them.

“First, it has to be a fish,” Twilight began. “No seaponies—o-or any other mammals.”

Midnight narrowed its eyes. An odd stipulation, but if it appeases you, then so be it.

Twilight nodded, her voice growing stronger after the small victory. “And we’ll be sure to clean it properly.” She shivered as she spoke the next words. “If I’m going to k-kill something, then I’ll do it with minimal w-waste.”

Efficiency is always a noble goal. Midnight nodded. Is there a third?

“N-no.” Twilight took a deep breath, calming herself. “Just those two. We can hunt, but we’ll do it—” she bit her lip, looking away “—ethically.”

She could feel the smirk on Midnight’s face, but mercifully, it didn’t call her out on her word choice. Very well. Let us return to the hunt, then. We will have to look harder if seapony is forbidden to us.

Relief washed over Twilight, followed immediately by a wave of nausea. There was nothing to be proud about; one way or another, some creature was about to die because of her.

But it was necessary. She had to survive so that she could follow the clues, find Celestia, save her friends and restore Equestria. The death of an ocean creature was such a small obstacle to get caught up on in the face of all the good it would enable.

It was too easy. Her shiverings grew stronger as she reminded herself that what she had committed to was not the right decision. No, violence upon another living being could never be right. But it could be necessary, and a small wrong choice now would allow her to make greater right choices in the future.

Perhaps she was surrendering her soul, but how could she not pay such a price when it meant she could set the world back to how it should be?

She needed to stop wasting time and energy.

You are just adorable, Midnight said. Are you done?

Twilight sighed. I suppose I am.

It was at that moment that a shadow passed overhead. Or rather, the lavender glow of Twilight’s magic, which previously had dissipated into the greyscale of the pitch-black ocean around her, was suddenly being reflected back at her from above. She looked up, eyes widening as she took in the glimmering mass moving above her, and after a brief shock she finally figured out what it was.

A school of fish was swimming above her, their scales catching her magic and twisting it into twinkling patterns with the flutter of their tails. They danced among each other in a captivating display, each fish in perfect sync with its neighbors, each one unmarred by the bloody signs of corruption that had seemed so omnipresent on the ocean floor.

That, Midnight observed, is extremely convenient.

Twilight’s ears flicked at the warbling screech of a seapony, and her open-mouthed awe turned to horror as she watched a trio of the monsters suddenly swim into view, diving in amongst the fish and staining the water red. 

“No!” She jumped into motion almost without thinking, teleporting into the middle of the school with a burst of magic. The fish scattered around her, and she found herself in the middle of an unbroken sphere of glittering scales as the three bloodthirsty seaponies turned to face her.

She hesitated, and they lashed out with their wild, haunting screams in her ears. She countered with magic, striking them with a wall of arcane force that sent the trio spiraling away with strangled shouts of alarm.

For a few seconds she lost sight of them among the swirling, panicked motion of the fish, but the school was quick to flee, and soon they had left Twilight behind, alone against the three glaring monsters.

Twilight blinked, and Midnight was in front of her. “Begone, mongrels! This is our meal!”

The seaponies hissed, flinching backwards as if struck, and backed away. When Twilight floated closer, they gave more ground. The three ponies swam around in circles, their ghostly shrieks filling the water.

Twilight kept her eyes trained on them as she backed away, guiding herself towards the school of fish with magic pings. The seaponies held her gaze with hateful glares, but made no attempt to close the gap. Once she’d satisfied herself that they wouldn’t follow, she turned back to the fish, following in their wake.

Twilight looked to Midnight curiously. What was that?

They were trying to steal food from us, and I asserted our strength, Midnight spat. Not a hard concept even for you to grasp, I would think.

Twilight ignored the jab, pressing on. But you warned them. You scared them off.

Midnight stiffened, looking away. What’s your point, little flower?

A small smile tugged at the corner of Twilight’s lips as she turned to the beautiful display before her. You could’ve just killed them.

She followed the school in silence for several long minutes, marveling at the way her hornlight reflected on their scales. What species were they? It had been a long time since she’d read anything on marine biology, and she couldn’t recall the exact name, but she was fairly certain they were a coastal species. But what would coastal fish be doing so far from shallow waters?

Twilight only barely noticed the ruins fading away around her, giving way to open ocean once more. She cast a simple spell to check her heading, and was pleased to find the fish were heading mostly north. Occasionally she would see seaponies watching in the distance as if sizing up the school and its odd guardian, but none of them made any move against her.

I don’t like hurting things.

Twilight jumped, having nearly forgotten about Midnight in her reverie, but said nothing. She could feel it mulling over its words inside her, and was loathe to shatter the fragile peace she’d found with fresh argument.

It’s just… the best way to deal with threats. Midnight paused, and Twilight wasn’t sure if it was thinking or hoping for a response. When something threatens us, or our friends, I eliminate it. It is an act of necessity.

And those seaponies weren’t threatening us? Twilight hovered closer, catching a single fish in her magic and bringing it into her air bubble—being careful to bring a pocket of water along with it. She held it up to her eye, her muzzle scrunching up as she wracked her memory. Threadfin, maybe?

Their destruction was not necessary, Midnight said curtly, remaining unseen. If they had attacked again, I would have ended them in an instant. Warning them first was just… more efficient.

Ah, yes. Of course. Twilight took a deep breath as she watched the fish swim frantic circles in its little sphere of water. Could a fish feel fear, she wondered? Either way, it would be needlessly cruel for her to confine it any longer. She wrapped a tendril of magic around its body, holding it still. With a single thought she could crush its skull and put it out of its misery.

But she could do that at any time, couldn’t she? She could wait a little longer. If that’s alright with you?

If it helps you. There was a brief pause, and then Midnight added in a stern voice, But we mustn't tarry too long. We must reach the Frozen North without delay.

Right. Twilight nodded as she relinquished her grip on the lone fish, pushing it back into the open ocean and watching it disappear into the shifting kaleidoscope of its friends. Thank you.

What for?

For compromise. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, you know.

Midnight’s only answer was a low growl, and Twilight didn’t push the matter further. 





Jab, cut, spin, kick. Wince.

Rainbow grit her teeth. She ignored the complaints from her back muscles as she returned to the starting position, her wings spread and the blades fastened tightly to her feathers.

Jab, cut, spin—slip. Growl.

Sabre had warned her against starting practice so soon after the fight with the changeling, but what did she know? Rainbow’s knowledge of her own body was intimate, a thing developed over years of rigorous training and dozens of injuries. Sure, she’d never been in the hospital for excessive blood loss before—most of her extensive experience was with blunt trauma—but she knew when she was ready to get off bed rest. Or at least she knew when she was ready enough that it wouldn’t cause any further damage, despite the protests of whichever doctor might be supervising her.

Jab, cut, spin, kick—and her hooves flew past the target without making contact. Tail flick.

There wasn’t a doctor on the Argo anymore. In some ways, Rainbow blamed herself, even if it made no sense. How could she have known there was a changeling aboard when none of the other crew members did? But she had been the one to find the body. She had been the one flying laps on the lower levels in the middle of the night. If anypony was going to save Dusty Tome from that changeling, shouldn’t it have been her?

She shook her head and got back into position. That wasn’t the kind of thinking she wanted. That was the kind of thinking that a mare did when she was trapped in a bed, strapped down with wires and brought three meals a day because she was too weak to get them herself. She was a mare of action, and she sought out the soothing repetition of practice precisely because she didn’t want that thinking. If Sabre wouldn’t train her today out of some misguided worry over reopening wounds, she’d do it herself.

Jab, cut, spin, kick. Impact, but off center. She hissed at the pulsing pain that raced up her leg, nearly sending her to the floor, but caught herself just in time. Straightening up with an annoyed groan, she found herself facing the door to Twilight’s room.

She’d pushed herself hard today. The sheen of sweat stuck to her coat. She turned and grabbed a mug in one wingtip, lifting it to her lips and chugging down three big gulps of water.

Maybe it was time for a quick break.

With another sip, Rainbow stepped up to the thin metal door, gently nudging it open. Princess Luna was sound asleep in the bed that Twilight hadn’t used in almost two weeks, her face as peaceful as if she were napping in a woodland glade, with only the chirp of birdsong and the rustling of the leaves to lull her instead of the constant ticking of the walls and the deep, pulsing thrum of the engines. Opposite her was Twilight’s desk, the books and papers left neatly organized just as she had left them when they first arrived at Altalusia.

Rainbow approached the desk cautiously. She knew the chance of her waking the princess was slim, but it still felt wrong to stomp about in her presence. There was a certain reverence for the desk itself, as well. Twilight had left these things where they were for a reason, and she would probably be happy to see them undisturbed if she came back.

When she came back.

Rainbow’s eye passed over the assorted texts with a vague curiosity. What was it that Twilight had spent so many long hours reading in this little room, locked away while her friends fussed over her outside? Thick history books were stacked up under the desk tall enough to act almost as like a fifth leg, and much of the metal surface was hidden behind books held open by paperweights to pages full of mind-numbing text. She picked one book at random and flipped it closed: Callus’s Classified Collections on Chiroptera.

She arched a brow. A bat-shaped silhouette graced the cover, giving her at least some hint as to the book’s contents. She opened it back to the marked page and reached for another book, but this one had no title. The cover was a plain, unbroken purple.

With a deep breath, Rainbow opened the book once more and decided to try her mind at the words within.

Dream Journal, 4th of June, 673 Anno Caeli, 3:01 AM

I’m sinking again. The water is cold, and I can’t open my mouth to breathe even though my lungs burn. I settle onto the ocean floor and I find myself in the ruins of the Golden Oaks Library. Owloysius is there again, as well as the Griffon and a new character who I believe might be Philomena. It’s difficult to remember clearly.

The Other was there, too. It watches from outside, peering into the window with glowing eyes. I can’t tell if it takes any satisfaction out of watching me beg for mercy while the Griffon cuts my horn off.

There’s not much more to record. I don’t think the specifics of my babbling are particularly significant, and the Griffon’s song is the same as previous entries. I wake up covered in cold sweat, twisted in my sheets. The silence spell has kept my friends from hearing me, thankfully, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to return to—

Rainbow slammed the book shut and took a step back, shooting a guilty look towards first the open door, and then Princess Luna. The ship tick-tocked away in the background.

She’d just read her best friend’s dream journal.

Rainbow shook her head, rushing out of the room and shutting the door behind her. She’d known Twilight was having nightmares; silence spells or not, Twilight’s magic hadn’t been able to hide the jumpiness, the extra cups of tea, or the heavy bags hanging under her eyes in the mornings. Still, to actually read a first-hoof account…

A shiver ran down Rainbow’s spine, followed by a flare of anger as she remembered how Applejack had argued to give their friend the space she requested. They should’ve pressed harder!

She groaned, banging her head against the nearest wall. “Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Twilight had needed them, and they’d let themselves be pushed away, and now they might not ever get her back again!

She jumped at the sudden hiss of steam behind her. She turned just in time to watch Star Trails step into the cargo hold, smoothing down her drab-green uniform with a hoof.

“H-hey, Trails!” Rainbow gave a weak smile. “What’s up?”

Trails looked over the pegasus with a bemused smile. “Have you been practicing on your own? Even after Sabre told you not to?”

“Hey, I’m good enough for practice!” Rainbow shot back, standing up. “And it’s just some light exercise, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Trails shrugged. “Whatever, Dash. You’re the one with super magic healing powers, I guess. Where’s your uniform?”

Rainbow cocked her head. “You mean the ugly one that made Rarity vomit?”

Trails nodded. “Yeah, that one. Find it and put it on. We’ve lucked out, so it looks like we won’t have to go all the way to Alton after all.”

Rainbow perked up at that. Anything that wasted less time was good news as far as she was concerned. “What happened?”

“We spotted a merchant lord’s fleet on the horizon,” Trails said. “Prince Silverblood’s, assuming he hasn’t been usurped in the last few years.”

Rainbow snorted. “Prince Silverblood?”

Trails rolled her eyes. “Hey, once you hit a certain level of rich you can call yourself whatever you want and most ponies follow along. But c’mon, get dressed. We’re getting boarded soon, and you need to look like you’re on Crazy’s payroll.”

It only took Rainbow a couple minutes to ready herself: one to put away her wingblades, ten seconds to quickly brush her coat, fifty seconds to find where she had tossed the wrinkled uniform off to, and another ten to actually put it on. Soon the two mares were walking through the halls of the lower level, Trails leading the way while Rainbow peered through the windows in search of the supposed fleet they would be meeting with.

“Where is it?” she asked. “I don’t see anything.”

“That’s cause the ship’s pointed at it,” Trails said as they approached the door to Flint’s quarters. “Say, do you know where AJ is?”

“She wasn’t hanging out in the galley with Flint?” Rainbow asked. “Or checking the pipes with Sunfeather, maybe?”

“Sunfeather’s on the bridge with Sabre, and I didn’t see Flint anywhere. I figure he’s probably taking a nap.” She raised a hoof and pounded on the door to his room. “Hey, Flint! Get out of bed, big guy! We’re expecting visitors!”

There was a heavy thud from within the room, and both Trails and Rainbow let out muted giggles at the sound of his deep-voiced grumbling muffled by the door. Then a second, higher voice joined in.

The door cracked open, revealing a squinting, hatless Applejack. “Y’all raised in a barn, Trails? Cause if I didn’t know any better I’d think ya had two hundred apple trees in need of buckin’ by sundown.”

Trails blinked. “Uhm.”

“AJ!” Rainbow hissed, leaning in. She frowned as the scent of alcohol wafted out of the room. “What the hay?”

“I ain’t gotta explain myself to ya, Dash.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Now did y’all need somethin’?”

“Well, uh, we found a ship we can dock with and resupply. Sabre wants us all up and uniformed to be boarded, so.” Trails looked away, a soft blush on her cheeks. “Pass the message on, I guess.”

“I heard ye!” Flint called from deeper in the room. “Just cause I’m a bit tipsy don’t mean I’m deaf!”

“Great. Great.” Trails nudged Rainbow with a leg as she turned away. “We should go.”

“Whoa, just hang on, will you?” Rainbow hadn’t looked away from Applejack’s exasperated gaze. “What are you doing over here?”

“Rainbow Dash, I am an adult.”

“But Flint? Really?”

“Still ain’t deaf!” Flint called.

“Y’all can hush.” Applejack looked over her shoulder for only a moment before turning back to Rainbow. “We can talk about this tonight, ya hear? Promise. But for now, we’ll be seein’ y’all on the bridge.”

Rainbow flinched as the door snapped closed in her face, the thud followed shortly by the click of the lock. She looked up to Trails, mouth hanging open, but couldn’t find any words.

“Not my business,” Trails said, starting down the hall at a brisk trot. “Not. My. Business!”

Ten minutes later, the crew were all assembled on the bridge. Sunfeather stood in her usual spot on the control dias, hooves idly resting on her levers while Rainbow and the others gathered around Sea Sabre on the upper level.

“Now we’re all here—our previous plans to resupply at Alton are no longer necessary,” she said. “We’ve been fortunate enough to cross paths with Lord Silverblood’s homeship on its way back south, and he’ll likely be willing to trade supplies in exchange for written promises of payment from Mr. Rich. We’ve flagged him down, and there’s a picket ship en route now to inspect us before we dock.”

Rainbow’s eye kept shifting sideways, to Applejack and Flintlock beside her. Had they always stood so close together? Her depth perception was all but gone with only one eye, and she couldn’t quite tell if they were brushing shoulders or keeping a more normal distance. She’d seen them getting familiar over cider and stories, sure, but she’d never thought the two would… share a bed together. Though if the way Applejack kept her eyes firmly forwards was any indication, she was unwilling to discuss it.

“This presents two problems for us,” Sabre continued. “First, there’s the potential for you two being pressed into his service. A merchant prince like him will have several Gifted under his control already, some of which will be on the ship, and they’re always looking to gain more. If he’s heard of you—and with how long it’s been since you arrived, he almost certainly has—then he might try something.”

“He can try.” Rainbow puffed herself up, her jaw clenching at the idea of some arrogant pony trying to imprison her or her friend. “Wouldn’t be the first time I have to deal with a bounty hunter.”

“It shouldn’t come to that,” Sabre said, fixing Rainbow with her stern red gaze. “For the duration of this visit, you’ll present yourselves as employees of Mr. Rich. He does a lot of business with a lot of ponies, and Silverblood will be less likely to mess with what he sees to be the property of one of his peers.”

“Makes sense,” Applejack said.

Sabre nodded. “Just keep your heads down, don’t do anything to stand out more than you already will, and do as I say.” She turned back to Rainbow with the last few words. “You’re supposed to be under my command, and ponies might start asking questions if you keep ignoring my orders.”

“I understand.” Rainbow straightened up, meeting Sabre’s eyes with a steady expression of her own. She thought back to the lecture Sabre had given her after she woke up, wounded from her fight with the changeling. “I… I won’t let you down.”

“Good. As for the second problem,” Sabre said, “we have an alicorn aboard, and this isn’t a smuggling ship.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “If any of you have suggestions about where to hide her, now’s the time.”

“Hide ’er?” Flint echoed. “Th’ mare’s huge! It’d be hard enough t’ hide me!”

“Maybe we could pull up a grate and squeeze her between some pipes?” Trails suggested. “Or we could put her in the envelope.”

“Didn’t ye hear what I said, Traily?” Flint shook his head. “Even if we found a gap big enough fer ‘er, she’d probably burn up against all th’ pipin’. And th’ envelope—which is full of holes, mind ye—is th’ first place they’ll look.”

“Can we just leave her in Twilight’s room?” Applejack asked, frowning. “Rich’s got a good reputation, right? Maybe they won’t look too hard as long as we give a good impression.”

Sabre shook her head. “Not worth the risk. That should only be our last resort.”

Rainbow perked up, clapping her hooves together with an excited grin. “I’ve got it! We can put her in my room!”

Flint arched a brow. “Yer cloud room? Won’t she just fall through?”

Trails rolled her eyes. “She’s an alicorn, you buffoon. Hay, half the pictures of her have her standing on a cloud.”

“So?” Flint countered, shooting a sideways glare at the unicorn. “They’re pictures! Ye think th’ ponies that make ’em know all there is t’ know about alicorns?”

“No, Trails is right,” Applejack said. She put a calming hoof on Flint’s shoulder, ignoring the frown it brought to Rainbow’s face. “The Princess’ll be fine up on those clouds. The question is how we get her up there.”

Rainbow waved a hoof in the air nonchalantly. “Pfft, no problem! I’ll just fly her up. It’ll take me five seconds, tops!”

Applejack arched a brow, fixing the pegasus with a skeptical look. “Rainbow, that mare’s twice your size, and you’re still hurtin’ on top of that. Ain’t no way ya can lift her up there all on your own.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rainbow flapped her wings, taking flight with only a slight wince. “Just watch me!”

As it turned out, Rainbow realized several minutes later, Princess Luna actually was just a bit too heavy for her to lift.

She couldn’t even get the alicorn’s hooves off the ground. No matter how hard she flapped, how loud she grunted, or how long she talked herself up, the sleeping princess wouldn’t budge, and all her back muscles were on fire from the exertion.

Then Applejack had pursed her lips, taken a look up at the ceiling, and asked Flint to fetch her some rope.

With two earth ponies, a firm knot, and a makeshift pulley made by Rainbow threading the rope over a thick pipe running over her little cloudhome, they managed to hoist Princess Luna up into the air. Rainbow had been forced to form a temporary hole in her floor for the Princess to fit through, and after great effort and several complaints, the job was done.

Rainbow leaned against the fluffy bulk of her bed, letting out a relieved sigh before calling down, “There! Problem solved.”

“Good!” Sabre called back. “Now get back down here! They’ll be coming aboard any minute!”

“Right, right! Just a sec!” Rainbow grinned as she took a moment to admire the result of her labor. Princess Luna was splayed out on the floor at the base of her bed, her expression no less serene despite the awkward twist to her limbs. She stepped up and rolled the Princess into a more comfortable position before giving a little nod. That would do for now, and then they could put her back in Twilight’s room once they were back on their way.

Wait. Rainbow blinked, stiffening in sudden alarm. What if they want to leave her up here?

Ah, ponyfeathers.





“Hmm.”

Rarity’s reflection pouted back at her as she held up first one scarf, then another. The chill in the air had grown more prominent over the past three days, and even with every window tied shut and the fire crackling in the hearth downstairs she’d been reluctant to leave the warm embrace of her bedsheets. But she’d been feeling rather cramped staying inside discussing strategy with Whitehorn, and today was Sunday. The Commoner’s Guild would be holding their primary meeting for the week, and she had every intent to attend—after she sorted her outfit out, of course.

She had thought long over precisely what impression she wanted to impart. She didn’t want to wear a dress, for if her experience with Applejack was any indication workhorses tended to look down upon proper fashion. She wanted to appear familiar, approachable, but not so much so that she would be dismissed as just another mare. She had to carefully thread the needle between being pretentiously outstanding and being forgettably common. She wanted to present herself as a noble, but she must also appear truly sympathetic to the concerns of the commoner.

Luckily, the weather had done some of the thinking for her. She wore a cloak of striking burgundy, the hood trimmed with wispy white wool, over the very sort of drab brown jerkin that appeared popular among the working class. Of course she had taken the time to embroider the simple cloth with some more vibrant colors and intricate patterns, but she hoped nopony would mind as long as she didn’t go too far with the personal enhancements.

All that was left was to choose a scarf. The chiffon matched the trim on her hood quite well, but she was always partial to any shade of purple that complemented her mane.

“My Lady?” Pontius called from out in the hall. “Are ye ready yet?”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to rush a lady, Pontius?” Rarity called back, turning to face the door.

A few seconds passed before he answered. “It’ll be getting dark, my Lady. If we don’t depart soon th’ meeting might be over by th’ time we arrive.”

With a dramatic sigh, Rarity muttered, “Oh, very well then.” She reached out with her magic, pulling the door open and brandishing her two scarves. “I require your assistance, my sweet. Do you think I should go with the chiffon, or the mulberry?”

Pontius blinked. His eyes darted from one to the other.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Chiffon. Mulberry.” She gave a soft shake to each respective scarf as she named them.

“The… chiffon.” Pontius let out a sigh of relief as Rarity gave a little nod and wrapped the chosen apparel around her neck. “It matches the wool of yer hood quite well.”

“Oh, my.” Rarity giggled as she levitated the remaining scarf back into her luggage. “Perhaps I’ll make a fashionista of you, yet.”

Pontius answered her with an uncertain smile. “But I’m a stallion, my Lady.”

“Oh, pfft!” Rarity scoffed as she stepped out into the hall and closed the bedroom door behind her. “It’s a gender-neutral term, darling. Did the others send you to check on me? I wasn’t taking too long, was I?”

Descending the stairs, Rarity greeted Pinkie Pie and Whitehorn waiting patiently in the common room with a bright smile. They had pushed the table aside to make more room for pillows around the hearth, the bluecoat keeping watch from the kitchen area eyeing the flames with obvious envy. Whitehorn was wearing a short cloak over his vest, the sleeves of his shirt unrolled for once, and Pinkie had a cherry red shawl draped over her shoulders for warmth.

“Oh, she’s finally ready!” Pinkie pushed herself up off the cushion she’d been lying on with an energetic wave. “Rarity! I hope you’re ready to make some new friends!”

“And new connections,” Whitehorn added, dipping his head in greeting.

“I just hope it’s not too late,” Rarity said with a sigh. “It seems every day there’s a little more venom in the eyes of every Frieslander I pass.”

Pontius grunted as he took up a spot by the fire, his polished breastplate catching the flickering yellow light. “I don’t see what help ye hope to get from commoners. They hold no power t’ accomplish anything.”

“Perhaps not officially, no,” Rarity said, looking to Whitehorn with a hopeful smile. “But a wise pony once told me that pressure flows both ways.”

Whitehorn returned the smile warmly. “You’re too kind, Countess.”

Pontius stepped between them, clearing his throat intently as he nodded towards the door. “Well, seeing as all preparations seem t’ be made, best we set forth before dusk.”

He reached for the door, only to flinch back as Captain Piaffe barreled through it from the other side, narrowly missing his muzzle.

“Apologies, Pontius.” Piaffe smiled a greeting around the room, taking her hat off with a flourish. “You lot about to head out? Commoner’s Guild, yes?”

Rarity nodded. “We discussed the escort and curfew yesterday, no?”

“We did, but I’m afraid there’s been a slight change of plans.” Piaffe hung her coat by the door, exposing the ruffled white shirt underneath and the small saddlebag tied close to her side, and made for the liquor cabinet as she spoke. “New orders, you see. I’m only to let you out two at a time from now on.”

Pontius was the first to react, his voice hard. “And what exactly have we done t’ deserve such restriction?”

“You’re asking the wrong mare, love.” Piaffe shrugged before pulling a bottle out of the cabinet and pouring its clear contents into a glass. “I just follow orders. If I had to guess I’d say that Governor Rhea’s concerned for your well-being. There’s an awful lot of ill will towards baronlanders floating around right now, and the best way to avoid any incidents is to ensure you’re well guarded.”

Rarity let out an unladylike snort. “Or well watched, you mean?”

“Don’t take it personal, Countess. Every precaution must be taken in times such as these.” Piaffe settled onto a cushion near the table with a relieved sigh. “You could put on a blue coat and kill a dozen baronlanders, and I doubt it’d make any difference.”

Rarity’s tail flicked behind her. “I wasn’t aware I was such an untrustworthy mare.”

Piaffe smirked as she poured the clear liquid into her glass. “It’s not that you’re untrustworthy, love. We just aren’t very trusting.”

Rarity pursed her lips, but said nothing. After the deadly attack on the city two days ago, she couldn’t really blame the Frieslanders for being suspicious of her party. That airship hadn’t hijacked itself, after all, and Rarity still hadn’t told anyone but Pinkie about the brief sight of Gava and Ana escaping just seconds before the blast. She’d meant to speak to Whitehorn about it, but she’d been unable to get him alone without a bluecoat within earshot.

They were still out there, somewhere, playing some game that she couldn’t understand. What did they get out of terrorizing a city under siege? Had they given up on chasing her and her friends? And when would they strike next?

“I do have some good news, however.” Piaffe reached a hoof into her saddlebag, pulling out a trio of scrolls. Two of them were sealed with red wax marked with the pike-and-shield crest of Duke Titus, but Rarity barely noticed them laying next to the third scroll, the parchment tied shut with strands of long pink hair.

Pontius’ hard frown faltered as he saw the letters. “Correspondence from my father?”

“And from Fluttershy!” Pinkie giggled gleefully as she rushed forwards, hooking the scroll on the tip of her forelock. With a shake of her head the scroll unfurled, and her eyes darted left to right across the message within as she hummed a cheery tune.

Pontius and Whitehorn picked up their respective letters as well, each of them shooting confused glances at the pink mare, while Rarity moved to Pinkie’s side with nervous relief.

“Dear friends,

“I’m glad to hear that you’re all still safe inside the city. We saw the explosion from here in the camp, and we were all so worried that you might have been hurt! I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to write sooner, but Brownie and I have been so busy ever since the attack on the camp. We’re being careful not to overdo it, so please don’t worry about us. I’d hate to distract you from your important business with the Governor.”

Rarity snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was just like Fluttershy to be more concerned about distracting others with danger to herself than she was about the actual danger.

“I hope you’re able to make a breakthrough soon. More ponies are hurt every day, and we work so hard to make them better, but sometimes they just get come back hurt again. Or worse. 

“I’m seeing so many terrible things, girls, but I don’t feel anything. It scares me, but I’m doing my best to be strong. I feel more useful here than I have in a long time.”

The smile turned to a frown. It was a cruel irony that Fluttershy, the softest of all of them, would be the one to find some solace in a tent full of wounded ponies, but there was a part of Rarity that envied her. It would be nice to lay her head to rest every night without the troubling thoughts that plagued her, that it was all hopeless, that she wasn’t making a difference.

Rarity shook her head, closing her eyes. She was making a difference, however slight. With a soft sigh she turned her attention back to the letter.

“Please don’t give up. I don’t want to stress you, but if we fail here then many more ponies are going to get hurt.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep writing, if you can find the time. I have to go now, but I’ll be thinking of you all.

“Fondly, Fluttershy.”

Rarity let out the breath she’d been holding, feeling much of the tension bottled up inside her melt away. Fluttershy was well, or at least as well as could be expected considering the circumstances. She looked to Pinkie with a wide smile, seeing her own relief beamed back at her in return.

Whitehorn stood up, folding his letter up and slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Good news, fillies?”

A beat passed as Pinkie sucked in a deep breath, belting out her next words in a lilting sing-song. “Fluttershy’s okay! Whoo!”

“What about your letters?” Rarity asked, looking from Whitehorn to Pontius.

Pontius’ eyes flicked up to meet Rarity’s for only a second before returning to the letter, his brow furrowed with consternation. “Nothing unexpected. Th’ Duke clearly thinks we’re wasting our time here. He requests I return t’ his side afore he presses th’ siege.”

Rarity’s smile faltered at the indecision in the young stallion’s voice. “You know I wouldn’t hold it against you if you left, darling.”

He met her gaze, his eyes hardening as he gave a firm shake of his head. “Nay. As long as ye’re willing t’ continue the fight, so shall I.”

Rarity’s smile returned. “That’s very sweet of you, Pontius.”

He nodded, the corner of his lips twitching up in turn.

Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Assuming we’re still planning on attending this evening’s meeting, we really should be going.”

“But only two of you,” Piaffe said. “And you’ll have an escort.”

“Of course.” Whitehorn dipped his head courteously before turning to Rarity expectantly. “I think it’s obvious that the Countess should be one of the attendants. But who shall be your second, my Lady?”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking between her three companions in turn. Pinkie would probably be a priceless asset in a room full of commoners, and could quickly sway any animosity against them based on their class or origins, but there was a chance that the stressed Frieslanders wouldn’t respond well to her particular brand of socializing. Pontius was eager as well, both to impress her and to stop the war, but the son of the very stallion besieging the city was unlikely to be welcome.

Then there was Whitehorn. Polite, well-spoken, and the most seasoned among those present with regards to modern politics. If any of them might be able to walk into a room full of commoners and find the pressure point that would stop this war, it would be him. And maybe she’d finally be able to speak to him without a bluecoat listening in, and see what he thought about Ana and Gava’s presence in the city.

“As much as it pains me to leave you two behind, I think it would be best if Whitehorn accompanies me to the meeting,” she said.

“Aw.” Pinkie kicked a hoof at the floor in dejection. “I wanted to go!”

“Maybe next time, Pinkie.” Rarity drew Pinkie into a quick hug. “Would you be a dear and write a response to Fluttershy for us?”

She brightened up at that. “Oh, okay! I have the perfect thing!” With the clatter of her wheels and a fit of giggling, Pinkie zipped upstairs, leaving only a thin cloud of confetti in her wake.

Rarity turned to Pontius next. “You understand, right?”

“Aye, I understand.” He gave a short nod before starting up the stairs himself. “I’d best write t’ my father. Be careful, my Lady.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed in concern as she watched him ascend the steps, but there was nothing to be done at the moment about any hurt feelings he might have. Instead she started for the door, glancing to Whitehorn as she did. “Shall we depart then, darling?”

“At your pleasure, Countess.”

The wind was picking up as they stepped out into the streets of Friesland, carrying with it the distant scent of smoke and blood from the siege lines. It was early evening, and the sun was just visible above the surrounding buildings, its light broken only by the occasional airship casting a long shadow over the city below. A pair of bluecoats were leaning against a building across the street, and they fell in behind the duo without a word.

So much for getting time alone, Rarity thought, giving the soldiers a small smile. They ignored the expression, the sharpened horns fitted to their helmets gleaming in the sunlight.

The atmosphere of the city was a distant shadow of the warm bustle that had first greeted Rarity at the start of the siege. Gone were the throngs of careless ponies going about their business with little care for the army parked outside their walls; civilian traffic was thin, and what ponies she did see walked at a hurried pace, their eyes sometimes flicking upwards when an airship’s shadow passed overhead. Those who didn’t keep their gazes forwards would glare at Rarity or Whitehorn with undisguised contempt, tails flicking and ears flattening whenever she tried to answer their suspicious gazes with a disarming smile or a dip of her head.

The distant boom of the cannons rolled over them as they passed through the courtyard in the center of the city and turned north, towards the residential district where many of the dockworkers and other laborers lived. The colorful market stalls that had proudly displayed their wares when Rarity came to speak to the governor were mostly gone at this time, with those merchants who still remained so late packing up their goods in tired silence. Opposite the cathedral, a line of ponies were waiting outside the old stone guard tower, filing forwards one at a time to speak to a bluecoat officer at a desk while another watched in silence.

“The pressure is mounting,” Whitehorn observed, leaning in close to be heard over the wind. “That attack has spurred the city into action.”

Rarity pursed her lips, stealing a furtive glance back at the two soldiers trailing them. They were scanning the city with bored disinterest, and far enough back that she doubted they’d be able to hear a quiet conversation over the wind.

Pulse quickening, Rarity stepped close enough to almost brush shoulders with Whitehorn. “I know who did the attack.”

If he was surprised by the information, he did an excellent job of concealing it. “Who?”

“Gava and Ana.” Rarity kept her eyes forwards as she spoke. “I saw them flying away just before the blast.”

“Curious.” A pause. “And nopony else saw?”

“Only Pinkie and I, I believe. We were atop the wall, but everyone else had their eyes turned outwards.” Rarity paused to allow a passing pony to walk out of earshot. “But what do you think they’re up to? What could they possibly have to gain from bombing a city under siege?”

“Hard to say, Countess, though it often is with mercenaries.” Whitehorn narrowed his eyes as the thundering of cannon shot sounded in the distance. “Perhaps they were hired by the barons to pressure the city into surrender. They helped Duchess Nettlekiss in her attack against Titus, after all.”

Rarity grimaced as she thought back to that dark night. Things had finally been looking up, and then they had gone so wrong. “You think they might have turned against her?”

“I think there are many angles many ponies could play here, and we don’t know enough to speculate.” Whitehorn paused, letting out a thoughtful hum. “We could turn this to our advantage, you know.”

Rarity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Pressure is good for us,” he continued. “We want an end to this conflict, and if the city’s guilds begin to fear for riots or sabotage, then they can pressure Rhea into breaking ties with Nettlekiss and surrendering. There hasn’t been much damage done yet. The barons would likely be satisfied with Nettlekiss’s execution, and would leave the city relatively whole.”

Rarity’s frown deepened. The idea of using such a terrible act to advance her own causes made her feel dirty, but if it would ultimately save lives, perhaps there was some merit to it. “What would we even do?”

Whitehorn shrugged. “For now, bide our time. There are pieces moving on the board, and none of them are ours. With luck, however, we may gain some tonight. Ah, here we are.”

“What, this?” Rarity looked up at the building before them with a skeptical cock of her head. “This looks like a tavern.”

The building did nothing at all to stand out. Amidst an unbroken line of stone-faced storefronts and homes, the only thing unique about the Commoner’s Guild Hall was the lack of any kind of identifying signage to label it as such. It displayed the same squalid stone facade as its neighbors, and the dim-eyed ponies that sometimes trundled through the doorway—though far quieter than drunk bar patrons—wore the same tired and beaten clothing that she’d caught glimpses of through the open windows of taverns.

“Quite sure, yes,” Whitehorn said. “I’ve made a few rounds of the city since we’ve been here, looking for possible allies. This is the place.” He turned to her with a shallow bow, gesturing with a hoof and a smile. “After you, Countess.”

Walking through the open doorway with a measured stride, Rarity found that the guild house looked even more like a tavern on the inside than it did on the outside. If not for the dull-faced ponies seated behind the bar on raised seats or the lonely podium set up in an open space before them, it would’ve been impossible to tell the difference. Square, stone tables were spread evenly around the main room, with most of the guild members seated close to the two hearths burning on either side, their hooves wrapped protectively around clay mugs or bowls, while a set of stairs off to one side led to a second floor above. A solitary serving mare drifted among the members, the bun of her mane threatening to fall apart as she rushed to answer summons, disappearing only briefly into a door behind the bar before emerging once more with fresh food and drink balanced on her back.

Taking all this in, Rarity shot a confused glance towards Whitehorn. “Are you certain this isn’t a bar?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of River Pie.

“Ye came!” River beamed as she rushed up to Rarity. She stopped a respectful distance away to dip into a quick bow, but she couldn’t quite keep her hooves from fidgeting in excitement. “Twinkle was beginnin’ t’ worry that ye’d brushed us off, but I told ’em! I told ’em ye’d said ye were interested, and Countess Rarity ain’t no liar!”

The mare’s eager energy was more than enough to bring a smile to Rarity’s face, driving her hesitation away. “My apologies that we couldn’t attend sooner, darling. Things have been rather hectic since… you know.”

River nodded, turning away and beckoning with her tail. “Aye, I understand. Come on over here, then. Twinkle ’n I’ve got a table back here.”

Rarity followed with her head high, ignoring the mixture of curiosity and suspicion aimed her way from some of the tables they passed. Glancing back, she saw that only one of the bluecoats had followed them inside, the mare staring down anyone that dared look towards her.

Twinkle Smith and River Pie had a table to themselves near the middle of the room, far from the warmth of the fires but close to the podium. Rarity drew her cloak a little closer as she sat down, noticing for the first time the lack of cushions on the stone, and Whitehorn sat beside her. Their bluecoat escort remained standing, scanning the room with a far more attentive leer than when they’d been out on the street.

“Welcome, Countess!” Twinkle kept his voice low as he stretched a hoof out, and Rarity offered hers up for him to briefly embrace before drawing back. “I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable inside our humble guild hall.”

Rarity answered with a wan smile. “It’s quite charming, really. Er, who are those ponies sitting behind the bar?”

“That’s th’ guild council,” River Pie explained. “Him in th’ middle’s the guildmaster, Mr. Marks. He represents us in matters with th’ other guilds, and casts our vote fer governor durin’ elections.”

“Ah.” Rarity regarded the thick-set earth stallion seated at the center of the bar, on a seat slightly taller than the other four council members. His dull yellow coat was mostly covered by the long grey coat he wore, and he drank out of a glass instead of one of the clay mugs the other guild members used. “So the governor is elected purely by the vote of guild masters?”

“Aye.” River nodded. “I haven’t been in th’ city very long, so I don’t know ’em all yet, but there’s dozens of ’em.”

“Could we speak with him?” Whitehorn asked.

“I’ll see about getting you a meeting,” Twinkle said, pushing the brim of his hat back with a hoof. “It’ll have to be after the general meeting, though. Another hour at least, while the council listens to general petitioners.” He perked up as he saw the serving mare rush past. “Perhaps you’d like a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you, dear.” Rarity did her best to gather her cloak around her for warmth as she settled in for the wait. “I’ll be quite alright.” And that poor mare looks overworked enough as it is.

The hour passed at a snail’s pace, the room growing gradually darker as the sun set outside until only the flickering light of the candles and the fireplace remained. Several ponies rose to the podium, each one rising up from a table, briefly introducing themselves, and then presenting the council with their problems. Many complained of long hours or low pay, and Mr. Marks promised to speak to the appropriate guild masters over the matter. Some discussed dangerous working conditions such as open foundries or unprotected machinery, and again Mr. Marks assured the speakers that he would see to it.

Rarity leaned over to Twinkle Smith as one mare told the story of how she’d lost an ear to the gears of a conveyor belt. “How often are these ponies’ problems actually solved?”

Twinkle shrugged. “Often it’s hit or miss. Mr. Marks does what he can, and sometimes we’ll see results, but not always. We have to choose our battles if we want to get anything done.”

Finally the petitioners ran dry. Most of them left the guild hall shortly after voicing their complaints, and the room was full of empty tables with only a few small parties left in scattered pockets.

The room was silent, and all eyes fell on Mr. Marks as he downed the last of his drink and stood.

“I am calling this meeting of the Commoner’s Guild to a close,” he said. He scanned the room with half-lidded eyes, pausing only briefly on Rarity and Whitehorn before moving on. “We shall convene again on the morrow. Until then—take heart, and work hard. It is our aching limbs that keeps the barons at bay.”

He sat back down with a tired groan, and in the same instant Twinkle Smith shot up out of his seat. “Uh, Mr. Marks!”

Mr. Marks sighed. Around him, the other council members busied themselves with gathering their notes and filing upstairs. “Yes, Mr. Smith?”

“I’ve brought some ponies that need to speak to you!” Twinkle stepped forwards, gesturing towards Rarity and Whitehorn with a hoof. “Countess Rarity of Canterthusia, and Mr. Whitehorn, from Heighton. They wish to lend us aid in our affairs!”

Slowly, Mr. Marks turned to regard Rarity and Whitehorn in turn. Rarity stood, dipping into a quick curtsey, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Whitehorn give a courteous smile.

“Very well, then. You may lead them to my office, Mr. Smith.” Mr. Marks let out a few low grumbles as he slid out of his seat and made for the stairs. The bar hid most of his body at first, but the limp in his gait was obvious even still. The cause became clear once he stepped out into the open—one of his hind legs was missing, the metal stump in its place just visible under the shadow of his low-hanging coat. “But let’s make it quick, eh?”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Twinkle turned to Rarity with a grin. “Come on, then. Let’s make this count!”

“Good luck, Countess!” River Pie gave an excited wave as the others stood. “I’ll be here, holdin’ th’ table fer ye.”

Rarity frowned. “You aren’t going to come, darling?”

River shook her head. “I’m nothin’ important in th’ guild, Countess. Mr. Marks wouldn’t want me gettin’ in th’ way.”

“Ah, I see.” Rarity gave River a hopeful smile before turning for the stairs. “Well, I shall be sure to fill you in on every detail once we’re done, then. Ta for now!”

The second floor was exactly as Rarity had expected. A single narrow hallway lined on one side with cheap tin doors, it was obvious that the guild council’s offices were just repurposed inn rooms. Mr. Marks’ office was closest to the stairs, and so it only took a brief minute for Rarity, Whitehorn, and Twinkle Smith to follow him inside. Their bluecoat escort attempted to enter as well, only to be deterred by a sharp glare from Mr. Marks as he settled onto the deep cushion behind his desk.

“Alright, then.” He looked between Rarity and Whitehorn in turn. “Cart Marks, master of the Commoner’s Guild. What do you want?”

Rarity exchanged a quick glance with Whitehorn and received an encouraging nod. Rather than take the direct approach, she decided to be more cautious this time. “As our companion here said, I am Countess Rarity, wife to Sir Pontius, son of Duke Titus, who currently leads the baronlander army.” She paused, giving him time to process her words. “How do you feel about the war, Mr. Marks?”

He snorted, reaching under his desk to retrieve a wide bottle of whiskey. “I think if the barons want our city then they’d best be ready to pay in blood, because Friesland is more than ready to toll them.” His lip curled as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “It’s no wonder they need to resort to bombing granaries, though I hadn’t expected them to stoop so low as to do it with their own diplomats in the city talking of peace.”

Rarity grimaced. “The bombing was certainly a messy affair, but I do believe it’s important to remember that we still don’t know who committed the attack. We should refrain from jumping to conclusions.”

Another snort, another sip. “What other conclusion is there, Countess? Who else has anything to gain from the attack?”

Rarity glanced to Whitehorn, who gave a subtle shake of his head. “Well it’s rather hard to say, but—”

“But nothing! Bah!” Mr. Marks waved a dismissive hoof in the air. “What do you care for it, anyways? Is there some land at stake for you? You nobles are always obsessing over land.”

“Mr. Marks!” Rarity snapped, her ears flicking back against her head. “I am trying to save lives, and your attitude towards me is not helping!”

“You want to save lives?” The stallion shook his head. “Talking isn’t gonna do it. You need to get out there and get your hooves dirty, Countess.”

“Ah, Mr. Marks?” Twinkle Smith raised a hoof, cutting off Rarity’s sharp rebuttal. “The Countess was actually one of the ponies helping at the site of the attack. She’s the Gifted I told you about, if you remember?”

Mr. Marks frowned. He looked to Twinkle, then back to Rarity, his eyes narrowed curiously. “Is that so?”

“It is so,” Whitehorn said. “If there’s a single pony on this island who holds the interests of the common citizen above all else, this is the mare.” He paused, giving extra emphasis to his next words. “I’d expect your causes would align, considering your office.”

“Mm, yes, well.” Mr. Marks leaned back against the wall behind him with a sigh. “We pick and choose our battles here. It wasn’t easy to protect those dockworkers from retribution after they walked out on their shift, but it had to be done.”

“This, too, has to be done,” Rarity said, leaning forwards intently. “If we don’t stop this conflict before the barons launch an assault on the city, hundreds of ponies could die—on both sides of the wall! Governor Rhea has been unreceptive to diplomacy, but surely there’s something you could do to help?”

“Me? And the governor’s already turned you away?” Mr. Marks arched a brow. “What exactly would you expect me to do?”

“You control the city’s labor, do you not?” Whitehorn asked. “Without labor, ships full of supplies cannot be unloaded, factories cannot be run, and repairs cannot be made. A general strike would apply immense pressure.”

“A—a general strike?” Mr. Marks blinked, his jaw hanging open for a few long seconds, and then he broke down a deep laugh. “Hold on, hold on! Let me get this straight.” He raised a hoof to buy time while his laughter drifted into quiet chuckles. “So you want me to tell a city full of commoners, fresh full of hate for the baronlanders after a bombing in the very center of their city, to walk out on their jobs and force Rhea to—to what?”

“Well…” Rarity hesitated for only a moment. “To surrender, darling. If the city retracts its protection from Duchess Nettlekiss then—”

“You want us to surrender a war that we’re winning?” Mr. Marks shook his head as the laughter came back in forceful guffaws. “Your goals are admirable, Countess, but letting the barons win this will be the end of Friesland as it stands. We need Nettlekiss grain to keep our dominance, and without it, the barons might actually have a chance of sieging us out!”

“No, they won’t!” Rarity insisted. “I won’t let them!”

“And what will you do? You’re the wife of the son of the Duke, not queen of the island.” Mr. Marks paused to drink from his bottle before giving a lazy shrug. “Even if the city wanted the war to end, calling a strike during wartime is tantamount to treason. I won’t have my neck snapped over your lost cause, Countess.” 

The words hung in the air, left unchallenged as Rarity struggled to find an argument, but again she was useless. Her hooftips shook in frustration as she looked between Mr. Mark’s eyes, searching for some crack in the unyielding facade.

She jumped as Whitehorn laid a hoof over hers. “It seems we’re done here, then. We’ll take our leave.”

Rarity rounded on him, ready to demand otherwise, but the look in his eyes gave her pause. He gave a slight shake of his head before nodding to the door.

“Yes.” She stood stiffly, drawing her cloak about her. “So we shall.”

Mr. Marks gave a curt nod. “It was good to meet you, Countess. Perhaps in kinder times we might find our positions more agreeable, but until then.” He turned to Twinkle Smith. “See them out, Mr. Smith.”

“Yes, sir.”

The walk back down to the main room was made in silence, their bluecoat escort following behind like a stone-faced shadow. The guild hall was almost completely empty now, with only River Pie patiently waiting alone at their table while a trio of ponies spoke in hushed tones at another.

River’s hopeful smile faded away as she saw the expression on Rarity’s face. “He turned ye down, didn’t he?”

Rarity looked away with a sigh as they approached the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—we shouldn’t give up hope yet!” River rose out of her seat with an indignant pout. “Perhaps ye’d join Twinkle ’n I t’ discuss it over some drinks? I’m sure there’s somethin’ we can do!”

The bluecoat escort cleared her throat. Rarity glanced back to see her gave a slight shake of her head.

“I’m afraid no further detours will be allowed, darling,” Rarity said. “Whitehorn and I must return to our lodging, though I’d encourage you to come visit or write. It always puts a smile on my face to hear from you.”

“Then I shall write ye regularly!” River promised.

Rarity’s lips curled up into a small smile. She reached out with a hoof, pulling the ex-bandit into a quick hug. “I look forward to it. Until then, keep doing as you do. I’m proud of you.”

River beamed as Rarity pulled back, but there wasn’t any time to relish the moment. Soon Rarity and Whitehorn were out on the street once more, one bluecoat leading them between the puddles of lantern light while the other brought up the rear.

The streets were dead at this time, with only the soldiers stationed at street corners or hawk-eyed patrols disturbing the stillness. The wind had grown stronger as well, and Rarity found herself walking with her cloak’s hood pulled low, the breeze pulling the fabric away from her legs in strong gusts. It was bitter weather, but it gave her and Whitehorn a good excuse to walk close enough to share the heat of their bodies, and made it easy for them to speak without their escort overhearing.

“I just don’t see a way through this, darling,” Rarity said, a shiver passing through her. “Everywhere we go, we face the same obstacles. It was hard enough before, but now with this attack the Frieslanders are out for blood!”

“Understandably so,” Whitehorn said. “Though I do have some ideas.”

“Oh?” Rarity turned to face him. The wind tugged at her forelock, pulling the curl apart into a fluttering wave. “Do tell.”

“Just some contacts of mine who may be able to assist.” Whitehorn met her gaze with a smile, and for a moment the torchlight reflecting off the lens of his glasses almost seemed to make his eyes glow. “I’ll let you know how it pans out.”
> XIV: Of Hearts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a mountain ahead of them.

This was not in itself unusual; even before the floods the ocean floor had been home to much of the same swelling terrain and twisting features that one might find on dry land. Twilight had once spent days perusing the ocean atlases in the Royal Archives as a filly, comparing them to the older records kept in dusty, packed up collections and marveling at how the maps changed as ponykind’s knowledge grew as wide and deep as the ocean itself.

Still, it took her somewhat by surprise. They’d been following the fish for hours now, and Twilight had neglected to scan her surroundings with magic. She first saw it as a silhouette in the distance, a barely visible black against the endless gray that waited just beyond the light of her magic. It had grown larger as she’d followed the school of fish further north until it towered above, and she was reminded of the first time she’d seen an island crest the horizon. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she thought of how she had reacted.

How would that younger, more naive Twilight have reacted if she was told what the future held for her?

Denial, most likely.

Twilight rolled her eyes. Way to kill the mood.

Midnight’s eyes appeared in the ocean before her as two bloodshot white orbs, the purple of its irises catching the light of her magic. You said we would eat.

And you said we could wait. 

It’s been hours. Why are you so fascinated by these dancing fish?

How can you not be? Twilight brought herself closer to the school again, peering into the swirling mass. This is the first time I’ve seen anything down here with any semblance of normalcy. They’re worth studying.

They’re worth eating, Midnight countered. As you agreed to.

Twilight’s stomach growled its agreement, drawing a grimace from her. There was a familiar ache in her horn, the same pulsing soreness she’d felt when dragging herself through Canterlot desperately searching for anything besides meat to sustain herself, and she knew she couldn’t put this off much longer. Without magic, the ocean would crush them without thought.

They both knew it, and there was no need for an explicit acknowledgment. Twilight would eat when she was ready, and it would have to be soon.

Twilight busied herself with other thoughts. Stalliongrad was one of the northernmost cities in Equestria, and now after hours of travel further north these mountains loomed before her. Had she reached the beginning of the Crystal Mountains already? It had only been a week since she’d left Canterlot, though admittedly her stream of teleportations had probably cut the travel time to Stalliongrad by a significant factor. Was Equestria really that small? Perhaps every land would feel small when you only saw a small fraction of every mile.

A budding apprehension flowered in her chest as the fish reached the side of the mountain and turned east, swimming along its length. There had been little hint as to the exact nature of the mission Princess Celestia had sent Cadance on. Would she find Cadance’s rusted regalia in the lair of some fearsome ocean monster, all written records of her purpose long lost to the waves? What if she didn’t find anything, and she was left without any leads once again? What if—

Calm yourself, little flower.

Twilight jumped. She looked up to see Midnight watching her with concern, and she realized that she was feeling short of breath. She sighed, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves.

Thanks.

It nodded before turning away. Our meal is escaping.

Twilight gasped, looking around just in time to catch the tail end of the last few fish disappearing into a hole in the side of the mountain. She rushed after them, leaving swirling eddies of water in her wake.

The tunnel was narrow, too narrow for her to even stand at her full height, and Twilight was forced to shift her protective shield from a dome to a pair of rounded walls as she wiggled into the crawlspace. The stone was slick underhoof, and there were a few times she lost her grip and had to scramble for fresh purchase, but she grit her teeth and pressed onwards.

It didn’t take long for the fish to outpace her, but luckily the tunnel didn’t split off. For a moment she was back in the ruins of Canterlot, scraping past dry rubble in the pitch dark while changelings keened in the distance.

The illusion was broken by a deep, rhythmic thrumming that came from further into the tunnel, swelling and fading like the breath of the mountain itself. She paused, ears swiveling as she tried to identify the gentle thunder. Any idea what that might be?

Does it matter? Midnight appeared in the tunnel before her with a harsh frown, blocking her sight. Those fish are our meal. We can handle any creature that might try to stop us.

Twilight set her jaw and pushed herself forwards, shivering at the chill as she crawled through Midnight’s illusory form. Soon the tunnel grew tighter, curving upwards into a sharp angle, and her horn grew brighter as she began to push herself higher with magic more than muscle.

She’d read stories about cave divers before. She’d toured the Crystal Caverns under Canterlot with Celestia and listened to her tales of ponies who squeezed themselves into holes too tight to escape, how some of them had waited alone in the darkness for days until rescuers were able to pull them out—and how some of them were never found at all.

Twilight let out a grunt of exertion as she pushed herself further still, the comforting weight of Celestia’s tiara against her chest. Shouldn’t she be scared? Nightmares of drowning alone had been common since she awoke in the ruins of Canterlot; yet when she paused to catch her breath, sitting still in a tunnel barely big enough to fit her head and horn through, surrounded by water on both sides, with the silence broken only by the strange humming of the mountain, she was calm. She was determined. And even if she did fail, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

The humming grew louder as she climbed, and soon it was joined by an orchestra of lighter sounds. Sharp clicks and a staccato thumping were faintly audible behind the constant bassy rumble, and Twilight could even feel it in her hoof if she set it against the stone. For a moment she fantasized that she was crawling through the arteries of some enormous monster, listening to its pulse as she crawled ever closer to its heart.

It felt like days, but Twilight knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour when she finally pulled herself past the final lip of the tunnel and into open water once more.

She was floating along the bottom of a wide cavern, jagged columns of stone silhouetted by a pale green glow from above that was barely visible past the lavender light of her magic. Glittering gemstones jutted out from the rock in scattered pockets, catching the light and reflecting it back into the water in rainbow hues, and as Twilight drifted further into the cave she saw those lights playing off the scales of the fish idling past.

Looking up, Twilight gasped at the sight of the tiny flickering shadows of waves on the water’s surface. She was under an air pocket!

With cautious hope she closed her eyes and felt at the impact of the water against her shield. With a blink of surprise she realized that the ferocious pressure of the ocean depths was strangely absent.

What are you thinking? Midnight’s question was more mocking than curious; it knew exactly what she was thinking. Our prey is right there.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Twilight let the magic fade from her horn.

The cold water against her coat was a refreshing shock, and she threw herself into the sensation with a wild grin. As much as she’d been surrounded by water lately, she hadn’t had the opportunity to wash herself since she last left the Argo. The water was softly vibrating in sympathy with the breathing of the mountain, a barely visible current tugging her deeper into the cave. Twilight took a moment to simply drift, eyes closed, losing herself in the silent peace of the water.

But she couldn’t hold her breath forever. She swam upwards, the rush of the water between her hooves tickling at her belly, and broke through the surface before taking in a deep breath of cool, natural air.

Dim, green light illuminated her surroundings, cast off from glowing mushrooms gathered around her pool like a halo of students leaning in to hear a lecture. The light turned the water trickling down the stony walls to silver and the drops falling from the stalactites above to jewels, and the soft shadows it cast against the rocks blurred between each other in gentle curves that somehow made the hard rock feel warm and inviting.

Twilight shivered, the cold air sharp in her lungs, and she laughed. The laugh echoed back, and for a moment she found herself turning in a circle, searching for the happy, relaxed mare that had made it. Surely it couldn’t have been her? She could barely remember the last time she’d felt that way.

Midnight came into view. It watched her in silent disapproval, and Twilight answered with a tentative grin.

This place is amazing.

It didn’t answer for several seconds. The ragged, rhythmic, clicking breath of the mountain seemed to come faintly from every direction, joined by the quiet dripping of water into the pool and, eventually, the rumble of her stomach.

Explain.

Twilight blinked, her smile faltering for only a moment before coming back. Explain what?

What is it that entrances you so about this little cave? Midnight looked around, regarding the soft darkness with a furrowed brow. Is it the light? The air? The fish? I feel something in you; I do not understand it. It turned back to meet her eye before repeating, Explain.

It’s… Twilight hesitated, pursing her lips. What was she feeling? She leaned back, letting the water take her weight, and her ears dipped down into the water. The soft vibrations tickled at her like the fluttering pages of an open book, drawing a smile back to her face. There isn’t a word for it. You know the feeling when you find something beautiful?

Beautiful? Midnight scoffed. What is there to find beautiful in this desolate cave?

What isn’t there? The water rippled as Twilight righted herself, taking in the cave once more. The patterns the lights make in the water, the shapes the shadows make on the rocks, the rhythm of the fish as they dance, and the song made by the mountain’s breathing and the drops falling. She shook her head in wonder. I didn’t think beauty like this still existed.

This is not beauty, little flower. Midnight was lying in front of her, the tips of its forelegs dipping into the water. Beauty is the still corpses of everything that threatens you. Beauty is the sound of a rival’s last breath after it threatens to steal everything you have. Beauty is standing in a room filled by hundreds and being the only one who feels no fear. It curled its lip as its blood-framed eyes passed over the stones. This is just a cave.

Twilight frowned. Who taught you what beauty is?

No one taught me anything. Midnight’s bitter voice echoed in the back of Twilight’s mind as it spoke. But this thing you feel when you look at this cave—the peace, the contentment, the safety—I feel it when there are none left to oppose me. It flicked its tail in irritation, almost like a student annoyed at a difficult question. They invoke the same response, so they must be the same thing.

Twilight cocked her head, her brow furrowing as she mulled over the words. Finally, it clicked.

She gasped, her eyes widening. “You’re afraid!”

I am not afraid! Midnight reared up, its voice loud enough to draw a wince of pain from Twilight, and for a moment the shadows around the cave seemed to grow long and sharp, like daggers waiting to plunge into vulnerable flesh. I am strong! We are strong! And if anything threatens us, we will kill it!

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Twilight raised a hoof up as if to fend off the words, but it did little to silence the shrill ringing in her ears. “You’re right! We’re strong. We’re safe.” She shook her head, blinking away the blurriness as the ringing finally faded, and looked back to meet her doppelganger’s furious gaze. “We’re safe here.”

At length, Midnight sat back down, its cheeks stained with blood. The shadows softened once more.

“You understand, right?” Twilight pushed forwards through the water. She raised a hoof out of the water and brought it to rest against Midnight’s, ignoring the harsh chill. “This cave is safe. That’s why it’s beautiful.”

It cast a haughty eye around the cave. After several seconds, it answered. I can see this beauty.

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.” She leaned back into the water and offered up an encouraging smile. “So… fish, right?” 

Yes. Fish.

Twilight took a deep breath before plunging under the water once more, the locks of her mane swirling in her sight. The glow of the mushrooms didn’t reach very far under the water, but her magically enhanced vision pierced the darkness with ease, and it only took her a moment to find a small group of fish lurking near the bottom of the pool. They were hovering around a pile of little round orbs tucked into the crevice between two rocks, and with a start Twilight realized why the fish had swum so far to come here. After so long living in the ocean above the ruins of Equestria, these fish had chosen this mountain as their breeding ground.

She reached out with her magic, plucking a larger fish from the group. It wiggled about in vain, causing a pang of sympathy in Twilight, but she didn’t hesitate for long. With a stern set to her jaw she shut her eyes tight and squeezed, snapping her prey’s spine with a barely audible crack.

A trio of shrill calls pierced through the water, and Twilight’s eyes shot wide open as she whipped around to see three seaponies drifting along the far side of the pool. A thrill of adrenaline rushed through her, and she was just about to summon her shield spell when something gave her pause—these seaponies weren’t attacking.

They weren’t even looking at her. They were swimming around each other in circles, tails flicking out sharply behind them as they pirouetted through the water and batted at each other with their hooves.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she floated frozen in the water, hooves twitching with energy that suddenly had nowhere to go. Are they… playing?

Don’t be ridiculous. Midnight appeared in the water beside her, its eyes narrow with scorn. Monsters such as these think only of destruction. We should strike first, before they take note of us.

No, wait! Twilight clamped down on her magic, drawing a growl from Midnight. They aren’t hurting anything.

The seaponies, oblivious to the potential doom floating just a short distance away, continued to flirt around the cave, each one leaving a thin trail of red in their wake. They nipped at each other’s tails, shrunk down to hide in the shadowed corners of the cave, and then jumped back out with playful warbles. The soft green glow from above painted them in a far different light than the harsh white lines of a flashlight or the ashen greyscale of Twilight’s night vision, and for a moment Twilight wasn’t looking at the warped monsters of ponies long gone. For a moment she was looking at animals like any other; dangerous carnivores, perhaps, but no more worthy of destruction than a bear watching from the other side of a field.

Only because they have yet to sense us. Have you ever known a seapony to show any sign of mercy?

Twilight frowned as she looked to Midnight. It was strange to see her own face contorted with so much fury. If we attack first then we’re no better than they are!

Have you gone mad, little flower? Midnight rounded on her with its lip curled in disgust, bloody fangs on full display. Why are you defending these monsters?!

They’re not monsters!

Midnight’s eyes widened, and Twilight found herself looking back with equal shock. She shook herself before swimming for the surface, her catch floating at her side, and pulled herself up out of the water.

Midnight was waiting for her, its head cocked. Not monsters?

Twilight gave a shaky nod as she drew in deep breaths of air. Her pulse was starting to slow now, but her body was still tingling with the lingering effects of the adrenaline. They’re just like me, aren’t they? She looked down at the dead fish lying on the rock beneath her. Numbly, she pulled Celestia’s tiara and her big brother’s saddlebags off, laying them to either side. They need to kill to survive. If they’re monsters… then what am I?

She looked up. Midnight was watching her with a deep frown, but offered no response.

Twilight looked around, listening to the mountain. This place is so peaceful. I don’t want to disturb it anymore than I absolutely need to. Killing those seaponies there, when all they’re doing is playing… I think that would make me a monster.

Midnight looked away. Perhaps you’re right.

Twilight blinked. You agree with me?

It narrowed its eyes, tail flicking behind it. We shall leave them, as long as they leave us. We should eat.

Twilight looked down to the fish, realizing with a start that her mouth was already watering. She licked her lips, horn glowing as she levitated her little frying pan out of her saddlebags. You said you liked it better with the blood in it, right?

Yes. Midnight shot her a sideways glance. What of it?

Twilight met the suspicious gaze with a small smile. I was thinking we could try it that way this time.

Several seconds passed, the mountain rumbling quietly around them. At last Midnight gave a curt nod. That would please me.

Twilight’s smile grew a little wider as she cast a spell to heat the pan, and she settled down into a small curve in the rocks. Together, the two of them watched their meal cook in silence.





Slowly, like a dock worker struggling past last night’s hangover, the Friesland market came to life.

It started just before dawn, when the hungriest and most desperate peddlers came to set up their stalls. They pulled their carts themselves, unfolding the side panels and propping up sun covers with the quiet urgency of those self-employed ponies that knew laziness would not earn them a long lecture from an employer but instead a long night without food. Toys, pottery, hats, glassware, little stone trinkets and art in cheap metal frames. The military did not need these things, and the ponies who made them were forced to work harder and longer to make up for the flagging business as the city turned more and more to war.

Those merchants who came with the rising of the sun were better off, strutting about with colorful clothes that caught the daybreak sunlight like birds displaying their plumage. They had workers to pull their wagons, but they didn’t sit idly by as the day’s goods were prepared for business, for even they understood that one’s own labor was worth far more than the work of a hired hand. Tailors and smiths, cobblers and coopers, and of course the oil renters with their great boiling cauldrons, they had found valuable new business from the Friesland military, and those able to bear the more expensive imports and the demands of the city might even say they preferred wartime to peace.

Last were the customers themselves. Dock workers rushing to purchase the day’s breakfast before their shift started or foundry ponies using their one day off to restock their supplies walked almost like the dead, stepping gingerly around the well-dressed aristocrats that ambled between stalls as if a trip to the market was an adventure instead of an errand. Soldiers in bright blue coats milled through the crowd with stern frowns while foals ducked around corners, plucking fruits from the stands of distracted hawkers.

Ana watched the scene in silence, her distinctive wings and ears hidden beneath a plain brown cloak. There was a chill wind in the air, and that made it easy for her to disappear in a crowd of similarly cloaked Frieslanders, but for now she was seated on a stone bench just beside one of the open-air cafes that circled the plaza. It was just before noon, and the cathedral cast a long shadow over her.

She’d been trying to get in touch with Whitehorn since the bombing, but the Frieslanders had been understandably diligent in guarding him. They had at least one pony stationed on either side of his residence at night, and even during the day there were only brief gaps between the patrols walking the streets. He was escorted everywhere, and he never seemed to try and give his guards the slip.

Gava had offered to make a scene, to distract the escort or even attack them. Ana couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. Her sister had a somewhat limited imagination when it came to these things.

And so she watched. She waited. And when Whitehorn and his escorts were swallowed up by the bustle of the market crowd, she moved.

The crowd would be her best shot. It was easy for a pony to get separated from their watchers with so many bodies around, and Whitehorn was easily capable of lying about the intent behind any such disappearance. 

He drifted from stall to stall without fuss, purchases piling up in the basket begrudgingly held by one of his escorts. Sugar, milk, butter, and eggs had all risen significantly in price since the bombing of the granary. Flour was more expensive as well, but the steady supply from Duchess Nettlekiss prevented things from spiraling out of control. Ana frowned as she watched him buy a sizeable can of baking powder. Was he planning on making a cake? Considering the sheer volume of ingredients he was buying, it would be quite the creation, but she couldn’t quite picture him humming a tune and mixing batter in a bowl.

A small smirk pulled at her lips as she realized the answer. Pinkie Pie must be making a cake. It was a shame she wouldn’t get a taste.

A colt bumped into her, and Ana was so lost in her thoughts of cake that the foal almost managed to get away with it. She turned sharply, stepping on the hem of his coat before he could disappear into the crowd.

The colt barely missed a beat. With a quick wiggle of his shoulders the coat came free, and if Ana were another pony he might’ve gotten away. But she had spent her share of years in his shoes, and she knew all the old tricks, and she was already leaning forwards to snap her teeth shut over the colt’s scraggly mane.

“Ah! Leggo a me! I ain’t done nothin’!”

“Sure you haven’t.” Ana reached one hoof into the rucksack that had been tucked under the colt’s coat, pulling out the bag of bits he’d just stolen from her. Of course she had also stolen those bits, but after a lifetime of casual thievery she tended to take it personally when anyone tried to upstage her. “What’s this, then?”

“Thas a friend a mines!” The colt spoke in a rush, each word tumbling into the one before it as if it had somewhere else it needed to be.

“Yeah, try that on someone else, kid.” Ana looked him over with a thoughtful frown. Between the ragged clothes and the sloppy language, he’d probably been on the streets for years. He was a pretty good thief, too; several innocents had bumped into her already in this market, and she almost hadn’t noticed the slight brush of his hoof inside her saddlebags.

A small crowd had started to form, bored shoppers ogling the commotion in search of excitement. Time to get out of here.

“C’mon, kid,” she growled, dragging him along behind her. “Let’s have a chat.”

Nobody bothered to follow. A caught thief wasn’t that exciting after all, and none of them wanted to get involved just to see a misbehaving kid get his flank bled. He put up a valiant fight, pulling and kicking all the way, but she held firm until she could find a shadowed alley on the edge of the plaza.

She threw him up against the wall, glaring a challenge for him to try and escape again. “Didn’t nobody ever teach you that stealing was wrong, kid?”

“Whadda ya care ‘bout stealin’?” the colt shot back. “I’ve seen ya liftin’ all over town! Ya can’t talk down on me!”

Ana arched a brow. He’s better than I thought. “Well, here’s a tip for you: ponies like me tend to take it extra personal when someone tries to pickpocket them. Don’t try and pickpocket a pickpocket. It’s disrespectful!”

The colt pulled back and spat at her hooves. “Like I care! Do yer worst!”

Ana sat down, rubbing her forehead as she sighed. “Whatever, kid. Hey, you want to make some money?”

He narrowed his eyes, looking her over as if seeing her for the first time. “Whatcha playin’ at?”

“I’ve got a friend in that crowd I’m trying to meet, but he’s got a couple blues biting his tail.” She jerked a hoof in the direction of the marketplace. “Blue unicorn, but with a white horn. You can’t miss him. A clever colt like you should be able to give them a run for their money, right?”

The kid’s suspicion was clear as day, but he’d quit his fidgeting. “How much?”

“Half this bag.” Ana pulled her bits bag back out and tossed it up, the coins jingling as she caught it. “Oh, and I don’t punish you.”

“How can I know ya won’t turn on me instant I move?” the colt asked. “Ya could say I stole them bits, and then I’m done!”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Kid, I can already say you stole my bits, and there’s nothing stopping me from spanking you myself. I admire your confidence, but you’re really not in any position to negotiate right now.” She turned the bag over and poured roughly half—or maybe a bit more—of the bits out onto the cobbles. “Just take the bits and do the job, alright? And don’t even think about running off without following through.” She grinned, showing her fangs. “Or I’ll eat you.”

The colt stiffened, his eyes nearly popping out of his head before he dropped to scramble the bits up into his rucksack. “Alright, alright, don’t eat me!”

“Good boy.” Ana felt bad about threatening the kid, but she knew all too well that he’d probably run off with her bits if she didn’t do something to make him think twice. “Now get to it.”

The colt wasted no time, scrambling back out of the alley and across the plaza the instant he finished stashing his new bits. Ana let him get a few seconds head start before following at a more relaxed pace, a slight frown on her lips.

How long had it been since she was in his shoes? Hard nights on the street, filching fruit from busy sellers, and the burn of a lawpony’s whip on her flanks made for some of her earliest memories, beaten only by the scant, fleeting images of the sad excuse for a family that had left her to that life.

She shook her head, blinking the strange faces away. Whatever ran in her blood, the only parent she knew was the Dad that had raised her and her sister. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how the colt was faring, fending for himself in a city under siege. He didn’t even have the option of hunting rats.

She pressed through the market crowd at the fastest trot that wouldn’t gather attention, and it didn’t take her long to find Whitehorn once more. He was standing in the open space between two neighboring stalls, looking through the basket held by one of his escorts and comparing it with a note held in one hoof. A second later, Ana located her little hireling; he was watching from behind one of the stalls, sizing up the scene.

The kid darted out in a burst of motion, bumping into Whitehorn with far more force than he had when pickpocketing Ana. Whitehorn flinched back, eyes wide, only to watch the kid scamper between the legs of his escorts, raise a bag of freshly stolen bits up in a triumphant hoof, and blow a loud, mocking raspberry.

Whitehorn blinked, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and offense. His first escort exchanged a glance with the second, who wasted no time in dropping the grocery basket and stepping forwards.

And like that, the kid was off. He slipped through the busy crowd in the way that only a foal could, with both flustered bluecoats charging after him with shouts of “Stop!” and “Thief!”

Whitehorn was still staring after them in shock when Ana came up to his side. “Hey.”

He jumped, one hoof flying up to straighten his vest almost as if by reflex as he turned to face her. “Ah, Anatami.” There was a moment of silence, and his confusion turned to suspicion. “Did you put that foal up to robbing me?”

Ana shrugged. “I told him to distract your escorts. That being said—” She smirked, glancing sidelong towards the fading sounds of the commotion “—I’m developing an appreciation for his work.”

Whitehorn sighed. “Well, I suppose we’d best use what little time we have wisely. I’ve been trying to make an opportunity for you, but I’m afraid the Frieslanders have been very diligent since you bombed the city.”

“Ah, yeah. That was Gava’s idea, by the way.” Ana grinned as she turned back to Whitehorn, but the frown on his face gave her pause. “Did you not like it?”

Whitehorn gave a curt shake of his head. “I very much did not. The city is more united against the baronlanders than ever, and surrender is the last idea on anypony’s list. What exactly were you thinking?”

“Hey, you told me to apply pressure,” Ana said. She couldn’t quite keep the disdain out of her voice. “Just because you spend every night laying awake putting together plots and plans doesn’t mean I can tell what you want just by looking you in the eye.”

Whitehorn’s brow furrowed and his lip curled back, and for an imagined moment Ana thought that she was seeing a flash of real fury on his face, but it was gone as quick as it came. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he spoke it was with the same courteous manner he always used. “Yes, you’re right. I wasn’t specific in my request. In fact, I had been hoping a hooves-off approach would lend to better results. It’s wrong of me to chastise you for that.”

Ana blinked. She’d been expecting a bit more of an argument. “Okay.”

He nodded, face relaxing into a polite smile that seemed so natural it was difficult to imagine anything else ever occupying the space. “That being said, the fact remains that we’re in a poor position, and steps must be taken to rectify it. I have two tasks for you, specific ones, to be accomplished as soon as convenient.”

Ana arched a brow. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“First—the Commoner’s Guild has its hall near the north gate, in an unmarked repurposed tavern. I have some suspicions about the guild master there, and I’d like you to see if you can find any evidence of activity unbecoming of his position, and especially anything that might turn his guild against him. Understood?”

Ana answered with a dismissive nod, turning to watch the ponies milling past. “Yeah, you want dirt. What’s the second?”

“Second—and this is the main one—I will need to forge a document written from Duchess Nettlekiss’ desk. I will need a copy of her seal, as well as several instances of her writing or the writing of her scribes.”

Now it was Ana’s turn to frown. “Nettlekiss isn’t even in the city right now.”

“Correct.” Whitehorn’s smile widened, almost like a teacher expressing pride for a student. “She is commanding the defense of Castle Urtica, under siege by baronland troops under command of Duke Titus. Will that be a problem?”

A problem? She’d never had to infiltrate a siege before. She and Gava had always tried to keep their distance whenever war broke out, following Dad’s warnings concerning such conflicts. Getting into the castle would mean sneaking past not only one or two, but four siege lines; she’d have to pass two just to get out of Friesland, and then another two to get into Castle Urtica.

And then she’d have to do it again, she realized, to get back.

A shadow passed over her, and she glanced up towards the round-bellied patrol ship floating high overhead. The cannons on it were small, with little vertical traversal, as befit a boat unlikely to leave the airspace of the city or face more than rowdy merchants. It was nothing like the larger ships that pulled out of port every evening, laden down with belly guns meant for bombardment and a fresh load of supplies for the siege.

She narrowed her eyes as the plan took shape in her head. Sneaking onto a troop transport, though not the easiest task, would be far simpler than running four siege lines.

“I can handle it.”

“Exquisite.” Whitehorn gave a quick nod. “And one more thing. I’d rather avoid having my wallet stolen again for the sake of conversation, and I’ve arranged a drop where you can deliver anything you find.” He reached into his vest pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper. “There’s a printer at this address. She won’t ask any questions, even if you send Gava. Just tell her you have a delivery for the table, and she’ll make sure it finds its way to me.”

Ana took the paper, glancing down at the address with a bemused quirk of her lips. “Anyone ever tell you you read too many thrillers?”

If Whitehorn heard the jab, he didn’t show any sign of it. “I may also leave messages for you with her. Now then, unless you had any questions for me, I believe our business here is concluded.” His ears twitched, and he looked off to one side. “And with no time to spare, it would seem.”

Ana followed his gaze. Barely visible above the throng of shoppers, the sharpened helmet horns of Whitehorn’s escorts were bobbing steadily closer. 

“Yep. Guess I’ll take my leave then.” With one last wink, Anatami lowered her head, slipped back into the crowd, and made her way towards the edge of the market.

She had a busy day ahead of her.





“This is such a waste of time.”

Rainbow paced across the ceiling of the Argo’s rec room, muzzle twisted in irritation. It had taken nearly an hour for the inquisitive inspection team to search the ship to their satisfaction, poking their heads into every room, poring over crew and cargo manifests with Sea Sabre, and towards the end even walking around with crowbars and peeling up seemingly random wall panels or grates in search of “paraphernalia.” They had left with little ceremony, leaving only their mess and a promise that they would send a tug boat out at their earliest convenience.

That had been yesterday.

The sun had set and rise, and no tug had come. Sea Sabre had hailed the fleet control on the radio and been told that although yes, they had been approved for docking, Prince Silverblood wanted to be there to greet them. Prince Silverblood also, apparently, was very busy sleeping, and then he was very busy fulfilling those parts of his morning schedule that absolutely could not be moved to another time, and then he was seeing to an unexpected issue that absolutely demanded his immediate attention.

And so they had waited, floating along in the wake of the merchant lord’s ship as it chugged steadily eastwards.

It hadn’t been so bad at first. The Orichalcum dwarfed the Argo in size, and whenever Rainbow looked in its direction she was struck with the humbling sensation of being a seagull that dove underwater only to find a great whale looking up at it.

Even without her depth perception she could tell it was at least five times the height of the Argo and maybe over ten times its length. A single massive propeller twisted lazily through the air at its rear, the blades throwing off great winds that could blow smaller ships out of the sky if they weren’t cautious, and a trio of leaning smokestacks lined the top of the ship like the spines of a dragon, each one trailing acrid black smoke so thick that it stretched all the way across the horizon before completely dissipating.

Stubby wings poked out of the bottom, appearing almost uselessly small until one of the fleet’s other ships hovered close and one realized that each one could be a hundred feet long in its own right. There was no visible balloon—Star Trails had mentioned that the gas envelope was probably held within the thickly armored hull.

The ship was sleek for its size, floating through the sky like a long-tailed bird with its wings tucked tight to its chest. The hull was painted a dazzling white, and the tall line of glass near the top that Rainbow assumed to be its control center was flanked by embossed silver carved into the shape of sharp-feathered wings running the entire length of the ship. On the front of the ship, shadowed by its own bulk, were statues of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, standing proudly upon pedestals carved into the shapes of writhing windigos.

This had been enough to leave Rainbow awestruck for maybe fifteen minutes. Hours later, now it just annoyed her.

“We should’ve just kept going,” Rainbow groused. “We need to be heading north, not east!”

“Luckily, that thing’s built for just about everything but speed.” Star Trails screwed her muzzle up in thought as she leaned over the pool table off to one side of the rec room. “We can retrace our flight path in a third of the time once we’re all fixed up.”

“And the fixing will take time too!” Rainbow’s tail whipped behind her as she completed another lap of the ceiling. “Probably days!”

“Not many days.” Flint was standing on the opposite side of the table, his cue leaning against one shoulder. He didn’t bother to cover his yawn. “Envelope’s a quick fix, ’n traders move fast when ye’re buyin’.”

“I don’t care! It’s stupid.”

“It’s politics,” Trails corrected. She smirked as she stepped back and lined up her pool cue. “Which means, yes, it’s stupid. But rich ponies can often afford to be stupid in expensive ways.”

Her hoof twitched, the tip striking a ball with a sharp crack. The ball raced across the table, bounced off the opposite end, and came to a stop without hitting any of its neighbors. Flint laughed.

“But what’s the point?” Rainbow landed so she could get a better look out the long window that ran the length of the rec room. The Orichalcum was big enough to block the rising sun altogether, casting the room into shadow. “Doesn’t he understand that we have somewhere we need to be?”

“That’s exactly th’ point, Rainbow,” Flint said. She could hear the sound of him lining his cue up to shoot as he spoke. “Th’ rich bastard wants us t’ know that we ain’t important. Probably gets off on th’ idea of us stewin’ in here, missin’ sleep so we can be ready fer his fancy breakfast.”

Rainbow’s ear twitched at the crack of his cue striking a ball. There was a bounce, another crack, and the clatter of two balls falling into the pockets.

“What the hay, Flint.” Trails let out an exasperated sigh. “How is it I was raised on an airship and somehow you’re better at playing pool on one?”

“Cause ye were raised on a big fancy airship, Traily. And ye’re shit at pool.”

Rainbow let out a frustrated growl as she spun on her hooves. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”

Trails gave a little wave as the pegasus passed by. “See you in ten minutes.”

“And bring some coffee when ye come back!”

Rainbow ignored the quips, stomping through the steam vented from the opening door without a word. What right did this Prince Silverblood have to leave them hanging like this? What if they’d been in serious need of immediate repairs? No, they were in serious need of repairs. Twilight might be all alone in the Frozen North that very moment, in need of their help and wondering where they were. What if they took so long to arrive that she thought something had gone wrong and left without them? What if she was looking for them right now, or what if that monster Midnight was about to take over unless someone intervened?

Rainbow shook her head, dislodging the useless thoughts. Worrying wasn’t going to speed things up. Nothing she could do was going to speed things up.

The door to the cargo hold opened with a puff of steam, and Rainbow entered just in time to catch Applejack stepping out of her room with an unstifled yawn.

The groggy smile on her face turned to a frown as she took in Rainbow’s expression. “Land sakes, gal. Y’all lose a race while I was sleepin’?”

“Not in the mood, AJ.” Rainbow prowled towards her cloudhome, wings twitching as she splayed them out.

“Hey, hold on, now.” Applejack trotted up to Rainbow’s side, nudging one wing closed with a gentle hoof. “Don’t ya fly off and sulk all alone. Why don’t we talk about it?”

“Sure you don’t want to go talk to Flint instead?” Rainbow snapped. “I’m sure he makes for compelling conversation behind closed doors.”

“Rainbow—” Applejack sighed, taking her hat off to brush a hoof through her mane. “Why are ya so upset about that? A mare’s business is her own.”

Rainbow rounded on her with an angry snarl. “I’m upset because—” She groaned, stomping a hoof against the ground as she tried to put her racing thoughts in order. “Why am I just now hearing about this, AJ? We’re supposed to be best friends, but you don’t care enough to even mention that you’re going out with Flint?” Her lip curled up in disgust as she gestured with a hoof. “And Flint! He’s a total plothead!”

“First off—” Applejack held a hoof up “—we ain’t datin’. Second, it’s not like I’ve been plannin’ this or anythin’. It just happened!”

“It just happened?” Rainbow echoed. “AJ, what would Granny Smith say?”

Applejack blinked. A sad smile crawled onto her face as she cocked her head. “Ya never really got to know Granny that well, huh?”

Rainbow frowned. “Uh, what?”

“Well, not goin’ too detailed, but ya didn’t think the Apple Family got so big through careful plannin’, did ya?”

Rainbow blanched. She looked away, taking a sudden interest in one of the pipes running along the wall. “Uh.”

Applejack let out a low chuckle. She placed a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder, guiding her towards her room. “Alright, fine. I promised y’all I’d explain myself, and I guess I’m a bit late on that. Let’s sit down, okay?”

“R-right.”

Rainbow kept her gaze carefully averted as she followed Applejack into her room. It was as sparse as ever, with the same plain mattress and desk they’d all been given, though it was kept so clean that it was hard to believe that anyone actually lived in it.

Applejack set her hat on the desk before settling onto the bed with a sigh. Rainbow, not quite sure how she felt about sharing a bed with the other mare just then, remained standing.

Applejack spent a few seconds looking down at her hooves, her mouth working side to side as if considering what to say. Finally, with a little nod to herself, she looked up and caught Rainbow’s eye.

“It’s been hard, Rainbow.”

Rainbow didn’t need to ask exactly what ‘it’ was to understand; they’d been through the same trials ever since Canterlot, and the terse statement carried far more meaning than the words alone.

In that little room in the back of a salvager’s cargo hold, Rainbow suddenly found herself really looking at Applejack for the first time in weeks. There were shallow bags under her eyes, and thin, hairless scars across her neck and barrel carrying the legacy of wounds inflicted by talon and bullet alike. Somehow these little details were easy to miss when one wasn’t looking, when there was a homely country smile to distract and the shadow of a worn-in hat to conceal. But now, with the smile gone and the patched hat separated from its owner, Rainbow could see the weight of the world pressing down on her friend’s shoulders.

“Y’all know I love you girls,” Applejack continued. “Hay, y’all are all the family I got left in this mess. But y’all tend a bit towards the, uh—” she paused, offering up an apologetic smile “—eccentric.”

Normally Rainbow would’ve taken the comment as a challenge, but she knew it was meant in the kindest way. “How do you mean?”

“I mean ya never settle down,” Applejack said. “One way or another, y’all mares are all in. I’m just a small-town farmpony, nothin’ special there, but y’all gals are somethin’ else. When one o’ y’all gets an idea in yer head, there ain’t nothin’ that can stop ya, and I’m usually the one that’s gotta be there to rein ya in. I’m the—” she pursed her lips, brow furrowing in thought. “Look, when the other ponies in town had an issue with our little group, I’m the one they always came to. Ya get what I’m sayin’?”

Rainbow frowned. “I… think so.”

Applejack let out a breath of relief. “Oh, that’s good, cause I’d hate to offend ya with my clumsy wordin’.”

“But what does this have to do with Flint?” Rainbow cocked her head.

“Well like, all y’all have some way ya get through things, y’know what I mean?” Applejack gestured vaguely with a hoof as she spoke. “Twilight can lock herself up with some books, and Rarity can put together some kinda dress or somethin’. ’Shy’s fine as long as she’s got some space and somethin’ to take care of, and y’all just buckle down and sweat yer stress out. And Pinkie—” Applejack shook her head, eyes wide “—that gal just don’t stop.

“Now back in the day, when I was still a farmpony and life still made a lick of sense, all I had to do to set myself straight was head home, put some honest work into the land. Leave somethin’ for the Apples that come after me, y’know? Make some pies with Granny, or run a delivery with Big Mac, or tell a story to Apple Bloom, or even just buck trees ’til my legs ache. And, uh...” She looked away as she spoke, her eyes growing distant and her voice growing wistful. “We’ve all lost ponies, but y’all got ways to deal without ’em. I don’t.”

“But you have me.” Rainbow stepped forwards, resting a hoof on Applejack’s forelegs. “The other girls might not be here now, but we can still talk.”

Applejack hung her head with a tired sigh. “I know, Rainbow, and I appreciate that, really. Maybe it’s part my fault that I’m feelin’ this way. But when I see y’all spendin’ so many hours practicin’ with them blades, lookin’ so angry, or when I see Twilight strugglin’ just to keep her own body under control, well—” she looked up, meeting Rainbow’s eye “—somethin’ tells me that if I don’t keep us anchored, we’ll all be lost at sea.”

Rainbow grimaced as she looked into her old friend’s green eyes. She’d always seemed so confident even when things were at their worst, and Rainbow would be lying if she said that that steadfastness hadn’t helped her cope with her experiences. Still. “That’s not fair.”

Applejack’s lips quirked into a little smile. “It’s fair enough I reckon, considerin’ the circumstances. I may not be able to handle politics or duel a griffon, but I can do this. I don’t mind doin’ this so much.”

Rainbow wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she leaned forwards and pulled Applejack into a firm hug. Applejack hugged back, her hooves steady and strong like always.

At length, Rainbow stepped back. “So I guess Flint is to help you…”

“Flint’s my Applejack,” Applejack said with a wry grin. She held a hoof up to Rainbow’s muzzle, stemming her response. “Now let me explain before ya go rattlin’ off again, alright?”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t fight the interruption. Instead she leaned back and gave a quick nod.

“Thanks. Now, then.” Applejack tapped a hoof to her chin as she let out a thoughtful hum. “It ain’t like I’ve been pinin’ after him ever since we met or nothin’ like that. In fact, I found him straight unlikeable at first, treatin’ us like foals and with no respect for just about anythin’.”

“Exactly!” Rainbow blurted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Hush.” Applejack gave Rainbow a disapproving glare before continuing. “Thing is, I felt like I could relax around him. Whenever it all got too much, when I got tired of worryin’ after y’all gals, I could sit down with Flint and a couple mugs of cider and just talk. Not about wyrds or bounty hunters or anythin’ crazy like that, but just life. He’d tell me about his family, and I’d tell him about mine, and we kinda…” She shrugged. “It almost felt like sittin’ on the porch at sundown.”

Rainbow snorted. “Hard to imagine him having a family.”

“Well, he’s got one,” Applejack said. “They live in a baronland village on an island east of Heighton, and they grow apples. Apples!” She let out a breathy chuckle. “Can ya believe it? I ain’t even seen an apple tree in this Celestia-forsaken world, Rainbow, but I can sit down with Flint and trade stories about applebuckin’. They make their own cider, and he checks everytime the ship makes landfall if there’s family cider bein’ sold anywhere. Sends most of his paycheck back home, too.”

“Huh.” Rainbow looked back towards the rec room, recalling Flint making fun of Trails for being bad at pool. “I guess I kinda assumed he just, like, popped out of the ground one day with a gun and a bad attitude.”

Applejack let out a hearty chortle at that. “Yeah, I reckon that’s how most ponies see him.”

“But you guys being friends isn’t what confuses me.” Rainbow turned back to Applejack with an arched brow. “I’ve seen you two hanging out all the time. What I wasn’t expecting was to find you in his room with the smell of cider on your breath.” She blinked, cocking her head. “Where did you even find cider? I thought Flint’s whole stash was, uh, gone.”

“Well he’s got a reserve under his bed, of course.”

“Oh, totally.” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Applejack grinned, but the expression didn’t last long in the face of Rainbow’s stern gaze. “I admit it took me by surprise, too. Woulda called ya a madmare if ya told me last week we’d go for a roll in the hay. But that dive to Canterlot?” She pursed her lips, taking a deep breath. “RD, when I saw that green dragonfire comin’ my way, I thought I was dead as a chicken crossin’ a fox. Probably would be, too—I froze up real good, out in the open—if not for Flint.

“Let me tell ya, Rainbow, when that stallion tackles ya, armor and all, he hits like a train. He brought me down into that fountain bank and took the brunt of the blast on himself. I thought it’d cost him his life, too—y’all know how damn hot that fire was—but when I finally managed to push him over and threw his helmet off, there he was. And y’know what he said?”

Rainbow leaned in, ears forward. Applejack had fallen into the same swingy tone she used when she was telling Apple Family stories late at night, and she had to admit that she was getting invested. “What’d he say?”

“Fuckin’ lizard.” Applejack pushed the words out in a rough impersonation of Flint’s deep, gravelly voice. A moment later she rolled onto her side and collapsed into a deep guffaw, straining to speak through it. “Hay, Rainbow—snrk!—y’all shoulda seen his face! Smokin’ an’ everythin’!”

The laughter was contagious. “And that—” despite herself, Rainbow couldn’t resist cracking up as she spoke “—that worked? That’s what did it?”

Applejack’s laughter finally died down with a wistful sigh. “Whew. Not exactly. But I guess that was the moment where I realized that, well, any day I have could be my last, y’know? And with all that business goin’ on with Twi, and then that changeling sneakin’ aboard and killin’ one of us in the middle of the night, in a place where I thought we were safe?” She shook her head, one eye still hidden by the bed beneath her. “We were all a bit shaken after that, and when we got together to toast to Dusty, I found myself wantin’ somethin’ only he could provide. And he did.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Rainbow nodded, looking down at her hooves in thought. It still felt a little weird to her, but she understood now. But there was one thing still nagging at her. “So are you two, like, a thing now?”

“Hay, I ain’t got a clue.” Applejack picked herself back up with a shrug. “I ain’t sure if I could see Flint as a father, but I could see him as a farmer. Not like I’m lookin’ for anythin’ serious in the middle of all this mess, but it’s hard to keep a friendship a friendship with a pony you’ve been intimate with.” She leaned down, catching Rainbow’s eye. “I hope I ain’t upset you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Rainbow offered up an apologetic smile. “I’m… sorry for how I reacted. I’m glad that you guys have something.”

Applejack grinned. She swung her hooves around, popping out of bed. “I know he’s rough around the edges, RD, and he’s got an awful lot of edges, but there’s more to him than just that. That’s somethin’ I do know.”

The Argo lurched underhoof, and Rainbow’s ears perked up at the sound of the engines spinning up as she swayed to keep her balanced. “Oh, finally!” She took to the air, throwing her hooves up with a whoop of celebration. “We’re moving!”

“Only took, what, twelve hours at least?” Applejack stepped over and placed her hat back on her head with a quick wink. “Guess we’d better get up front then, huh?”

The two mares made their way to the flight deck at an energetic canter to confirm that, yes, they had finally been given permission to dock. A little tugboat had floated out from a bay nestled along the underside of the Orichalcum, and Rainbow could barely sit still as she watched the ponies on its deck scramble to fasten the Argo’s docking chains to sturdy metal rods.

The Orichalcum grew steadily larger until it cast the entire Argo in shadow. They were tugged beneath it, and when Rainbow flew forth and pressed her muzzle against the thick glass of the flight deck she was able to see the line of hangars built into the great ship’s belly, and her mouth hung open in awe as she watched the tarnished doors of the rearmost hangar slowly swing open with twin bursts of steam. Two more tugboats—not in use just then—hung from hooks towards the stern, swaying lazily with the wind of motion. 

They were pulled under the open hangar, a door boxing them in on each side. More steam vented from the hangar, clouding Rainbow’s view outside, and she jumped in alarm at the unexpected scraping clanks that echoed through the hull. There was a pause, an upwards lurch, and then the Argo was pulled up into the bowels of the larger ship with a steady, ratcheting click.

By the time the steam cleared enough to see again, they were inside. Catwalks and scaffolding lined what Rainbow could see of the hangar, a pair of ponies in worn out jumpsuits regarding them from above with the narrowed eyes of seasoned workers sizing up the day’s job.

“Ye done gawpin’?” Flint chuckled as Rainbow jumped again, rounding on him with a flick of her tail. “Impressive engineerin’, aye, but ye know those mechanics can see ye starin’ at ’em like a filly at th’ circus.”

“And you shouldn’t be flying,” Sabre added. “Remember, you don’t want to stand out.”

“Fine, fine.” Rainbow let out an irritated grumble as she landed next to a grinning Applejack.

The crew made their way back to the cargo hold as one, Rainbow using her wings to adjust her uniform as they walked. Shaking it out and hanging it up for a few hours had done little to straighten out the wrinkles, leaving her looking like she’d just rolled out of bed. How does everyone else look so crisp? She narrowed her eyes in thought. Is there even an iron on this ship?

With the six ponies all assembled in the cargo hold, Sea Sabre reached up and pulled the heavy lever on the rear wall with both hooves. There were two heavy clangs, the hiss of the steam venting from either side of the bay door, and then the steady clicking of the gears as the thick bay door lowered itself to the floor outside.

It came to a rest with a heavy thud, and now only the lingering steam swirling around the ramp blocked Rainbow’s view of the hangar. She could see the obscured shadow of a single pony waiting at the bottom of the ramp.

Wait. Rainbow narrowed her eye, pulse quickening as she picked out more details. The shadow had long, swept-back wings, and the tips of its feathers poking up to either side like daggers, and it stood with a lithe, cat-like stance that seemed out of place compared to the bulk of its body.

And when it turned its head to the side, she saw the hard, cruel curve of a beak.

Gava!

Adrenaline flooded Rainbow’s body as time seemed to slow. Her wings flared open painfully wide, almost throwing her off balance without the weight of her blades attached to them, as she dropped down into a ready stance. She winced as the lingering wounds from her fight with the changeling cried out in complaint, but she didn’t spare them any thought as her mind raced from one question to the next.

What was the bounty hunter doing here? Was the Orichalcum a trap? None of her friends had their weapons with them; could she get to her room, strap on her wingblades, and return before anyone was hurt? Would they be able to escape the hangar? Her eye darted around the room, straining to pierce the veil of steam enough to spot any potential controls. She might be able to dash out fast enough to release the Argo, then stall and buy some time for the others to get back inside to safety. 

All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a scant second, but when the steam finally cleared from the ramp, it wasn’t a sneering bounty hunter waiting for her at the bottom. This griffon was thicker around the chest and legs—a male—and instead of the stark black of Gava’s feathers his plumage was a ruddy gray. Strangest of all was the expression on his face; his beak was curved up in a casual smile, his head cocked to one side as if he was listening to an old joke.

“My employer extends condolences for the long wait.” His voice was deep but relaxed. His half-lidded eyes looked between the stunned ponies before him with an intent disinterest. “If you’ll follow me, you can discuss your business in his suite.”
> Supplement: Excerpt from Whitehorn's Memoirs, Unpublished
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ah, yes, I remember this article well. You'd think otherwise, considering the material—financial journalism is so dry that I'd rather be writing just about anything else, but it brings in bits. 	I had actually written a far more personal piece that very week, urging action from the various ponies in power, hoping to garner more support for the Table. That particular article was never printed outside of my own publication.

It's typical, isn't it? Write about a crisis that's claimed thousands of lives and you could travel all Equestria without a paper picking it up. Write about how some corporation or other reacts, how the assets are affected, and suddenly your words are spread across every island.

Things will be different by the time I'm done.



COLTVER FALLS, MARKETS DOWN



By Whitehorn
Originally published in the Harvest Financial Times, May 20, 672 Anno Caeli



With the recent destruction of Coltver to forces unknown, resulting in the near-total loss of ponies and property in the area, the Harvest Central Bank (HCB) has announced a total pullout of all assets from the Celestial Sea region with a complete firesale of all owned assets including the mining colonies, farms, and transport ships in the region. Serene Grace, Regional Manager for the Eastern Quadrant, told the Financial Times, “In light of the unfortunate incident, we must take steps to protect our employees. Therefore we have decided to cease operation in this part of Equestria.” 

In light of this, the Bank of Heighton and the United Baltimare Corporations (UBC) have announced a large expansion into the region, with an estimated investment of more than 2.5 million Gold-Equivalent Units (GEUs), equivalent to the gross economic product of Straterra over a year. With Baltimare and Heighton investing into the region just as Harvest is pulling out, the news from the Harvest Exchange isn’t exactly optimistic. Eastern Shipping Company closed down three percent and Harvest Farms closed down ten points resulting from the loss of one of their core regions. 

The HCB was also punished by the markets post-Coltver destruction. The shares floated on the public exchange, in total 2,000, closed down five percent, a heavy blow to Harvest’s economy, as HCB has been buying parts of Central Line and Oceanus Shipping, both critical companies for the flow of goods and food to Harvest. 

In contrast to this, the Bank of Heighton and the UBC have seen their shares go up on the exchange, closing up three and two points, respectively. Gifted analyst Gold Coin theorizes that this is “due to their western and southern holdings, as they are not as dependent on the eastern islands.” Indeed, the Frieslander Line, responsible for the transport of the bulk of Altalusia’s raw materials, moved yesterday to buy up Tacitus Shipping, a Baltimare-based company with a long history and modern ships. 

The destruction of the largest island so far in recorded history has also been a boon for the airship industries based in Sanctaphrax. Sanctaphrax Aerospace, along with Blue Horizon and the Skyway Group, have seen their shares skyrocket as several prominent companies, frightened in the wake of Coltver’s sinking, decided to place orders for airships for both VIPs and for more mundane purposes according to information obtained by the Financial Times.

In addition, the Bank of Heighton has been rumored to be making a large investment of more than 20,000 GEUs towards the Sanctaphrax-based Reverie Shipyards in order to refit a number of ships to be able to submerge to a depth of 2,000 meters with the hope of salvaging sunken ships and their cargo. The UBC has also been rumored to be planning a move on Reverie Shipyards according to a highly placed source that spoke to the Financial Times under condition of anonymity. 

While the submersible industry has seen a considerable boon following the destruction of Coltver, other industries have seen a considerable downturn as a result of the catastrophe. With the loss of one of the largest producers of iron ore in the archipelago, the price for iron ore has skyrocketed. Baltimare Yards, for whom Coltver was one of their largest sources of iron ore, has downsized expectations for the rest of the year from 30,000 tonnes to 10,000 tonnes, laying off an estimated 100 workers. Heighton Ironworks, drawing their ore and steel from either domestic or nearby sources, have announced higher prices for their steel as well. It remains to be seen if the shipyards will follow suit in the coming days. 

The shipping and insurance industry, while still expanding, has become wary of a future island collapse. Consolidated Insurance, based out of Harvest, has raised rates considerably for all ships traversing the Celestial Sea region, both under the Survivor Clause and by invoking the Force Majeure Clause on several of the ships lost with Coltver. The HCB, in addition to the steps already mentioned earlier in the article, has followed suit in its Insurance division, raising rates for all ships in the Eastern Quadrant, as well as invoking Force Majeure on the ships insured by them that were lost.

The loss of so many vessels and companies in one fell swoop with Coltver, while not a large island, has also caused a smaller crisis in the Three Banks. The Bank of Heighton, the UBC and the HCB have announced the general interest on all new loans taken out after May 31st with interest rates going as high as 12%. This comes with the loss of several creditors, including the complete loss of the Coltver Mines, which, according to documents provided to the Financial Times by an anonymous source, had taken large loans from several banks to finance new mineshafts. 

While the HCB can undoubtedly weather this storm, as it has with so many others, this may have long-reaching consequences for Equestria in the months and years to come.


> XV: Of Meetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

His name was Gerritt, and Rainbow didn’t like him from the start.

Maybe it was that casual smile of his, one corner of his beak always smugly pulled up as if he were remembering a joke at your expense. Maybe it was the lazy way he spoke, like he’d never had to try at anything in his life and he didn’t expect he ever would. Maybe it was the long-barreled revolver strapped to his vest, hidden under a silver shoulder cape and only revealed for brief moments when he raised a foreleg, flaunted just out of sight like a casual, unthinking threat.

Most likely, it was his habit of always disappearing into Rainbow’s blind side.

She was safe for now at least, relatively. The whole crew—minus Sunfeather, who had elected to stay back and watch Princess Luna and the Argo—were hemmed in on one of the interior trams that ran the length of the Orichalcum. Rainbow kept her blind side close to the railing, Applejack’s warmth against her left flank lending her some comfort, and that allowed her to keep her eye trained squarely on the strange new griffon, watching for any sign of aggression.

The tram line raced across the ship at a quick pace, ruffling Rainbow’s mane with the wind of their passage and filling her ears with the loud racket of the gears that propelled it along. The tunnel was dark, lit only by a pair of lanterns dangling from the thick bars that served as a roof and the intermittent flashes of sunlight from the little portholes spaced on one side. Just a quick ride from the hangar to the living sector, Gerritt had said. Rainbow hadn’t been counting, but even one second near him felt too long.

He glanced over, catching her eye, but she didn’t look away. She wanted him to know that she was onto him. She knew what he was. A griffon. And she’d never met a griffon that didn’t turn out to be bad news.

He stepped closer, weaving around Star Trails and Flintlock so he could be heard over the din of the gears. “Is that real?”

She didn’t blink. “What?”

“Your mane.” He raised a talon and pointed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it—”

Rainbow’s lip curled back as she cut him off with a ferocious snarl. “It’s not a dyejob!”

He didn’t flinch, but he did arch a brow. “This your first time seeing a griffon up close? I’d understand if you were nervous, but I don’t bite, y’know.”

Everyone on the tram was looking at her. From the corner of her eye, Rainbow saw Sea Sabre give a subtle shake of her head. Instead of spewing one of the dozen biting retorts that came to mind, Rainbow looked away, her wings hovering a few inches off her back. She forced herself to take a deep breath and keep her gaze forwards. Sabre didn’t want her to stand out, and that meant not picking fights. That meant keeping her head down and her mouth shut. For once, Rainbow was determined not to let the other pegasus down.

Gerritt opened his mouth to say something, but Star Trails came to the rescue. “Hey, bud, just drop it, alright? Don’t take it personally.”

Rainbow’s tail flicked about behind her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief as the griffon finally got the message. With a shrug, he stepped back to the center of the tram.

Thankfully, the ride didn’t last much longer. The tram slid to a screeching stop, releasing its passengers into a pristine white hallway with a long window running along one side. Glancing through it as Gerritt led the crew deeper into the ship, Rainbow realized they were walking along the top of a long, cavernous room of drab grey metal.

Ponies trotted across the floor below in small groups, boarding or disembarking from longer, dirtier versions of the tram she had just taken or streaming through hallways labeled with scuffed paint. They all wore jumpsuits, similarly color-coded, though many of them sported simple shirts, coats, or skirts on top, and some had their jumpsuits rolled up and tied around their barrels like belts.

“Yep, that’s airship life.”

Rainbow jumped, head snapping around to see Star Trails walking on her left with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I was raised on a ship like this is all. Brings back memories, y’know?”

After a moment,  Rainbow nodded. She turned back to the window. “What do the colors mean?”

“That tells you where they work,” Trails explained. “It’s different in every fleet, but you can usually tell a few of the common departments. Those guys in red, with the goggles and dirty faces? Engi. I’d bet the sweaty ones running around in yellow are Maint, and you can always tell the Nav crew from their attitude. That mare in blue, strolling around like she owns the world? She’s probably Nav.”

“Huh.” Rainbow pursed her lips in thought as she followed the other mare’s pointing hoof. “What were you?”

“They slapped me in Nav as soon as I was old enough to get a suit. Believe it or not, I used to be as pretentious as she is.”

“Really?” Rainbow shot Trails a skeptical sideways glance. “Somehow I can’t imagine you being stuck-up like that.”

She shrugged. “That’s how they raise us. But one day I got to leave the fleet, and it turned out the world wasn’t exactly what they taught me.” She smirked, turning her green eyes forwards once more. “Guess that’s why I like to see things for myself these days.”

The window ended as Gerritt turned them down another hallway towards a thick, silver-embossed hatch with a pair of ponies in black jumpsuits standing to each side. Each one wore a set of heavy steel shoes trimmed in silver, the tips sharpened into deadly points, and Rainbow could see the stiff shape of armor plates hidden under their uniforms. They didn’t offer any challenge for Gerritt, though they did sweep the ponies following him with suspicious stares. Rainbow glared back at each in turn, daring either of them to say something.

The hatch was already open, and Gerritt led them through without breaking stride into a small foyer. Rainbow’s ears twitched as she noticed a slight hollow sound to the floor underhoof here, and looking around she saw that the solid white walls had given way to thin silver plating over layers of gears and piping reminiscent of the bare machinery visible throughout much of the Argo.

Three hallways split off from the foyer, and they continued straight down the central one towards a wooden double door engraved with a blue-and-silver compass rose. The swinging song of brass instruments could be heard playing a gentle, jazzy tune on the other side.

Gerritt knocked once, lifted a talon to each handle, and paused for a brief moment before pulling them open. “Your guests are here, sir.”

“Ah, finally!” Prince Silverblood turned to face them with a smug smile, his body framed by the daylight streaming in through the wide window behind him. Layer upon layer of silken robes were draped over his pale yellow coat, held up by silver ribbons and adorned with matching jewelry. His white mane hung down his neck in a series of thin braids, each one swaying with the weight of the colorful baubles tied into the hairs. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t interested in breakfast.”

Rainbow pursed her lips, concentrating every bit of willpower she had into keeping her mouth shut and her face straight as anger flared up inside her. She instead cast her eye around the room, taking in the blue and white sitting cushions and the long, oval-shaped table they surrounded in the center and the spread of soups, bread, and salads atop it. Paintings of airships and city-islands adorned the walls, the Orichalcum itself prominent in many of them, framed in thick, engraved silver that seemed to twinkle in the light of the three chandeliers hanging above.

But the room was shaped like a triangle, and no matter where she looked her gaze was always pulled to where Prince Silverblood stood behind a weighty wooden desk embossed with even more silver highlights. A single curving window was set into the wall behind him, forcing her to squint into the bright sunlight after the passage through the far dimmer interior of the airship. After a moment she realized that the room was perched at the very top of the ship, the white of the hull stretching out behind the glass.

Sea Sabre stepped forward, her tone level as always. “We apologize for the delay. We came as soon as we could.” She dipped into a bow, muzzle almost to the wood-paneled floor, and shot a meaningful glance back towards her crew.

Rainbow’s eye widened as she saw Star Trails and Flintlock follow suit, and then Applejack a moment later. She was expected to bow before this moron?

“Discipline.” Sea Sabre’s voice echoed in the back of her mind, recalled from so many training sessions. “That’s your weakness. Overcome that, and you’ll be the most dangerous mare in Equestria.”

She had to do it, for both Twilight and Sea Sabre. She was done with losing control and letting them down. Biting her tongue hard enough to draw a trickle of blood, Rainbow forced her body down into a stiff bow.

“Ah, understandable. But do not fret! The food is still warm, and so there’s little damage done.” Silverblood’s voice was rich, swinging from word to word as if every sentence were a game. “Won’t you sit? My chef is experimenting with a new aioli, garnished with truffle shavings from Ambrosia. We’ll have to risk it together, though I expect it shall be as marvelous as anything he makes.”

“We’d love to,” Sabre said, straightening up. “You’re very kind.”

Star Trails spoke up. “Isn’t Ambrosia under Platinum’s control? I’m surprised the family would sell to you after all the trouble they went through to colonize it.”

Silverblood’s grin widened at the comment. “The Platinum Estate has been disbanded in the wake of… internal conflicts. But thanks to their work taming the natives, I’ve been able to invest in the creation of a small colony, and they send shipments ahead to my major stops. But enough about business! Sit, please!”

It was all Rainbow could do to keep her hooves from shaking as she carried herself over to the nearest cushion. She focused on taking deep breaths, her eye staring intently down at her empty plate. A dozen mouth-watering scents tried to tug her gaze upwards, but she ignored them all out of concern that even seeing the conceited pony hosting them would drive her into a frenzy.

The Prince barely paused to take a breath. “You know, Crazy has told me quite a bit of your accomplishments. Your success in Old Canterlot has been on everypony’s lips ever since that party of his. Though I see a couple new faces here.” He let out an exaggerated hum. “Whatever happened to the pilot and the historian? Off to other opportunities?”

“Sunfeather is watching the ship. Dusty Tome lost his life on duty,” Sabre said. “These two mares are recent additions. I’d be surprised if you’d heard of them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the Prince said, and Rainbow was certain that he didn’t mean a word of it. “You know, I always told Crazy that stallion was a bad hire. I said, ‘why hire four Gifted and one common pony? You’d might as well go all the way.’ But of course he didn’t listen!” The Prince let out a heavy sigh. “Sweet Celestia, I’ve never seen a mare regard an empty plate with such intensity! Hello, are you here?”

Rainbow looked up, hoping the revulsion inside her wasn’t making it through to her face. “Hey.”

“Oh, a quiet one. Not what I had expected considering those marvelous colors you’ve put on your mane!” The Prince laughed, slapping one hoof against the table. “What is your role aboard Miss Sabre’s vessel, my dear?”

Rainbow didn’t answer. Her hooves shook under the table as she focused only on keeping her mouth shut, for she knew that if she opened it she wouldn’t be able to control the words that flew forth.

Luckily, Sabre came to her rescue. “She’s security.”

“Security, really?” The Prince turned to Sabre with a smirk. “So Crazy digs up a mare from the past, a mare he claims to have legendary ability beyond imagining, and he assigns her to security on a salvage crew led by Sea Sabre, the Butcher of Berchninny?”

Sabre’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. “You can never have too much security.”

Rainbow’s gaze flicked between the two ponies as she came to the sudden realization that she was witnessing a play in a game with far more context than she knew. Prince Silverblood and Crazy Rich might have been peers, perhaps even partners, but they were far from friends, and with Sabre speaking as a representative of Crazy she had to be careful to measure every word. Now she understood why Sabre had put so much emphasis on her keeping her head down. Was Silverblood sizing them up even now behind that flamboyant façade of his, weighing two legendary Gifted under his control against the potential of a burned bridge with an old trade partner? Or was he just probing Sabre for information that might be useful at the negotiation table months or years down the road?

At last, the Prince looked away with an appreciative hum. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, and you would know! There’s no telling what might accost a ship out in the open sky, after all. Better safe than sorry!” He clapped his hooves, and Rainbow’s ears twitched at the sound of doors opening to either side. “But we mustn’t let the food sit any longer! My chef would be heartbroken to hear that we let it grow cold while we busied ourselves with small talk. Let’s eat!”

Rainbow looked to either side as a pair of ponies wearing the polite pouts of servants entered the room. They circled the table from opposite sides, one pouring drinks while the other served food, and she took the opportunity to scan the room for Gerritt. The griffon, annoyingly enough, had installed himself in a corner near the back of the room, out of sight from all the guests unless they craned their necks around to spot him.

Applejack, seated to Rainbow’s immediate left, nudged her with a hoof to get her attention. “Hey, ya good?” She offered up a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout him, alright? I got yer back.”

Rainbow answered with a hollow smile of her own. “Right. Thanks, AJ.”

Sabre waited for the servants to back away, each plate and glass freshly filled, before clearing her throat. “As much as I’d love to sample your chef’s cooking, our cause is urgent. It would be easier for me to enjoy the food if we could negotiate the terms of our stay first.”

Silverblood raised a hoof. He leaned back as one of the servants speared an olive on a fork, swirled it about in a small dish of aioli, and held it up for him to pluck free with his teeth. After taking a moment to rinse the morsel down with a drink from his glass, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Very well, very well. But I have a stern policy of not mixing business with pleasure. We may discuss terms in my office.” He stood abruptly. “Bring your new crew with you, Sabre. The rest may stay and eat.”

Sabre frowned as she stood. “I would’ve thought you’d want to keep the discussion more private.”

“Well, of course.” Silverblood grinned as he walked to the side, beckoning to Gerritt with a hoof. “But what is a deal without witnesses? I shall have my dear Gerritt and Sassie, and you will have your, er—” he paused, squinting up at the ceiling “—I’m afraid I can’t recall their names just now, but I’m sure that can be remedied shortly. Follow me, please!”

He trotted out of the room without waiting for a response, Gerritt following behind him. Sabre turned to Rainbow and Applejack. “Let’s go.”

Applejack stood with a sigh, but Rainbow raised a hoof to hold her still. “Are you really gonna let him push us around like this?” she asked.

Sabre pursed her lips, but Star Trails answered for her. “Do you want to get off this ship quickly, or do you want to stand up for yourself?” the unicorn quipped between bites of food. “Cause you’re not gonna get both, so pick one.”

“What—but—Flint!” Rainbow waved a hoof. “Back me up here!”

Flint pulled a bowl of soup away from his mouth with a belch. “Don’t ye look t’ me, now. I’m here fer th’ food, and I’m gettin’ it!”

“C’mon, RD,” Applejack said. “Let’s just buckle down and get it over with.”

“Ugh, fine!” With a frustrated growl and a flick of her tail, Rainbow stood up and stalked towards Sabre. “But I don’t like this!”

“Neither do I,” Sabre said. “You’re doing well. Keep quiet, and we can be out of here within a couple days.”

Rainbow grimaced as she followed Sabre and Applejack down the hall that Silverblood had disappeared into, the jazz music fading away as they left the dining room behind.

It was a short walk. The hall ended in a small elevator large enough for only a few ponies, already half-full with Prince Silverblood and Gerritt’s griffon bulk. A mare with a soft pink coat and a curling green mane leaned against a terminal next to the elevator, chatting quietly into a brass tube. She wore her black jumpsuit rolled up into a belt, revealing a cutie mark of two white stars circling each other on her flank.

Rainbow suppressed a grumble as she squeezed into the elevator besides Sabre and Applejack.

Silverblood turned to the pink mare and gave her a quick nod. “If you would, Sassie?”

She leaned into the tube, pressing a button on her terminal with her magic. “Sassie, Prince and four coming up for you!”

With the click of machinery, the elevator lurched upwards. They came out into a small foyer with an identical terminal, brass tube, and—Rainbow did a quick double take—an identical mare, cutie mark and all.

“I’ve got them, Sassie!” she said. The magic faded from her horn as she turned to Silverblood with a warm smile. “Welcome back, sir!”

“Thank you, my dear. Come along, if you would.” Silverblood led the little group across the foyer, past a short hallway lined on one side with doors, and into a room dominated by a hefty wooden desk laden down by stacked folders. There were no windows in this part of the ship, but the room did have a wide painting on each wall that seemed to try and fill the same purpose; they were framed in silver, and depicted the type of ocean landscapes that one might see from aboard an airship in flight.

He sat behind the desk with a sigh, while Gerritt and Sassie—the second of two Sassies, Rainbow assumed—stood in opposite corners behind him. There was only a single seat on each side of the desk, so Rainbow and Applejack were left to stand behind Sabre.

“So!” Silverblood smiled a toothy, lopsided smile. “Let us discuss business.”

The conversation was dull on the surface, and trying to parse the doubletalk and implied meaning under every word did little more than give Rainbow a headache, so she was quick to tune it out. With one ear open to the back-and-forth between Silverblood and Sea Sabre, she turned the rest of her attentions elsewhere.

Gerritt kept his eyes pointed straight forward, ignoring her pointed glares and suppressed scowls, and after several minutes of the griffon remaining still as a statue Rainbow turned her eye onto the strange pink mare standing in the opposite corner. Sassie’s horn was glowing a faint white as she muttered something under breath, her hooves gesturing animatedly as if she was in the midst of exchanging some juicy gossip. She’d pause every minute or so, ears twitching, and then raise a hoof to her muzzle before letting out a subdued snicker. And all the while her eyes remained glassy and unfocused, only occasionally clearing whenever she did a quick scan of the room before returning to her phantom conversation.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed. There were no windows and no clock that Rainbow could see, and soon her hooves were fidgeting with boredom instead of irritation. When Silverblood finally began to clear the papers he’d pulled onto his desk and Sabre finally rose from her seat, Rainbow didn’t even bother trying to hide her sigh of relief.

“I assume there’s a thaumagram onboard?” Sabre was saying. “I’ll need to contact Mr. Rich.”

“Of course. I’ll let the operator know to expect you.” Silverblood opted to remain seated as he spoke. “And about the funds…”

“Speak to Star Trails,” Sabre said. “The unicorn. She handles the finances.”

“Excellent.” The Prince leaned forwards with a wide smile, extending a hoof to shake. “A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Sabre.”

“Likewise.” Sabre’s voice was steady as always as she took his hoof and shook. Maybe Rainbow was imagining it, but after so long living with the other pegasus she thought she could hear a trace of annoyance. She turned away, beckoning to Rainbow and Applejack with a nod. “Let’s go.”

“No, let them stay.” The Prince leaned back into his seat. “I’d like to talk to them.”

Sabre looked back over her shoulder with a frown. “You have no business with them.”

“Not true!” The Prince gave an exaggerated shake of his head. “I’m always on the lookout for new talent, after all, and it isn’t every day you come across miraculous young talent like these two.” He turned to Rainbow and Applejack in turn. “Tell me, how much does Crazy pay you, and how long are your contracts? I’m sure we could come to an agreement.”

Rainbow’s lip curled back in disdain, and she was just about to tell the overbearing stallion off when Sabre stepped in front of her.

“We aren’t to disclose the terms of our contracts,” she said, pushing Rainbow back with a hind leg. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Rich himself for that information.”

“Oh, how mysterious.” Silverblood steepled his hooves under his chin, narrowing his eyes with a playful smirk. “But I suppose it would kill the fun if there wasn’t any chase. Very well, then!” He popped out of his seat, smile widening. “Let us return to our meals. But remember, fillies, I pay well for unique talent, and I’m willing to negotiate a fair contract. Negotiation is, after all, a useful skill to have in an employee.”

“We, uh, appreciate y’all’s offer.” Applejack dipped her head. “But we’re happy where we are.”

“Fair, fair. Would you lead us out, Sassie?”

“Yes, sir!”

Rainbow could feel Silverblood’s smiling eyes boring into the back of her head as she followed Applejack and Sea Sabre out of the room and back to the elevator. She ignored him outwardly, but there was a cold pit of worry forming in her stomach as she walked. 

Most of the conversation had gone over her head, but she didn’t need context to know that she hadn’t heard the last of Silverblood’s offer.





Wow, Ana thought as she shut the window closed behind her. Bureaucratic espionage is foal’s play compared to corporate.

The Commoner’s Guild’s security would have been laughable—if it existed. After a few minutes casing the building inside and out, Ana had decided to try the easy answers first and, much to her surprise, it had worked. A few flaps up to the guild master’s window, a few seconds with a thin blade, and she was in.

The guild master was busy downstairs—she could still hear the muffled voice of him speaking to the petitioners—so she expected she’d have some time to herself to search the room. Just in case, she trotted up to the door and ensured it was locked. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been caught in some office by another sleuth sneaking in from an alternate route.

She didn’t have all day, however. She had a ship to catch, and so she went from cabinet to cabinet and folder to folder with the steady beat of a practiced spy. Her amber eyes skimmed the pages at a quick pace, searching for the key phrases and patterns that she knew from experience led to the dark secrets of ponies in power across Equestria.

It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. A hidden compartment built into the bottom of the desk concealed a collection of letters. From the broken seals left on the scrolls, it looked like correspondence between the Commoner’s Guild and the many trade guilds that dominated everyday life in Friesland.

One in particular, from a couple months ago, looked to be addressed to an organization called The House of Guilds. Ana wasn’t too familiar with Friesland politics, but if the gaudy seal and trim on the paper was any indication, it was important.

“From the Desk of Mr. Cart Marks, Master of the Commoners' Guild.”

She narrowed her eyes, skipping past the formalities that rich ponies loved to thicken their letters with.

“The laborers grow restless. I recognize that it is a hard time for us all with the sudden influx of Straterra goods, but a temporary period operating at a loss may be necessary to prevent unauthorized strikes or, worse, a riot. I recommend allowing some victories for the laborers. They only need a few ‘wins’ to feel as if they’ve shown that they still hold some power over us, and then we may return to business as usual. It may hurt in the present, but a small loss now can lead to greater profits in the future.”

Ana arched a brow. That didn’t sound like the advice of a pony who had the commoners' best interest in mind. She rifled through more of the hidden papers, a small grin pulling at her lips as she found a response. This one was far less verbose, opting to get straight to the point instead of flaunting a long line of honorifics or pleasantries, something which Ana had come to understand meant the writer was speaking from a position of power.

“From the Desk of Mr. Robber Baron, Speaker of the House of Guilds.

“Let them have their victories. The Lumberjacks' Guild and the Smiths' Guild has fared well despite the disruption; we will allow some reforms in these areas. Do what you must with the dockworkers to keep them in line; we cannot afford any trouble with our shipping.

As this is your suggestion, we trust you will not protest if we deduct the damages from these reforms from you regular stipend.”

Ana shook her head in bemusement. Of course the Commoners' Guild master was on the take. It was the same story she’d seen just about everywhere across Equestria: those in power were in power absolutely, and those without were only allowed the illusion of being able to influence the world at the convenience of their master’s priorities.

She flipped through several more letters, confirming her suspicions. The Commoner’s Guild as a whole was a sham bought and paid for by every other guild in the city, a false bulwark of popular power that the guilds used to manipulate common sentiment. When the grumbles from workers grew too loud, they were allowed some minor victories that made them feel as if they’d won, but otherwise they held no power. For a trivial fee—or trivial compared to the cost of safe factories and extra days off—the Commoners' Guild could gather your every complaint into one place and make them quietly disappear.

Ana’s ear twitched at the clatter of hooves on the stairs. She grabbed a few of the most incriminating letters and stuffed them into her jerkin before carefully replacing the hidden compartment. She took a few long, silent steps to the door, wincing at the quiet click as she unlocked it—even a pony as security-lax as this Cart Marks might think to check his valuables if he found his door suddenly locked for no reason—and slipped out the window.

She had just finished closing the window behind her when she saw the doorknob twist, and she wasn’t interested in meeting her mark face-to-face. Tucking her wings in tight, she dropped down into the damp alley in a flutter of dark cloth.

The thunder of cannon fire rolled over the city, and Ana smirked as she imagined the wall garrison applauding her agility. The relaxed gait she might normally use would be more out of place in the face of the stiff wind that blew through the shadowed afternoon streets, so she ambled out into the street at a hurried pace. With her hood pulled low and her cloak drawn tight, she set forth.

It was a quick walk to the run-down part of town where Ana and Gava had been renting their room. She still wasn’t sure what the inn was actually called—the innkeeper didn’t seem to have any interest in fixing the sign, and the closest Ana ever got to talking to the surly stallion was a nod in the mornings and at night when she came down to fetch a meal—but part of her liked it better that way. She gave the barkeep the traditional nod as she bustled past two lonely patrons, up the stairs, and into the dimly-lit room she’d been calling home for the past week.

Her nose twitched at the heady scent of blood as she shut the door behind her. Gava was leaning over the cheap tin cabinet they’d been using for a table, her talons stained the same red as the little carcass draped over its surface.

Ana licked her lips. It had been a while since they’d had cat, and variety was always enticing. “Tame, or feral?”

Gava shrugged, keeping her eyes on her work. “What’s it matter to you?”

“Feral cats are all stringy,” Ana said. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her stolen letters. “If you want good cat, you need to get a nice, fat one.”

“Fat cats can barely run, Ana. Stringy or not, the meat on a street cat tastes better after a decent chase.” Gava glanced back, arching a brow at the papers Ana had tossed onto the bed. “What’s that?”

“I met with Whitehorn.” Ana stepped over to the old wooden chest holding her father’s skull, the well-oiled hinges silent as she lifted the lid and peered inside. “He wanted some dirt on some guild pony, so I got it for him. Aside from that, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Gava paused. She turned fully, licking her talons clean. “Good news first.”

“Good news is I’ve got something for you to do.” Ana jerked her head towards the papers. “I need you to drop these at a print shop. It’s Kerner and Sons, over by that distillery near the south gate. Very hush-hush, code phrases and all. If you’ve ever wanted to live a couple thrilling hours between my wings, here’s your chance.”

“That’s the good news?” Gava asked.

Ana looked back with a wry smirk. “Sis, you’re chasing cats through alleys for fun. It’s better than torturing popular barkeeps, but you’re obviously bored out of your mind.”

“I’d been hoping we could do another raid like we did with that airship.” Gava’s talons clicked against the stone as she stepped up to Ana’s side, brow furrowed down at the smaller mare. “I’ve got some ideas for new targets. Scoped them out just like you showed me.” Her beak twisted up into a hopeful smile. “It was pretty fun last time, with just the two of us again.”

The memory of a stallion on the ground, begging for Luna to save him from a monster, flashed through Ana’s mind. Her gaze flicked over to the barely visible splash of dark blue mostly hidden under her father’s bleached griffon skull—Rarity’s gift to her.

“Yeah. That was nice. But Whitehorn didn’t like it.”

“So what? Since when do we do what ponies tell us?”

“Since you made a messy contract.” Ana shot her sister a pointed look. “And the pay’s not bad, either.” Gava opened her beak—no doubt to make a snappy comment about how they’d been squatting in an inn so cheap they could catch breakfast without getting out of bed—but Ana cut her off with a good-natured slap from her wing. “We’re making airship money here, sis. Once this is over we can hitch a ride to Baltimare, find something good to replace the Screech. We just need to hold out a bit longer.”

Gava grimaced. “We could never replace the Screech.”

“You know what I mean.” Ana sighed, leaning into her sister’s plumage. “But our family’s still together. That’s what matters.”

“Heh. You sound like Dad.” Gava wrapped her big wings around Ana’s shoulders, pulling the thestral tight against her chest. “So. Bad news?”

Ana didn’t answer right away. She’d been mulling over this conversation ever since meeting with Whitehorn, and now that the moment was here she found a knot of apprehension forming in her gut. She closed her eyes, taking comfort in the sound of Gava’s heartbeat. “Well, uh… Whitehorn wants me to steal some things from Castle Urtica.”

“What?” Gava stepped back with a sharp scowl. “We aren’t supposed to mess with armies!”

“Now who sounds like Dad?” Ana quipped. She sighed as Gava narrowed her eyes, clearly not appreciating the joke. “Look, I can handle it.”

“That’s four siege lines. And then you’ll have to come back!”

“I can sneak onto one of the troop transports. They fly in at night, and you know nobody ever checks the bottom of an airship for infiltrators.”

“But what if you’re caught? They’ll kill you!”

Ana cocked her head, arching one playful brow. “Me? Caught?”

“Ana, this isn’t a joke!” Gava growled. Her talons flexed, scoring pale scars into the stone as she stood. “I’ll come, to protect you.”

Ana was always a little touched whenever her sister’s protective streak showed. She couldn’t stop the warm smile from creeping onto her face. “Sis, if we ever find ourselves in a world where me sneaking into a place is a joke and you doing it isn’t, then we may need to find a new line of work.”

Gava’s tail lashed, but she didn’t bother with a response. Instead she narrowed her eyes and stared Ana down in silence.

Ana’s smile faded as the seconds stretched on. Without more words to riff off, there was no way for her to twist the message that Gava was sending: the job would be difficult, and it would be dangerous, and she wasn’t an invisible, immortal shadow above the perceptions of ponykind. It was an odd idea coming from the typically headstrong griffon, but then Gava had been noticeably more cautious about them splitting up ever since that disastrous assault on Titus’s estate. They’d both thought they’d lost each other at one point or another that night, and Gava had taken the lesson to heart; they weren’t invincible, and every time they split up might be the last time they saw each other.

But the job had to be done. In much the same way that Gava was trying to protect Ana by protesting now, if one of them didn’t help Whitehorn get what he wanted, Gava would be the one he punished for it.

At last, Ana broke the silence. “You know you can’t stop me from leaving, right?”

“And you can’t stop me from following.”

Ana frowned. “Sis, I appreciate it, but I know you won’t do anything really stupid until you see my body with your own two eyes. And I need to be going soon if I want to catch the next ship out, so how about we agree it’s dangerous and just enjoy a meal together, huh?” She offered up a small smile. “I don’t really care if the cat’s stringy.”

After several seconds, Gava turned away. “Fine.” She stalked over to the cat carcass, tail flicking stiffly from side to side. “You wanna go downstairs and cook this thing, then?”

“Sure.” Ana stepped up and leaned against Gava’s side. “C’mon. With luck, maybe we can scare off the last dregs of this dive’s business.”





When Twilight awoke, she was surprised to find a smile on her face.

How long had it been since she’d been able to get some proper sleep in, instead of the quick naps snatched in cold ruins half-buried in the seafloor, disturbed by the constant fear of attack or concern over her shield spell failing? The rocks were still no replacement for a proper bed, but here she could let her magic go and truly relax, lulled into the warm abyss of slumber by the mountain’s gentle breath.

A high-pitched yawn escaped her as she stretched her legs and rolled onto her belly, blinking the bleariness from her vision. The cold stone had been warmed by her body as she slept, fueled by the fish she’d caught and cooked. She ran her tongue over her sharp teeth, catching the lingering taste of blood leftover from her meal.

Looking around, she saw Midnight lying down next to the little portal in the ground that they had swam in from, the tips of its front hooves drawing slow circles in the water. It looked up, peering at her over the book hovering before it. We are refreshed.

Twilight gave it a little nod. She couldn’t see the book’s title from this angle, but her mind supplied her with an answer anyways. The Art of Invisibility Spells. She scrunched up her muzzle in thought. That’s from my library.

Yes. It frowned as it turned the book’s pages toward her, revealing the blank paper inside. You never finished it.

Well I was rather distracted with trying to save Equestria!

If our memories are correct, Midnight mused, the book turning to ashes before blowing away in an invisible wind, you were imagining a crisis at the time.

Twilight let out an exasperated sigh as her peaceful mood was chipped away at by her dark passenger’s comments, but resolved not to let it get to her. Rather than get baited into another pointless argument, she shifted tracks. How can you even read those books from my memories? I don’t have perfect recall. She paused, eyes widening. Wait, do I have perfect recall?

You do not. But perusing your flawed memories passes the time nonetheless. It stood, beckoning towards the pool with a cracked hoof. Come. The Frozen North awaits.

You don’t waste any time, do you? Twilight’s horn glowed, bringing Celestia’s tiara and Shining’s saddlebags—now restocked with fresh fish—back to her. She refreshed the weatherproofing spells she’d placed on each before walking up to the water hole, taking a deep breath, and jumping inside.

The cold water shocked her groggy mind into clarity, and she grinned at the rush of exhilaration it brought with it. She turned in a circle, searching for the tunnel she’d taken from outside, only to realize that there were at least a dozen similar passages leading away—and she hadn’t left herself any hint as to which one she had come from.

A foalish mistake.

Twilight pursed her lips. You didn’t think of it either.

It said nothing, but she could still feel its bristling annoyance in the back of her mind.

Okay. What do we know? Twilight summoned a small shield around her head, opting to magically filter the water into breathable air so she could focus on the situation. With a simple compass spell she found north and, knowing she had entered from the south side of the mountain, turned to see only two of the little tunnels on the south face of the pool.

But just because these tunnels came from the south didn’t mean that they led south. The passage she had taken had twisted and turned several times, and between her hunger, her nerves, and Midnight’s pestering she hadn’t even thought to keep track of them.

She sent a ping into each tunnel, muzzle screwing up in consternation as they returned with little useful information. Perhaps she could find a way to modify the spell to bounce the ping off the stone, mapping out the entire path? But how could she get it to recognize what it was and wasn’t supposed to bounce off, and how could she guide it back to her once it reached open water? No, such a modification would require study, some creative thinking, and at the very least a pen and some paper for working through the mechanics. It would still be useful though, so she filed the idea away for later.

What the ping had told her was that one tunnel went generally up, and the other went generally down. Swimming closer and holding the frog of her hoof up to each one, she felt a steady current sucking water in. Had that been there before? Perhaps it had, but she hadn’t noticed it through the shields she’d used to protect herself from the water pressure.

Wait a minute. Twilight blinked, brow furrowing. Where is the water pressure?

We’re next to an air pocket, little flower. Midnight scoffed. There would be no crushing pressure at this depth.

Twilight shook her head. No, but there would be. Unless the mountain is open to the surface, the air should be trapped inside, and the water should pressurize it until it’s equalized with the pressure of the ocean.

Midnight paused. When it spoke it did so quickly, as if trying to brush past its mistake. And if the mountain is open to the surface?

Then the water would push the air out. There shouldn’t be any unpressurized air pockets below sea level. Her eyes widened as another thought occurred to her. And it should’ve been that way in Canterlot, too! How is this possible?

For a long moment they hovered there, considering the question with only the faint breath of the mountain to break the silence.

I expect we will learn nothing more in this cave. Midnight tugged their hooves into motion, pulling them towards one of the tunnels. We shall try the upwards path.

Although Twilight was annoyed at her body moving without her request, there wouldn’t be any point to protesting it. She’d been thinking the same thing anyways, even if she hadn’t taken the initiative. She went along with the motion without complaint, following the current into the little tunnel.

It was a little easier to traverse the tight passage with the water buoying her up, and they made a good pace. Every several seconds Twilight would send a ping out ahead of her, checking for danger, and she was ever conscious of the pressure—or lack thereof—around her barrel. It was stronger than it would be at the surface, yes, but it was hardly the deadly, crushing embrace of the ocean depths. It felt more like swimming along the bottom of a pool than anything else.

The mountain’s breath grew louder as they swam, and over time Twilight began to make out little details that had previously been lost to the whole. The clicking began to sound like the ticking of gears, and the muted rise and fall of every breath was joined by a steady buzzing sound. The water began to vibrate harder against her coat, growing in sympathy with the strange sound, and soon her hooftips began to feel numb from the constant stimulation.

Was there some kind of machine inside this mountain? A sufficiently powerful network of pumps might be able to push water out of the interior faster than it could flood back inside, but what would be the purpose? And what could have been maintaining such a machine for so many centuries?

At last the tunnel opened up. Twilight found herself swimming along the bottom of a frothing underground river, the water having reached a bone-shaking hum as the mountain’s breath turned into a steady roaring. The current pulled at her insistently, and she was forced to enlarge her air bubble around her whole body in order to keep from being dragged away.

With a curious frown, Twilight sent a wide ping out around her.

Her breath hitched. Her chest grew tight, and for a moment it felt almost like she had let her spell fail and was drowning under a dozen leagues of crushing water.

Is that… a pony?

Twilight pushed herself higher at a snail’s pace. Releasing her magic so as to avoid giving herself away, she latched onto the rocky side of the river and poked her eyes up past the white froth of the rapids.

The cave widened out here, forming a little cavern with the river coursing along one side. Twilight’s ears twitched at the loud grumbling of the machine set up on the bank, churning the water with its efforts. A trio of pipes sprouted from the base of the machine, disappearing into the darkness of a tunnel that led further upwards, the rock damp with the water leaking from the seams in rhythmic spurts.

And crouched down in front of the strange pump, illuminated by the pale light of a lantern resting on a little rock, was a pony.

He was a regular unicorn stallion, unmarred by any sign of mutation, though admittedly most of his body was covered by a rough, stiff suit with rigid bands around the joints. He had the suit’s hood down, a breath mask hanging limply from his belt, allowing Twilight to see his smudged green coat and short, ragged mane. He had some tool gripped in his muzzle, though it was impossible to identify it while he poked it about around the base of the pump, and a pair of stiff metal saddlebags rested on the ground beside him, the silhouettes of wrenches and hammers and screwdrivers sticking out from within.

The pony leaned back, spitting the tool out of his mouth and running a hoof through his mane. His lips moved as he muttered something under his breath, but it was impossible to hear it over the chugging roar of the pump.

Twilight took the scene in with her eyes wide and her jaw hanging loosely open. What is a—what is—who—how can—

Breathe, Twilight.

But he—what if— Twilight gasped as she plunged back into the water, scrubbing a hoof furiously against the bloody tears stained into her cheeks. I haven’t brushed my teeth!

A second passed. What?

My teeth are still all bloody! She ran her tongue frantically over her fangs, groaning in frustration as it came back tasting of fish blood again and again. I can’t be seen like this!

Her body suddenly stopped responding. Her eyes darted up to see Midnight scowling at her. What are you doing, you foal?

Let go of me! That’s a normal pony! She grimaced, hooves twitching as she strained to retake control. I can’t let him see me like this! I look like a monster!

Midnight narrowed its eyes. But we are not a monster.

Well if I suddenly saw myself climbing out of an underground river with blood on my fangs—which I’m not supposed to have, by the way—and all this red gunk around my creepy Nightmare Moon eyes, I would definitely think I was a monster!

What does it matter what some mongrel pony thinks? Midnight snapped, its lip curling back. Do you think he’s a threat to us?

He might run away!

He couldn’t escape us if he tried!

Shut up! Shut up! Twilight jabbed an accusing hoof at her twisted doppelganger. I haven’t spoken to anyone but you since Canterlot, and by Celestia, I want to make a good first impression!

This is ridiculous. Midnight shook its head in disgust. If you’re so concerned about your appearance, you seem to have forgotten your horn. Twilight winced as it flicked her horn with a hoof. An illusion will suffice.

Twilight blinked. Oh. Right. That… would be a lot easier.

Ignoring Midnight’s judging glare, Twilight began to channel her magic. Illusions had never been a specialty of hers, but just about every filly at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns had at least dabbled in the field. Makeup was expensive, and took a long time to apply, and no matter how much coaching she’d received from her mother Twilight had never quite felt confident in her ability with the strange chemicals. A quick spell to hide the bags under her eyes after a sleepless night of reading or to keep her smile clear when she was running late and had no time to clean up after breakfast was far easier.

The eye color spell had been fun, too. She shook her head as she thought back to the brief phase where she’d changed her eye color every week.

She knew the spells well, and though it did take a little more power than usual to hide all of her mutations, soon she was ready to show her face. Taking a moment to steel herself, Twilight climbed out of the cold water and up onto the river bank.

The stallion didn’t notice. He remained focused on the task before him as Twilight walked stiffly closer, shaking with something between excitement and anxiety.

She came to a stop a few steps behind him, unsure of what to say. She lifted a hoof to tap his shoulder, thought better of it, and put it back down. Midnight watched from the stallion’s side, leering down at him like he was something disgusting she had just stepped in.

After some thought, Twilight cleared her throat. “Ahem.”

He didn’t turn around.

Twilight frowned. Maybe he couldn’t hear her? It was understandable, considering how loud the pump was. She could try shouting something, but she didn’t want to startle him and make a bad impression. She was just starting to think she should try getting back in the water to circle around and climb out in front of him, shifting her weight from side to side, when she accidentally leaned in front of his lantern.

The pony jumped at the unexpected shadow, and her heart skipped a beat. He whipped around, a weighty ratchet clutched in his jaw like a weapon, and they locked eyes.

He blinked. Twilight offered up a nervous smile and waved a hoof. “H-hello. My name’s Twilight Sparkle. How are you doing, uh, today?”

He cocked his head, ears turning towards her, and leaned down to drop his tool. “What?!”

He had to shout to be heard over the pump, and with a start Twilight realized that she should probably do the same. “Hello! My name’s Twilight Sparkle! How are—” No, wait, that’s a stupid question. “What’s your name?!”

Twilight hadn’t thought it was possible for the stallion to look even more confused than he already was, but he found a way. “Who are you?!”

She grimaced. “My name! Is Twilight Sparkle!”

“Yes, I heard that!” he shouted. “I don’t recognize you! What’s your position?! Do they need me up there?!”

Twilight’s heart was pounding. With a whimper she realized that she had no idea what he was talking about and, worse still, the conversation was spiraling towards disaster. Midnight shook its head behind the stallion in clear disappointment. “I don’t take us where your leader is, mongrel!”

The stallion reached a hoof up to his head, scratching at an ear. “What?!”

What are you doing?! Twilight demanded, staring wide-eyed at Midnight.

I’m helping! Midnight snapped. He’s clearly part of a larger group, and your pitiful attempts at an introduction are going nowhere!

You called him a mongrel!

He is a mongrel, and if he thinks otherwise then he is free to challenge us!

The stallion glanced over his shoulder, following Twilight’s furious gaze. “Are you okay, miss?!”

“No!”  Twilight spat, stomping a hoof. “I’m not okay!” Her horn glowed, and the cave took on a purple hue as she swathed the pump in a silence spell. The cave fell quiet in an instant, the roaring of the pump replaced with the relative quiet breathing of the mountain and the chugging of the pipes. “My name is Twilight Sparkle! What’s your name?!”

The stallion jumped, ears twitching at the sudden absence of sound. His eyes remained focused on her glowing horn as he tugged a pair of plugs out of his ears. “Name’s Bag End. Guess you’re new?”

Twilight grinned, reaching out to grab one of his hooves and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you! I was actually wondering if you could tell me where we are?”

Bag End cocked a brow. He jerked his head back towards the pump. “Pump 12. Can I help you, Miss Sparkle? I have two more pumps to get to today, and I dunno about you Gifted, but I don’t get paid overtime.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry!” Twilight stepped back, dropping the stallion’s hoof and dipping her head in apology. “I’m actually... lost.” A nervous giggle escaped her.

“Lost, huh?” Bag End rolled his eyes as he turned back to the pump. “Whatever, Miss Sparkle. You can follow me till the end of my shift, long as you don’t get in the way.” He popped the plugs back into his ears. “And could you take that spell off? The sound is important.”

“Oh! Of course!” Laughing her relief at successfully navigating the conversation without inspiring fear or violence, Twilight looked up, muzzle screwing up in concentration as she focused on canceling the silence spell without also fizzling her illusory makeup.

The ground suddenly lurched beneath her, and Twilight yelped as she stumbled to one side. She hadn’t dispelled the silence yet, but a deep, crackling rumbling was coming from below them, growing louder at an alarming pace. A loose pebble fell from the ceiling, and she flinched as it bounced off the tip of her muzzle.

Bag End’s eyes shot wide open as the stone began to vibrate underhoof. “Oh, fuck! Spider!” Sparing only one moment to scoop the lantern up off the ground, he broke into a dead sprint, bounding towards the tunnel at the back of the cave.

He made it four steps, and then the cave floor exploded underneath him.

He screamed, the lantern casting panicked shadows on the walls as it spiraled freely through the air and splashed into the river. A giant spider, twice the size of a pony, burst free from the rock, its body made of a hard crystal that looked almost like steel in the washed out greyscale of Twilight’s night vision. Its twitching legs scraped against the rock with a shrill screech as its razor sharp fangs squeezed around Bag End’s barrel, held back only by the hard ring of iron reinforcing the center of his suit.

“No!” Acting on instinct, Twilight’s horn burst into lavender light. The loud cacophony of the pump filled the room as she dropped every other spell to teleport the screaming stallion out of the crystal spider’s jaws and back to her side.

The spider screeched its frustration, scuttling out of its burrow and leaping up onto the ceiling in a burst of motion. Its claws dug into the stone as its body coiled like a spring, and in the bright glow of Twilight’s horn she saw the jagged red lines that zig-zagged across its otherwise shimmering blue body like bloody scars.

The moment was gone as fast as it came. The spider pounced, its bulk filling Twilight’s vision as it closed on her with all eight legs outstretched.

Twilight shrieked as she summoned a shield just in time to catch the monster’s weight. It slammed into her protective dome with a hiss of fury, its long legs wrapping around to almost completely surround her.

She could feel Midnight pulling at her magic, and she didn’t put up any resistance. A lance of energy jumped from Twilight’s horn, the lavender light tinted with a deathly red. There was a sharp crack, and the beam bounced away as the spider was sent flying backwards.

Twilight blinked, and the spider had already bounced back off the ground. That didn’t hurt it!

It must be resistant to magic. No matter. Midnight stepped forwards, snarling at the monster. Come to us, worm!

What are you doing?! Twilight fell onto her rump as the spider crouched down, bracing itself for another jump. We should run!

We will run from no stupid beast! Midnight spat. This foe does not deserve our respect!

The spider jumped. Twilight’s horn glowed brighter without her input, and she flinched at the ear-ringing crack that echoed off the stone.

The spider had been caught mid-air by a jagged spear of rock, pulled up from the ground by her own magic. It wheezed, legs wriggling faintly as it tried to pull itself free, and with a flash of purple a second stone javelin fell from the ceiling, embedding itself into one of its glowing gemstone eyes.

The cave was still. Twilight sucked in deep breaths as the ringing in her ears gave way to the uncaring grumbles of the pump.

Midnight looked back with a triumphant sneer. You see, little flower? No contest!

Twilight blinked. R-right. Thanks.

We should never have bothered speaking with that pony. Midnight scoffed as it turned to admire its kill. He was a worthless ally.

Twilight gasped. She whipped around, zeroing in on where Bag End lay groaning on the ground in a little ball. She collapsed at his side with shaky hooves, uncertain as to whether or not to touch him. “Oh, Celestia! Are you okay?!”

He moaned, and she had to lean in close to hear him over the pump. “T-take me back.” He paused, sucking in a shuddering breath. “B-back to the c-colony.”

“Okay! You’re okay!” Scooping him up in her magic, Twilight skirted around the spider’s twice-impaled corpse and broke into a gallop. She wasn’t sure where the colony was, but she guessed the water pipes would lead her to it.

This is a waste of time. Midnight hovered in the corners of her ashen vision. He was only good as a distraction, and he’s served that purpose.

“Shut up!” Twilight spat. “I don’t care what you think, I’m saving this pony’s life!”

Midnight didn’t offer any response. Spurred on by the pounding of her heart, Twilight raced through the darkness, screaming for help all the way.





Friesland was a city built on the assumption that it would always be surrounded by enemies. Like many settlements, the first structure finished was a tavern. The second was a wall.

It was a philosophy that shone through everywhere Ana had looked. Old walls or keeps, converted into civilian buildings or demolished to bolster other constructions once the town outgrew them, were a common sight in the center of the city. Every citizen was expected to drill in the firing and reloading of a rifle four weeks of every year, and even though it was forbidden for civilians to wear blue coats, nearly every house had at least one old militia uniform tucked away in dusty chests or closets. Watching over it all was the great wall, a behemoth of architecture that brought students from around Equestria, crowned by cannons that could demolish a trebuchet from a hundred meters beyond its range. It was a masterpiece of military engineering, a bulwark that clung stubbornly to the coast no matter how hard or how often the local nobility tried to scrape it free, and were it not for the lurking fear of saboteurs within the walls the citizens of Friesland would scoff at the idea of baronlanders destroying it from without.

Castle Urtica was not quite so well off.

Ana looked down upon the battlefield from on high, balanced on one of the support struts attached to the troop transport ship’s rear propellers. She had discarded the loose-fitting cloak for this mission and stained her jerkin black with the scrubbings of charcoal. With the sun long gone and the half-moon hidden behind the clouds, she was all but invisible in shadow. Her only weakness was her amber eyes; a pony that shone a light in her direction might see her pupils reflecting it back at them. She had acquired a pair of goggles for this purpose, wrapping the lens with a thin cloth film that should help to diminish the effect.

Anypony looking up would find it all but impossible to spot her as her airship of choice skirted along the coast, a difficult target for any baron ballista crews, but she was treated to a bird’s eye view of the carnage below.

The castle itself stood guard at the mouth of a shallow valley that ran perpendicular to the rocky island edge, a thick stone wall curving inwards between two uneven towers. At the deepest part of the curve the gatehouse leered down over the bodies abandoned before it, the corpses of ponies and siege engines alike testifying as to its fortitude. The wall was dark—anyone carrying a torch at night would likely only make themselves a target for the besieging forces—but Ana’s thestral vision could still see the gunners and siege crews huddled up to the stone, cloaks drawn tight against the wind.

Behind the wall, set apart so as to ensure no easy approach should the first line of defense be taken, was the keep from where Duchess Nettlekiss was sure to be commanding the conflict. It was a single triangular column of massive stone bricks, each corner of the triangle reinforced by a square tower. Rapid-firing mangonels had been built on the top of each tower next to piles of stone ammunition, and between all three a single trebuchet had been erected on the keep’s roof, the crew working even in the dead of night to fling flaming balls of peat into the assailants’ siege camp.

Most of these attacks would miss, flying wide to burn away patches of grass before fading away, but sometimes one would plummet into the widespread tents of the attacking army, the cloth flaring up like tinder while soldiers rushed to keep the fire from spreading. The attackers returned the favor with their own line of trebuchets, hurling craggy boulders across the gap between the two lines. Many flew long or short, throwing up plumes of dirt as they fell, but others struck true, chipping away at the wall before bouncing to the ground.

But the siege was far more than just the castle. The ridges that framed the valley were lined by a smaller, thinner wall, just wide enough for a pony to stand on the stones and shoot down at attackers, ensuring none could bypass the main entrance with determination and climbing skill alone. This weaker wall had been breached in many places, its integrity compromised to the point that the defenders had fallen back to hold in simple trenches. The attackers had dug trenches of their own, and so the two sides engaged in a bitter back and forth, constantly digging through the cold soil to create new avenues of attack or fallback lines, giving ground one day only to take it back the next, the little stretch of land changing hooves so frequently that there was often not even a chance to clear the dead from underhoof.

Ana was glad she’d come up with this plan. With Friesland employing airships to spot for and support its forces, simply flying over the armies would have been risky. Every pony within and around this valley would be high-strung, ears twitching at every sound, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. 

Getting close to the wall from either direction would be dangerous, and the civilian farmers protected within the valley would likely be easier to evade, but she needed to steal from Nettlekiss herself. A noble’s seal was a valuable trinket; stealing an authentic copy would allow you to impersonate the original owner in any writing, and by the time the message got out that the seal had been compromised it would probably be too late. Nettlekiss would keep it close to or on her person—most likely within the heavily defended keep itself.

Although there was an old stone pier jutting out from the edge of the valley, neighbored by silos and granaries filled with vital grain, the airship veered away. It and the two ships accompanying it instead made for a skeletal metal tower near the middle of the valley. A thin plume of smoke billowed from a small shack at the base of the tower.

The lanterns swaying in the wind at the top of the tower illuminated a few ponies readying docking chains to accept the new arrivals, and with a small nod to herself Ana decided it was time to take her leave. Though they would be distracted by their work, it would still be too easy for her to be given away by a casual upwards glance as her airship came in to unload its cargo.

“Well,” Ana muttered, checking the straps on her arcata for the tenth time that night, “let’s get this over with.”

Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to fall.
> XVI: Of Fears
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

So many pipes. The echo of Twilight’s hooves against the damp stone chased her through the dark heart of the mountain. Where does it end?

She’d been going up, but that was the only thing she knew for sure. The one tarnished pipe she’d followed away from the site of the spider attack had soon met others, and then more, until Twilight found herself galloping down a craggy tunnel with a pair of massive pipes nearly as large as she was running along either side. The pipes creaked and shuddered with the weight of the water coursing through them, a hundred miniscule leaks all coming together to form a thin stream trickling between her hooves.

She turned a corner, wincing at the sudden burst of light in front of her. The tunnel was blocked off by a wall of pockmarked steel. A pair of spotlights illuminated the rock beneath a great steel hatch, and a shallow, smooth trail had been worn into the stone before it by the steady passage of many hooves.

“We’re here!” Twilight let out a gasp of relief as she bounded up to the door, Bag End floating behind her. She reared up, pounding against the metal with her hooves. “Help! Somepony help!”

Nothing happened. Bag End let out a weak groan, barely audible over the loud hissing and clanking of the mountain’s machinery.

Since when do we need permission to bypass any portal?

Twilight’s horn glowed, and she blinked in surprise as she teleported past the hatch. She found herself in an unlit airlock, matching steel hatches on either side.

She frowned, suspicious. Why are you helping? You don’t even want us to be here!

It cocked its head, regarding her with contempt. I will always help you surmount any obstacle, little flower. Even if it’s your own idiocy.

Twilight rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t going to waste time commenting on the backwards reasoning. Well, we shouldn’t teleport past things without pinging! There’s no telling what might’ve been waiting for us here.

Well, what are you waiting for? Do I have to do everything myself?

Ignoring that as well, Twilight sent a series of powerful pings from her horn. The magic passed through the steel of the airlock with ease, returning seconds later with the impression of straight-edged tunnels, machinery, a skeleton of reinforced steel and dozens of living ponies. The complicated structure grew muddled and hazy to her senses further out, but past it all she could sense the salty water of the ocean and—to her surprise—the surface. They were near the peak of the mountain, and couldn’t be more than a few hundred meters underwater!

Another moan from Bag End pulled Twilight from her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she held the wounded stallion close in her magic and teleported them both further into the complex.

She came out in a narrow hallway, the sharp crack of her arrival drawing the eyes of two ponies that looked as if they’d just been making idle chatter while they walked. Small, shuddering pipes ran along the craggy ceiling, dripping water or venting small puffs of steam from their undersides, and the only light came from lonely bulbs strung up along one side.

The ponies stared at her with wide eyes, and she stared back. Panic gripped her.

“Hello!” she shouted. “My name’s Twilight Sparkle! I need help!”

They blinked. One of them, a pegasus mare, looked to the wounded pony floating beside her. “Wait, is that Bag?”

The unicorn stallion beside her seemed more focused on Twilight’s eyes. He gasped, pulling his companion back by the loose cloth of her jumpsuit. “Back up, Brandey! That wyrd’s got him!”

“Wyrd?” Twilight frowned, narrowing her eyes. Her illusion had worked fine against Bag End, so why wasn’t it working now?

“Wyrd!” Brandey turned, galloping away with the stallion hard on her heels and her voice echoing into the distance. “Wyrd on Deck Three!”

The call was taken up by others, and within seconds the little tunnel was filled with the sound of pounding hooves and raised alarms, the voices carried afar from their unseen speakers to Twilight’s drooping ears.

With a start she realized that she must have dropped the spell during the commotion of the spider attack, leaving her mutations freely visible. She took a moment to re-cast it before starting after the fleeing ponies, Bag End still floating by her side. “Wait! I won’t hurt you! I just want to help!”

I told you this was a waste of time, Midnight sneered at her from a passing doorway. Leave the wounded one and let us be done with it.

“No!” Twilight gave an emphatic shake of her head as she skidded to a stop in an intersection. Rocky halls curved out of sight in four directions, the thin metal grid underhoof vibrating in sympathy with the hooves approaching from every side. “I’m not leaving him until we know he’s taken care of!”

“What does it matter, you foal?” Midnight stepped out of the shadows from one side, its lips curled back in anger. “Do you fear his ponies will kill him merely for consorting with one such as us? They may hate us, but even they cannot be so moronic.”

“I—I just have to be sure!”

“For what purpose?” The voice seemed to come from all around her. No matter which way Twilight looked, she always saw her own dark reflection snarling back at her. “How does this delay further our goals? How will we save Equestria in the pits of this mountain?”

“I-it doesn’t! I just—”

“Then why?” Midnight’s bloodshot eyes filled Twilight’s vision even when she squeezed her eyes shut, and its voice blocked out every other sound even as she clapped her hooves over her ears. “All these pointless detours and delays, all this wasted time—in the city, in the cave, now here! Why?!”

“Because I want to make new friends!”

The booming echo of Midnight’s voice stopped. Twilight opened her eyes, heart pounding and breath coming in heavy sobs, and she saw Midnight watching her with a curious tilt to its head. New friends?

Behind it, the tunnel had been blocked off by a trio of thick-set earth ponies, their bodies covered by the same rough jumpsuits and their heads hidden behind breath masks, goggles, and hoods. Long spears were strapped to their sides in sling harnesses, allowing each pony to aim the jagged tip toward her with a single hoof. Looking around, Twilight found a similar wall of flesh blocking every exit.

The spearponies shifted about nervously. The pounding of hooves had gone quiet, leaving only  their anxious voices in its wake.

“Why isn’t it attacking?” one asked.

“Give it time,” another said. He took a cautious step forwards, and the two ponies beside him followed. “They always do.”

“Are we sure it’s a wyrd?”

“Ain't nopony I recognize!”

“It s-smells like blood.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Twilight recognized that voice. Narrowing her eyes, she picked out one of the ponies that had originally raised the alarm—the mare, Brandey. “That monster’s got Bag, and he’s hurt!”

“No, please!” Twilight lowered her posture, locking eyes with the mare. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

The ponies all took a collective step back, their chatter cutting off with sharp gasps before surging back twice as strong. Brandey blinked, mouth gaping wide open.

“Here, look!” Twilight’s horn glowed brighter, and the caves fell silent as the spearponies all focused their weapons back on her. Bowing her head, she slowly levitated Bag End’s silent form away and toward the nearest group. “Take him! We were attacked by some kind of crystal spider in the caves, and he’s hurt!”

There was a long moment of silence, but Twilight didn’t dare look up. Finally a voice spoke; this one was a stallion. “Give ’im ’ere. I’ll take ’im t’ Doc Cleeve.”

After a brief shuffling of hooves, Twilight caught a glimpse of Bag End being dragged away in her peripheral vision. When she got the courage to risk a glance upwards a few seconds later, she saw Brandey had stepped forth, standing alone in front of a line of spears.

It was impossible to see any of her face behind the gas mask and hood she wore, but the suspicion in the mare’s voice was clear on its own.

“What are you?”

Twilight straightened up slowly. She offered a shaky smile, but it turned into a grimace as she saw the surrounding ponies shrink back.

“My name’s Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “How are you doing today?”





The Orichalcum was a big ship.

This was no revelation to Rainbow Dash, and yet she couldn’t keep the thought from cropping up every now and then, in those slow moments when she found herself idle, alone, and without distraction. It had come to her during the walk to their cabins as she realized she hadn’t seen the ocean for over ten minutes. It had crossed her mind as she slept that night, the distant buzzing of the engines seeming unnatural after so many days lodging in the cargo bay directly under the Argo’s main propeller. And now it returned once more as she lay in bed with hoofsteps fading in and out past their cabin door. So many ponies rushing off to fulfill morning duties, and yet the only light in the room was pale, white, and artificial.

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?”

Rainbow tilted her head to the side. Applejack was regarding her with a curious smile as she slipped into her drab gray uniform.

“It’s just weird, how big this ship is,” Rainbow said. “I mean, it doesn’t even feel like a ship. Feels like we’re on solid ground.”

“Maybe to y’all it does. No proper earth pony would ever mistake this hunk of metal for good ol’-fashioned earth.” Applejack tapped a hoof against the floor for emphasis. “Now y’all gonna get up or what? We don’t wanna give the wrong impression.”

Rainbow arched a brow. “And who are we supposed to be impressing?”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “It don’t matter! Now get up before I drag y’all out by the tail.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but grin at the good-natured jab in Applejack’s voice as she rolled onto her hooves. “Y’know the only reason you can ever grab my tail is cause I let you, right?”

“Uh huh, sure it is. Ya need a brush?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Rainbow licked a hoof before slicking her mane back, pulling the unruly hairs out of her face. She chuckled at the disapproving quirk of Applejack’s lip before grabbing her uniform from where it hung by her cot.

The cabin was nice enough. It was a far cry from the luxurious suite they’d been given at Crazy Rich’s island estate, and it wasn’t quite as cozy as Rainbow’s little cloud room, but she’d stayed in worse places. The beds weren’t quite wide enough to spread her wings, but they were soft, and the blanket was only a little bit scratchy, and the bathroom was small enough that it took a certain amount of contortionism to open or close the door from inside, but she wasn’t the type of mare to complain about such things. Or at least, she wasn’t the type to seriously complain about them.

“Land sakes, gal, what’s happened to yer wings?”

“Huh?” Rainbow looked back over her shoulders as she pulled her wings through the holes in her shirt, giving them an experimental flap.

“The feathers’re all over the place. Did a fox get in yer coop last night?”

Rainbow looked away with a huff, hiding the embarrassed flush of her cheeks and making a show of straightening the wrinkles out of her sleeves. “Hey, cut me some slack, alright? The wing blades always mess them up a little, and with ’Shy back in Altalusia I’ve had to handle it all myself.”

Applejack cocked her head. “No offense, sugar cube, but ain’t pegasi supposed to be able to preen themselves?”

“I can preen myself!” Rainbow snapped. “It’s just hard to get at some of the feathers near the base, especially on, y’know—” she sighed “—my left side.”

“Oh.” A few seconds passed in silence. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Rainbow scratched a hoof at the back of her head. “Sorry for snapping. ’Shy and I helped each other with our wings back in flight school, y’know? Sometimes in Ponyville, too. Normally I can handle it just fine myself, but it’s been rough.”

Applejack stepped closer, leaning against Rainbow’s side. “Maybe I could help?”

Rainbow arched a brow, shooting the earth mare a skeptical sideways glance. “What do you know about wing care, AJ?”

She shrugged. “Pretty much nothin’, but I reckon y’all can teach me.”

Rainbow chuckled. She raised a hoof to deliver a hearty slap to her friend’s back. “Yeah, alright, sure.”

Applejack grinned. “It’ll have to wait till after breakfast, though. I only got a few bites of that fancy dinner after we finished with all the talkin’.”

“I’ve got practice today, too,” Rainbow said. “Sabre figures I’m good to start again, and apparently there’s a whole gym on this ship.”

“How ’bout tonight, then?” Applejack extended a hoof.

Rainbow grinned, raising her own hoof to bump against it with a resounding clop. “If you think you can handle it.”

The rush of hooves out in the hall had grown quiet by then, and when the two mares stepped out of their cabin they were the only ponies in sight. The hall was about three ponies wide and well-lit, lined with identical cabin doors distinguished only by the numbers engraved into the wall beside them.

Rainbow took the lead, Applejack following a few steps behind and to her left. It only took a few seconds to reach the intersection where the cabin block met one of the long avenues that connected much of the ship, and after a brief pause to consult the color-coded lines painted on the wall, they were off for one of the ship’s four galleys.

It was a relatively quick journey; unlike the silvered rooms where they’d met with Prince Silverblood, the galley was almost directly adjacent to their living quarters. Traffic was thin but steady in the halls, with most of the jumpsuited crew ponies keeping their eyes averted, only a few risking quick smiles at Applejack’s insistent greetings. The only exception was a single stallion in a blue jumpsuit—marking him as a member of Nav, as Trails had called it—who seemed to stare down everyone he passed.

The galley was something heard before it was seen, and the enticing scent of the warm food within put a brisk skip in Rainbow’s step as they drew closer. The two mares finally turned the corner and, hit with the full force of the loud chatter, paused to get their bearings.

It reminded Rainbow of a school cafeteria. Long tables were arrayed in a grid, each one seating a couple dozen ponies earnestly digging into their meals. The colors mostly kept to themselves; if any one table had two colors sitting at it, there was always a seat or two of empty space between them. A serving line took up the far wall, where tired-eyed ponies doled out portions onto the trays of those who approached them while the clatter of pots and pans rang out from the kitchen behind.

A sharp gasp came from Rainbow’s left, and she snapped her head around to see Applejack staring in open-mouthed shock. “Uh, AJ? You okay?”

Applejack’s eyes darted to Rainbow. A few seconds passed before she finally managed to push out a word. “Apples!”

Rainbow frowned. “Huh?”

“Apples, RD!” Applejack grabbed Rainbow’s head and turned it, pointing with her other hoof. “They got apples!”

Rainbow followed the orange hoof, narrowing her eye as she saw that several of the ponies in the room were indeed eating the fleshy fruit. “Huh. Cool.”

“Cool?!” Applejack echoed. She twisted Rainbow’s head back to face her once more. “Rainbow Dash, I ain't seen one apple in this world that ain't been dried up, fermented, or processed, and there’s gotta be at least a hundred Celestia-blessed fresh apples in this very room, and all y’all can say is cool?”

“What else am I supposed to say, AJ?”

Rainbow yelped as Applejack dragged her toward the serving line. “Tartarus, I don’t care if each one comes with a whole family of worms curled up inside, I am gettin’ me a gosh-darned apple!”

The line was already empty by the time they reached the galley, so there was no need to wait. Applejack marched straight up to the nearest serving mare, cleared her throat to grab her attention, and spoke in a clear drawl. “Apples, please.”

The serving mare—whose green, stained jumpsuit looked almost as tired as she did—extended a hoof. “20 scrip, hun.”

“Scrip?” Applejack shot a glance toward Rainbow, who offered up a quick shrug. “I ain’t got no scrip.”

The serving mare arched a brow. “And how did you intend to pay for your meal without any scrip?”

“How about bits?” Applejack reached into her shirt pocket and fished out a few bits, grinning at the surprise on Rainbow’s face. “Y’all might have some too if ya weren’t so bad at cards.”

The serving mare pursed her lips. “We don’t take bits. Company scrip.”

“Wh—we ain’t got no scrip, sugar cube!” Applejack’s tail lashed behind her as she jabbed a hoof at a basket of apples behind the counter. “I’m a guest here! Y’all ain’t never heard of proper hospitality?”

The serving mare narrowed her eyes, meeting Applejack’s glare with silent resolve. Seconds passed as Rainbow looked between the two, wondering which one would crack first.

The moment was interrupted by a flash of soft pink and bobbing green. Sassie stepped up on Applejack’s other side, pulled a black card out of the jumpsuit rolled up around her waist, and slapped it onto the counter. A picture of her beaming at the camera took up the center of the card, with the word “SECURITY” printed along the top and “SASSIE” along the bottom.

“Just get her what she wants,” Sassie said, shooting a friendly smirk toward Applejack. “She is the Prince’s guest, after all.”

The serving mare stiffened, the exhaustion in her eyes quickly replaced by fear. “Y-yes, ma’am! One apple!”

“Whoa, now, one apple ain’t gonna cut it!” Applejack raised a hoof, the serving mare standing still as a statue while she listened. “I’m gonna need at least a dozen apples, if that ain’t too much trouble.”

The serving mare glanced toward Sassie, received a firm nod, and jumped into motion.

Applejack turned to Sassie with a wide smile. “Thank ya kindly, partner. Sorry about the trouble. Nobody told us we’d need any ‘company scrip’ or nothin’ like that.”

Sassie beamed back at her. “It’s no problem, really! The Prince had me come down for this very reason, actually.” She paused as the serving mare returned with a tray laden down with gleaming red apples. “My, you must have a real love of apples!”

“Yeah, AJ, there’s no way you can eat all those apples,” Rainbow said, shaking her head in bemusement.

“Heck I can’t eat all these apples!” Applejack shot back. “Besides, I can just save the ones I don’t eat for later.”

With the issue of payment resolved, it only took Rainbow a minute to get her tray filled with as many carbs as she could fit—two baked potatoes, pasta slathered over the top, and a bowl of hay fries on the side—and for the trio to make their way to the empty end of a table.

The look on Applejack’s face as she bit into the first fruit could only be described as mild disappointment. “Hay, Rainbow,” she said, pushing the words out as she chewed, “it ain’t near as good as no Sweet Apple Acres apple, but it feels  like home.”

Sassie, who had taken a seat opposite the two friends, leaned forward intently. “You grew apples?”

“Sure as the red on my rear!” Applejack said. She paused to swallow before continuing with a proud grin. “My family grew the finest apples in all of Equestria for generations!”

“Oh?” Sassie cocked her head, eyes wide with interest. “Did you know the Prince grows these apples himself, here on the ship?”

“Really?” Applejack paused with the next apple already halfway to her muzzle. “Can we see it?”

It turned out they could. After speeding through the rest of their breakfast, Sassie led Rainbow and Applejack out the galley and toward the rear of the ship. The halls were mostly empty at this time, but those ponies they did pass were quick to get out of the way, dipping their heads and murmuring quiet greetings to the pink-coated mare in the lead before darting away. Sassie responded to each one with a kind smile of her own, talking all the while.

The Prince had purchased some apple seeds—an expensive commodity, they were assured—almost seven years ago, both to supplement the crew’s diet and as a new source of revenue. He’d had an orchard built along the top of the ship, and had already made plans for a shipboard brewery now it was fruiting. Applejack listened intently throughout the walk, asking several questions along the way, but Sassie waved them all off, assuring her that more educated ponies could speak to her once they arrived.

The tree talk didn’t especially interest Rainbow, so she kept her eye on their surroundings. There was no sunlight this deep in the ship, and the halls weren’t very well lit or maintained either. Bare piping could be seen in parts, sometimes with ponies in the process of repairing them. Sometimes a group of five to ten ponies would trot out of one hall, their jumpsuits soiled with sweat, and rush to disappear down another, but to Rainbow’s disappointment they never got to see where they were going or where they came from.

After several minutes a yellow line appeared on the wall, and they followed it to a wide elevator. Rainbow couldn’t get a good look at how many floors there were from where she stood on the left side of the lift, and before long they stepped out into clear daylight.

Rainbow blinked in surprise as she felt dirt underhoof. Indeed, the whole orchard, despite being contained by steel on four sides and glass on top, was covered in a thick layer of soil. A few dozen trees were lined up in neat rows running the length, with ponies in yellow jumpsuits making rounds with hoses, shovels, and wheelbarrows filled with tools.

“Here we are!” Sassie presented the long room with a flourish. “The very first Silverblood Orchard!”

“Hang on a minute.” Applejack frowned as she stepped up to the nearest tree. She extended a hoof, rubbing it softly against the bark before looking back. “This is it? This soil ain’t even three feet deep.”

Sassie blinked. She shot a glance toward Rainbow, who winked in response. “And how could you possibly know that?”

Applejack snorted. “Any Apple worth her mark could tell ya that. Y’all could work on yer drainage, too.” She brought her hoof down to the dirt, pushing down and causing a small puddle to form in her hoofprint. “That ain’t good for the roots. Heck, I wasn’t quite expectin’ a blue ribbon display, but this is just sad.”

“My, my. You certainly know your trees, dear Applejack.”

Rainbow stiffened. Her head whipped to the left, where Prince Silverblood was standing next to a tree with a wide, toothy smile. Gerritt was there as well, the griffon leaning against the tree and watching with quiet interest.

The other Sassie was standing behind Silverblood with a wide-eyed smile. She raised a hoof in an excitable wave. “Hey, sis!”

The Sassie standing next to Rainbow winked and blew a mock kiss to her twin. “Hey, filly!”

Had they been standing there when they’d entered the orchard, Rainbow wondered? She couldn’t help but feel as if she’d just been ambushed.

The Prince didn’t wait for any response. He stepped closer, coming up to Applejack’s side. “It’s a shame you weren’t here when the orchard was first planted. Am I correct in hearing that your talent regards apple farming?”

Applejack narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of y’all’s business, to be frank.”

“Oh, is it a trade secret?” He grinned, and Sassie suppressed a quiet giggle at his joking tone. “Pardon me, I hadn’t realized! But let’s just imagine for a moment that this was your talent, hmm? I would be willing to pay many bits for a mare of your skills.”

“I ain’t interested.” Applejack turned away with a disdainful grunt. “And don’t think I don’t see what ya did, leadin’ me up here just to make this offer.”

“Can you blame me? Ponies of such prodigious talent can make or break an investment, and I’ve invested quite some capital in these trees. Why, some ponies might even resort to violence to ensure a proper payoff down the road.” He chuckled as Applejack and Rainbow both glared in his direction. “Not that I’d ever do such a thing, of course! But a little hard sales tactics never hurt anyone.”

“This is stupid.” Rainbow’s tail lashed behind her as she beckoned with a flick of her head. “C’mon, AJ. Let’s head back to our cabins.”

“Oh, you won’t even hear me out?” Silverblood slid in front of them as they started back toward the elevator, teeth bared in a lopsided smile. “I never quite had the chance to finish my pitch earlier, you see. You know it’s bad luck for a pitch to go unfinished? A businesspony such as myself can scarcely sleep until I have my proper say.”

“Shove off!” Rainbow’s wings flared wide, and suddenly Gerritt was standing behind the grinning Prince. He didn’t say anything, or even move, but his presence alone was enough to give her pause.

Applejack let out an exasperated sigh. “Alright, fine. Go on and spit yer poison, ya snake. It won’t make no difference.”

Silverblood dipped his head in thanks, turning to face Applejack fully. “All the funding you could ever need. Unlimited freedom to nurture the trees as you see fit with a team of experienced farmhooves underneath you. A fair cut of the profits added on top of a salary that would make some of my merchants green with envy, as well as the usual benefits of high employment within my company.” One hoof slipped out of his layers of robes to gesture toward Sassie, who nodded emphatically. “Any of my Gifted could tell you that my benefits package is unrivaled within the trade fleets.”

“It’s true!” Sassie added. “Sometimes it barely even feels like I’m working!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “I ain’t no airpony, Silverblood. My hooves belong on good old-fashioned dirt—dirt that goes down as far as ya can dig—and these piddly three feet’s barely even enough to get my hooves dirty. I ain’t interested.”

She made to pass him, but he stepped in the way once more.

“Your own farm!”

She paused, one hoof frozen mid-air, and he pressed on.

“Of course an airship can’t compare to the real farm life, can it? I can provide you with land—real land, that would take you years to dig through. What was it you called your old farm, Sweet Apple Acres?”

Applejack’s lips pressed together as she stared at him.

“You could bring it back, with my help. I can provide land and seeds, and once you pay me back you’d be free to run the business however you wish, provided I get my cut of revenue! That’s what you want, isn’t it? To get your farm back?” He spread his hooves wide, gesturing to the stubby trees around them. “I can give that to you, and it won’t cost you a bit.”

For a long moment, Applejack didn’t say anything. Rainbow looked between her and Silverblood, wings half-flared. Could she actually be considering the offer? Silverblood’s smile grew wider still. “Well?”

Finally, Applejack gave a small, quick shake of her head. Her voice seemed strained when she spoke. “Sweet Apple Acres wasn’t just the farm and the trees.”

She brushed past him without another word. He twirled, robes fluttering around him and muzzle open as if to make yet another attempt, but Rainbow was in his face before he could make another sound.

“Shut up,” she hissed, lip curled back. “She already told you she isn’t interested, so screw off!”

Silverblood didn’t seem cowed. He looked up at her with an unabashed shrug. “It’s just business, my dear.”

A trio of sharp talons came to rest gently against Rainbow’s left shoulder, cutting off her rebuttal. Red heat surged inside her, followed by a sudden flare of pain in the gap where her left eye had been. She rounded on the griffon with a wordless snarl and slapped his claws away with a vicious swipe of her wing.

He stepped back, making no attempt to block her passage. Heart pounding, she followed after Applejack, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears budding in her eye.





It was a little strange, Anatami thought, not hearing the Frieslanders every day.

Not that the valley was especially quiet. A stone flung by a trebuchet still hit the ground with a crack sharp enough to make her ears ache, and even if the air wasn’t vibrating from cannonfire, when enough rifles got together it sounded almost like a string of firecrackers going off.

The fighting was the most frantic at dawn, when soldiers on both sides rose from their foxholes refreshed, driven toward the enemy by the shouts of sergeants that echoed faintly across the valley. There would be a great, long barrage of fire that rose to a fever pitch, each crack coming faster on the tail of the ones before it, and then the guns would fall silent as the baron troops closed into melee. A few lonely shots would still persist, like the last few kernels in a bowl of popcorn, but never for much longer.

Ana licked her lips. She could really go for some popcorn right then.

Navigating the valley was never easy. Any pony that looked stout enough to heft a rifle was likely to be accosted by roaming bluecoats, and unless they could supply written proof of their significance to the home front, they were dragged off to the lines. Blending into the crowd with a hood and a downcast expression simply wasn’t an option here.

It didn’t help that there was so much traffic going in every direction. It had been a full day since her arrival, and she still hadn’t even made it halfway to the imposing stone bulk of the Duchess’s keep. She had spent the day tucked away among the branches of a small copse of trees—one of the few that had survived the ponies’ aggressive hunger for farmland—watching as the sizable reserve of troops garrisoned around the keep rushed off to one front or another. The thick wall at the mouth of the valley held strong, but the defenses along the north and south ridges were far more tenuous, and so it was up to the small cadre of Friesland bluecoats stationed around the keep to rush off and secure the line when the Nettlekiss troops threatened to give ground. Sometimes they’d split in two and race to opposite sides of the valley, but for the most part they moved as one.

Ana was confident in her ability to bypass Nettlekiss’s guard, but the bluecoats would give her trouble. There were a hundred of them at least, every one armed with a rifle and proficient in its use. Once she did reach the keep, she’d have to wait for them to leave to bolster a front. And if she didn’t get back out before they returned, she might be forced to spend the night.

So she was forced to travel in the dark hours between sunrise and sunset, dodging the torch-bearing patrols that floated around the valley like motes of dust, dozens of eyes all searching for baronland infiltrators. The valley was all farms and farmhouses, leaving little in the way of cover, and if not for the fact that most of the locals had been forced out of their homes and into the trenches or atop the walls, she might have been caught already.

The chatter of an approaching patrol tickled at Ana’s ears, and with a muted curse she rolled out of the bush she’d been hiding in and picked her way downhill, toward a thatch-roofed stone hovel that looked largely abandoned. It was in good condition, most likely having lost its residents to the siege only days ago. If she was lucky, it would still have some food inside.

The farmers couldn’t afford glass or wood for their windows, so the only sound Ana made as she slipped inside was a soft rustling from the cloth curtains. She paused, holding her breath as the patrolling soldiers walked out of earshot.

She counted ten more seconds, listening for any sign of life within the hovel.

Nothing.

She set to work in earnest, going from cupboard to cupboard. She found a threadbare blanket and laid it out across a table, stacking her loot on top. Stale bread, sticks of celery, an onion and—jackpot—a clay jar of orange marmalade.

Movement. Ana’s ear twitched at the sound of light hooves on stone. In one swift motion she wrapped the blanket around her steal before stashing it in her saddlebags. With silent flaps of her wings, she took to the darkness of the ceiling.

Several seconds passed before a pegasus colt crept into the room. He was tall, probably just on the brink of adolescence, and if the dirt smudged into his pastel yellow coat and the chips in his little hooves were any indication, he’d been hard at work in the fields.

The colt scanned the room with wide eyes, barely breathing. His gaze fell on the open cupboards, and he rushed forwards with a stifled gasp.

“Cob?”

The foal stiffened as another colt stepped into view, a lit candle cradled on his back between his wings. He was about the same size as the first, and just as disheveled, with a coat only slightly darker. Brothers.

“They t-took our food,” Cob whimpered. “They took Ma ‘n Pa, and now we ain’t got no food either.”

“Who?” The colt ran up to one of the open cupboards, holding the candle higher to peer inside one. “Did they take th’ jam?”

“Of course they took th’ jam, Mash!” Cob spat. “Them city folk couldn’t leave us anythin’, could they?”

Oddly, Mash didn’t seem to have any reaction to this. After a few seconds checking the other cupboards, he turned back the way he’d came. “We should go back t’ bed. Plant’s’ll still need tendin’ in th’ mornin’, and maybe Ms. Hazel’ll help if we ask nice.”

Ana grimaced as she watched the two young brothers slink back to their bedroom. These kids had probably had their parents conscripted and were left to tend to the farm themselves, and now she’d gone and stolen what was most likely the last of the food their parents had left them.

She let out a heavy sigh before dropping from her hiding spot. She unfurled her makeshift loot bag and placed the bread and onion back on the table, as well as half of the celery.

Last was the orange marmalade. She licked her lips as she looked down at the little jar of sweetness, considering her options. It wasn’t that filling on its own, so it wasn’t like she’d be particularly hurting the kids if she took it with her, right? It could be a little splash of color in her days, a shock of flavor to accent whatever scraps she scrounged around the valley whenever she found a place to rest. She could even bring it back to Gava as a gift. Her mouth began to water as she thought of the possibilities.

The kids could probably use the color far more than she could, though.

It only took her a few seconds to open the top, dip a stick of celery inside, and pop the end into her mouth. A shiver passed through her as she relished the flavor, but only for a moment.

She slipped back out the window and into the valley, leaving the jar and ten bits on the table.





It was a quiet night in Friesland, and Rarity was taking full advantage of it.

She and Pinkie had accepted River Pie’s invitation for drinks, spending several daytime hours with the eager ex-bandit in the humble apartment she’d rented above a rather noisy carpenter’s shop while they traded stories about their past. River had been enraptured by their stories of the old Equestria, and Rarity had been equally interested—if at times disturbed—by their host’s tales of youth in the Altalusian countryside. Pinkie had been notably more energetic in both her storytelling and her drinking then Rarity had, and so Rarity was granted a rare moment of peace while the excitable mare slept the day off with quiet snores on their bed.

Now it was just her, the soft pattering of rain against the window, and the thin book floating in her magic.

At not even twenty pages, Rarity wasn’t sure if “book” was the right term. Pamphlet, perhaps? The cover was plain, with the title, A Treatise on Harmony, printed in clean black letters along the top, and the author’s name lining the bottom in small, blocky type. Whitehorn.

She’d found it downstairs, on the top shelf of Piaffe’s little book collection. It was so thin that she’d nearly passed it over; sandwiched between a book on military doctrine and a photo album, she could almost believe it was meant to be hidden.

Piaffe herself had been asleep, thankfully. The mare was sprawled out on the rug in front of the hearth, coat bundled up into a makeshift pillow, and Rarity had been forced to gingerly step around her, heart pounding at the thought of having to explain why she was sneaking about the common room at night.

She was safe in her room now, but the butterflies still flitted about in her stomach, and she wasn’t certain as to why. It’s just a book, she assured herself. You’ve read hundreds of books in your life, and it’s not like you didn’t know he was a writer. A lady should not shy away from mere words on paper.

She remained still, eyeing the cover. She peeled a corner of the paper up with her magic as she bit her lip.

Surely he isn’t trying to hide anything from me.

No, such a notion was outrageous. Whitehorn had always been honest with her and noble of heart, even if he’d had a few moments of weakness during their time together. You’re stressing over nothing, Rarity. Did you expect him to give you a sealed list of everything he’d ever written? Let’s get this over with, and it’ll make for a pleasant breakfast chat in the morning.

Shaking her head at her own antics, Rarity flipped to the first page and began to read.

“Across the Islands, a ghost lingers from the age of Old Equestria: Harmony.”

The text began with a quick—albeit sensational—summary of Equestrian history. Whitehorn wrote of the floods, and how the Equestrian ideals of Harmony had brought ponykind together during its darkest hour to ensure their continued survival. A small smile pulled at her lips as she read of ponies helping one another, as they once did in her own time, and she let out a breath of relief as she realized that she truly had been worrying over nothing.

But it wasn’t to last. Over time friendship was eroded by hardship and gradually subsumed by self-interest—or in Whitehorn’s words, greed. As he put it, it had cost ponykind their Harmony, and with that, their magic.

“In light of this,” he wrote, “I hold these truths to be self-evident:



That Harmony is the birthright of all Equestrians.

That it is the responsibility of all Equestrians to restore Harmony.”


The text spoke on at length on these two points, affirming and reaffirming the significance of Harmony and the necessity of its restoration. Whitehorn wrote of the oppression of ponies across Equestria; of peasants and factory workers and crewponies ground down to a scant existence under the careless hooves of barons, politicians, and merchants; and the Gifted, expounding on how they were used as tools of oppression against the lower classes. Rarity found herself nodding with a growing smile as she read along.

He went on to focus more on the Gifted, emphasizing the power they held and lamenting how it was used for so little good in the world, and he wrote of his idea of the Gifted Table, a single body of Gifted ponies that could restore the old order. “As the mantle of Harmony was once borne by the Princesses of Old Equestria, Celestia and Luna, so shall the Gifted become the new Pillars of Equestria, Servants of the People, Guardians of Harmony.”

Rarity’s smile faltered, though only for a moment. Servants of the people? She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that one. The Princesses had certainly never felt like servants to her. They were more like watchful mothers, protecting their little ponies from their own folly while helping them flourish by their own merits.

Perhaps it was just a turn of phrase. She could bring it up with him over breakfast.

The next section discussed his plans for making the Gifted Table a reality, for getting it passed in Parliament against the wishes of those few powerful ponies who would be against the notion. Oddly, the text seemed to gloss over how it would get the Gifted themselves involved.

“Even if it shall take those resistant to our idea to die from old age, that small Act will have set in motion the process toward the new Harmonic society.”

Rarity let out a thoughtful hum as she turned to the next page. Surely any who objected at first would come around as soon as they saw the benefits of the new system? She didn’t like the idea of simply waiting out those who disagreed—Harmony should exist in the hearts of all ponies, not just the ones who outlived the rest.

She continued reading.

“The importance of Harmony is that we must punish every slack, every waste with extreme prejudice. Furthermore, to ensure that Harmony will be maintained even a century from now, all Gifted must serve. The soul of Equestria cannot be left in the idiosyncratic hooves of independent Gifted. A Gifted must devote their life to serve the Islands, their whole life if possible. As soon as it is known, they must leave their old life behind and journey to the Table to serve.”

“What?” Rarity’s brow furrowed. It sounded almost like he wanted to force Gifted to serve against their will, but that couldn’t be right. Whitehorn had never tried to make her do anything she didn’t want to, and the idea of him forcing ponies into a life of servitude felt more like some surreal joke than any actual possibility.

She read the rest of the text in a blur, not truly processing the words. It was more rhetoric about the significance of Harmony, of Whitehorn’s dedication to the cause even if he didn’t live to see it himself, and a brief section on how the restoration of Harmony would stop the islands from falling. She took it all in without thought.

That one paragraph continued to linger at the forefront of her mind as she read. What did he mean by “extreme prejudice?” And what would he do to any Gifted who didn’t want to dedicate their entire lives to public service?

A deep frown had marred Rarity’s muzzle by the time she closed the book, matched only by the unease settling in her gut. The rain drummed against the windowpanes, and she drew her scarf tighter about her.

She glanced back to the bed, watching Pinkie Pie’s chest rise and fall with her snores. Had Whitehorn been trying to hide this from her? No, that would be preposterous. Hiding a published book? There must be some misunderstanding.

Yes, that must be it. She could talk to him about it over breakfast, clear up the details that bothered her, and then she could focus once more on her efforts to stop the war. She set the book down on her bedside table, raised a hoof to pull back her sheets, and hesitated.

A tired groan escaped her. She wouldn’t be able to sleep with this nonsense bouncing around in her head.

It wasn’t so late yet, was it? Perhaps he hadn’t gone to bed yet.

Even if he had, he would understand if she woke him. He was always courteous and polite.

She winced at the click of the door as she stepped out into the hall and shut it behind her. A bluecoat stallion was stationed at the window at the end of the hall, opposite the stairs, and he watched her with an impassive stare. She shot him a quick smile. He didn’t smile back.

Taking a deep breath, Rarity adjusted her mane with a hoof and delivered two hesitant knocks to the door opposite her own.

There was no answer for several seconds, and Rarity shifted her weight from side to side as her nerves grew stronger. She could feel the bluecoat staring into the side of her head, and she looked over to shoot him another quick, flustered smile.

He didn’t smile back.

She jumped as the door swung open before her. Pontius squinted out at her, blinking in surprise, before straightening up. “Did ye need anything, my Lady?”

He sounded almost hopeful. She grimaced at the realization that he probably wouldn’t take well to what she was about to say. “I had actually been hoping to speak to Whitehorn, darling.”

“Ah.” His expression fell, but she only caught a glimpse of it before he turned back to the room. “She’s asking fer ye.”

There was a brief shuffling of hooves, and soon it was Whitehorn facing her from across the threshold. “Countess?”

“Could we talk?” Rarity leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s about your book. The one in Captain Piaffe’s collection?”

He arched a brow, lips quirking up into a bemused smile. “Surely it could wait until breakfast? I was just preparing for bed.”

“No, it can’t,” Rarity said, sharper than she had intended. “I’d like to speak to you now, please.”

“Of course.” He stepped back, opening the door wider, and beckoned her in with a shallow bow.

The room was identical in shape to Rarity and Pinkie’s, but far more spartan—as made sense, Rarity figured, considering that it was the guest room. While Rarity and Pinkie had been enjoying the use of Piaffe’s bed and other personal furnishings, Whitehorn and Pontius had little more than a pair of narrow bunks and a single wardrobe. It looked like they’d been using their own luggage as furniture, with several papers and writing instruments scattered over a metal chest, and Pontius’s breastplate leaned against a corner on the floor.

“I apologize for the untimely intrusion,” Rarity said, stopping in the center of the room. “I’m afraid it just can’t wait.”

Pontius frowned. He was leaned against his bedframe, eyes attentively kept on her. “What troubles ye, my Lady?”

“Well…” She hesitated, grimacing. “Pontius, darling, perhaps you could step out for a moment? This is somewhat of a private matter.”

He cocked his head, brow furrowing. “A private matter?”

Rarity nodded. “Between Whitehorn and myself.”

“More private than ye can share with yer own husband?”

Rarity blinked. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came to her.

Pontius sighed, pursing his lips into a tight line before pressing on. “I don’t understand why ye treat me like a colt, Rarity. I am yer husband, am I not? Do I not treat ye fairly?”

“Now, Pontius,” Whitehorn cautioned, stepping in front of him. “I’m sure she meant no offense.”

“Her meanin’ is irrelevant to this matter!” Pontius snapped, making the smaller stallion flinch back. He brushed past Whitehorn, keeping his eyes on Rarity’s. “Ye’re makin’ a mockery of me, mare! I haven’t slept in the same room with ye since we made our vows! I come into this city lookin’ to support ye, against the wishes of my own father, and yet ye barely involve me in yer matters at all! Ye barely even speak to me unless ye need somethin’!” He groaned as he fell back onto his haunches, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. “And now ye come knockin’ in the middle of the night so ye can ask me to step out of my own quarters? So ye can speak to another stallion?!”

Rarity raised a hoof. “Pontius—”

“What have I got to do, Rarity?” he pleaded. He reached out, taking her hoof into his own, and she couldn’t find the heart to pull it back. “I know ye didn’t want this union, aye! I didn’t want things to happen this way neither, but I’m tryin’ to make this work, and I—” he took a deep breath, his voice going hoarse. “I’d just like for ye to meet me halfway.”

Rarity sighed. She stepped forwards, pulling the shivering young stallion into a hug. “You’re right. I haven’t been treating you fairly, and I’m sorry.” She ran a hoof over his muscled back as he leaned into her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. “It’s just—well, there’s no excuse really, is there? No good one, anyways.” She let out a soft titter before stepping back, looking him in the eyes. “I’d like you to stay.”

He nodded, lingering anger, joy, and relief all passing over his expression in quick flashes. “G-good.”

Rarity offered him a reassuring smile. “Good. Now, then.” The smile fell away as she looked past him, to where Whitehorn had been politely averting his gaze on the other side of the room. “I want to talk about your work, A Treatise on Harmony.”

Whitehorn nodded. “One of my proudest pieces. I remember it well.”

“And yet you never mentioned it to me?” Rarity asked. “I hadn’t been aware you’d ever written more than the standard articles.”

He shrugged, a wry smile coming onto his face. “If you’d like me to recount the history of my career, Countess, I’d be more than happy to oblige you. Frankly, I’ve yet to meet a mare outside the business who sees my kind as anything more than a pest.”

“I’m not joking, Whitehorn,” Rarity said. “Some of the things you’ve written in that pamphlet are downright concerning. Have you been hiding it from me?”

He frowned, brow furrowing. “Countess, have I ever given you any reason to doubt my honesty? You’ll simply have to trust me when I say that it was a simple oversight. And if I was trying to hide anything from you, a political piece I published years ago would be a long lost cause.” The wry smile came back as he slid into his bed. “Would you sit? Tell me what’s troubling you.”

With a glance toward Pontius, Rarity walked over and took a seat in the opposite bed. Pontius sat beside her, keeping some distance, but still close enough for her to feel his warmth. She didn’t pull away.

“What’s troubling me,” she began, pausing to consider her words. “Well, I think maybe I’m misinterpreting some of your writing. It sounds almost like you intend to conscript Gifted into the Table against their will.”

He nodded. “That is the message the text aims to convey, yes.”

Rarity blinked. She had expected some sort of denial, or at least an attempt at concealment. Unsure of how to respond, she tried another tack. “And… you wrote we should enforce Harmony with, ah, ‘extreme prejudice.’ Perhaps you could elaborate on the meaning there?”

“Meaning no breach in Harmony should be allowed,” Whitehorn said. “Those who attempt to subvert it should be punished swiftly and irrevocably. I think young Pontius here would agree that the threat of death goes a long way to keeping ponies in line.”

Pontius nodded. “Aye. It’s been the traditional punishment fer banditry fer centuries.” Rarity shot him a sideways look, and he shrugged. “I support ye in yer decisions, Countess, but I won’t lie and tell ye I think it was wise to have those bandits released.”

“One of those bandits has become my friend since then,” Rarity reminded him. “And she’s done much good in the city.”

Pontius grimaced, but he didn’t back down. “Aye, one. But there were six bandits.”

Rarity huffed as she turned back to Whitehorn. Why wasn’t he denying anything? How could he talk about these things as routinely as he might discuss the weather? The rain picked up outside, beating a staccato rhythm against the rooftop. She was so stunned by it all that she wasn’t even sure if she should be angry. “It just seems… unlike you, Whitehorn. Ever since I met you I’ve felt like we saw things the same way, like we needed to make Equestria more like it used to be, but this doesn’t match at all! We never forced ponies to do anything against their will in my time! And we certainly never threatened them with death!”

Whitehorn cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, I think I see what’s going on here.”

Rarity let out a sigh of relief. “So it is a misunderstanding?”

He nodded, smile widening. “Yes, Countess. You see, in politics there is often a significant gap between what one says and what one wants.”

Rarity arched a brow. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“It’s a matter of posturing,” Whitehorn explained. “By presenting a strong position, I attract far more popular support than I ever could with an actual reasonable proposition. Ponies are not happy with the way the world is, Countess, and there are some that would never give me a second thought if I told them I would politely ask the Gifted they resent to make their lives better. I’m merely speaking with a voice they’ll relate to.”

“But surely they’ll expect you to follow through on these matters?” Rarity asked. “Or is it all a lie?”

“Not a lie, exactly. More like… a lofty goal.” He shrugged. “Inevitably compromises will have to be made in the political process, and the end result will be more relaxed. More reasonable. Some of my supporters may grumble, but they’ll come around once they see their lives improve.”

“I don’t know, darling. It feels like lying to me.”

“Ah, Rarity.” Whitehorn sighed. “This is what I love about you. You always speak your heart, and it’s always in the right place. If nothing else, your presence at my side will keep your worst fears from coming to pass.”

“Of course if you do step out of line, I shall have to take action,” she said, shooting him a sideways glance. He held her gaze, and a moment later she broke out into a nervous giggle. “Oh, this is a relief! Here I was beginning to worry I’d thrown in behind the wrong pony.”

“Well,” Whitehorn said, a bright smile on his face, “I’m certainly glad I could help put those fears to rest.”
> XVII: Of Hopes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight grimaced, trying not to squirm under the piercing gazes of the ponies around her.

There were only a few, thankfully. She’d been whisked away to some secluded cell as soon as she convinced the strange ponies living in the mountain that she wasn’t an immediate threat, her hooves all clasped in sturdy chains and spears pointed at her throat by at least two soldiers at any given moment. She’d been given perhaps ten minutes to collect herself while the mountain ponies deliberated among themselves as to her fate, and then the questioning had begun.

It started out simple enough. Who was she? Where had she come from? What was she?

The truth wasn’t an option, so she improvised. Luckily, Twilight had been in this situation before, back when Sea Sabre’s salvage team had first found her and her friends, so she based her story off that. She told them that she was lost, that she didn’t know what happened, that she wanted to find her friends.

They weren’t satisfied, and Twilight couldn’t blame them. Ponies would cycle in and out of her cell, asking the same questions in a hundred variations, leaving her alone for short periods while they thought of what to ask next. It was exhausting.

Midnight had been oddly silent throughout it all. Twilight would’ve expected the proud entity to protest the instant she let them shackle her in chains, to demand that they break free, slaughter everyone in sight, and resume their journey north, but no. She could feel it inside, withdrawn back to that dark corner of her mind where it seemed most comfortable. Like the ponies around her, it, too, seemed to be mulling over some mystery.

Twilight wasn’t too worried. She expected it would come back soon enough, as irritable and demanding as ever, so she used the rare solace to analyze her surroundings.

There wasn’t much to see from where she was, and she didn’t want to risk antagonizing her hosts by sending out magic pings. She was in a small, windowless room of hewn stone with a single thick iron door—a prison cell.

In contrast, she had learned much from the questions she’d been asked. She knew that she was in a mining colony on the far northern edge of modern Equestria. Rather than a miraculous holdout of pre-flood Equestria that had survived underwater for centuries, she’d stumbled across a subsurface facility not even fifty years old.

In some ways it was even more impressive than an ancient Equestrian survivor would’ve been. These ponies found this mountain peak far north of their homes, over a hundred meters underwater, and burrowed their way into its core in search of precious metals, pumping out countless tons of water and building the infrastructure to haul cargo to and from the surface! If she wasn’t so worried about them branding her a corporate spy, she could’ve spent hours questioning them.

But these were hard ponies. They were rough in every way. They were the type of ponies who left the world behind, traveled to the furthest frontier of the charted world, and risked death daily to carry out the jobs they’d taken on.

“So let me get this straight.” Brandey Buck, the pegasus mare who Twilight had learned was a shift manager in the colony, stared her down with unconcealed skepticism. “You want us to believe that you woke up in the middle of our mountain, no memory of how you got here, slit-eyes dripping blood and fangs in your mouth, met Bag End—who ye claim was out alone—fought off a crystal spider on your own, and then teleported past our main lock looking for a doctor?”

Twilight gulped. Her eyes darted between the two other ponies listening in, both with equally suspicious scowls. “Y-yes?”

The earth stallion to her left—who everyone referred to only as ‘Proud’—cleared his throat. “I think I’ve got a more plausible story,” he growled. “Yer employer inserted ye via submarine near one of our drainage tunnels. Ye ambushed Bag End and his partner, butchered one of ‘em, made up some drivel ’bout a crystal spider, and then teleported past our main lock disguised as some kinda wyrd, hopin’ t’ compromise our shell in the chaos!”

Twilight had been distraught when the questioning first began, but by now the distress had given way to an exhausted persistence. “I just wanted to help,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m t-telling the truth.”

“I think it’s pretty clear to everyone here you aren’t telling the truth.” Her third interrogator, a unicorn mare named Peony Burrows, seemed to be the one in charge. She didn’t speak often, but the others always listened when she did. “We’re miners, not idiots.” She leaned in, narrowing her eyes curiously. “What do you even have to lose in honesty? A common pony would get themselves popped for attempted sabotage, but a Gifted?

“No, I expect you’d do just fine. You give up one employer and whichever heartless richling owns this dump now would be sure to sign you on without hesitation.” She shook her head with a sigh. “Do you really think whatever sub dropped you off is still out there? We’ve gone through a whole shift since you were caught, filly. They’ve already written you off as a loss.”

“I—I’m not a spy!” Twilight insisted. How many times had she told them that now? “Please, I haven’t hurt anyone.”

Brandey snorted. “Care to explain the chunks of meat we found in your bag, then?” Her lip curled back as she shook her head. “Disgusting, butchering a pony like that.”

Why are we still here, little flower?

Twilight stiffened. Midnight was standing in the shadows behind her three interrogators, its expression distant.

These chains are bereft of magic, it observed, gesturing towards the cold iron around her hooves. We could leave at any moment.

“What’re ye lookin’ at?” Proud’s brow furrowed as he glanced in Midnight’s direction.

Brandey’s tail flicked about behind her as she turned to Peony. “This mare’s wasting our time. She ain’t gonna give us anything.”

I just—Twilight froze as she scrambled to supply a sufficient excuse—I don’t want to frighten them.

Midnight cocked its head. We have already frightened them.

Peony quirked her lip. “Yep, you’re right. Celestia knows corporate won’t give us overtime for this. You two get some rest. I’ll write it up.”

The three ponies filed out of the cell, followed shortly by the pair of spear-bearing guards. They kept the tips of their weapons trained on Twilight’s throat every step of the way, lowering them only to quickly slam the iron door shut.

The loud bang of the door slamming rang in Twilight’s ears. Once again, she was alone with Midnight.

You’re overflowing with lies, my sweet blossom, Midnight cooed. It was next to her now, leaning its cold phantom form against her side. You lied to them about our purpose, and now you lie to yourself about yours. When will you learn?

Twilight sighed. Her ears drooped as she looked down at her hooves. Midnight peered back up at her, reflected in the stone as if it was water. I was hoping things would go better than this.

New friends. Midnight frowned as it said the words, sounding them out as if they were foreign to it. Explain this.

What?

You claimed it as your goal earlier, did you not? Explain.

Twilight furrowed her brow. I don’t understand the question. You know what friends are.

It nodded. Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy. It recited the names like it was reading from a list. Our friends. None of them are here. It arched a brow. Why do you concern yourself with the lives of the worms that dwell in this mountain?

They’re ponies, Twilight corrected. Not worms.

They are beneath our attention.

Why? Twilight leaned in, tucking her legs underneath her as she came almost nose-to-nose with her dark reflection. Why are they beneath us?

They are not our friends, and they are not monsters. Midnight cocked its head, eyeing her like a teacher regarding a particularly slow student. There is no reason we would ever think of them.

They could become our friends.

Midnight frowned. For a long time it didn’t say anything. No, they can’t.

Why not?

We have five friends, it said. We have always had five friends.

Twilight let out a tired sigh. She closed her eyes, pulling her senses inwards, and when she opened them she was in her old library.

Of course it wasn’t really her library. She could smell the flavorful spices of Spike’s cooking, but she knew if she followed the scent she would see only an empty kitchen. Owloysius’s cage waited by the door, empty, the bars stained with old blood. Every curtain was drawn tight, leaving the room dim except for the slowly shifting red glow that bloomed past them, casting barely visible shadows that seemed to creep around the corners of her vision.

Midnight was seated at her reading table, a blank book opened before it. It watched her curiously as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, and when she opened the door it was waiting for her inside, perched on the edge of the bed.

Twilight’s horn glowed, and the lavender aura of her magic wrapped around a small picture frame propped up on her bedside table. “You share my memories, right? Or you can see them?”

Midnight nodded, so she levitated the picture up to its bloodied eyes. It was an image Twilight knew well. She’d spent hundreds of mornings of waking up, rolling over, and smiling at that moment frozen in time, of her with her five closest friends all together on a sunny Ponyville day.

“They weren’t always my friends, you know,” Twilight said. “We’ve only known each other for a couple years, really.”

Midnight frowned. “And before that?”

“I didn’t really understand friendship before that.”

“But they are our friends now.” Midnight frowned, looking away as it thought. “How did you compel them like this?”

“You can see my memories,” Twilight said leadingly. She gave the photograph a little shake. “Guess.”

Midnight’s brow furrowed. It looked up to Twilight, then back to the picture, and repeated the motion a couple more times. Finally it looked away with a disdainful scoff, its tail whipping out behind it. “This is a foalish waste of time. We should leave this place and resume our journey to the Frozen North.”

Twilight smiled patiently. “We were kind to each other. We shared our experiences with each other, made new ones together, and supported each other in our goals.” She turned the picture toward herself, her smile growing wider as she thought back to the memories. “That’s how you make new friends.”

“But what is the point?” Midnight asked. “You’ve yet to make any new friends since the floods. It must not be very important.”

“Well, sure I have!” Twilight said. “Dusty Tome and Star Trails are my friends, and I’d like to think Sea Sabre and Flintlock—even Crazy Rich—are, in their own ways.”

Midnight scoffed. “Nonsense. I have been in tune with your emotions since my creation, little flower. What you feel for those weaklings is nothing like what you feel for our friends.”

“Friendship is a spectrum, Midnight,” Twilight explained. “I may not be as close to Star Trails as I am with Pinkie Pie, but she’s still my friend. And could you please stop insulting everyone?”

It arched a brow. “It is not an insult to refer to a weakling as what it is.”

Twilight rolled her eyes as she replaced the photograph back on her bedside table. “Would you insult one of my friends?”

“Our real friends or your false ones?”

Twilight shot it an exasperated look.

It responded with a satisfied smirk. “No, I would not.”

“My friends weren’t always my friends, and any pony we meet could become my friend, so you might end up insulting a future friend.” She leaned in. “And that would be bad, right?”

Midnight seemed to think about this for a few seconds. “Why do we want new friends?”

“Because…” Twilight hesitated, considering the question. If she went at this from her own perspective, of making new friends because they enriched her life or made her happy, no doubt Midnight would dismiss the notion. She had to try and phrase it in a way that it would understand. “Because friends make you stronger. If you face someone more powerful than you, friends can help you overcome it. And we want to be the strongest, right?”

“We already are the strongest,” Midnight said, though not with its usual force. It was frowning down at its hooves, brow furrowed deep in thought. “If we wish to make these ponies our friends, why are you lying to them?”

Twilight blinked. She was back in the pitch-black prison cell, the door swinging open and striking the stone wall with a ponderous thud. How long had she been left alone? A pair of spearponies entered first, weapons trained on her, followed by Peony Burrows and another, limping stallion. It took her a moment to recognize him.

“Bag End!” She smiled as she stood, only to freeze as the spearponies stepped closer. “Y-you’re okay!”

“So I am.” He winced, a hoof rising to cradle his barrel. The uniform he’d been wearing when she met him was gone, replaced by a loose-fitting jumpsuit of plain brown fabric. “Some broken ribs, but I’ll survive, thanks to you.”

“He got lucky,” Peony said. She kept her eyes on Twilight as she spoke, watching intently. “The spider seems to have bitten him around one of his suit’s support rings.”

Bag sighed as he sat heavily against the wall. “A shame you weren’t able to save my partner.”

Partner? But he had been alone when she found him. Proud had mentioned her killing his partner as well, hadn’t he? She was just about to ask him what he meant when she caught the meaningful look in his eye.

She put on an uneasy smile. “I did my best.”

Peony cleared her throat, grabbing Twilight’s attention. “So Bag here has verified that you saved him from a spider, luckily for you. What he has not verified is how you managed to get into our mines, or the cause behind your—” she narrowed her eyes “—appearance.”

She left the statement hanging. Twilight glanced over to Bag, and when she looked back to Peony she saw Midnight standing in the background, watching with a neutral expression.

It was surreal, that after so long with her dark passenger whispering for her to maim and slaughter and dominate, when she finally did meet new ponies, it was Midnight of all ponies that seemed to better know how to befriend them. Lies would only lead to more lies and more trouble. If she wanted these ponies to trust her, then she’d have to give them the truth, no matter how much it might frighten them. No matter how much it might frighten her.

And so, taking a deep breath, Twilight began to speak.





Jab, cut, spin, kick. There was the thud of impact, and the grunt from Sea Sabre as Rainbow’s hoof connected.

She whirled, ready to capitalize, but Sabre was quick to recover. The other pegasus pushed herself back along the floor with her wings before rolling to her hooves, out of range.

Rainbow and Applejack spent the day after the unwanted conversation with Silverblood in their cabin, each of the mares brooding over her respective grievances. The day passed slowly, broken up only by Star Trails inviting them to join her for dinner and then returning later with some apples and bread when they’d declined. The preening session brightened both their moods somewhat; it had been awkward at first, but before long both of them were laughing at Applejack’s clumsy attempts to fix Rainbow’s feathers and Rainbow’s mock exasperation at guiding her.

Still, the small relief from Applejack’s companionship was nothing compared to the mental oblivion that Rainbow found in sparring with Sea Sabre.

She pressed her advantage, blasting Sabre with gusts of wind from her wings to keep her off balance before closing in. Sabre ducked left as she deflected a blow, disappearing into Rainbow’s blind side.

Rainbow’s grin turned to a scowl. Sabre was always exploiting her blind side in their spars, using it to get around her defense. Just like Gerritt.

She flapped a wing, twirling in the air to bring a blade down on Sabre with a sudden surge of fury. She clenched her jaw as Sabre blocked the blow, the painful feedback flaring up Rainbow’s wing.

The brutality of the strike was enough to force Sabre to the ground with a hiss of alarm, and Rainbow was on her in an instant. She straddled her tutor without hesitation and brought both blades to her neck, ending the bout.

The grin came back twice as strong. “Dead.”

Rainbow sucked in a deep breath, straining to hold the position despite the burning in her muscles. She stared into Sabre’s eyes expectantly as her chest heaved.

Sabre gave a little nod. “Dead.”

Rainbow stepped back and helped Sabre back to her hooves. The gymnasium aboard the Orichalcum was everything Rainbow could’ve asked for. Weight machines and treadmills of all varieties dominated half the room, with the rest dedicated to an open area for sparring or calisthenics. A hallway on one side led to a couple buckball courts, and there was even a small side section cordoned off with showers and lockers.

It was still morning, and there were only a few other ponies there besides them, all sporting the black jumpsuits that Rainbow had come to associate with the ship’s security, so they’d taken full advantage of the space. It was exhilarating to be able to stretch her wings and lose herself in the rush of adrenaline again.

“Are you getting old, Sabre?” Rainbow asked as they walked over to the bench where they’d left their water. “Or am I getting good?”

Sabre winced as she sat down, grabbing her old canteen and taking a long drink.  “Bit of the first, kind of the second.”

Rainbow chuckled. “You sure you aren’t taking it easy on me? That was four in a row.”

“I’m afraid not.” Sabre gave her a sidelong look. “Your form is sloppy, your strikes lack precision, and you drop your guard half the time you attack.” The corner of her lip pulled up into a small smirk. “If you weren’t so strong and fast, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Rainbow paused. After some deliberation, she decided to take the comment as a compliment. “Well, I am the most awesome pegasus in Equestria.”

“I’d tell you not to be so cocky, but with your performance lately, you’d probably ignore it.” Sabre sighed, standing up and stretching her wings. “I think we’re done with sparring.”

“Whoa, what?” Rainbow shot out of her seat. “We’ve barely started!”

Sabre arched a brow. “You need a partner on your level to learn with sparring, Rainbow Dash. You fight with several bad habits, but at this point your grasp of the fundamentals is solid enough that your physical excellence more than makes up for them.”

“So—” Rainbow bit her lip “—does that mean we’re done with my training?”

Sabre gave a curt shake of her head. “Negative. There are still drills you can do on your own to improve, and I can still coach you on technique even if I can’t beat it into you. For today, though, we are done. I’ll need to draw up some new plans.”

“Ugh, fine.” Rainbow sighed. “I guess I’ll do some solo practice, then.”

“Just don’t forget to clean your wingblades and take a shower after,” Sabre said. “The Argo should be flight-ready tomorrow. You’ve been doing a good job keeping your head down. Keep it up.”

Rainbow grinned, puffing her chest out. “Yes, ma’am!”

With a satisfied nod, Sabre turned and made for the locker area, leaving Rainbow on her own. After taking a few more seconds to sate her thirst and catch her breath, she threw herself back into her practice.

It wasn’t the same as sparring, of course. There was no competitive rush, no mindless tempo that she could lose herself in as she dedicated herself in body and mind to the defeat of an opponent. Drills gave her time to think whenever she stopped to reset her position, gave her time to see her own mistakes instead of leaving them behind in the frantic pace of a duel.

But it was better than nothing. She saw Sabre leaving the gym, refreshed after a shower, but didn’t spare the other mare much thought. It was true that she’d been winning almost all of their bouts today, and she could already feel herself receding into the same predictable patterns with every fight. It didn’t matter if Sabre knew exactly what she was going to do, because she was always there first.

Rainbow wasn’t sure how long she spent in that arena alone refining her motions; she’d learned long ago that looking at the clock only made time slow to a crawl and unwanted thoughts to creep into the back of her mind. She would go until she couldn’t go any longer, as she always had, even before the floods.

That was the plan, at least.

“Ah, Rainbow Dash!” Prince Silverblood’s lilting voice shook her from her trance. “You certainly strike a menacing figure, my dear!”

Rainbow looked up. Silverblood was watching her from a balcony set above the arena, previously unnoticed by her. Gerritt stood behind him, seeming half-asleep.

“What do you want?” Rainbow asked, unable to keep the contempt out of her voice. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested!”

“Oh, is that any way to talk to your host?” Silverblood winked as he leaned against the balcony railing. “I’m merely here to observe you in action! Everyone has need of security, after all, and it’s always good to keep an eye on the competition.”

“You wanna see me in action? Come a little closer.” Rainbow’s nostrils flared. “I’ll give you all the action you could ever need.”

He laughed, almost doubling over in amusement. “You’re quite the mare, Rainbow Dash! But I don’t pay for others to manage my well-being so that I can go about challenging Gifted to duels.” He let out an exaggerated hum as he looked to his side. “I would be quite interested to see how you fare against my dear Gerritt, however.”

Rainbow stiffened. She looked to Gerritt, who had now abandoned any pretense of laziness to regard her with a hawkish stare. A thrill of cold fear ran over her, but it was quickly burned up by a swell of anger. Why should she fear any griffon? Her lip curled back as she thought to the previous day, to him daring to touch her. She would make him pay for that.

“You’re on.”

Gerritt’s wingspan was impressive. It was nearly twice her own, and it cast a menacing shadow over the arena as he stepped off the balcony and glided down to land before her. He took a moment to ruffle his feathers before looking back up to his employer. “Rules?”

“Put your gloves on,” Silverblood said. “I’d hate to give her any new scars with those talons of  yours.”

“No gloves!” Rainbow spat. “I’ve fought griffons before. This’ll be nothing.”

“Oh, you have, have you?” Silverblood mused. “Is that what happened to your eye, then?”

“Shut up!” Rainbow’s tail whipped about behind her as she flared her wings, feeling the weight of her blades. “Let’s go!”

She launched herself forward before anyone could say anything else, blasting the room behind her with a powerful gust of wind that sent a few weights crashing to the ground with ear-splitting cracks. She had just enough time to see Gerritt’s eyes shoot wide in surprise before she slammed into him with both forelegs outstretched, throwing him into the air.

His wings snapped open, arresting his fall. Rainbow grinned as they both faced each other down mid-air. He’s not so tough!

Excited applause rang out from Silverblood’s balcony. “Bravo, but don’t stop already! The fight’s not over until first blood!”

Gerritt risked an alarmed glance up at his employer before looking back to Rainbow, just in time to dodge her next charge. She roared in fury, twisting around mid-air to charge him again, and he lashed out with his talons.

She ducked to the left, easily avoiding the blow and delivering a kick to his side with the hard tip of her hoof as she passed. He grunted, losing altitude before catching himself a few feet off the floor.

Rainbow flew lazy circles around him, keeping him on her right. It would’ve been trivial for her to dash in and land a hit with her wingblades, drawing blood and winning the bout, but she didn’t want to just win. She wanted to dominate this griffon. She wanted to teach him a lesson, to leave him cowering in her shadow. She wanted to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

She swept in, avoiding his slow attempt at a counter and striking past his guard with ease, and as she pressed the attack her muzzle stretched into a manic grin. Tears blurred her vision, but she never let up the pressure.

How many days had she dreamed of this moment? How many mornings had she woken from vivid night terrors of Gava stalking her from the shadows and got up to practice, to drill, to kill a hundred imaginary foes and soothe her anguished mind? She’d promised herself so many times, as her wings began to droop and her hooves grew heavy after hours of training, as she reached deep for one last kernel of drive to push her into the next drill—You’ll get your revenge. You’ll make her pay. You’ll make her hurt twice as much as she ever hurt you.

And now here she was! All the sweat, the tears, the blood, it was finally paying off. And as she brought her wings up for the killing blow, to extinguish the life from the struggling monster pinned underneath her, the tears streaming down her cheeks were of relief instead of fear.

“I yield! I yield!”

Rainbow blinked. It wasn’t Gava under her hooves, throat exposed to her steel. This was Gerritt, someone else entirely. A griffon, yes, and perhaps even a griffon she hated—but this wasn’t the rival that had consumed her thoughts for so long, and she wasn’t on some imaginary battlefield.

A cold chill came over her. Would she have killed him, if he hadn’t said anything?

She looked up to Silverblood, who was leaning over the railing with obvious interest. He hadn’t even tried to stop her.

“What are you looking at me for, my dear?” he asked, grinning like a pony waiting for the punchline to his favorite joke. “I haven’t seen any blood yet!”

Slowly, Rainbow’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t stopped her because he didn’t even care. He would’ve cheered like a foal at the circus as she killed his own bodyguard in front of him.

She looked back down to Gerritt. He’d stopped struggling, but the fear in the griffon’s eyes was obvious. There was a wetness brimming around them, barely visible, and a sudden surge of nausea welled up in Rainbow’s gut. For a moment she was looking down at herself, blood and tears alike streaming from her eyes, shivering under the monster that had hurt her.

Rainbow felt numb as she stumbled backwards, falling heavily to her haunches, and Gerritt picked himself up off the ground stiffly.

“I win,” she said, looking down at her hooves. Her voice was distant.

Silverblood let out an exasperated sigh. “Ah, well, I suppose it’s clear enough who had the advantage in that particular affair. Quite the show, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow looked up, meeting his eager gaze. She felt like she should be angry, but all she felt was a distant chill. “What would you do?” she asked. “If I’d killed him?”

“Well, I would have offered you his job, of course!” Silverblood laughed, slapping a hoof against the railing. “That’s how he got hired, you know? The best replacement for a bodyguard is often the one who beats them!” He let out a wistful sigh before perking up once more. “Ah, not to imply that I’m not still offering you a job. All you have to do is stand by my side, look menacing, and stop anyone that tries to harm me. I think you’ll find my contracts are quite competitive.”

Unable to find the words to convey just how disgusted she was by the Prince’s offer, it was all Rainbow could do to shake her head in denial.

“Ah, well. Never let it be said that I don’t always make an attempt!” Silverblood’s robes swirled around his hooves as he turned away, throwing the last words over his shoulder. “Looks like you keep your job, Gerritt. I’ll be taking lunch in quarters, so do come up once you’re all settled here.”

Rainbow looked after him for a long moment, straining to comprehend how any pony could be so heartless towards their own.

There was a cough from her right, and she turned to see Gerritt regarding her warily. “You alright?” he asked.

“Wh—” Rainbow shook her head in amazement. “I’m fine. Are you alright?”

He gave her a strained grin. “Not my first time losing a fight. I’ll be fine. You just seemed kinda… distracted.”

Rainbow sighed, looking away. “I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

A few seconds passed. Rainbow had been expecting to hear the soft clicks of his talons against the metal floor as he walked away, but she was surprised to hear him coming closer. “Is he right? About a griffon taking your eye?”

A shiver passed through her. Her jaw worked side to side. “Yeah.”

There was a long silence between them, and when Gerritt spoke, she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused, and she could feel his eyes on the back of her head. “It must’ve been hard for you, fighting me.”

A choked laugh escaped her. “It was like a dream, until it wasn’t.” She risked a glance in his direction, the corner of her lip pulling up into a tentative grin. “I’ve, uh, had a lot of practice since the last time I fought a griffon.”

He grinned back at her. “It shows.”

“Is it true, what he said?” she asked, nodding towards the now vacant balcony. “About you killing his last bodyguard?”

He nodded. “I was hired by a competitor to assassinate him. His last bodyguard was a pegasus too, actually.” His eyes flicked up towards her mane for a brief moment. “Though not quite like you.”

Her grin grew a little wider, and she turned to face him fully. “I’m sorry about snapping earlier, when you asked about my mane. I get it a lot, is all.”

“No, I understand. It can be annoying hearing the same question everywhere you go.”

“So if you were hired to assassinate him,” Rainbow began, “how did you end up his bodyguard?”

Gerritt shrugged, wincing. “It was pretty clear that he was far wealthier than my old employer, so I gave him some time to make me an offer. It was a pretty good offer.”

Rainbow frowned. “So you betrayed him?”

Now it was Gerritt’s turn to let out a sharp laugh. “You must be younger than you look. People like us? Gifted, griffons, all the little toys that the rich banter and scrap over? We can’t betray them anymore than a bit can betray its spender. Do you think my last employer cared about me anymore than Silverblood does?” He shook his head. “They bind you with paper. Our paper is better than the deals the rabble at the bottom get, but it’s still paper.”

“So leave.” Rainbow gestured away with a hoof. “Fly off, be free.”

“Heh.” He shot her a lopsided smile. “You want to sit?”

He padded off to the nearest bench, the same one that Rainbow and Sabre had been sitting on before. After a brief hesitation, she followed, and the two sat facing each other on opposite ends.

“I’ll tell you a story,” Gerritt began. “It’s a story most Gifted go through, and one I went through as well, when I was younger.” He paused, his expression growing distant. “People like us, we’re told the world will be ours one day. So you go out there and someone offers you a job—a good job. Every street or hall is full of exhausted workers in ragged clothes scrambling to find the time to feed themselves, and you’re offered a job that pays more than they’ll ever see, given a home for yourself larger than a whole family’s, and promised a trip that’ll take you all around the world. All you have to do is sign the contract.” He shrugged. “So you do.

“Time passes, and the job doesn’t seem so good anymore for one reason or another. You realize that nobody cares about you, that you’re just a tool, and everywhere you go you’re offered better jobs. Better deals. If you break the contract, your old employer will put a bounty on your head, but if you sign a new one, your new employer can protect you. Maybe you take it, maybe you don’t.” His expression grew hard, and his voice bitter. “Maybe you’re given a choice—break the contract or die.

“However it happens, there’s a bounty on your head. And all these merchants and their sacks of gold? They have rules that they play by, to keep it fair.” He spat the word as if it was poison. “Hunting bounties that are contracted under someone is considered rude. So you always need a contract, and the only way to get out of a contract without wasting half your life on it is to break it, so the bounty gets bigger and the paper chains get tighter.”

“Can’t you hide?” Rainbow asked. “Or fight, if you have to?”

“Spend my life living like a rat when I could be living here, with my own room, ponies jumping to obey me, and all I have to do is look menacing?” Gerritt snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m content here. Once you’ve been in the game long enough it doesn’t really bother you anymore, you know? Maybe someday I’ll jump ship and find a new job, and Silverblood will put another thousand bits on my head, but as long as I’m with someone that plays fair—as far as the merchants see it—no hunters will come for me.”

“But it’s not fair!” Rainbow stomped a hoof. “How do these ponies get away with it? Why doesn’t someone do something?”

“They all get what they deserve in the end.” Gerritt smirked, meeting her gaze. “Eventually they cross the wrong pony, whether it be a competitor, an employee, or just some wildcard passing through. Someone they can’t buy off or scare with the threat of bounties. Or maybe they get greedy, break their rules, and their peers tear them apart like vultures.” He raised a talon to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of these ponies dying peacefully in their sleep. That’s the trade-off, I guess. We get good deaths, and they get good lives.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence, each one lost in their own thoughts. After several minutes, Rainbow stood.

“I’m gonna hit the showers,” she said. She looked back, offering up a tentative smile. “Sorry about the bruises, Gerritt. I’m glad we got to know each other a bit.”

He dipped his head, returning the smile. “Same here, Rainbow. Wherever the griffon that did that to you is, I hope he gets what’s coming to him.”

“Yeah.” She turned away, waving with one wing. “She will.”





If only the bluecoats weren’t so obsessed with always moving in pairs, Ana’s life would be a lot easier.

The sun was setting for the second time since she’d entered the valley, and she had spent the entire day burrowed into the core of a pile of hay, barely moving. The individual strands clung to her, itching and poking and tickling at her nose, and often she’d have to wait entire minutes for a patrol to pass by before she could scratch.

On the bright side, it was edible. Dry, but edible. She chewed at a glacial pace, grinding the hay down between her molars, and watched.

Nettlekiss’s keep was built on top of a slight rise in the land, and a wide radius around it was kept clear of trees. These were precautions taken against potential sieging armies as much as potential infiltrators like herself, and it made things complicated.

She’d hoped to find an unwary soldier wandering out on their own, take them down, and steal their uniform. A peasant might be stopped for approaching the castle or even just strolling the valley without good purpose, but a soldier with enough urgency in her step could get many places on confidence alone. Unfortunately, the bluecoats never did anything alone. The troops Friesland had sent to Nettlekiss were veterans, and they knew better than to go traipse about a siege without a friend to watch their back. Even if they weren’t concerned for spies or ambushes, it was all too easy to fall in an old foxhole or trigger a trap and be forgotten about. And conversation made the time pass quicker.

As far as Nettlekiss’s own troops, they were nowhere to be seen. They were either on the front or within the keep itself, out of sight and out of reach.

So she waited, nestled under her blanket of hay, sheltered from the wet chill of the rain drizzling down.

Movement caught her eye. She shifted, honing in on the green-uniformed stallion galloping towards the keep from the trees to the northwest. An undecorated messenger bag bounced at his side as he skidded up to an older Friesland soldier that’d been leaning against a well, smoking pipe tucked between his lips. There was a brief, hurried exchange of words, and the older soldier replaced his pipe with a whistle.

The shrill shriek of the whistle rang out over the keep, summoning bluecoats from seemingly every nook and cranny. Within five minutes, a hundred deadly Frieslanders were marching west along the road.

Ana narrowed her eyes. If they were going west, following the well-trodden road that ran the spine of the valley instead of immediately sprinting north or south, it meant they had a ways to go. There was a shout from a sergeant, and the column sped into a trot.

She couldn’t see the sun from any of the little peepholes she’d made in the hay, but she had a good sense of time. It would be dark within a half hour at most, and based on her previous observations the garrison would be gone for at least four times that length, probably longer. That meant she’d have ninety minutes to get in, find the seal, and get back out unseen.

Or she could go now, when the reserves had just left and the garrison was still reacting to the commotion, and give herself some more time.

She scanned the field before her and the wall of the keep itself, searching for watchful eyes. There was no way she could be absolutely certain that there weren’t any sentries looking in her direction, and it would be impossible for even her to cross the field without being spotted. No, she would wait. She’d take her time, like she always did, and she would finish the job with minimal theatrics or fuss.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, she moved. It was a bright night, with the moon and stars bathing the field surrounding the keep in pale silver, so she waited for a cloud to pass overhead before crossing, using its shadow for cover. Her ears swiveled and twitched at every sound as she crept through the open, moving with the rhythm of the swaying grass.

She paused to assess her situation as she reached the base of the keep. There were no windows close to the ground, and attempting entry through the gate would be suicide, but it was unlikely any sentries would be staring straight down the walls from above. She waited for another cloud to pass over before beginning her climb.

The stones were fit loosely together, giving her ample supply of small ledges and cracks to heft herself up with her hooves and wing claws. It only took her a few minutes to reach the lowest  windows, but she passed them over. Sneaking into the first window you came across was a rookie mistake.

The window was a tight fit, caught halfway between the need for good ventilation and the need to protect any soldiers firing from within, but Ana made it through with minimal struggle. She let out a breath of relief as her hooves touched down on cold stone. The hard part, she hoped, was over.

She was in a hallway that ran all around the edges of the keep, with doors along the inner edge leading deeper inside and pillars of moonlight blooming past the windows opposite. The hall was dark and silent; with the reserves out on the front, there would be only servants, a small garrison, and perhaps Nettlekiss herself left to guard it.

The question, then, was where she could find the seal she needed.

She flapped her wings, inverting herself and using the little claws at the ends for purchase as she crawled along the ceiling beams. She had a lot of ground to cover.





“Ready to depart, my Lady?” Pontius gave Rarity a smile, his good mood clearly visible.

She returned the smile, extending a hoof for him. “Certainly, darling.”

They were in the hall between their two rooms, each dressed and ready to go for a night at the Commoner’s Guild meeting. Rarity wore relatively simple dress: her burgundy cloak over a lighter red blouse, with a white scarf wrapped around her shoulders for warmth. Pontius, as usual, wore an orange tunic beneath his polished breastplate, with a brown cloak hanging from his shoulders.

Whitehorn’s voice called out from his room. “Are you two leaving already?”

“We are.” Rarity poked her head inside to see him seated in front of his makeshift desk, polishing his glasses with a small cloth. “We should be back for dinner, but don’t wait on our part.”

He shot her a quick smile. “Fair warning—I’ve been busy on my end. I won’t be there to see it, but I’d appreciate hearing how it all goes upon your return.”

Rarity cocked her head. “Busy with what, precisely?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” He waved with one hoof as he slid his glasses back over his eyes. “I trust you’ll be able to handle it, Countess.”

Rarity pursed her lips, but there wouldn’t be time to press him for more info. Whatever it was, she’d have to witness it herself.

After taking a moment to bid goodbye to Pinkie and Piaffe, who seemed occupied with some drinking game in the common room, Rarity and Pontius stepped out into the street. A pair of bluecoats fell in behind them as they started on their way, but Rarity paid them little mind. After so long in the city, the ever-present soldiers trailing her every step were only slightly more unsettling than the occasional thunder of cannonfire from the walls.

It was the day after her discussion with Whitehorn concerning his writings, and to make up for her poor treatment of Pontius she had offered to take him with her to the guild meeting in Pinkie’s stead. He’d accepted eagerly, and had been in a good mood all day. A small smile graced Rarity’s lips as she watched him striding confidently beside her, head held high as if to challenge any who might think he didn’t belong there. It was a far cry from the uncertain young stallion who’d first gawked at her upon entering his father’s dining room or the frustrated noble brooding in Piaffe’s household since they entered the city, and she quite approved of the transformation. If only she’d shown him some trust sooner, perhaps she would have spared him some anguish.

Winter was hitting its stride as they passed through the city. The sun still hadn’t quite set yet, but the streets were already all but empty, and every citizen had some cloak or coat or similar attire to hold back the wind. The vapor from Rarity’s breath made small puffs of white in the air, and after a few minutes out in the open she could feel the tip of her nose going numb as the chill settled into place. Even the town criers seemed diminished by the weather; instead of crowing their news from the tops of stacked boxes they called it out from the shelter of storefronts or awnings, their voices hoarse from the dry air.

The Commoner’s Guild was surprisingly full when they arrived. When it was so cold out, minor grievances weren’t worth the walk to raise them, and so it was usually only the most diligent or vindictive petitioners that would come, but nearly every seat was taken. Rarity led Pontius to their usual table, where River Pie and Twinkle Smith were chattering urgently.

“Did ye hear, Countess?” River Pie asked. “‘Bout th’ guild master?”

Rarity arched a brow as she sat, casting her gaze around the room. She caught a few eyes looking back in her direction, but that wasn’t unusual for her. “I’m afraid not, darling. What’s all this commotion about?”

“He’s a no-good traitor is what he is,” Twinkle Smith hissed. He pulled a trio of broadsheets out of his vest and slapped them onto the table. “Can’t believe I ever trusted him!”

Rarity frowned down at the sheets curiously. The headlines jumped out at her, grabbing her attention with bold, blocky letters. COMMONER’S GUILD ON THE TAKE, one said, and the next, CART MARKS EXPOSED.

“A reliable, anonymous source from within the Commoner’s Guild administration came to the Friesland Trotter’s office yesterday with written correspondence between Mr. Cart Marks, master of the Commoner’s Guild, and several other prominent guilds within Friesland. The letters portray Mr. Marks as a businesspony, accepting payment from managers and owners across the city to make complaints disappear.”

Rarity skimmed the rest of the text, her eyes growing wider with every sentence. Is this what Whitehorn was talking about? “He’s been working against you all, all this time?”

“Lying to our faces, he has,” Twinkle spat. “All this nonsense about choosing our battles? Bah! Every victory we’ve ever had has been given to us, and we’ve taken it without complaint like stray dogs happy to get scraps off the table!”

“Well, what are we going to do?” Rarity asked. There was a tangible energy filling the room, being driven ever higher with every new pony that stepped in from the street. “Goodness, it feels like the room could explode at any moment.”

“He should be deposed,” Pontius said, shaking his head in disdain. “This behavior is unacceptable fer any lord.”

“He ain’t no lord, and we’ll be sure t’ remind ’im of it,” River Pie said, thumping a hoof against the table for emphasis. “Soon as he finds th’ courage t’ come down from that office of his, that is.”

Twinkle snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to slip out the window.”

There was a sudden uproar from the room, and Rarity looked up to see Mr. Marks descending the steps. His face was grim, his movements stiff as he climbed up into his seat behind the bar, and he had two bluecoats walking on either side of him, the bayonets on their rifles like flags waving overhead with every step. Howls of accusation came from the assembled ponies, followed by thrown mugs and rotten vegetables.

“Order! Order!” Mr. Marks thumped his hoof against the stone of the bar, ducking an old tomato aimed straight for his head. “Shut up, you rabble!”

“Traitor!”

“Get out of that seat!”

“Leave this place before we throw you out ourselves!”

The jeers came from every direction, and a couple ponies even rose from their tables and tried  to approach him, only to be roughly shoved back by the guarding bluecoats.

Mr. Marks stood up, shouting to be heard over the commotion. “I will not vacate the office I’ve worked so hard to obtain over the baseless accusations you read in your favorite broadsheet!”

Twinkle Smith shot out of his chair. “We demand a vote of no confidence!”

“Sit down, Mr. Smith!” Mr. Marks shouted. “Governor Rhea declared a state of emergency the very day the siege started, and there will be no votes until this crisis has passed!”

A chorus of boos rose from the crowd, and more ponies surged forth to be pushed back by the bluecoats. The sergeant barked an order, and after a brief hesitation the soldiers swung their rifles down into firing position, leveling them on the room.

“It’s not safe here.” Pontius leaned over to be heard in Rarity’s ear. “Blood will be shed.”

“Surely Mr. Marks wouldn’t order the troops to fire on civilians.” Rarity looked nervously between each of the soldiers, watching their expressions. The sergeant seemed unshaken, but the other three were visibly nervous. “There would be a riot!”

Despite her words, Rarity could tell there was disaster approaching. More and more commoners were getting out of their seats, stomping their hooves and calling for the disgraced guild master’s resignation, and he shouted back his denials and refusals. The bluecoat sergeant ducked as a mug was thrown from him, the clay shattering against the guild council’s bar and spraying drink over the soldiers.

She could see it clearly in her head. A soldier would fire, either out of nerves or in reaction to whichever pony was bold and mad enough to attack directly, and the room would collapse into chaos. There had to be dozens of ponies facing down the four troops—even if the two bluecoats that had come as Rarity’s escort were to involve themselves, they’d stand no chance. Mr. Marks, perhaps the entire council, would be dragged from their seats and beaten to death by the furious crowd.

Is this what Whitehorn had wanted? It must have been him that had circulated the incriminating evidence to the broadsheets, though she couldn’t imagine how he might’ve obtained it. Surely this kind of bloodshed was the very thing he wanted to avoid. She thought back to what he’d said before she left.

“I trust you’ll be able to handle it, Countess.”

Before she knew it, she was standing up. “Stop! Stop this!”

There was no reaction. She could barely hear herself over the crowd, so how could she expect them to hear her? With a frustrated groan she shoved her way to the front of the room, flicked her mane disdainfully at one of the soldiers as he leveled his bayonet towards her, and turned to face the crowd.

“Listen to me!” she shouted. “Please!”

There was a brief dip in the clamor as the ponies near the front paused in their jeering to look her way. Rarity opened her mouth to take advantage of the break, but was cut off by Mr. Marks.

“Return to your seat, Countess!” he barked. “This is a Friesland affair!”

That caught their attention. She had just been another unfamiliar mare when she stepped to the front, but now she was an unfamiliar mare that the guild master didn’t want to speak. More eyes turned to her, but there was still some commotion towards the back.

River Pie came up to her side. “Quiet! Let ’er speak!”

Twinkle Smith, still standing near their table, eyed Rarity suspiciously. “Why should we trust her? She’s one of them!”

“Twinkle!” River snapped. “She ain’t th’ one that took yer horn from ye, aye? She’s th’ one that worked herself t’ exhaustion after that bombin’, before ye even showed up! So pull yer head out yer plothole and let’s help ’er help us!”

He flinched back at the steel in her voice, and some of the fire seemed to leave him. More and more ponies began to quiet, and Rarity suddenly found herself the subject of many curious or suspicious gazes. She gulped, adjusting her mane and scarf with her hooves.

Pontius came up to her side, keeping his voice low so only she could hear. “Calm yerself. This is what ye want, aye?”

“Yes,” Rarity whispered back. “Though I had been hoping for a situation with somewhat less imminent violence.”

“Fret not, my Lady,” Pontius said. “I shall fight every pony in this room if I must to see to yer safety.”

“Oh.” Rarity let out a breathy titter. “Well, that’s a pleasant thought, isn’t it?”

Soon, all eyes were on her. The outraged yelling had diminished into suppressed grumbles and venomous glances towards the guild council. The air was thick with expectation.

“What’s this, then?” Mr. Marks asked from his seat. “Have you all finally seen reason? Can we finally get this meeting started?”

Rarity glanced up at him. He was frowning down at her with obvious contempt, regarding her as he might to a pile of garbage he’d stepped in on the side of the road. She looked away, turning her attention back to the crowd. He wasn’t the one she needed to speak to, after all.

“Some of you may not know me,” she began, raising her voice to be heard clearly. “My name is Rarity, and I came to this city only recently, hoping to prevent a bloody war. Clearly I’ve already failed in some respect on that matter, but I hope we can avoid any violence here today.”

“We know you!” a stallion called from the crowd. “You’re that baron mare that’s been spying on us!”

“Shut it, you idiot!” another voice countered. “That’s Countess Rarity! She saved my cousin’s life on Fellis!”

“And she cleaned my brother’s wounds at Old Westfort!” a mare added.

A few approving stomps rose up from the crowd, quieting the heckler, and a warmth welled in Rarity’s heart.

“This pony—” she nodded her head back towards where Mr. Marks was seated “—has betrayed you all. He has lied to you, used you for his personal gain, and callously ignored your pain. But you do not need him!”

“This is your last warning.” Mr. Marks growled. “Return to your seat, or you’ll be spending tonight in a dungeon!”

She ignored him. She couldn’t stop now, not when she had the whole room hanging on her words. “He is not the one who’s helped you in times of need! He is not the one who saw to the wounded at Old Westfort, the one who carried the cranes that allowed you to clear the rubble from the roads, or the one who laid the stones to fill the craters left behind. That was you!” Her heart pounded as she cast her gaze over the crowd, seeing nods of approval reflected back at her. “You are the ones that hold the power!”

“Arrest that mare!” Mr. Marks bellowed. She glanced back to see him leaning over to push the soldiers into action. “She is a foreign agent, and she has no right to speak here!”

The soldiers looked to their sergeant for approval, and he stepped forwards. Pontius silently positioned himself between him and Rarity, and a trio of thick-bodied commoners rose from the crowd to join him.

“You don’t need any guild’s approval to help each other!” she continued. “All we need to do is be friends to each other, to help each other when it’s needed, no matter what the guild masters say! There’s no need to call for this pony’s blood for his abuse of power, because he doesn’t have any power!”

“She’s right!” A stallion stood up near the back of the room. “If the city won’t help us, then we won’t help it! I say we strike, and buck what the guild says!”

A second passed, and then another pony stood up. “Strike! Strike!” More rose to take up the chant, and soon ponies were pouring out of the street, stopping only to kick over tables or jeer at the gaping guild council.

Rarity’s legs went weak, and she fell back onto her haunches with a gasp of relief. She’d done it. It wasn’t a war by any means, but she’d stopped some bloodshed.

“Shoot her, you idiots!” Mr. Marks clambered down from his seat and limped over to the nearest soldier, pointing her rifle at Rarity and the ponies standing protectively in front of her with his own hooves. “Fire! Fire!”

“Hold fire!” the sergeant barked, stepping in the way. Mr. Marks shot him a look of furious disbelief, but the sergeant held firm. “They’re civilians, sir!”

“Pontius, dear,” Rarity said, horn glowing as she tugged on his cloak. “I do believe we should get going.”

“Aye.” Pontius nodded. “That would seem wise.”

“Go, go!” River Pie shooed them away. “We’ll hold ’em up! Good luck, Countess!”

“Oh, thank you, darling. Until next time!”

They rushed out of the guild hall at a brisk pace, the doors hanging limply on their hinges after the passage of a particularly brutish guild member. Their two escorts were standing outside with the confusion clear on their faces, but they seemed to relax as they saw Rarity and Pontius emerging from the room unscathed.

“We’re just heading back early, dears,” Rarity said, offering up a thin smile. “Urgent matter! Nearly forgot! Come along, now!”

Together the two of them ran up the street, their confused escorts following behind just as the first motes of snow began to fall.
> XVIII: Of Actions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last vestiges of sunlight traced a cool orange across the late evening sky as they returned to the relative safety of Captain Piaffe's home, and the white fog of Rarity’s breath swirled in her wake as she and Pontius swept inside and closed the door behind them. The cannons fired as it clicked shut, and the building shuddered around them.

“Hi, Rarity! Hi, Pontius!” Pinkie was seated at the common room table with a cheery smile on her face and a pile of uninflated balloons in front of her. She sucked in a deep gasp and put one to her muzzle, inflating it in a single breath before tying off the end in a blur of motion. It floated silently up to the ceiling, where it bumped against several other colorful balloons loitering above her.

Next to her, Whitehorn cradled a mug of dark liquid in one hoof. He looked up, and the fire in the hearth cast a flickering shadow over half his face. “Back already? I hadn’t been expecting you for another hour at least.”

Rarity’s eyes darted around the room. “Where’s Piaffe?”

“Out on business of some description.” Whitehorn shrugged as he looked down to the papers arrayed on the table before him. “Delivering reports, or perhaps gathering them? I admit I wasn’t too curious.”

“She’s out talking to her friends at the bear racks!” Pinkie giggled as she sent another balloon up to join its peers. “I wanted to go too, but she wouldn’t let me.”

Pontius closed the gap to Whitehorn with a menacing glare, towering over him. “Is that all ye have to say? Ye sent us into the middle of a riot!”

“Did I?” Whitehorn arched a brow, looking to Rarity. “You don’t seem injured.”

Pinkie paused with one balloon half-inflated, eyes darting between the two stallions with clear concern. She pinched the end shut as she pulled it from her mouth. “Wait, did I miss something? What’s wrong?”

Pontius ignored her, swinging out a hoof to smack Whitehorn’s mug to the side. The clay shattered as it struck the back of the hearth, the fire flaring up with an angry hiss. “Quit yer games, snake! Ye know full well what ye done, and ye gave us no warnin’!”

Whitehorn frowned at his now empty hoof. “Pontius, anger isn’t going to get you anywhere. Why don’t you sit, and we can discuss this matter properly?”

“Wh—properly?” Pontius’s jaw muscles bulged out as he grit his teeth, his brow furrowing into a hard vee.

Rarity stepped forwards, laying a calming hoof on his shoulder. “Pontius, darling, please calm down. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm, and we made it out in one piece.”

“Those soldiers were pointin’ rifles at ye!” Pontius rounded on her in disbelief. “Ye slipped out of a dungeon cell by the last hairs of yer tail, and it’s his fault!”

“What?!” Pinkie’s shrill voice made everyone in the room flinch. She turned on Whitehorn with an uncharacteristic glare. “What did you do?!”

“We should give him the chance to explain himself.” Rarity shot Whitehorn a stern look. “I’m sure he had good cause for all this mess.”

Whitehorn smiled. “Your trust is always appreciated, Countess. Now, perhaps—”

“Perhaps—” Rarity cut him off with a sharp wave of her hoof before sitting opposite him “—you could explain what exactly you did, and what you intended to accomplish with it?” She let her words hang in the air as Pontius reluctantly sat down on her left. To her right, Pinkie turned the mouth of her balloon on Whitehorn and loosened her grip, blasting him with a stream of warm air. “And then we will tell you the result of your actions.”

“Fair. Pinkie, please.” Whitehorn grimaced as he held his papers down, keeping them from blowing away, before turning back to Rarity. “You recall our first meeting with Mr. Marks, I presume? It was somewhat odd to me that he seemed to care so little for fulfilling what was, ostensibly, the very purpose of his office. So I tapped some contacts to see what they could find.”

“Contacts?” Rarity asked. “What kind of contacts do you have that could get their hooves on private correspondence?”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “I’m a journalist, Countess, and investigative journalists have been known to expose affairs such as these before. I don’t know the details of their methods—ponies in these fields tend towards a wide variety of skills, after all—but the results were more than satisfactory.” He slid the papers across the table. “It was a simple matter to ensure the news was delivered to the right ponies, and the rest handled itself.”

Rarity skimmed the papers quickly, picking out the same lines she’d read in the broadsheets at the guild meeting. These are the original copies! “You paid someone to steal these letters from the guild master.”

“And then I sold copies to a few printers around town, yes.” Whitehorn nodded.

“I’m… not sure if I’m comfortable with this,” Rarity said. She pushed the papers away as if they might contaminate her. “It’s dishonest. And ponies could have died!”

Whitehorn shook his head in bemusement. “Is it dishonest to steal secrets from a liar? I was merely giving ponies the truth, Countess, just as you give them the truth of the old world we’ve lost.”

Rarity grimaced. She’d been living the lie of her noble blood for long enough now that it had begun to feel sincere. What would Whitehorn do, she wondered, if he somehow learned that she had been nothing more than a small-town seamstress living in the shadow of Canterlot? Would she wake up one day to find her secrets exposed in the hooves of every pony around her, and her name on their lips as they called for retribution?

“I believe I’ve explained my part,” Whitehorn continued. “I’m quite curious to hear the results.”

“The commoners were out fer blood,” Pontius said, still eyeing Whitehorn with open contempt. “The guild master refused to step down, and it seems they can’t vote him out while the siege is ongoin’. The soldiers were about ready to fire upon the crowd—with us in it, mind ye.”

“And they didn’t?” Whitehorn looked to Rarity expectantly.

“I… talked them out of it.” Rarity offered him an uneasy smile. “Goodness, I was afraid one wrong word would bring the whole room down on my head, but I believe we averted the worst of it.”

“Aye. Except fer the guild master orderin’ yer arrest.” Pontius shot a glare towards Whitehorn. “It’s lucky our escorts didn’t hear the order, or I fear we’d’ve never made it back.”

“I see.” Whitehorn nodded, his face grim. “My condolences, Countess. And the guild?”

“The commoners are on strike,” Rarity said. “And will do so until Mr. Marks is removed, I expect.”

“Which is precisely what the guilds wish to avoid.” Whitehorn leaned back with a satisfied grin. “You see, Countess? This is how you apply pressure from the bottom. The city cannot face a strike and a siege at the same time; Rhea will have to bring one threat to an end, or she risks being destroyed between both.”

Rarity looked up, her mouth hanging open in realization. “So that’s your plan, then? You could’ve at least included me!”

“Frankly, I wasn’t sure if it would work out. Even now there is potential for things to go awry.” Whitehorn looked away as the rumble of the cannons shook some dust loose from the ceiling. “If Rhea decides the strikes are less a threat than the siege, she may attempt to subdue the commoners by force. If it doesn’t work, the strike may turn into a revolt.”

Rarity gasped, both hooves shooting up to her muzzle. “But that would be horrible! We’re supposed to be stopping the killing, not causing more!”

“It would be a regrettable decision on her part, yes, but I can only do so much.” Whitehorn’s voice remained even as he met her eyes once more. “However, a revolt would take soldiers off the walls, and I expect that would finally allow the barons to make real progress. They could take the low wall, and it would cost the city greatly in blood to push them back.”

Rarity’s jaw hung open as she processed his words. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Countess, is that we’ve already won.” Whitehorn smiled, sending a chill down her spine. “At this point it’s just a question of how many ponies have to die.”

A pregnant silence filled the room. Pinkie was the one to break it, her voice oddly quiet. “Nopony should have to die.”

All four ponies jumped at a sudden, urgent knocking at the door. Rarity looked to Whitehorn, then to Pontius. “Are we expecting company?”

Pontius stood. “If it was bluecoats, they wouldn’t knock.” Shuffling his wings at his sides, he slowly stepped up to the door, paused to listen, and pulled it open.

“Countess!” River Pie’s voice called from outside, carried in by the chill wind. “Are ye here? Th’ soldiers won’t let me in!”

“Oh!” Rarity jumped to her hooves and trotted to the open door. “River, are you okay? What about Twinkle? That whole mess at the guild was just dreadful!”

River had a wide grin plastered across her face. She launched herself forwards and pulled Rarity into an excited hug, ignoring the disapproving looks from the bluecoats posted outside the door. “No, it was wonderful! We’re spreadin’ th’ word all over th’ city! Look!” She stepped back, raising a hoof to brandish what looked like a piece of torn blanket wrapped around her neck. “It’s like yers!”

“What?” Rarity frowned, trying not to show her disdain for the raggedy cloth.

“Aye, t’ show my support!”

“Oh.” Rarity looked down at the brilliant white fabric of her scarf, feeling her cheeks warm. “Well… that is rather flattering.”

There was a sudden clicking of hooves as the two bluecoats standing on either side of the door snapped to attention, followed by the growing clatter of a wagon. Rarity looked up to see Captain Piaffe approaching with four stony-faced soldiers behind her—two of which were hitched to a hard-edged cube of dark metal.

“Cappy!” Pinkie poked her head past Rarity’s shoulder with a toothy smile. “How’d it go with the bears?”

“As well as it could go, Pinkie. And you’ve certainly had an exciting day, haven’t you, Countess?” Piaffe smiled as she paused at the bottom of the steps. She beckoned at River Pie with a hoof. “Come down from there, would you, dearheart?”

“Huh?” River blinked, looking open-mouthed from Piaffe, to Rarity, to the wagon. “What’s goin’ on?”

Piaffe let out an exasperated sigh. She nodded to one of the soldiers by the door, and he reached up and bodily yanked River down from the stairs, sending her tumbling down into the thin layer of snow on the street with a yelp.

Rarity gasped. “Captain Piaffe! That is no way to treat my guest!”

“Apologies, Countess, but I’m on a schedule.” Piaffe cleared her throat. Behind her, one of the soldiers swung open a barred door on the back of the wagon, revealing the dark, windowless interior. “Countess Rarity, at the order of Guild Master Marks, you are hereby placed under arrest.”

“W-what?” Rarity took a step back, her eyes shooting wide open. “On what charges?”

“Subversion of the state during a state of emergency. Your fate shall be decided at a trial held tomorrow afternoon.” Piaffe arched a brow. “I do hope you won’t make this difficult, love.”

Pinkie’s smile had turned to a confused frown. “You’re not being very nice, Cappy.”

“Sorry, Pinkie. It’s work—nothing personal.”

Pontius shouldered past Pinkie, blocking the doorway with a snarl. “Ye’ll have to get past me before ye lay a hoof on her!” In the street, the four bluecoats not hitched to the wagon each dropped their rifles down to a firing position, leveling their barrels on him.

“No, wait, wait!” Rarity pulled Pontius back with both hooves, taking his place. “I’ll go! There’s no need for any violence!”

Piaffe smiled. She stepped down into the street, looking back to beckon Rarity after her. “I had hoped you would say that. Come on, then, let’s go.”

“But my Lady!” Pontius began.

Rarity cut him off. “I will not tolerate blood being shed in my name, Pontius, no matter how righteous you may think it!” She took a deep breath, bracing herself as she eyed the open door of the prison wagon. “I have to believe that Harmony will prevail.”

“Your conviction is admirable, Countess.” Whitehorn gave Rarity a firm nod as she looked back to him. “Don’t worry—we’ll do everything in our power to see you through this ordeal.”

The idea of Whitehorn doing ‘everything in his power’ stirred a pit of unease within Rarity, but she couldn’t think of the proper words to tell him, so she offered a grateful smile instead. “I appreciate that, darlings.”

Piaffe cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s all very nice, but I did tell you we’re on a schedule, didn’t I? Let’s get on with it.”

“Well if she’s going, I’m going!” Pinkie declared. She scooted back to the table, grabbed a hoof’s worth of uninflated balloons, and stuffed them into her mane before returning to Rarity’s side.

Piaffe let out an exasperated sigh. “Pinkie, I’m only supposed to bring the Countess. You have to stay.”

“No!” Pinkie snapped. She barged past Piaffe, wheels bouncing loudly on each of the steps, and parked herself next to the prison wagon with an exaggerated, “harumph! I’m her hoofmaiden, and I’m not leaving her side!”

The soldiers looked to Piaffe uncertainly, and she rolled her eyes and waved them off. Pinkie turned, lifted her rear up high as if she was about to buck the wagon, then pushed off with her front legs, hopping inside wheels-first.

“As for the rest of you—” Piaffe shot a meaningful look to Pontius and Whitehorn, each of which were looking over Rarity’s shoulders “—don’t get any ideas. You’ll be allowed at the trial, but until then, you’re not to set a hoof outside this house.”

With one last look back, Rarity followed Piaffe to the back of the wagon. Piaffe gestured up to the open door with a hoof, and with a resigned nod Rarity climbed inside.

The door swung shut with a harsh squeal and a bang that rang in her ears. Rarity’s world was reduced to the three narrow slits between the bars of the window, everything else cut off by cold steel.

Someone banged a hoof against the wagon, and Rarity whimpered as it lurched into motion. She watched through the bars as the soldiers left at Piaffe’s home ushered her friends back inside, leaving only River Pie to watch wide-eyed from where she still lay in the street. The sounds of the wheels and the hooves of her captors were so loud that she could barely hear her own thoughts.

Pinkie leaned herself against Rarity’s side, lending the comfort of her warmth. “Don’t worry, Rare-bear,” she said. “Piaffe’s a good pony. She won’t let anything bad happen to us.”

Rarity sighed, leaning back into her friend. “I hope so, darling. But I don’t think Piaffe will be the one who decides our fate.”

The wagon turned a corner, and they were alone.





Ana’s ear twitched at the sound of a door opening somewhere nearby. She froze, remaining still as a shadow as she listened for the sound of hoofsteps to approach, pass, and fade away,

She was in the servant tunnels, a network of unlit corridors, steep staircases, and unmarked doors that occupied the unseen spaces between every room. The keep was not designed for leisure—Nettlekiss’s manse outside the valley, long overrun by her foes, was where she lived in peacetime—and so the halls were sparse and narrow, wide enough only for one pony and a platter of food or cart of tools to navigate.

They were also entirely absent from the first and second floors, which Ana had found to be dedicated to the housing of troops. The third floor had some storage—fine foodstuffs, old art pieces, silken bedsheets, and other such items necessary for the appeasement of the nobility but not the maintenance of the troops—as well as servant quarters, a kitchen, map rooms, and hidden stairs leading up to where she was now, on the fourth floor.

It was this top floor, where the main structure stopped and the three towers that guarded each corner of the keep began, that seemed to be designed for the lords and officers that would command any defense. Here they slept, discussed strategy, sent and received orders, and climbed up to the towers to observe the fighting from afar.

It was a lucky turn of fate, then, that it was also the only part of the keep with passages built in for the express purpose of hiding ponies that didn’t want to be seen.

She’d encountered a few clusters of loitering soldiers on the way up, but they proved easy to evade. The native troops stationed here were relaxed, relieved after being cycled off the front, and confident in their safety.

Oddly, it was the servants that troubled her the most. They were always buzzing around, sticking cleaning implements into all the dark corners and empty rooms that Ana favored. Even in times of war, it seemed, Nettlekiss demanded a certain dedication from her staff.

So she went, creeping from hidden door to hidden door, searching for her quarry.

The muffled sound of conversation leaked past a door on her right side, and she paused to push her ear up to the smooth wood.

“Th’ lines’ll hold, marshal. Titus’s troops have heart, but no amount of heart’ll overcome a trench lined with Friesland rifles.”

Ana narrowed her eyes. She’d recognize that smug, dry rasp anywhere—Nettlekiss.

Another voice spoke back, a stallion, old and rough, but without the frailty that often came with age. “Not in a single battle, Duchess, nay. But we take more casualties every day, and th’ farms’re already near empty as is. We can’t sustain this much longer.”

“What need d’we have of farms, marshal? Our granaries’re full t’ th’ eaves. Call every mare and stallion in th’ valley if we must, but that cocky bastard’s soldiers will not step one hoof past th’ ridges!”

“Duchess, may I remind you of the bombing in Friesland?” This mare’s voice was young and refined, lacking the loose drawl of the baronlander accent. An advisor from Friesland, perhaps, or a bluecoat officer. “Our stocks are nearly empty, and we cannot afford to feed the city on imports alone. We need those farms.”

“And I need these bodies!” The Duchess collapsed into a sudden fit of wet coughing, causing Ana to cringe in disgust. “If ye cannot afford t’ replace yer food, then ye must pay t’ replace my troops. I don’t care if it’s mercenaries or more Frieslanders, but Castle Urtica mustn’t fall!” There was a pause as the Duchess took a deep, rattling breath. “Fetch th’ scribe. I shall pen a missive t’ dear Rhea.”

Ana’s eyes widened. A scribe was exactly what she needed right now.

She heard the sound of a door opening and ironshod hooves marching on stone. Pulling her ear back, Ana skulked through the servant passages, pausing every few seconds to listen for the distinctive hoofsteps. They led her down to the third floor, to the servant quarters squeezed together like carrots in a farmer’s field.

Finding an exit, Ana slipped out into the hall and immediately took to the shadows in the ceiling. She found herself in a narrow corridor lined by doors on both sides, the quiet sounds of slumber coming from nearly every one. A soldier reared before one of the nearer doors, one hoof holding a torch while the other pounded against the thin metal.

“Wake up!” he barked. “Th’ Duchess has need of ye!”

After several seconds, the door swung open. A bleary-eyed mare squinted up at him. “Eh?”

“Th’ Duchess has need of ye,” the soldier repeated. “Ye’re t’ report at once.”

“At this hour?” the mare asked. “Can she not allow ’er scribe t’ rest ’til mornin’?”

The soldier rolled his eyes. “Just grab yer things and let’s go, eh? Both of us’re tryin’ t’ grab some sleep.”

With a smirk and a nod, the scribe stepped back into her room. She returned soon after, a green sash and tunic wrapped around her chest and a small trunk balanced on her back, and followed the soldier up the hall, around a corner, and out of Ana’s sight.

Ana didn’t follow. Instead she dropped from the ceiling and angled her wings, sweeping through the still-open door to the scribe’s room like a silent breeze. The furnishings inside were sparse—a plain bed, a writing desk, and a small bookshelf only half-filled with scrolls and loose sheets—and she wasted no time in shutting the door behind her.

She made for the desk first, squinting down at the single sheet lying on the surface. A small candle flickered on one corner of the desk, and she picked it up in a wing, holding it close as she read.

You can bugger the bear, if you do it with care,
in the winter, when he is asleep in his lair.
Though I would not advise it in spring or in fall—
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

She arched a brow. A local tavern song, maybe?

Shaking her head, she turned to the bookshelf, rifling through the disorganized contents at a quick pace. Old love letters, copies of the alphabet, and what looked like attempts at writing some kind of news article. All of it was done in the same careful, clear script as the tavern song, so she assumed it must have been written by the scribe. She picked out several pieces and slipped them into her satchel, ensuring she had a wide variety of samples for Whitehorn to work with.

Next was the bed. Ana got down low, peering underneath, smirking as she caught sight of the little tin chest hidden away in the shadows. With a small grunt she fished it out, sliding it into the candlelight and flipping the cover open.

Inside were a few charcoal sketches of smiling ponies, a small bag of bits, and a sheaf of about a dozen papers filled to the brim with writing. Her gaze passed over the drawings and bits without a second thought—she had no interest in this mare’s friends or in depriving her of what little wealth she had—focusing instead on the curiously hidden text.

A title had been written along the top. The Gift of Adventure.

Ana skimmed the text, her eyes growing wider with every line. It was written like a diary entry, the author recounting the tale of how a Gifted mare had come to visit the keep. The Gifted had been immediately taken by the author’s beauty, and after a whirlwind romance over the course of a single day, they retired to the author’s bedroom to—

Ana blinked. She looked to the bed beside her, then to the pages before her describing the heated events that supposedly occurred upon it.

Well, she thought. This should be more than enough writing.

There was a click behind her, and Ana turned to see the scribe stepped back into the room with a yawn. Her tired eyes were half-closed, and it was only after the scribe pushed the door shut with a hind leg that she blearily blinked her eyes open and saw the thestral before her.

The scribe blinked again, rubbing at her eyes. She looked from Ana, to the papers in her hooves, to the open chest, and then back to Ana.

A couple seconds passed in silence. Ana grinned, giving the pages a little shake. “Yknow, this isn’t too bad.”

The mare was suddenly wide awake, rushing forwards with both hooves outstretched. Ana sidestepped the clumsy lunge, and the mare tumbled over the open chest with a gasp.

“W-who’re ye?” she hissed, eyes still focused on the papers. “What’re ye doin’ here?”

Ana’s hoof twitched, and her arcata snapped out. The mare’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks as she focused on the deadly blades.

“Shhh.” Slowly, Ana extended a wing to cover the mare’s muzzle. “You’re Nettlekiss’s scribe?”

The scribe answered with a shaky nod, her whole body shivering.

Ana bared her teeth, showing her fangs. “I require the Duchess’s seal.” She paused, giving the mare time to process her words before pulling her wing back. “Where can I find it?”

The mare gulped, blinking tears out of her eyes. “S-s-she’ll k-kill me!”

Normally, this was where Ana would lean in, making a comment about how delicious the mare’s scent was, and perhaps pricking her neck with her fangs to drive the point home. But she noticed how this mare’s eyes kept flicking to the sheaf of papers in Ana’s hoof.

“You had this story very well hidden,” Ana lied. “Is it true?”

The scribe gulped. “P-p-please don’t.”

“Please don’t… what?” Ana teased. “Please don’t slip one of these pages under every other door in the hall?” She let out a hum as she eyed the name of the fictional diary entry’s supposed owner. “Star Eyes, is it?”

“No no no, please!” Star Eyes shook her head frantically. “I c-c-can show ye! I h-have a copy of th’ seal, fer mundanities she d-d-don’t wanna bother with! Just g-g-give it back!”

“Hmm.” Ana narrowed her eyes, struggling to keep her mirth out of them. She was beginning to wonder if this mare had even noticed she was a thestral. “Oh, I don’t know, I hadn’t quite finished reading yet.” She licked her lips, frowning at the strange shiver the act drew from her captive. “And I was just getting to the good bits.”

“N-n-no! That’s p-private!” Star Eyes’s cheeks, which had been a pale purple when she walked in, were now entirely red. “I-I’ll d-d-do whatever ye say!”

Ana cocked her head. “Oh, very well, then. Since you’re so… willing.” The scribe let out a sigh halfway between relief and… something else. “But I’ll be holding onto this.”

Star Eyes whimpered. Her voice was quiet, even for Ana’s sharp hearing. “Y-ye like it?”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push me, cutie. Where’s the seal?”

The mare’s blush grew deeper still. “I have a c-copy, in my office. It’s on this level, n-n-next t’ th’ k-kitchen!” She paused, seeming out of breath. “There’s a little wood b-b-box with ’er crest on it, on m-my desk!”

Ana regarded the scribe for a long moment, letting her stew, before stepping back with a small nod. She stashed the mare’s story in her satchel, never taking her eyes off her. “You’ve made a wise decision tonight, Star Eyes. I’ll leave you be for now, but if you dare tell anyone of my presence here, or give any indication that I’ve taken the seal, you’ll find this story being shared all over the valley. And I’ll be sure everyone knows your name.”

Star Eyes grimaced. “B-but th’ Duchess!”

“Not my problem.” Ana smirked as she turned away, blowing the candle out and setting it back down on the desk. She flipped her arcata back up, pausing at the door to look back.

Star Eyes still hadn’t gotten up. She lay on her back, squinting into the darkness open-mouthed. “Mistress?” she whispered. “Can I c-come with ye?”

Ana rolled her eyes. She slipped back into the hall without a word.

It was a little odd getting information out of a servant without some kind of threat. She must’ve threatened hundreds of little ponies in her life with fanged promises of slaughter and consumption, but this was the first time she’d ever menaced them with the idea of distributing their amorous scribblings.

It didn’t take her long to find the scribe’s office, or the little wooden box marked with the Duchess’s crest and the seal tucked away inside. She wrapped the stamp in a thin cloth before slipping it into her satchel, nestled between her last two sticks of celery and the hopeful diary entry of a lonely mare.

A small sigh of satisfaction escaped her as she turned and poked her head back out into the hall, checking for any traffic. She was halfway there now. All she had to do was get back to the city, and she could spend a night regaling Gava with the tale of her infiltration before falling asleep at her sister’s side.

The shrill song of a Friesland bugle sounded from outside, sending a chill down Ana’s spine. She flew to the nearest window and peered outside, catching sight of the hundred Friesland troops returning from their sortie, fresh casualties dragged on stretchers behind them and torches lighting the night around them.

“Oh, buck me,” she muttered. They were back too soon! Her gut twisted in unease as she watched the troops spread around the yard, lighting campfires around their tents. She’d never get past their pickets on hoof, and between the starry sky and the light of their torches, she’d be silhouetted from every direction if she tried to fly over.

Her ear twitched at the sound of hooves climbing the nearest stairwell, and she just managed to fly up to the ceiling as a colt bounded past, galloping towards the servant quarters with his scratchy voice raised.

“Th’ blues’re back!” he called, voice breaking as he turned a corner. His voice bounced off the stone, echoing in Ana’s ears. “Th’ blues’re back! Up, up! Meal in thirty minutes ’n menders t’ th’ camp!”

At almost the same time, Star Eyes’s shaky voice rang through the halls. “Intruder in th’ keep! Intruder! Guards, guards!”

“Oh, fuck me!”

Ana’s heart raced as she scrambled along the ceiling. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew she needed a better place to hide.





We’re hungry.

Twilight pursed her lips. You’re always hungry.

Not when we’re fed. Midnight stalked around the edges of their cell, glaring at the door. They took our food.

They’re just scared. Give them time.

Midnight snorted. We could teleport back to the pool and eat, and be back before they noticed.

Twilight sighed. Is food all you ever think about?

It is when we’re hungry.

You know what you need? Twilight smirked as Midnight turned its scowl on her. You need a hobby.

I have no need of frivolous time sinks, little flower.

Come here. Twilight blinked, and they were in her treehouse. She and Midnight were seated on opposite sides of the centerpiece, the hazy red glow from behind the curtains silhouetting its form. A chess board was set up on the table between them, occupying the space where her wooden horsehead statue normally sat.

“You know how to play, right?” Twilight’s horn glowed, and the white pawn in front of her solar princess slid two spaces forward.

Midnight narrowed its eyes, mirroring the move with one of its black pawns. “Just as you do.”

It was obvious that Midnight wasn’t really paying attention. It looked up at every sound that reached the hall outside their cell. Sometimes it would stare at the board for nearly an entire minute after Twilight made her move, only to blink and rush a piece forwards as if it hadn’t realized it was its turn.

“Checkmate!” Twilight had it beat within fifteen minutes. She looked up with an encouraging smile. “I wouldn’t feel too bad if I were you. I was actually the youngest member of the chess team at Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns.”

“And why would I feel bad?” Midnight countered, tossing its mane petulantly. “You only won because I was barely trying.”

“If you say so.” Twilight winked. “But I think it’s because I’m a better chess player.”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Midnight sneered. “You can tell when I speak falsehoods, so listen closely. If I wanted to win, I would win!”

Twilight waved her horn, returning the pieces to their starting positions. “Prove it.”

“So you seek humiliation? Very well, then.” Midnight turned its attention to the board, its eyes sharp. “Make your move, little flower.”

The game progressed at a quick pace, with knights coming to bear within two turns. Twilight took her time, cautiously setting up a strong line with her pawns and rooks, while Midnight opted for a more aggressive strategy, probing her defenses with long-distance attacks from its bishops. Twilight was forced to sacrifice her lunar princess in order to take Midnight’s, and soon both sides of the board were near perfect mirrors, with only pawns, rooks, and their vital solar princesses remaining.

Twilight watched Midnight’s expressions with unabashed fascination, marveling at the way its brow furrowed before each of its moves or how its lip curled back in reaction whenever Twilight took her turn. Is that what she looked like when Celestia had first taught her the game as a filly, so determined to win and hanging on the outcome of every move?

And this was the pony that had pointed out her folly in lying to the strangers she tried to befriend?

“As I expected.” Midnight straightened up with a victorious grin. “You are defeated!”

Twilight blinked, focusing back on the board. There were only a few pieces left on either side, but it still took her a moment to find her solar princess, trapped between the three pincers of Midnight’s last rook, a pawn, and its own princess.

“Is it really such a shock? I have always been the more rational of us.” Midnight spent a few seconds posturing before waving its hoof, causing the pieces to rearrange themselves in the starting positions. “Prepare yourself. It is time for a second demonstration.”

Twilight cocked her head, a small smirk pulling at her lips. “Are you sure this isn’t a waste of time?”

Midnight scoffed. “It is never a waste of time to establish my dominance, little flower.”

“Mm. Well, okay then.”

The next game went by nearly as fast, but Twilight was more cautious this time. She varied her strategy, hoping to confuse Midnight with the unusual moves. Rather than hesitate, it seemed to relish the new challenge, its cocksure sneer growing wider with every passing second.

But Twilight kept her focus squarely on the board, allowing no distractions. She lured Midnight’s lunar princess into a trap, taking it with a pawn, and less than five moves later had placed the other mare in checkmate.

Its bloodshot eyes widened. It leaned back, scanning the entire board. “What? That wasn’t there before.”

“Yes, it was.” Twilight smiled. “You just didn’t notice.”

Midnight’s gaze flicked up to meet hers, and she could feel it scouring her heart for any sign of trickery.

There was a brief pause.

“Another!” Again the pieces reset themselves. “I will not fall to the same ruse twice.”

Twilight couldn’t help herself—she laughed, failing to smother her snickers with a hoof. “Are you sure?”

“Do not think that you’re better than I because of a foal’s game!” Midnight spat. It pushed the board towards Twilight with a hoof, nearly dislodging the pieces with the force of the motion. “Make your move!”

Twilight smiled widely as she opened with a knight, shaking her head in bemusement. It was almost endearing seeing Midnight’s typically single-minded determination focused on something as benign as a board game, especially when it had been complaining of their hunger not even an hour earlier. She left herself open this time, inviting Midnight to strike without punishment, and it only took a few minutes for her solar princess to stumble into checkmate.

Midnight let out a frustrated growl. “Do not toy with me, little flower! Do you seek to mock me with empty victories doled out at your leisure? Bah!” The pieces returned to their starting positions as reality blurred around them. “Again, and properly!”

“Okay, okay, sorry!” Twilight chuckled as she moved a pawn forwards. “I’ve just never seen a pony who wanted to win so bad!”

Midnight’s ears perked up. It fixed her with an odd look, and Twilight’s laughter died as she met its piercing gaze.

“What did you call me?”

The door to their cell squealed as it was pushed open, rousing Twilight from her trance. She was back in the little stone room, looking wide-eyed at the pony limping through the door.

“I imagine you’re hungry,” Bag End said. He grimaced as he took in her mutations—she had opted not to try hiding them anymore in her attempt at honesty—and hesitated before his next words. “Bread and veggies alright?”

No.

“Yes!” Twilight sprung to her hooves with an eager smile, causing him to flinch back. “That would be perfect!”

She followed him out into the hall with a cheerful bounce in her step. It was poorly lit, with only flickering bulbs strung up above them to light the way. She could see the firm metal doors of two other cells, as well as a roughshod staircase leading up to a much more clean-cut corridor.

Bag End led her up the stairs stiffly. “Quite the tale you told Peony and the others.” He glanced back at her as he reached the top. “All true?”

She nodded. “They’ve finally decided I’m not lying?”

He shrugged as he started down the corridor to the right. A thin cloud of steam floated along the ceiling, swirling about as fresh jets hissed out of the pipes, making the air stuffy and hot. “Not really, at first. They drilled on my story a bit, and Brandey pointed out that you killed a crystal spider on your own, levitated me all the way back, and teleported past our hatch, so you could probably just pop out of that little cell and kill us all whenever you wanted.”

He looked back as if to ask for confirmation, and she offered him a demure smile. Midnight sprawled out lazily over her back, whispering into her ear with a toothy grin. They would’ve deserved it.

He turned his attention back to the path in front of him. “Right. So then Peony said that if you were keeping yourself restrained out of sheer courtesy, we might as well soften up a bit. You know, before you, uh, changed your mind.”

“I would’ve just left without hurting anyone,” Twilight said. “But really, you have no idea how much I appreciate it! It’s been so long since I was able to just sit down and talk to anypony.”

Oh, I don’t count?

Hush.

“I imagine it must be rough,” Bag said, oblivious to Midnight’s teasing. “Celestia knows most of us down here ain’t right in the head, and we at least got each other for company. Doesn’t stop a couple rookies from breakin’ down every year, though.”

A pair of miners approached from the opposite direction, the metal grid rattling under their hooves, and Twilight smiled and waved as they drew closer. They avoided her eyes, stealing quick glances at her fangs before picking up their pace and rushing past.

Twilight resolved not to let it bother her. “How many of you are down here?”

Bag shrugged. “Guess a bit over 50? Couple dozen per shift, plus the paper pushers. I don’t follow it too much, really. Shift gets a bit tight at year-end ’til the fresh bodies come in.”

A deafening clatter drifted out from a passing door, and Twilight peered inside. A few helmeted ponies were supervising rows of machinery as muddy dirt was poured into rattling hoppers. She waited for the sound to fade before asking her question. “I guess ponies quit very often?”

“Quit?” He let out a dark chuckle. “Eh, someone manages to quit or retire every few years, sure, especially if they can lose a limb while keepin’ their lives. Hay, I was almost one of ‘em!” He glanced back with a mirthful grin. “Thanks for coverin’ me, by the way. About my partner.”

Twilight quickened her pace as the hallway widened, coming up to his side. To their right, the hall opened into a cavernous room, with sweating ponies in harnesses pulling wheeled crates onto a cargo lift. A shout from the far side was followed by a loud siren, and the filled lift began to rise out of sight with the steady hiss of steam.

“What actually happened to him?” Twilight whispered.

Bag End shrugged. “Nothin’. He’s just slow as an ass, and we didn’t hit all our pumps for this week. We’re not supposed to go out alone, but I sure as hay wasn’t takin’ a pay hit over his hoof-draggin’.”

Twilight frowned. “So you told your bosses he was dead?”

“Bah, they don’t pay attention to the rookies anyways. Long as Brandey’s got somethin’ to put on her report, she’s happy. Come in here.” He beckoned her into an open doorway, and they stepped into a cramped mess hall. There were only two tables, and the ceiling was low enough that Twilight found herself hunched over out of concern she might scratch her horn against the hard stone.  Set out on a counter, aluminum trays filled with murky substances glowered up at her in the poor lighting.

Behind the counter was a simple kitchen. A bearded unicorn stallion was curled up asleep in a corner, supported by a stained stovetop on one side and a cupboard on the other.

Bag End walked up to the counter and grabbed a cheap tin bowl from a stack in the corner, holding it out for Twilight. “Take as much as you want.”

Twilight took the bowl in her hooves with a tight smile as she looked over her options. A vat of beans seemed to be the staple food, being the largest of the trays. Next to it were loose bags of crackers, some of which had already been opened, and loaves of crumbly bread that Twilight might’ve mistaken for rocks if they hadn’t been laid out in front of her as food. Last was a wide bowl of thin gruel, melted butter floated on the surface like scum in a pond.

I would rather eat a mushroom grown from the corpse of a week-old changeling than this refuse.

Twilight strained to keep the smile going as she scooped some beans into her bowl, following them up with a generous portion of crackers. “Thank you.”

Bag End laughed, slapping the counter with a hoof. “Now I know your story is true—a blind foal wouldn’t fall for that poker face! Hey, Old Rory!”

The sleeping stallion startled awake, squinting up at the pony calling his name. “What in Tartarus do you want, Bag? I’m on break!”

“This mare saved my life!” Bag jabbed a hoof at Twilight, who offered up a shy wave. “Get her somethin’ nice!”

“Buck off!” Old Rory countered. “I’m on break, damn you!”

“It’s fine, really,” Twilight said, taking a step back.

“No, he’s just grumpy. I’ll sort him out. You want some whiskey, you codger?” Bag grinned as he reached into his jumpsuit and produced a small flask. “I know Peony’s got you on dry watch, but what she don’t know won’t hurt her.”

Old Rory straightened up, eyes suddenly razor sharp. “You really think you can buy me with a swig of cheap whiskey, Bag? Is that how low you think of me?”

“Oh, shut up and move before I change my mind.”

Grumbling, the old stallion picked himself up off the floor, ambled forwards, and snatched the flask out of Bag’s hoof. Putting it to his muzzle, he slugged the whole thing back in one go before throwing it over the counter and letting it clatter loudly to the floor.

Old Rory groaned as he bent down and fished a small can out of the cupboard he’d been sleeping against, set it on the stovetop, and stabbed it violently with a cooking knife before sawing the top off and turning the heat on. A couple minutes later he slapped the now-warmed can down in front of Bag End, looking at Twilight directly for the first time.

“Now who’s this pretty mare you’re tryin’ to charm, Bag?” Rory cackled. “She don’t look your type.”

“Oh, my name’s Twilight Sparkle.” She extended a hoof with a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Rory’s laugh cut off sharply as his gaze slipped to her exposed fangs. He blinked, his eyes roaming over her face as if he was seeing her for the first time, and then his lips curled down into a scowl.

“What’re you playin’ at, Bag, bringin’ this thing into my mess?” Rory snarled. “What, it nearly kills you, and now you wanna turn it on the whole colony?”

“W-wait!” Twilight said. “I don’t mean to hurt anybody, really! I’m just a regular pony!”

“Sure. Sure!” Rory waved her off like a pest as he turned away and returned to his corner, grumbling with every step. “As if I don’t know what a buckin’ pony looks like.”

“But—” Twilight grimaced, her voice wavering. “But I am.”

“Hey, don’t mind him, alright?” Bag put both their bowls, a pair of spoons, and the freshly heated can onto a tray before taking it over to the nearest table. “Come on, eat. He’s a plothole to everyone, really.”

Twilight sighed as she joined Bag at the table. She half-heartedly peered into the can, spotting the sliced carrots swirling around inside, and did her best to put on a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

They ate in silence, the distant rumbles of machinery and the wet snores of Old Rory keeping them company. Twilight stuck mostly to the carrots, relishing the crunch of each bite. 

Are we really making friends here? Midnight sat on the table as it dipped a hoof into her bowl of beans with obvious disgust. These idiots hate us.

Bag End doesn’t hate us. Twilight looked up and caught the stallion abruptly looking away.

No. He fears us. Midnight smirked. A preferable relationship.

Would you shut up? Twilight snapped. You aren’t helping!

Did I not warn you this would happen, little flower? Midnight’s voice was soft and sweet as it echoed between her ears. It’s just you and me now. But don’t worry—I will never look at you like these insects do.

They just need time to adjust. Twilight bit down on a carrot a little sharper than she needed to. It snapped between her fangs like the bones of a fish, but without the satisfying splash of blood. Once they see I’m just like them, they’ll be nicer.

But we’re not just like them. Midnight lay down onto its side, catching Twilight’s eyes. We could wait for all eternity, and they would never adjust.

Twilight was stirred from her thoughts by the sudden arrival of four new ponies in the mess hall. They conversed and laughed among themselves, smiling despite the dirt smudged onto their faces and clothes, only to fall abruptly silent.

She kept her gaze focused resolutely on her food, swallowing each ashen mouthful with aggressive gulps. She ignored the hushed whispers from behind her as they filled their bowls, grit her teeth at the way they sped up when they had to walk around her, and refused to acknowledge the secretive glances they threw her way as they finally sat down on the opposite side of the room, their heads pulled close together to ensure she couldn’t hear.

Her tail flicked against the ground. Her ears began to flatten down against her head, and her lip curled back into a snarl as the motion caused their chatter to suddenly grow more intense. Why were they acting this way? Couldn’t they see that she was a pony just like them? She could understand them being frightened, but to skirt around her and gossip among themselves like fillies in a schoolyard? Why wouldn’t they just talk to her, at least try to understand her?

She squeezed her eyes shut as a shrill ringing began to echo in the back of her head and grow steadily louder. She just wanted friends. She wanted someone to look at her and not steal a nervous glance at her fangs. She wanted someone to ask if she was hungry without cringing in fear. Even her old friends from Ponyville seemed uneasy around her the last time they spoke.

Her body began to shake, and a bloody tear dripped down her cheek as the ringing began to drown out her thoughts.

She wanted friends. Was there nopony, not a single creature left in this accursed world, that would give her companionship without treating her like a monster?

The ringing stopped, and Twilight gasped as she became aware of a sudden sensation. It was almost like her ears popping after the train ride up to Canterlot, when the stuffy pressure clogging her hearing gave way and she found herself able to hear the soft sounds that she’d never noticed missing.

It was barely there, lingering at the bottom of her consciousness, pulsing in tune with her heart. She looked up and saw Midnight staring back at her, its brow furrowed and its mouth hanging slightly open.

What is that? she asked. Do you feel it, too?

Midnight blinked. I hear it. It cocked its head, one ear twitching. And… something else.

Twilight frowned. The rumbling of the machinery was joined by a soft shuddering of the metal underhoof, and she turned to see Bag End stiffen. The ponies at the other table soon followed suit, each of them looking to the others with wide-eyed terror.

In the distance, Twilight heard the sharp, rolling crack of shattering stone, and then a mare screaming.





Finally. Rainbow took in a deep breath, holding it for several seconds. Through the window in the Argo’s main hall, she watched the Orichalcum slowly drift further away.

“Glad to see it go, huh?” Applejack came up to her side. “Me too.”

“And glad to be back on the trail,” Rainbow said. She turned to her friend with a warm grin. “Can’t leave Twi hanging, after all.”

“That’s for sure. Gettin’ away from that Silverblood fella’s a mighty nice bonus, too.” Applejack shook her head in disdain. “That stallion probably paid extra for a fancy dictionary that don’t have ‘no’ in it.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Gerritt was kinda cool, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Applejack arched a brow, smirking. “After all that stink-eye y’all gave him?”

“Eh, I guess he didn’t really deserve it.” Rainbow shrugged as she turned away from the window. “I’m gonna go chillax up front some. You wanna come?”

“No, thanks, RD. I’m plum tuckered out after cleanin’ up the mess them workponies left behind.” With a yawn and a wave, Applejack turned in the opposite direction, towards the cargo hold. “I’ll see y’all later.”

Rainbow looked after the farmpony for only a few seconds before starting towards the bridge. It was a short walk—especially after the days spent aboard the massive Orichalcum—and within seconds she was stepping through a cloud of steam and looking out at the glittering ocean stretching out before her. The rising sun cast long streams of light across the water that seemed to dance and twirl with the waves, like silver streamers draped across the reflection of the clear orange sky. Sunfeather and Sea Sabre were leaned over the navigation table checking the charts, the latter mare looking up to meet Rainbow’s eye.

Sabre dipped her head. “Rainbow.”

“Hey, Sabre. Hey, Sunny.” Rainbow stepped up to the table as Sunfeather let out a quiet grunt of greeting. “How’s it looking?”

Sunfeather looked up with a barely perceptible frown. “You read charts?”

“Well, not exactly.” Rainbow offered her a sheepish grin. “But we’ve gotta be getting close by now, right? Do you have any idea how much longer it’ll be?”

“Disregarding the fact that we don’t have a destination any more specific than a direction,” Sabre began, tracing a line across one map with a wingtip. “We’re less than a week away from the Grey.”

“The Grey?” Rainbow leaned over the map, following Sabre’s line. A trail of dots marked the path they’d taken, each one labeled with a small date scribbled beside it. Wherever they were, they were far enough north that Heighton wasn’t even on the map. She saw Altalusia far to the southeast, and a few other islands—all to their south.

The top third of the map, along the northern edge, was filled in with a trio of different hatchwork patterns arrayed in neat bands. Rainbow looked to the legend written along one side. Grey, Winter Solstice. Grey, Equinox. Grey, Summer Solstice.

“It’s the ice sheet,” Sabre explained. “It extends south during the winter, then recedes north in summer. It should be about here by now.” She pointed to a line penciled in between the Equinox and Winter Solstice bands.

“And what do we do once we get there?” Rainbow asked.

“Unless we find Twilight, I’ll leave that up to you and Applejack to decide,” Sabre said, looking up from the map. “To my understanding she didn’t have a precise idea of where she was going, but we’re to find her. You two know her best, so I’ll leave our direction to you at that juncture.”

“Oh.” Rainbow frowned down at the little line on the map. It hadn’t actually occurred to her until then that “the Frozen North” was such a vague goal. Somehow she’d always imagined that they’d just fly north, and somewhere along the line they’d cross paths with Twilight. She thought of Princess Luna slumbering peacefully in the hold, nestled among the soft cloudstuff of her room. What if we never find her?

“There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Sabre said, drawing Rainbow’s attention back up from the map. She paused as Sunfeather slid behind her and descended to the lower level, taking her place on the control dais. “On that ship.”

Almost without realizing it, Rainbow found her stance straightening. “Yes, ma’am?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Sabre’s lips. “It was a stressful situation for you, I’m sure. Silverblood tried to get at all of us at one point or another, but I know he went for you and Applejack hardest.”

“That’s correct, ma’am.” Rainbow grimaced as she thought back to how close she’d come to losing it. “I’m sorry if I didn’t meet your expectations.”

“That’s not it at all, Rainbow Dash.” Sabre shook her head. She raised a hoof, laying it on Rainbow’s shoulder. “I just wanted to say that you did well. I had my concerns that you’d snap under the pressure, but you’ve come a long way since we started your training. I heard about your spar with Gerritt, too.” She paused, her smile growing wider. “I’m proud of you.”

“O-oh.” A tentative grin crossed Rainbow’s face as she looked into her mentor’s eyes. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m… glad I didn’t let you down again.”

Both mares looked over at a hiss of steam behind them as Star Trails stepped onto the bridge, a folder floating in her magical grip. She scanned the room quickly before spotting them, trotting up with a casual smile. “Hey, you two.”

“Everything in order, Trails?” Sabre asked, nodding towards the folder.

“Yeah, it’s all clear. There’s actually something I noticed that I thought you might want to know.” Trails brought the folder down on the navigation table, folding it open and pointing at the paper on top of the stack. A column of numbers was written down the right side of the page in a neat, flowing script, carefully lined up with brief descriptions of charges on the left side. “So this is from the paperwork for our repair job, right?”

Sabre nodded, and Trails pointed to a long string of digits written along the bottom. “Now here’s Silverblood’s account number. He’s got most of his money in Harvest Central. And here—” she pulled a rolled up paper out of her uniform, splaying it out next to the receipt and straightening it out with a hoof “—is a bounty sheet we picked up last time we were in Heighton.”

A chill ran down Rainbow’s spine as she looked at the bounty. Her own face stared impassively back at her, disconcerting in how lifelike it was. The Rainbow Dash in the picture was almost unrecognizable to her, still having both her eyes and lacking the scars over her muzzle. The tip of Trails’s hoof was pointing to a long string of digits written along the bottom.

“Wait a sec.” Rainbow frowned, her eye darting between the two sheets. “They’re the same.”

“Yep.” Trails nodded. “I noticed it as I was about to file this receipt away. Whoever put this bounty out on you, Rainbow, they were offering payment from Silverblood’s bank account.”

“But—” Rainbow blinked, her brow furrowing. Her lips were feeling dry.  “So does that mean—?”

Sabre nodded. “He’s the one that posted it.”

“I found a bounty for Twilight with the same account, too,” Trails said, producing the bounty and unrolling it next to Rainbow’s. “I checked the sheets we picked up for the rest of your friends, but none of them matched. Probably just luck of the draw, really.” Trails shrugged as she stepped back.

Rainbow sat heavily against the floor as she looked between the papers. She was having trouble speaking above a whisper. “So that pony—he put a bounty on me and my friends?”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Trails grinned. “Kinda crazy, huh? I remember the first time I saw the bounty my old fleet put on me. I keep the sheet pinned in my room, actually. I’ve got a little collection!”

Rainbow barely heard her. She was thinking back to all the pain she’d been through. She thought of Gava binding her wings and dragging her across a factory roof in Heighton. Her pulse began to quicken as she remembered Gava with her talons tight against Applejack’s throat, crowing about how she could kill two of them and still have more money than she ever needed. Her throat tightened at the memory of Twilight’s furious screams when she lost control on Altalusia, as all the pent-up hatred her friend—normally polite to a fault—had hidden away that suddenly burst through to the surface.

All that pain. She was looking at the paper, but she saw Silverblood’s cocky grin staring back at her. It’s his fault. She could hear him laughing, hear him cheering her on to kill Gerritt like they were toys dancing for his own amusement. He hurt my friends. I was right there, and I didn’t even know.

Rainbow flinched at a touch on her shoulder. She turned to see Star Trails watching her, the concern clear in her eyes. “Hey, you alright, Dash?”

Rainbow hadn’t noticed that she was shaking until then. “I... need to stretch my wings.”

She brushed past Trails and Sabre without another word. The ship seemed to blur around her, and the next thing she knew she was in open air, wings spread, the Argo already pulling away from her.

She wasn’t worried about getting lost. The sky was a big place, but she was a pegasus, and it was her home. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d put a couple miles between herself and the ship while looking to clear her mind, and she always found her way back.

Picking a direction at random, Rainbow poured herself into her wings. What would’ve happened if her friends hadn’t come to save her after Gava’s ambush aboard the Argo? Would she have been carted off to some exchange and sold to Silverblood, wings weighed down with paper bindings that sent more and more bounty hunters after her with every escape? Would her friends have been able to find her? What if they’d been caught, too?

What if she never saw them again until decades later when she’d grown so tired that she didn’t even care anymore?

The wind roared in her ears and tugged at her mane, matching the maelstrom in her mind. Why was she still thinking? She grit her teeth and pumped her muscles, trying to outrace her thoughts.

It wasn’t fair. All she and her friends wanted to do was help, or at the very least be left alone. Why did fate keep toying with them like this? Why did it seem like everywhere they went there was someone getting in their way, trying to trick them or trap them? Why did she have to lose her eye?

Why couldn’t she have died when the floods came, for the world to forget her under the waves like it did with her parents? With the Wonderbolts? With Scootaloo?

If she flew fast enough, the tears would dry before they left her eyes. Her eyes and wings burned, and she welcomed that fire.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she finally stopped to catch her breath. She came to a stop with a shuddering gasp, her breath fogging out before her at the crisp altitude. She twirled in a lazy circle, greeted by the empty horizon. Maybe out here she could finally get some peace.

The Orichalcum slid into view.

The fire flared up in her breast. How far had she flown? Was the big ship just that slow? Why had her wings brought her here?

By the time she realized she was soaring closer, she couldn’t think of any reason to turn away. She approached the ship in a trance, squinting into the light from the rising sun to spot the little raised nub on the front where Silverblood’s quarters were.

She glided over the length of the ship without a thought, passing over the apple orchard and casting a shadow through the glass onto the workers below. Maybe one of them looked up, curious to see the source of the pegasus-shaped darkness passing over them, but if they did, Rainbow didn’t notice.

She took a deep breath as she reached the front of the massive, east-facing ship, picking out the gleam of the sun against the curving rectangular window that she knew served as the backdrop for Silverblood’s dining room. The golden rays streamed through the glass, illuminating the room in its warm light.

She could see him.

He was right there, back to her, silver robes draped over his sides and steaming plates sprawled out before him.

Her shadow passed over him, and she watched numbly as he turned, regarding her with a curious frown.

He smiled.

Her vision clouded red. The fire wrapped around her, pushing up against her wings, driving her forward with both hooves outstretched and her muzzle twisted into a furious snarl.

The sound of the glass shattering filled her ears.

She crashed into the dining table, sending plates of stuffed pepper and bowls full of exotic soups and wooden splinters flying in every direction, joining the shards of broken glass stirred by her entry as they danced around the room. A pair of serving mares screeched as they ducked out of sight.

Rainbow turned as the wind of her passage whipped at her mane, fixing her eye on the spot where Silverblood had thrown himself to the ground, protecting his head with his forelegs.

He peeked out from between them, meeting her gaze, and she saw fear.

“Gerritt!” Silverblood scrambled to his hooves, nearly tripping over his ridiculous robes as he darted to one side. Rainbow crouched low, shivering body coiling like a spring—

The ear-splitting crack of a gunshot rang out, followed by the snap of a bullet whizzing past her head. Rainbow flicked her head to the left, spotting the griffon that had been standing in her blind spot, a thin trail of smoke drifting from the barrel of his revolver.

Slowly, he stepped in front of Rainbow, blocking the path that Silverblood had taken. “Hey, Rainbow.”

Rainbow’s wings twitched to either side of her. Her voice was oddly calm when she spoke, and for a moment she wondered how it could possibly belong to a mare filled with fire. “Out of my way.”

“Can’t do that.” Gerritt shrugged. He sounded just as casual as he always did. “Contract.”

“You know you can’t beat me,” Rainbow growled. She took a step forward, and he drew the hammer back on his revolver. “Not even with that gun.”

“Mm, I don’t know. You’re pretty fast, but dodging a bullet?” His beak curled up into a friendly smirk. “It’ll be interesting either way, I guess.”

“Why are you doing this?” Rainbow seethed. “You hate him as much as I do!”

“Well, maybe not as much. And like I said—contract.” He rolled his shoulders as the sound of Silverblood’s fleeing hooves grew gradually fainter. “So let’s make this quick, before he gets to his safe room.”

Rainbow blinked, the corner of her lip twitching upwards as she understood. His smirk turned to a smile.

The report of his revolver rang in her ears as her hooves left the ground, but she had already crossed the distance. He grunted, gun flying from his claws as she threw him to his back.

He rolled with the blow, using his wings to bounce back upright, and slid into a low stance. Loose cutlery and glass twinkled like stars in the sunlight as the wind from Rainbow’s wings cast them into a swirling vortex.

He lashed out, but he could never hope to touch her. She was past his guard, spinning through the air to deliver a two-legged buck to his side that connected with a wet crunch.

A strangled scream escaped him as he fell to the ground, one shivering talon held tight over his side where she’d kicked him.

He looked up at her with a haggard grin, sucking in ragged breaths. “No b-blood y-yet. Hrk!” A jet of dark blood spewed from his beak, staining the rug beneath. “Ah.”

He collapsed, head falling to the ground with a strained sigh, chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe past his crushed ribcage.

Rainbow didn’t have time to wait and see if he’d live. With a single flap of her wings she rocketed down the corridor after Silverblood. Flaring them out to slow herself as she reached a corner, she kicked off the wall and propelled herself towards his fleeing form.

“Sassie!” His voice broke as he screamed for help. At the end of the hall, the pink-coated Sassie stood next to the elevator that led up to his safe room, her eyes wide in shock. “Sassie, the—”

Rainbow crashed into him with all four hooves, grinding his face into the plush carpet as he skidded to a stop. “Why?!” He yelped as she bodily rolled him onto his back, snarling down into his face. “Why?!”

“It’s business! It’s b-business!” He raised his forelegs in a vain attempt to shield himself, and with a frustrated scream Rainbow smacked them away. “Please! It wasn’t personal!”

“Fuck you, it’s not personal!” Rainbow raised a hoof and kicked him in the gut, causing him to double over in pain. “You’ve ruined my life! You’ve ruined my friends’ lives!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she delivered another kick with every sentence, pouring every ounce of her pain into each one.

“N-no, please!”

“What gives you the right?!” She stomped on one of his legs, and he wailed as the bone twisted and gave way. “You think you can treat ponies this way?! You’re everything I hate about this world! I hate you!”

“Please.” Silverblood groaned as he tried to drag himself away. “M-mercy.”

“Why?!” She stomped a hoof down on the space next to his head, causing him to flinch away. “Answer me! Why are you like this?!”

Her blood was rushing in her ears, and her chest swelled with every breath as she forced herself back under control, pushing the fire back.

After several seconds of whimpering, Silverblood risked meeting her glare. “I—I’m h-helping.”

“Helping?” she seethed. “How is anything you do helping?”

“It’s g-guidance.” Silverblood gulped as he turned to face her fully, the confidence coming back to his voice as he spoke. “These ponies, they d-don’t know what’s best for them, you see? They don’t know how to save or how to invest, how to make wealth grow.” He offered up a weak smile, and with some satisfaction Rainbow noticed one of his teeth missing. “I house them, feed them, educate them! Everything they have, they have because of me!”

“And you think that means you can just own ponies?!” Rainbow spat. “What right do you have to put a bounty on my friends, to try and force them to serve you?!”

His smile grew firmer, and he let his hooves fall so he could look her squarely in the eye. “Their magic belongs to all of us, Miss Dash. You can’t expect me to leave the soul of Equestria in their capricious hooves.”

Rainbow blinked. For a brief moment, the fire abated. “That’s it?” she asked. “That’s your justification for all the pain you’ve caused me?”

“Ultimately, you caused the pain yourself.” Silverblood grinned, wincing as she brushed against his shattered leg. “I offered you a fair contract.”

The fire came back as a raging inferno, twisting Rainbow’s muzzle up into an enraged snarl. Silverblood’s grin faltered as she reared up, both hooves poised to fall on his skull.

Gerritt’s voice echoed through her mind.

“Eventually they cross the wrong pony, whether it be a competitor, an employee, or just some wildcard passing through.”

At that moment, she was happy to be the wrong pony.

Rainbow screamed as her hooves came down hard, and with each strike, each crunch of bone, his moans grew fainter, and the warmth of blood seeped deeper into the fur around her fetlocks, until finally he fell still and silent.
> XIX: Of Consequences
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s going on?” Twilight looked to Bag End with wide eyes as the screams echoed through the halls. “What’s happening?”

“It sounds like spiders, but they’ve never come so far up the mountain before.” Bag End turned to face her slowly, brow furrowing. “Unless—”

“You!” Twilight jumped as one of the ponies from the other table advanced on her, a stallion with his ears back and his voice laced with venom. “You brought them here!”

“Wait, no!” Twilight scrambled backwards, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything, really!”

“How stupid do you think we are?” the stallion asked, backing her against a wall. “They’ve never come up this far, until you arrived! I don’t know what you told Peony Burrows, but I can see you for what you are, and I’m not falling for it!”

It was at that moment that Twilight noticed the shuddering of the rough stone behind her. She reached out to try and push the stallion away, mouth opening to shout a warning, and—

The wall exploded behind her, throwing her to the ground with a cry. She caught herself on her forelegs, squeezing herself against the ground as she felt something cold and smooth skitter over her back with a sharp screech. 

She winced at a sickening crunch from above her, and she cringed as she saw the stallion’s body flung to the floor beside her, fresh blood pumping from the stump of his neck. The ponies in the galley screamed as the huge crystal spider crawled over Twilight’s shivering form, pulling itself fully into the room and menacing them with its massive jaws.

What are you afraid of, little flower? We’ve already proven ourselves superior to these beasts.

It’s right on top of us! It just killed that pony!

I see it falls to me to save us, then. Not unexpected.

Twilight’s horn glowed unbidden, and she looked up to see Midnight teleporting onto one of the tables with a wicked smile, causing the miners huddled against the edges of the room to jump. The lavender light from its horn was laced with sickly red as it ripped a pipe from the ceiling, summoning a shield around itself to hold back the hot steam. “Come meet your death, monster!”

The spider screeched, lunging forwards just as Midnight threw the pipe. The spider’s head jerked to the side as the jagged edges of the makeshift javelin speared it, throwing the limp body off course.

A brief second passed as the scattered ponies all regarded the twitching corpse in silence. One of them, a mare with a bright green coat that contrasted sharply with the drab colors of her peers, stared at the decapitated stallion. “That thing killed Polo.”

“And we saved you.” Twilight’s eyes widened as the miners looked up to where Midnight stood proudly atop one of the tables. “You should be thankful.”

“Monster.” The green mare spoke quietly at first, but her voice rose to a shout as she leveled an accusing hoof. “This is your fault!”

Midnight frowned. Twilight focused her mind, squeezing her eyes shut, and when she opened them it was her standing in Midnight’s place. She stumbled, nearly falling as she recovered from the sudden shift in position.

What was that? she demanded.

I did what you could not, as usual. Midnight sneered at her from above the spider’s impaled corpse. Or shall I just sit and watch every time you’re struck dumb with terror?

Yes! This is my body! You can’t just take over it whenever you want!

Empty words, Midnight scoffed. You may not have asked for my help, but it was clear you wanted it.

Twilight stomped a hoof, causing the few plates on the table to rattle and shake. No, I didn’t!

Do not be coy with me! Midnight snapped. You may blanch at these thoughts, but you know that monsters need to be destroyed, and the creatures roaming these halls are undeniably monsters, even by your twisted reasoning! It was muzzle-to-muzzle with her, lip pulled back in disdain. You’re all but useless in battle, and you know it, which is exactly why you let me take control without your usual recalcitrance!

Twilight blinked, mouth hanging open in shock. It’s not right. Her mental voice was feeble, lacking the strength of honesty. Killing anything, even creatures like these, should be a last resort.

Ah, I see. You had hoped to try and befriend the thing first. Midnight narrowed its eyes, not bothering to hide its skepticism. You speak to me of making friends, and now these future friends of ours are in deadly peril. So will you fight me, now that the one immediate threat is defeated, or will you free me to do the task we both know only I can do?

Twilight grimaced, raising a hoof across her chest as if to shield herself from the accusations. It was right—she’d felt its thoughts before it reached for her magic, and she hadn’t made any protest. With her heart pounding and a pony dying nearly right on top of her, letting Midnight take control to do what it did best seemed like the easiest decision.

Even worse, it seemed like the right decision.

Twilight scanned the room, stiffening as she realized that they were all alone. The miners had disappeared during their argument. Where did they go?

I expect the fools don’t realize they’re safest within our sight. Midnight cast a wide ping, scanning the entire colony, and Twilight’s eyes widened as she realized the true extent of the chaos engulfing it.

It wasn’t just a few spiders—there were already a dozen, with even more burrowing through the stone, bursting into rooms all throughout the facility before scuttling through the halls in search of prey. The miners were spread thin, some even completely isolated, and bile rose in her throat as the spell returned to her thick with the signature of fresh blood.

Why were they attacking? The miners had seemed in disbelief at the idea of the monsters approaching the colony, and from what little Twilight had picked up, they mostly kept to the lower levels of the mountain, threatening mining and engineering teams without endangering their home near the surface. Something must have changed to bring the spiders here, and Twilight found bloody tears dripping down her cheeks as she desperately searched for an explanation, any explanation aside from the obvious.

The only thing that had changed was her. They’d been safe here, but her arrival had changed that.

So we leave, Midnight stated. As we should’ve already. These ponies are not our goal.

We can’t leave them now! Somehow it’s our fault that this is happening, and we need to fix it!

Fix it? Midnight narrowed its eyes, giving her a sideways look. How exactly do you propose we fix this?

Twilight sighed. She sat down heavily, wrapping her tail around her hooves. We need to protect them.

We will have to fight to protect them. Midnight paused, frowning down at her. You understand?

After a brief hesitation, Twilight nodded. Just be careful. We can’t hurt anyone this time! She hardened her brow, using their emotional connection to add more weight to her words. I mean it.

Midnight grinned, its bloody fangs gleaming in the dim light. Together, finally.

It moved without hesitation, leaving Twilight with the surreal experience of wondering whether she was watching a mental projection or her own physical body walking away from her. She felt like she was looking through its eyes as it peered out into the hall, but that couldn’t be right, could it? They were her eyes, and it was her body, even if at that moment it felt wrong—inaccurate—to say that.

The colony was empty here. The ponies that had been loading cargo on and off the lift next to the mess hall were gone, several crates abandoned in the middle of the open space. It was eerily quiet compared to how loud it was before. A spinning yellow warning light atop the lift cast long shadows that seemed to sway and dance to an unheard rhythm. Distant shouts and screams could be heard, often with long seconds of silence between them, and the sound of breaking stone had been replaced with the distant shudder of metal as hooves raced across it.

There’s nothing here.

Very observant of you.

Their horns glowed, and in a spark of magic they leapt across the colony. Twilight flinched as a barrage of sensation hit her—shrieks and chittering mixed with ragged breaths and spilled blood. They were in another hallway, wider and with rails running down the middle. Several fleeing ponies drew up short with terrified cries as Twilight and her doppelganger appeared before them, trapped between the unknown threat and the trio of massive spiders jittering ever closer.

“Go, keep running!” Twilight said. The miners rushed past with their heads lowered as if afraid they’d be cut down at any moment.

“Three on one.” Midnight stepped forwards with a smug smirk. Broken pipes, stray rubble, and a discarded spear floated off the ground, hovering between them in a spinning circle of lavender and red light. “You will need many more.”

Midnight threw the spear, piercing the lead spider’s skull with enough force to send shards of crystal flying and driving its corpse into the ground. Next was the piping, both ends twisted into improvised blades by their magic, sending the second spider to join the first. The third picked up speed, closing on the duo as Midnight carved a pony-length lance out of a stone, and Twilight wrapped them both in a glowing shield.

She tensed as the spider jumped—soaring right past them and tackling one of the fleeing miners.

Midnight scowled as it tracked the spider through the air, propelled the stone lance forth to strike the crystal spider’s abdomen. The tip jutted out the other side with a sound almost like a window shattering, and the miner that had been pinned under it scrambled away with a shriek.

Twilight sucked in a deep breath. Her blood rushed in their ears, hot with a foreign thrill she’d never experienced before. Why didn’t it attack us?

Perhaps it thought its odds of survival better if it did not face us directly. Midnight twisted its lips into a cocky grin. It was clearly a stupid creature.

You can gloat later, Twilight said as she sent out more pings. There are still ponies in need of our help.

And monsters in need of death, yes.

With the crackle of teleportation, they threw themselves across the colony once more. Again they found a group of miners under threat, this time racing up a dark stairwell as even more spiders streamed up from below.

Midnight was already tearing chunks of rock and sections of pipe from the walls as Twilight pinged the shaft beneath them, picking out targets. The brilliant light from their horns filtered through the hot steam hissing from the broken piping as Midnight squared its stance and let loose with its improvised arsenal.

The first two spiders fell easily, dropping off the walls with twitching limbs and tumbling down the stairwell with the echoing sound of cracking glass. The third jumped away from the attack, skittering past Twilight and bounding higher, after the fleeing ponies.

Again they ignore us, Midnight growled. Another pair of spiders jumped past them, the jagged tips of their crystalline legs leaving gaping holes in the craggy walls. What is the meaning of this?

We can figure it out later! We have to save those ponies!

Midnight nodded, and together they reached out with their magic. Twilight gnashed her teeth as sweat broke out on her brow, and with a screech of metal they pulled the stairs’ anchors out of the stone. They twisted the steel back into a messy wall, blocking the ascent behind the fleeing miners. “Face us, beasts!”

As if on cue, all three spiders turned around. The nearest pounced, and Twilight fell back with a gasp as Midnight stepped in front of her, a wave of force from its horn sending the monster tumbling backwards with a shriek. A pulsing ache formed at the base of Twilight’s horn as Midnight lashed out with stone javelins, felling each beast in quick succession.

“That’s better!” Midnight grinned, its breathless excitement overflowing into Twilight’s mind and making her heart pound against her chest. It looked back, fixing her with its manic expression. Why do you cringe and grovel, little flower? We’ll be even more powerful moving as one!

We need to slow down! Twilight winced as she picked herself up off the floor, rubbing at her head. We’ll burn ourselves out if we keep going at this pace.

Bah! The battle will not wait for your comfort. Midnight looked up, ears twitching.

A deep rumbling to their side preceded the arrival of another spider, the beast tackling Midnight and bearing it across the stairwell with a fearsome screech. It bit down, and Twilight screamed as pain flared in her shoulder. She fell limply against the metal stairs, one hoof gripping at the warm blood trickling through her coat as she rolled over to watch the battle.

Midnight grunted as it pushed the spider’s snapping fangs back with all four hooves, angling its horn down just enough to blast it with red-tinted lavender energy. The magic bounced off with a sharp ping, snapping the spider’s head back and giving Midnight time to impale it on a lance of jagged stone.

It fell still with a rattling hiss, letting Midnight toss the body away and climb back to its hooves. “Treacherous creature!”

Are you okay? Twilight blinked, and she was standing at Midnight’s side, leaning against it for support.

I’m fine! Midnight snapped. I will take the pain. It keeps my mind sharp.

Twilight frowned in confusion, only to realize a moment later that the pain in her shoulder was fading, giving way to a tingling numbness. She could see Midnight’s jaw tightening, and its nostrils flared as it straightened up, pushing her away.

Wait, what are you—you don’t have to do that!

Spare me your protests. You’ve put me through worse before. Midnight’s horn glowed, sending out a rapid series of pings while Twilight watched, mouth agape.

The magic returned quickly, shaking Twilight from her shock. The bottom levels were crawling with spiders, and almost everypony in the colony had gathered in a single room near the peak of the mountain. There was only one exception: two ponies that seemed to be hiding on the colony’s furthest edge.

They teleported without hesitation, coming out into a wide, long room with a deep ditch running through the center. A small submarine rested in the middle, and with a start Twilight realized that the far wall was made up of two massive doors, metal teeth locked together to hold back the weight of the ocean outside.

It only took one more ping to find the hiding ponies, who were squirreled away in a small room adjacent to the drydock. Twilight took the lead without thinking, hooves echoing over the chamber as she galloped across it and flung the door open.

The ponies inside screamed as they charged her, heavy wrenches brandished in their teeth, and with a cry of alarm Twilight erected a shield, sending the makeshift weapons bouncing off and clattering to the floor. “Wait! Wait! I’m here to help!”

The ponies backed away, bumping against a table full of discarded tools. One of them, a pegasus mare with blood splattered over one cheek, jabbed a shaky hoof out. “Liar! You’re just trying to get us to lower our guard so your spiders can eat us!”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

The other pony, a unicorn stallion with bandages wrapped around his barrel, raised his lips in a snarl. “Stop playing with us, you monster!”

A screech from behind made Twilight’s ears perk up, and she stepped further into the room, letting Midnight block the doorway. It turned without hesitation, picking up the wrenches left on the floor and hurling them at the approaching spider with a snarl. The spider staggered as the first struck it between the eyes, leaving a jagged crack behind, and the second followed soon after, caving its crystal skull in. The twitching corpse stumbled, falling into the drydock with a loud thud.

“Your time is up, mongrels.” Midnight rounded on the terrified ponies with a menacing glare, the reddish glow of its magic filling the room. Twilight gasped, reaching out to bat at its horn and stop whatever spell it was casting, but it shoved her away with a hoof before she could get close.

Midnight, no!

The two miners disappeared in crackling flashes of energy, their screams cut off in an instant. Twilight looked up at Midnight with wide eyes, and it frowned its disapproval down at her.

Teleportation, little flower. Your words strain my patience where action gets results.

Twilight blinked. I thought you were—

You thought wrong. Midnight scowled as it turned away, stalking out of the little workshop.

Twilight grimaced as she followed it back into the drydock, the ache in her horn even stronger after sending two ponies halfway across the colony. We have to figure out what’s brought the spiders—oof!

Midnight had come to an abrupt stop just outside the workshop, causing Twilight to bump into it with a sudden shiver. She was just about to ask what happened when she looked up—

—and saw hundreds of pink crystalline eyes leering back at her.

I think it’s fairly clear why they’re here. The lavender-red glow of magic cast spidery shadows across the room as Midnight tore several sections of railing from around the drydock. They spun in the air, tips sharpening into deadly points, and the spiders jerked and twitched over the walls, heads bobbing side to side.

Twilight’s eyes widened, darting around the room as she sat back on her haunches, pinned in place by the crystal orbs watching her from every direction. She was having trouble breathing past the nervous pit in her gut, and trouble thinking past the ache at the base of her horn, and it was all she could do to keep from turning tail, fleeing back into the workshop, and slamming the door shut behind her.

“What are you waiting for?” Midnight challenged.

The spiders froze, and after a second of silence began to chitter excitedly, the shrill sound echoing off the walls until it seemed to come from every direction at once. Twilight pinned her ears back against her head in vain—it felt like they were inside her, scratching at her skull as if begging for escape.

“Enough of this!” Midnight shouted. “Come and die, monsters!”

As one, the spiders tensed, bodies coiling as they prepared to pounce.

“Wait! Stop!” Twilight threw herself to the ground and covered her head in her hooves, praying to Celestia for escape.

It took several long moments spent shivering on the floor before she realized the room had gone completely silent.

She cracked an eye open. The spiders were still on the walls. Still watching.

Twilight blinked, her muzzle hanging open as her brow furrowed in thought. She licked her lips, glancing towards Midnight before speaking again.

“G-go away.”

They turned without hesitation. The walls seemed to come to life as the spiders crawled across, streaming into the connected hallways with a quiet chittering. Twilight watched in awe as the light of her magic was reflected a hundred times across their crystalline chitin, bouncing back up into the darkest corners of the room in beautiful new hues.

They can hear us.

Twilight tore her gaze away from the sight, meeting Midnight’s eyes. And we can hear them.

It didn’t take the form of words. She could feel dozens of entities within her, almost like Midnight, but so faint that she hadn’t noticed it until then.

Twilight stole a quick glance towards Midnight, afraid to take her eyes off the spiders for too long. Do you feel that?

It is as before, just prior to the attack. Midnight narrowed its eyes.

Twilight climbed back to her hooves slowly, mouth agape. They aren’t just hearing us. They’re listening.

She looked to Midnight with wide eyes, meeting its skeptical expression.

This is incredible! Unprecedented! It’s like some kind of impromptu hive mind or—ah, I need a notebook! Twilight’s horn glowed as she pulled her brother’s old logbook and a pen out of her saddlebags, flipping to one of the blank pages near the back and scribbling furiously.

What are you doing?

Freeze!

The spiders froze. Some looked around themselves as if confused, and Twilight failed to suppress a giggle as she wrote the results of her first test. She looked back up, putting as much force into her mental voice as she could. Go down into the mountain, as low as you can. Never approach the peak again. No, wait! She gasped, picking out one of the smaller specimens, only a little taller than a pony. You stay!

The chosen spider skittered closer as the others continued to file out of the room. Was she imagining it, or did it sound almost inquisitive?

This is ridiculous. Midnight shook its head as Twilight clapped her hooves together in excitement. We should kill the monster. We could kill all of them with this power.

No! Twilight snapped. I need a test subject, and they aren’t harming anypony anymore. She reached out a tentative hoof, hesitating as the spider crouched back. We brought them here. They heard me calling for friends, and they came.

They tried to kill us.

Because you asked them to. Twilight shook her head, letting out a breathy laugh. Oh, Celestia, what’s happening to me? The fangs, the eyes, the diet, and now these creatures following my every word like they think I’m their mother. She cringed, rubbing at her eyes with a hoof. It’s just getting worse.

Midnight said nothing for a long moment, leaving Twilight to sniffle quietly. Perhaps we should name it?

Twilight looked up with a frown. Huh?

You wish to test our ability, yes? Midnight was watching her with an oddly neutral expression, its voice lacking the usual hard edge. Notes will need to be taken, and the subject will need a name.

Oh, right. Twilight nodded, wiping the fresh blood from her cheeks and straightening up with a deep breath. She brought Shining’s logbook back up to her face, pen floating an inch off the paper. That’s a good idea. A name. She glanced up at the spider, being careful not to start chewing on the pen as she thought. What about Scylla?

Scylla. Midnight nodded. Make it so.

The corner of Twilight’s lips pulled up into a small smile as she pressed the pen against the paper, and she sighed as the scratchy sound of her writing pushed her dark thoughts away, replacing them with ideas for future tests. We’ll call her Scylla, then.

Her?

Twilight frowned, not looking up from the paper as she began to outline future plans. Well it’s certainly not a male name. I’m sure she won’t mind.

Why is the spider a her? Midnight asked.

Twilight froze. Slowly she looked up to meet Midnight’s slitted, bloodshot eyes. It looked back at her with quiet curiosity.

Would you—I mean, are you a her?

Midnight pursed its lips. It looked away, narrowing its eyes. I would prefer that.

Oh. O-okay. Twilight grimaced, returning her attention to her notes. Sorry.

Are we done here? Midnight asked. It—she—glared at the stone and steel around her with undisguised contempt. The fool ponies are saved. The Frozen North awaits.

We should check in on them first. Twilight closed the logbook with a contented sigh, slipping it and her pen back into her saddlebags. At least to say goodbye.

Midnight’s tail flicked behind her. Somehow I expect silent disappearance would be their favored farewell.

We put their home at risk, Midnight, and—and some of them died because of it. Twilight shook her head as she sent out a ping. The miners were still hidden in the same room, no doubt wondering when it would be safe to come out. We can’t just run away.

And yet whenever some new foe challenges us, your first thought is to flee. Midnight rolled its eyes with a snort. There will be no more distractions after this, little flower. Let us be quick.

Twilight smiled in relief. Her horn continued to ache even after she stopped channeling her magic, and with one glance at Scylla’s considerable mass she decided she’d rather not put further strain on herself with teleportation.

Let’s go, then. Twilight started towards the nearest hall at a brisk trot, and when she looked back she saw Scylla scuttling behind her, Midnight perched on the spider’s back with an impatient glare.





The blood was still sticky even as it cooled.

Rainbow Dash groaned in frustration as she perched on a cloud, grabbing the fluffy foam and scrubbing it into her coat. Clouds were supposed to be pearly white, but the blood she’d sloughed off had turned this one a sickly pink.

Sassie’s scream came from both sides. Looking up from the carcass beneath her, Rainbow saw the second twin behind her, six black-clad security ponies at her side.

The blood was everywhere, gathering the hair on her forelegs into stiff, spiky clumps and speckling her wind-chilled cheeks. She grimaced as a red drop passed over her lips, resisting the reflexive urge to collect it with her tongue.

They formed in two ranks of three. The first rank crouched low, oversized barding and long spears blocking off the hall, while the second rank reared up, balancing wide-barreled guns on the shoulders of their peers.

Her hooves and legs were getting sore from the vigorous scrubbing; she winced as she pulled sticky tufts apart. She tossed aside the spoiled scarlet cloudstuff before scooping up a fresh, pink clump and moving on to the next stain.

Rainbow buffeted the security ponies with powerful gusts from her wings, throwing off their aim as they pulled their triggers. The shockwave of the blast alone was enough to daze her, and she was just barely aware of lead pellets sparking off the walls to either side, cracking the wooden facade and revealing the tarnished metal underneath. Some made it through, slowed by the wind, and pinged off her coat with sharp stings.

Her head darted to the right, checking her blind spot, but she saw only blue sky and pink cloud. Of course she hadn’t been followed; nobody could keep up with her. She forced a grin as she refocused on her scrubbing, glancing to her left only once every minute.

She grit her teeth as she flew over the stumbling ponies, swooping past their blockade and back into the dining room. She could spare only a moment to look to Gerritt, head resting in a thick red puddle as a mare bent over him, and then she burst out into the open air.

It wasn’t just blood. Bile rose in her throat as she spotted the spongy pink material smashed into a paste under her hooves. Luckily, it wasn’t so hard to scrape off.

She’d killed him.

It probably wasn’t the first time she’d killed, now that she thought of it. Her memory of the battle on Altalusia was hazy, but she recalled flashes of green as attacking soldiers reared up to oppose her, and then the splash of red as she’d struck them down. Somehow it felt different this time. Those ponies had attacked her with sharpened horns or studded hooves, and she’d moved on practically before they hit the ground. They weren’t really even dead so much as—she shook her head as she reached for a word—defeated. Taken care of. Set aside.

But that was nothing like what she’d just done. Silverblood was no danger to her. He’d begged for mercy as she crushed him, but she hadn’t stopped. How could she stop? It felt like she’d spent a lifetime angry at the world for what it did to her and her friends, and then it gave her the perfect target. He was everything she hated about this new Equestria.

How could she have ever stopped something that felt so good?

He couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Finally, after so long being left behind, being saved, and watching her friends risk everything to save the world, Rainbow felt like she had made a difference. She wasn’t just dead weight.

Now if she could just get the stains out of her coat, maybe she could sleep tonight without waking up every two hours.

She wasn’t sure how long it took her, but the sun was approaching its peak when she finally left the bloodsoaked cloud behind. The Argo was nowhere in sight, but that was no issue for her. She was a pegasus, and even as a filly she’d had to deal with her home drifting whenever she went out to play. She cut through the empty sky like an arrow, rainbow trail glittering behind her, and within half an hour she saw the distinctive silhouette of the Argo cresting the horizon.

It didn’t take much longer to close the distance. She glided down under the envelope and into the little pocket where the submarine docked, coming to a stop in front of one of the hatches. With a small grunt of exertion, she spun it open, swept inside, and shut it behind her.

The rush of the wind and the roar of the propellers diminished to a quiet buzz. The ship’s ticking greeted her.

Taking a deep breath, Rainbow turned for the cargo hold, eager for the solace of her cloudroom—

—and came face-to-face with Applejack.

“Howdy.” The cowpony offered a sympathetic smile. “Was wonderin’ when y’all would get back.”

Rainbow stiffened, mind locking up as she raced to think up an adequate excuse for her absence. Then she realized Applejack hadn’t even asked where she’d been, or why, and offering an excuse would only seem suspicious, and it had been several seconds and she still hadn’t said anything.

Rainbow brushed past her friend without a word.

“RD? Y’alright?” Rainbow stiffened at the sound of Applejack’s hooves following behind her. “Trails told me about what happened. I was thinkin’ we should talk.”

“I-I’m fine, AJ.” Rainbow grimaced at the hoarse stutter in her voice. She hadn’t realized how sore her throat was. She came to a stop before the cargo hold door, a hoof tapping impatiently as she waited for it to open.

“Oh, no, don’t give me none of that, missy.” Applejack walked around to Rainbow’s right side before stepping close with a good-natured smile. “I learned my lesson with Twi, ya hear? Ya had a good fly, right? So I ain’t lettin’ ya scamper off to sulk on y’alls own.”

“I’m fine, AJ!” Rainbow winced at her own sharp tone as the door opened, and she kept her gaze resolutely forward as she strode through the lingering steam. “Just let me lie down a bit, okay? We can talk later.” She flared her wings, bending her legs in preparation to take flight.

“Rainbow.” Applejack’s voice was low, carrying a quiet dismay that made the pegasus stiffen. “Is that a bullet wound?”

Rainbow rounded on Applejack, eye wide and mouth open to offer up some excuse, but the look in her friend’s gaze gave her pause. She followed Applejack’s stare, spotting the ugly red gash that had been hidden under her right wing.

She frowned, more confused than anything. Thin trails of blood dripped from the wound, staining her fur. It was a long scar, as if a round had grazed her without going any deeper. “I don’t remember getting shot.”

“Well, what do ya remember?” Applejack stepped closer. “Talk to me, sugar cube. Just where did y’all fly off to?”

“I…” Rainbow gulped, not meeting her friend’s eyes. “I was just stretching my wings.”

Applejack didn’t say anything. Rainbow grimaced at the quiet sound of the cowpony sitting down.

“I saw the Orichalcum.”

Again, the silence. With a shuffling of hooves, Applejack came up to Rainbow’s side and lent the comfort of her warmth.

“I wasn’t really thinking, okay? I just flew closer and I saw—” Rainbow licked her lips. “I saw him sitting there, through the window. He smiled at me!”

At last Rainbow found the strength to look up into Applejack’s green eyes. Her sight blurred with tears, but she could still see the sadness etched into her friend’s face.

“I didn’t really mean to, AJ. I just—I had to know why!” The hot embers lingering in Rainbow’s chest flared up as she relived the moment, and she found her jaw clenching with anger between breaths. “He hurt us! He hurt you! I couldn’t just—y’know?”

Applejack’s lips pulled up into a despondent smile. “Did he give a good answer?”

Rainbow’s lips twitched back, and she looked away as she fought to keep the snarl off her face. “Not even close.”

“Then what?”

“I…” Rainbow pursed her lips. She looked down to her hooves, imagining a bludgeoned face between them. “I, uh… I got angry.” She squeezed her eye shut, hating the way she trembled. Why did she feel this way? She’d done the right thing. “I k-killed him.”

“Oh, Rainbow.” Applejack pulled her into a tight hug, stroking one hoof through her mane as the first sob shook her. “Rainbow, Rainbow, Rainbow.”

“I d-didn’t mean to!” Rainbow’s chest heaved as she leaned into the embrace. “I just wanted to k-know why!”

“I get it. It’s alright.” Rainbow’s ear twitched at the brush of Applejack’s lips. “It wasn’t right, what ya did, but I can’t hold it against you.”

Rainbow pulled out of the hug, looking Applejack in the eye and speaking with as much certainty as she could muster. “I don’t regret it. It was the right thing to do.”

“Rainbow.” Applejack’s sad smile faded. “It wasn’t right. Somethin’ like that can’t never be.”

“So what am I supposed to do, huh?!” Rainbow snapped. The fire was back, threatening to burn through her chest, and she pushed it all into her voice. “Let ponies hurt and hunt my friends? Let them treat you like—like toys? You want me to just watch?!” Rainbow shook her head as she pounded a hoof against her heart. “Nopony hurts my friends!”

“It ain’t right, Rainbow!” Applejack’s voice was stern, but level. “Y’all can’t just go around killin’ ponies ’cause ya feel they wronged ya! I get why ya did what ya did, really, and I ain’t gonna hold it against ya, but ya gotta understand that it wasn’t the right thing to do! An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind!”

Applejack slapped a hoof over her mouth, eyes wide, but it was too late. Rainbow’s jaw worked side to side as she glared at her friend, ears flat against her head.

“If the whole world hurt you, or any of the girls,” she seethed, “I would gladly leave it blind.”

“Rainbow—”

“No!” Rainbow stomped a hoof. “Enough of that! We’re not in Equestria anymore, AJ! I don’t care what the ponies here call this place, Equestria is dead!” Her tail lashed behind her as she jabbed a hoof into Applejack’s chest, pushing her back. “I’m not gonna sit back and hope that ponies get what’s coming to them, not anymore! From now on, I’m gonna be what’s coming to them! And if anyone thinks they can hurt the last five friends I have left, I’ll beat them into the ground!”

Applejack stumbled backwards, staring aghast up at Rainbow. Her mouth hung open, but she said nothing.

Rainbow turned away, unable to bear seeing the way Applejack looked at her. Why couldn’t she understand?

“We gotta tell Sabre.”

Rainbow stiffened, a cold dread forming in her gut. “No.”

“We’re on her ship, RD. There’s gonna be consequences, a reckonin’, and it’s gonna follow us wherever we go. She has a right to know.”

Rainbow grimaced. “She won’t like it.”

“I don’t like it neither. But I ain’t gonna keep this secret from her.”

Rainbow glanced back, meeting Applejack’s gaze. The message in her eyes was clear—Sea Sabre would learn the truth, and it was up to Rainbow whether she wanted to be involved.

Rainbow sighed. Her limbs suddenly felt like lead. “We can tell her together, right?”

“Of course.” Applejack smiled. It was a small, sad thing, but it was honest. “I don’t hate y’all, sugar cube. I don’t think what ya did was the right thing but, well—” she shrugged “—I know it’s right in your heart, and I know why ya did it. I can get along.”

Rainbow smiled back. She took a deep breath, relieved to feel the fire finally fizzle out. “I’d really like to get some sleep first.”

“Sure.” Applejack’s smile grew a little wider. “I reckon a nap won’t hurt.”

With one last nod, Rainbow took flight and soared through the window of her makeshift cloudhome. She glided over Princess Luna’s slumbering form, settled onto her soft bed of clouds, and curled up into a tight ball.

She closed her eye, and within seconds drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.





Crouching low, Ana stopped to catch her breath.

She was taking shelter in a small storage room on the fourth level, a windowless little cube hemmed in by stone shelving. Rolled-up maps were crammed into the available space, and a few tin crates along one side gave her cover from the door. Voices and hooves rushed to and fro in the hall outside, calling out orders and responses.

“Kitchen’s clear! Kitchen’s clear!”

“Checking war room!”

“Team set at the bottom of north stairwell!”

Ana grimaced as she raced to build a mental map of the patrols. It had been hours since the alarm was raised, and the initial chaos of a hundred bluecoats rushing through the halls had since given way to careful, methodical searching. They’d split into teams of five—much too large for her to take out quickly and silently—and began clearing the keep from bottom to top, voices echoing off the stones with every report. Rear security teams moved up as the rest searched, ensuring she couldn’t slip past them and out to freedom, drawing an ever tighter net upwards through the keep. 

She doubted her ability to evade them for much longer. A sardonic smirk tugged at her lips as she listened to the commotion in the halls. Even if she couldn’t find a way out, at least she’d be able to say it took a hundred trained troops to hunt her down.

Stop thinking like that, stupid filly. She shook her head, dislodging the dark thought. You’re getting out of here. Luna knows Gava won’t survive a month without you watching her.

Now if she could just figure out how, she’d feel a lot better about her situation.

She stiffened at the sound of hooves stopping just outside the door. A voice called out, muffled by the stone but still alarmingly clear. “Checking map room!”

Buck. She scanned the room, considering her options. The ceiling was out; the soldiers had started looking up as soon as the knowledge of her thestral nature reached them. She might be able to squeeze herself into one of the crates, but she’d probably have to empty whatever was inside to do so; there wasn’t time to try and do so with any trace of subtlety, and she’d most likely end up doing the hard work of capturing her for them.

No, she was already in the best position, crouched down behind thin tin like some street urchin seconds away from her first lashing.

Talking or fleeing wasn’t an option. Ana thought back to a panicked sailor begging for mercy as she reached a hoof to her arcata, slowly pushing it out to avoid the distinctive click. Somepony was going to die, and it wasn’t going to be her.

The door burst open, filling the little room with the clang of its impact on the stone as the soldiers started rushing in.

Ana crouched low, setting her jaw. If she waited for them to find her, she’d be gunned down in an instant. They’d be most vulnerable as they entered, when the narrow doorway split the group in two.

She rounded the corner, letting loose with the most monstrous screech she could muster. There was only one soldier fully in the room, and he paled as he suddenly found her sliding past his bayonet. Behind him, the second soldier froze in shock, stumbling forwards as her peers bumped into her.

A shot rang out as Ana plunged her arcata into her target’s chest, the twin blades sliding between his ribs and spearing his heart. Dark blood spewed from his lips as he fell, rifle barrel trailing smoke.

Shouts of alarm filled the keep, pounding hooves already converging on the gunshot. Ana didn’t spare them any thought.

The second soldier was just hitting the ground as the third made it inside, struggling to turn her body and bring the length of her weapon to bear. Ana pounced, smashing the mare’s side against the doorframe and cutting up into her gut. With a quiet sigh, the mare went limp.

The first soldier rolled to her hooves, screaming her fury as she charged Ana with her bayonet. With her arcata still lodged in flesh, Ana was forced to duck, hissing at the pain of the steel grazing her neck. She pulled a knife from her vest with a wing, stabbing it up into the mare’s throat, and the scream turned into a gurgle.

Ana’s eyes snapped to the door. The last two soldiers had opted to step back instead of try and rush her, leveling their rifles at her through the doorframe. Their trigger strings were already in their mouths, their eyes hard.

Ana grit her teeth as she used her trapped arcata as a lever, bringing the body wrapped around it up like a shield. Two shots rang out, and she winced at the twin thuds of lead balls sinking into the dead mare’s flesh.

The soldiers screamed, and she screamed back. She barreled out into the hall, using the body as a battering ram. A bayonet burst through the corpse an inch from her face. Another punched through and sunk into her shoulder.

Ana gasped as she threw the body forwards with all her weight, ripping her arcata free and sending both soldiers tumbling back beneath it. White-hot pain flared in her shoulder, and with a quick glance up and down the hall she saw a rank of troops on either side, forming up to fire.

Charging either way would be suicide, and falling back into the map room would give her only brief respite. Hissing in pain, Ana jumped off the corpse-tangled ponies in front of her and squeezed through the nearest window.

The rapid crackle of a gun volley was soon followed by what felt like a kick to her flanks, but stopping to assess the damage would likely mean death. With two legs wounded, Ana used her wings to push herself up the keep’s facade, clambering onto the roof with a desperate gasp.

To her relief, there were no soldiers waiting for her, but she knew she wouldn’t have long. She could already hear ironshod hooves pounding in the stairwells, racing to the top.

Flying free wasn’t an option. Even with several seconds’ headstart, a rank of seasoned bluecoats would be able to knock her out of the sky with well-placed fire, and if she somehow managed to escape their range, the valley was full of airships and guns that would gladly make further attempts. Her heart pounded against her chest, pumping warm blood down her chest as she scanned the roof.

Her eyes widened as she picked out a small airship moored on one of the keep’s three towers. It was a little thing, a skiff designed for a crew of two or three at most. A single dormant propeller was set into the rear, and a spotlight leaned out over the prow. The entire construct was made of thin, dented metal, little better than the tin of a peasant’s pantry, and suspended by frayed rope under a patchwork balloon.

It was barely worthy of being called an airship, but at that moment a half-inch of cheap metal to put between herself and some bullets was exactly what Ana needed.

She gnashed her teeth as she pushed herself further, scaling the tower’s rounded sides. A bang and a shout from beneath her announced the arrival of the first bluecoats on the roof, and she pulled herself towards the outer side of the tower, wincing as another volley of gunfire threw chips of sharp stone against her face.

Ana crested the tower to find a shivering Nettlekiss soldier on top, hooves devoid of any weaponry as he clutched a notepad to his chest. She bared her fangs at him, and he dropped the notepad with a whimper, rushing to open the trapdoor beside him and disappearing down into the tower.

She pulled herself onto the little skiff with a groan, wincing at the feedback on her wounded shoulder as she cut the mooring rope with her arcata. It began to drift immediately, swaying in a gentle wind.

Ana turned to the controls with a grimace. A simple wheel allowed her to angle the propeller to either side for turning, and an exposed crank behind it would let her power it.

“Fantastic,” Ana muttered as she limped over and put her weight on the crank. “Just had to be a hoof-crank.”

She leaned forwards, pushing the crank down and biting her tongue to hold back a whimper at the burning pain in her shoulder. It lurched into motion with a ponderous clicking, lethargic at first, but settling into a ragged rhythm as the worn coils wound tighter. The propeller sputtered into motion a couple seconds later, and a strained grin graced Ana’s face at the feel of the wind tugging at her mane.

“Form up!”

Ana stiffened. She poked her head out over the edge of the hull, looking down to the squad of bluecoats filing out into the yard outside the keep.

“Ready!”

As one each soldier swung a foreleg out, bringing their raised rifles down into firing position.

“Aim!”

Ana backed away from the edge, scanning the little boat’s deck. A metal crate was set into the center. She peeled the lid open, spotting the annotated maps and rubbish stacked within, and then slammed it shut before rolling on top. She pushed herself down against the cold metal, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Fire!”

The crackling cascade of gunfire was almost immediately drowned out by the sound of heavy lead balls crashing through the ship’s thin hull all around her. She flinched as a round parted the hairs of her tail, and again as another burst through the chest she was using a cover, shattering one of the thin bones on the end of her wing. She wheezed at a sudden punch to her gut, one hoof flying down to grab the fresh bullet wound and staunch the bleeding, and then—darkness.

She was a filly on a strange wooden airship, marveling at the sails that cast their shadows over the open deck like giant wings. Coarse feathers, feeble with age, curled over her shoulders, shielding her from the stiff wind of travel. She looked up, cuddling into the dark plumage of the griffon she called Dad, and he smiled down at her.

Ana fluttered her eyes open, simultaneously marveling at her continued life and pointedly ignoring that there was ever any possibility of her death. The air was still, absent of the shouts of bluecoat sergeants or the popcorn reports of their rifles. There was only the ragged tick of the ship’s little engine, the stuttering whir of its propeller, and the rush of the blood in her ears.

She clenched her jaw as she rolled off her makeshift cover, biting back a giggle. She wasn’t home free yet, and she really didn’t feel like disturbing her growing list of wounds with manic laughter already.

She checked herself first, looking down to the dark stain on the belly of her vest. Pulling her hoof back, she was relieved to see the base of a bloodstained bullet jutting out of her, having failed to penetrate any further. As she’d hoped, the extra layers of the metal chest—plus whatever had been stacked inside—had sapped enough energy from the round to prevent any deeper injury.

Grabbing a knife in a wingtip, Ana gnashed her teeth and jabbed the tip into the wound, hissing as she pushed the round free. It fell to the deck with a high-pitched clink, bounced once, and fell overboard.

After taking a moment to bind her wounds in ragged cloth from her bag, Ana turned her attention to her ship. The engine and propeller were still functioning, at least as much as they had before the volley, though the engine was already running out of what little energy she’d imparted. She limped over to the crank and began to push, winding the coils tighter once more.

It was only when she felt the gut-wrenching sensation of falling that she bothered to look up, groaning as she saw the fluttering tears ripped into the ship’s little balloon.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Sweet Luna, it’s always something, isn’t it?” Peering down over the edge of the hull, she saw the ridge of the valley passing beneath her. From above, the network of trenches on either side of the crumbling wall looked almost like the scribblings of a bored foal. They cut the land like scars, curving around rock outcroppings in mismatched rows connected by narrow, jagged paths. Soldiers in Nettlekiss green milled between them, some propping their rifles up between piles of dirt while others took what time they could to relax.

In front of the trenches was a wide expanse of hoof-churned dirt, thinly spread trees shading the bodies—orange, green, and even a couple blue—scattered beneath them. The bushes and flowers were all but trampled into the ground by the repeated passage of soldiers, leaving only low-hanging branches to serve as any kind of cover.

And it was these trees, Ana realized with rising alarm, that her little stolen airship was about to crash into.

She flared her wings, vision flashing white at the pain from the shattered bone. Flying was out of the question, but she could still pull off a clumsy glide.

There wasn’t any time to spare waiting for a break in the trees. With a prayer to Luna and a deep breath, Ana took the two steps to the edge of the deck and jumped.

The ship hadn’t been moving that fast by most standards, but her injured wing still threatened to buckle under the sudden pressure. She gnashed her teeth and focused on keeping it extended, trying to tilt it back and slow her fall without overwhelming the weakened limb. The shrill screech of breaking metal echoed across the sparse woods from behind her, but she didn’t dare look back lest she throw herself into a roll she’d have no way to recover from.

Luckily, the trees weren’t very tall. She was only a couple dozen feet off the ground, meaning she could reach its safety in seconds. It was just a matter of getting down without smashing into one.

“Oof!” The lingering momentum from the airship pushed her into a tree side-on, halting her mid-air. 

She clutched onto the tree as hard as she could with three wounded limbs, avoiding any damaging bounces. Slowly she slid down, plopping onto the flattened grass at her back as she hit the bottom.

“Ow.” A moan escaped her. She blinked and was startled to see the sun jump an inch across the sky. Eyes open, filly. Don’t pass out now. You’re almost there!

She was so close. She’d made it out past the Frieslander lines with her stolen cargo intact. All she had to do now was get up, find her bearings, and make her way back to Altalusia.

If only her limbs weren’t so sore and her chest wasn’t so hot. She licked her lips as her eyelids began fluttering down. She’d added three more bodies to her name—surprisingly few, considering the circumstances. That made seven total since she started counting.

Seven kills in nearly as many days. How odd that she should suddenly become so conscious of the lives she took during such a bloody week.

Hoofsteps approached her, and with a concentrated effort she mustered the energy to tilt her head to the side. More soldiers—wearing the orange colors of Duke Titus—their eyes wide with curiosity.

Finally, some good luck, she thought as she settled back into the grass. Titus was working with Whitehorn; he would help her.

She just had to hope his troops weren’t superstitious enough to finish off a wounded thestral they found on patrol.





It started slowly, much like the snow.

Rarity couldn’t see much from within the cell. It was a damp, cold affair, lit only by the slivers of pale moonlight that filtered through the bars set high on the wall. Snow dribbled through at a glacial pace, collecting in the corners before congealing into a reflective, silvery mush that made it quite difficult to lie down anywhere but the very center of the room, which was raised ever so slightly above the edges. No matter which way she faced as she and Pinkie cuddled together for warmth, there always seemed to be a stiff wind blowing from the most uncomfortable direction, slithering in past her scarf and cloak and stealing the heat from her body before shifting the instant she adjusted.

Rarity was reminded of the thrilling romances she used to while away the days with during the slower seasons at Carousel Boutique. How many times had she read of the dashing hero being entombed in a dungeon much like this one, withstanding the villain’s torture with only the thought of his beloved to keep him sane, biding his time until he could escape and come to her rescue at the last possible moment? Or, in the more exciting stories, until his beloved could use her own wiles and charms to set him free herself? The books would always talk at length about how cold the dungeons were, but Rarity had mostly skimmed these dreary descriptions, eager to get to the breathless pining and promising that always preceded the inevitable escape.

Just then, Rarity was mostly pining for a blanket thick enough to keep the stone from sapping what little warmth she had left in her.

She was roused from the shivering dreariness of her attempts at sleep by the heat of sunlight, and she couldn’t resist the urge to rear up and peek out the barred window into the courtyard beyond.

Two ponies, stopped outside of her and Pinkie’s cell and seeming more curious than upset, peered past the snow that clogged the slim, barred window and whispered between themselves. Their eyes widened as they met her gaze, and a bluecoat stepped forth to ward them off.

They came back minutes later, now as a gaggle of five, and she noticed one wearing a patchy white scarf around his neck.

“Rarity?” Pinkie groaned as she pushed herself off the floor. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure, Pinkie,” Rarity said. “We seem to have some visitors.”

The watchers didn’t go undisturbed for long. The bluecoat returned, now with a comrade, and shooed them away once more, the stern threat in her voice clear even as the wind carried the words away. Their guests backed off with rude jeers, disappearing from Rarity’s sight.

Rarity dropped back down with a sigh, returning to Pinkie’s side. “Do you think it was rash of me, what I did at the guild hall?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Pinkie said, scooting over to make room on the little patch of stone they’d kept dry with their bodies. “Somepony had to speak up, right?”

“I suppose. It felt so right in the moment, but now I find myself having second thoughts.” She shivered as she curled up against her friend, drawing her cloak close. “Maybe it’s just the cold getting to me.”

Pinkie let out a quiet giggle, and Rarity blinked in surprise as a furry hoof booped her on the nose. “It’s definitely the cold, Rare-bear. It’ll all work out in the end, you’ll see!”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile as Pinkie began to hum a cheery tune, and after a minute of listening Rarity found herself humming along. She closed her eyes, warmed by their friendship, and began to drift off to sleep.

Or she would have, if not for the sudden commotion at the window.

“Pinkie, dear,” Rarity said, nodding towards the window. “Would you mind terribly giving me a little boost?”

“Sure!”

A brief shuffling of hooves later, Rarity perched unsteadily on Pinkie’s back as the party pony straightened up, raising her high enough to crane her neck and get a clear look through the window.

“Oh, heavens!”

“What is it?!” Pinkie chirped, peering upwards. “Oh, wait, I can guess! It’s a dog! It’s a snowball fight! It’s—”

“It’s nearly a riot!”

Where once there were only five ponies, there were now dozens. They stomped and scraped their hooves, leering and shouting at the squad of bluecoats shoving them back with harsh warnings. Many of the protesters wore white cloth around their necks, though only a few had proper scarves; most wore torn strips of rag, blanket, or curtain, the old fabric wrapped haphazardly over the weathered coats and cloaks they wore for warmth.

“Countess! Countess!”

Rarity nearly fell backwards as River Pie suddenly skidded into view, crouching low to beam at her through the bars. Her pink cheeks were rosy from the cold, and the fog of her breath danced with excitement before her.

“Oh, River!” Rarity let out a sigh of relief as she regained her balance. “Should you really be here, darling? I don’t think I’m supposed to have visitors.”

“Hi, River!” Pinkie called.

“Hi, Pinkie!” River squeezed up against the bars, letting her smile back at Pinkie before turning her attention back to Rarity. “Not much time, Countess! I hear yer trial’s t’ be today, but don’t worry! We won’t let anythin’ happen t’ ye!”

“Trial?” Rarity blinked, glancing over to the crowd as an outburst was met with shouting from the soldiers. “What’s going on over there? Those ponies look furious!”

“Aye, we are!” River grinned as she brandished the white cloth wrapped around her neck in a hoof. “I went ’n told th’ others what happened, and we got just about th’ whole city on yer side, Countess! If they want t’ take ye t’ th’ courthouse, they’ll have t’ get through us, first!”

“What? No!” Rarity shook her head firmly. “I don’t want any fighting, and certainly not over me! I appreciate the support, darling, but that support must not shift to violence!”

River blinked. Her grin faltered, giving way to confusion. “But then how’re we supposed t’ help?”

“Hey! Stop!”

River jumped, glancing towards the sound of galloping hooves to her side. She turned back to Rarity, rushing through her words. “If that’s how ye want it, that’s how we’ll do it. Take heart, Countess! Whitehorn says he has a plan! We’ll get ye free soon enough!”

With that, she was off, leaving Rarity to look out at the growing crowd and watch as a pair of bluecoats ran past her window in pursuit. Someone in the crowd hefted a pole, a white curtain tied to the end transforming it into a simple flag.

“Hey, I want a turn!” Pinkie said, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis. “C’mon, get down!”

With one last grimace, Rarity climbed back down to the damp stone. Pinkie pushed herself back with a giddy grin, reaching a hoof over to detach herself from her wheels, when the metallic groan of a door opening caught their attention.

Urgent hooves preceded Captain Piaffe’s arrival outside of their cell. The mare’s smile was strained, dark bags hanging under her eyes. “Morning, dearhearts.” A grim-faced bluecoat stallion stepped up behind her, keys jingling in his hooves. “Rough night?”

“I’m afraid so, though it looks like we weren’t the only ones,” Rarity observed coolly.

Piaffe nodded. The cell door opened with a ponderous creak, and she beckoned with a hoof. “I trust you won’t need an escort at least to the front door. After you.”

Rarity kept her head high as she walked out of the cell. Pinkie’s wheels clattered along behind her, only to come to an abrupt stop as Piaffe swung the door closed. 

“Hey!” Pinkie protested. “I wanna come!”

“Sorry, Pinkie, but you’re not the one on trial here.” Piaffe shrugged. “Yet, anyways. I’ll be sure to bring your Countess back in one piece.”

“It’s alright, Pinkie,” Rarity said, giving Pinkie a warm smile. “Your company is marvelous, darling, but I believe we’ll have to part ways momentarily.”

Pinkie pursed her lips. At length, she stepped back, looking away with a heavy sigh. “I’ll be waiting.”

Rarity could spare only a moment to look after her friend before Piaffe gave an insistent nudge to her flank, starting her up the corridor. She remembered the path she’d been guided down after their arrival last night, and it was no trouble for her to retrace her route up the steps and through the halls towards the tower’s entrance. Soldiers shot her wary glances as they passed, some curious, others contemptuous, but she ignored them all.

A squad of two dozen bluecoats was crammed into the foyer, rifles raised to the ceiling as they stood at attention. With a glance back from the sergeant and a nod from Piaffe, they opened the door and filed out in two columns, forming a pony shield that stared impassively at the gathered protesters waiting outside.

“Let’s go,” Piaffe said. She lowered her voice as she leaned into Rarity’s ear. “And I’ll have none of your rabble-rousing here, love. One wrong word and we’ll have blood on our hooves.”

Rarity nodded. “You have my word with regards to that, Captain.”

The derision from the crowd doubled in strength as Rarity stepped out into the sunlight, squinting past the brightness to see all the faces contorted in anger. They wore the clothes of workponies and laborers, clothes that Rarity had rarely seen in the streets outside of dawn and dusk—how many of them had gathered here, shunning the jobs the besieged city’s rulers clearly deemed so vital to its continued survival? Was it a hundred yet? More? It was impossible for her to see the extent of the crowd past the press of bodies.

And press they did, surging forwards into the line of bluecoats before being thrown back like waves washing off a rocky shoreline. Their shouts overlapped in an indecipherable chaos, filling the air with an anxious energy that made Rarity’s hooves twitch with every step.

Looking up, Rarity saw ponies peering from the shadows of second-story windows and balconies, pointing and discussing among themselves. Some of them disappeared into their homes before returning seconds later, hanging bedsheets and curtains from their windows like banners. Others shook their heads in silence, slamming their windows shut or continuing to watch with undisguised contempt.

Rarity knew from experience that a pony walking with purpose and energy could cross the courtyard in under a minute; with the jeering crowd interfering, it took the little island of blue several times longer. She felt almost like a weary sailor at the end of an ocean voyage when the courthouse finally loomed before them. Its bricks were painted a stark white, with shimmering blue banners hanging proudly from the walls. A marble statue of Princess Luna frowned down on Rarity from the left of the tall wooden doors, while a far more motherly statue of Princess Celestia smiled at her across it. A small flower garden stretched out to either side of the steps, hemmed in by a short stone wall.

A thick line of protesters stretched across the opening in the wall, blocking their passage. Every one of them wore white around their necks, their hooves dug into the thin layer of snow that had gathered overnight.

Piaffe stepped forwards, clearing her throat and speaking in a loud, commanding bark that seemed at odds with her usual relaxed demeanor. “Step aside, citizens! This is city business!”

All around them, the crowd grew still, the shouts fading into an angry buzz as the onlookers seemed to hold their breaths. River Pie stepped out of the line, her voice firm but strained.

“We refuse! Th’ Countess has done nothin’ wrong!”

“That’s for the court to decide.” Piaffe narrowed her eyes, cocking her head. “Who even are you, baronlander? Did you get lost on the way to the siege camps?”

“What’s it matter where I come from?” River countered. “Ye have th’ wrong pony, bluecoat! It’s Cart Marks that’s betrayed this city, and th’ Countess is speakin’ fer us when nopony else will!”

“That,” Piaffe repeated, “is for the court to decide.” She raised her voice, turning to address the watching crowd. “You should be glad that we don’t imprison every one of you! This city is under siege, and you imperil everyone within its walls with your tantrum! The question of Mr. Marks will be resolved once the crisis has passed, but right now we must remember what separates us from the barons!”

She spat the last word with surprising vitriol, jerking her head in River Pie’s direction. “Justice and due process, and unity against outside threats! Friesland has been a stubborn thorn in the barons’ sides for centuries, and we didn’t do it by bickering among ourselves with an army at our gates!” Quiet murmurs passed through the crowd, and Rarity could see shame reflected in some of the watcher’s eyes.

“Ye call this unity?” River yelled, drawing their eyes to her. “Ye sit behind yer towerin’ walls thinkin’ yer better than us! What does a Frieslander see of their hours of work and toil, eh? At least a baronland peasant gets t’ eat th’ grain they grow with their own hooves!”

Cheers of agreement rose from the crowd, forcing Piaffe to shout over them. “I am not here to debate with a baronlander playing revolutionary! Step aside, now!”

“Or what?” River squared her stance, her raggedy scarf fluttering in a passing gust. “Ye gonna arrest us? Ye don’t have enough room in yer dungeons!”

Piaffe pursed her lips. “That may be true,” she admitted quietly. “But we’ll see how many we can fit.” She turned, nodding to the watching sergeant. “Clear a path. Detain as many as you can.”

The soldiers stepped forwards without hesitation, faces grim as they advanced in lockstep. They moved in pairs, half cordoning off the courthouse entrance while the rest began to bring ponies to the ground. The protesters seemed stunned at first, many watching in disbelief as the bluecoats tackled them one by one, wrapping their victims in rope before moving to the next target.

Then River Pie reared up, bringing her hooves to bear on the nearest soldier with a vicious snarl, and the spell was broken.

The protestors within the cordon surged forth, advancing on the bluecoats with cries of fury. The soldiers fell back, working together to bludgeon the uncoordinated rebels and restrain them while they lay stunned in the snow, but they were outnumbered at least three-to-one, and it was clear to Rarity that they couldn’t keep it up forever.

“Wait! Stop!” She turned to Piaffe, who was watching the chaos unfold with a grimace. “Captain! This is madness!”

“This is order, love,” Piaffe said tersely. She met Rarity’s gaze as the ponies outside the cordon grew more agitated, pushing against the line. “It’s what’s kept Friesland alive on an island full of enemies, and it’s my duty to sustain it.”

Rarity lowered her voice, putting as much urgency into her words as she could. “You’re fighting a losing battle, don’t you see? You can’t possibly win this!”

“And if I gave even the slightest hint that I believed that, my ponies would be torn to pieces,” Piaffe hissed. “Commoners respond to authority and nothing else. So if you want to avoid any deaths today, you will work with me and get your pretty plot past that line the instant a hole opens!”

“Let me talk to them!” Rarity offered. “I can tell them I’m going of my own volition. They’ll listen to me!”

“Them listening to you is exactly what’s gotten my city into this mess, dearheart,” Piaffe spat. “You are not the voice of authority within these walls, and your attempts to usurp the governor is the very thing that you’re being judged for!”

A gunshot rang out.

The city fell silent, turning to watch the wounded stallion fall. The world slowed in Rarity’s eyes as she took in the battered bluecoat mare standing protectively over a fallen comrade, her rifle barrel trailing smoke. With a start, Rarity realized she recognized the injured stallion—Twinkle Smith hit the ground with a soft thud, blood swelling past his scarf and staining the white fabric an ugly red.

The gunshot hung in the air, echoing through the streets almost as if to challenge the great cannons lining the distant walls. Twinkle Smith grimaced, the hat sliding from his head as he writhed, and then disappeared behind the protesters rushing to his aid.

Rarity looked to Piaffe, catching the captain’s eye, and they came to an understanding.

“Stand down!” Piaffe jumped into motion, advancing on the soldier that had fired her weapon. “Rifles up! Private, drop your weapon! Corporal, find me a corpsmare!”

At the same time, Rarity turned to face the crowd watching in stunned silence from the other side of the cordon of nervous bluecoats. She could already see muzzles twisting in anger, but if she spoke quickly, she could stem the flow before it spread out of control.

“No more violence!” She cast the words out without hesitation, clumsily, pushed on by the dread of what might happen if she paused to think. “Nopony here wants to be hurt, and nopony wants to hurt another! There’s no need for any further pain here today!”

“They shot that pony!” A stallion’s voice, angry and hot, rose up from the crowd, the speaker buried in its depths.

“And you have every right to be upset!” Rarity said. She looked from pony to pony, trying to impart the weight of her words on each one. “His name is Twinkle Smith, and I consider him a friend, but more violence will only lead to more hurt friends! I am willing to give the shooter forgiveness, but it—and all my efforts since arriving in this wonderful city—will be for naught if we start a bloodbath here today!” She scanned the crowd pleadingly, raising her voice. “I come from a land where ponies knew each other as friends before all else, where mistakes once made are forgiven and forgotten, where ponies live together in peace, and war and poverty are nothing more than frightening stories we tell our foals—and I’m trying to bring that magic to you, but above all else, it mustn’t be through violence!”

“What would you have us do, Countess?” a mare in the front row mocked. “Ask politely for better lives that the city has made clear it has no intent to provide? Bow and scrape and beg as they turn the snow red with our blood?”

“Are you really so thirsty for savagery?” Rarity snapped, meeting the mare’s glare. “Did a single one of you even think to ask what I wanted before coming out here to try and impede my trial?” She let the words hang for only a moment before pressing on, driven by a surge of heat inside her. “I came willingly to the dungeon, and willingly to this courthouse, and I will not have any more blood spilled on my behalf!”

She was breathing hard, both stunned at the unexpected force in her voice and relieved by the wide-eyed expressions looking back at her. The anxious energy that had just been threatening to overflow had faded, replaced with a startled mix of guilt and confusion.

“Countess.” Piaffe’s voice behind her drew her attention, and Rarity looked back to see the path to the courthouse cleared, the protestors and bluecoats watching each other with suspicious glares from opposite sides. “Let’s go, before they find something else to get upset over.”

Rarity followed the Captain up the path at a brisk trot, glancing back to see the bluecoats falling back into a tighter line, blocking any further entry. River Pie and the other protesters that had been caught in the brawl watched her go in silence before being absorbed back into the crowd, Twinkle Smith’s limp form suspended on their backs.

Piaffe held one of the old wooden doors open, beckoning Rarity in before shutting it closed behind them. The tumult of the city and the hundreds of watching eyes were cut off by a soft click, leaving them in oddly serene silence as Piaffe led Rarity inside.
> Supplement: Whitehorn's Notes RE: The Butcher of Berchninny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After hearing of the assassination of Prince Silverblood at the hooves of Crazy Rich's prize airship captain, Sea Sabre, I've reached out to my contacts in select relevant locations and have made an intriguing discovery regarding her past. Although I was already passingly familiar with her role in the Berchninny Civil War from talking to Crazy, I have reason to suspect that the official story is not entirely aligned with the truth. The archived citation for the Gilded Blue Ribbon awarded to her during the war describes her as refusing an order to retreat for some larger strategic purpose, but writings from one of her surviving troops implies the decision was more out of stubbornness than self-sacrifice.

A Trooper Velvet Crunch writes that then-Lieutenant Sea Sabre "was convinced that we could weather the storm" and "feared we'd get the worst of it if we retreated with the others." Was this a case of self-motivated insubordination instead of valor? Whatever the case, the official record—copy attached below—depicts her as a heroine crucial to a subsequent victory. I wonder if she sees herself the same way; I've found a report indicating that only seven ponies survived from her platoon, which numbered forty strong on paper. Further, she missed the award ceremony, and there's no record of her ever showing up to claim the medal.



For exceptional heroism and dauntlessness fighting under the flag of Berchninny and the eyes of the Sisters as leader of 2nd Platoon, Solar Company of the City, in the battle for the Port District on August 8th, 662 Anno Caeli. Assigned to hold while under accurate and intensive fire from rebel artillery, Lt. Sea Sabre directed her platoon in the organization of a strongpoint within and around a Lunar church. When subsequent infantry assault following the bombardment was determined too effective to hold, she volunteered her platoon to act as a screening force so the rest of the Solar Company could withdraw, refusing orders to retreat with the rest of the injured unit lest it be decimated by pursuing forces. Lt. Sea Sabre ran across open ground in order to more precisely direct fire from her squads, stalling the rebel advance and forcing the enemy to contend with her position directly. She led an ad-hoc team of melee combatants to repel multiple charges across four hours, ignoring her own wounds to cover her own casualties while they were removed to a safer position. When rebel forces surrounded the church and established a trio of gatling gun positions, Lt. Sea Sabre alone charged out of the cover of the church with no regard for her own life and killed the squad operating one of the guns, dragging it back for her own troops to use. Through her unparalleled skill, tactical acumen, and unblinking determination in the face of overwhelming enemy forces, Lt. Sea Sabre's platoon enabled the Solar Company to regroup and retake their original positions, relieving her troops, before driving the exhausted rebels out of the area. She is a shining example of what it means to be a soldier and a citizen.


> XX: Of Sedition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anatami woke to the painful prodding of hooves around her wounds. Her eyes snapped open as she rounded on the offender with a hiss, and the mare that had been leaning over her stumbled back in shock.

She was lying on a bedroll absent of any stuffing, just one of many sprawled throughout the long tent around her. Ponies bustled around the tent, coats shining with the sweat of exertion, fussing over orange-liveried soldiers while barking orders and reports over their heads. Ana looked down, noting the bandages that had been wrapped around her shoulder and barrel, binding her injured wing to her side.

Guess I lucked out.

She looked back up to the mare that had been treating her, narrowing her eyes. The mare was young, her pastel pink coat blending well with the blood speckling her cheeks. “Where’s Titus?”

“U-uhm.” The mare gaped, mouth flopping uselessly. “I…”

Ana grunted as she climbed to her hooves, pushing the painful complaints of her body aside. “I need to speak to the Duke. Where is he?”

The mare refused to meet Ana’s eyes, shivering and cringing as the thestral let out an exasperated sigh. She looked around, searching for a more senior pony that might be able to help her, only to blink in surprise as Duke Titus stepped into the tent.

His face was dirty, the hairs matted down by a grungy mixture of dried mud speckled with old blood, and he wore a full set of chainmail under his usual breastplate, supplemented by more plating around his shoulders and barrel. Small scratches and dents adorned his armor, and although the steel had lost the polished sheen it once carried, his eyes seemed sharper than ever.

He focused in on her quickly, closing the distance with no regard for the healers ducking out of his way. “Mooncursed. My sergeant tells me he found ye passed out next t’ th’ wreck of a Friesland scout ship.” He towered over her, mouth turned down into a stern frown. “A report I find quite disturbin’, on account of Whitehorn’s promises that I’d not have t’ deal with yer treacheries.”

Ana met his gaze coolly, straightening up in spite of her wounds. “Trust me, my Lord, your siege camp is the last place I want to be right now.”

“And yet hear ye are,” Titus growled. “Betrayed ’im already? I warned ’im against workin’ with one such as ye, but that unicorn’s convinced he always knows everythin’.”

Ana smirked. “Fortunately, I find myself here on his request. With your blessing, I’d appreciate it if I could be on my way back to Friesland.”

“And how can I know ye ain’t plannin’ on causin’ some chaos fer me th’ instant I let ye out of my sight?” Titus asked, narrowing his eyes.

Ana rolled her eyes. I guess it would be more surprising than not if he actually took my word for it. She looked around, spotting her satchel left on the ground beside her bedroll, and picked it up. “I have here several examples of writing from one of Nettlekiss’s scribes—” she paused, leaning in and lowering her voice “—as well as a copy of her seal.”

Titus arched a brow. He sat down, snatching the satchel away and flipping it open so he could peer inside, eyes widening as he verified her story. “Does she know?”

“Hard to say,” Ana said. “I was detected within her keep, but I expect the scribe I stole it from will be loath to admit she lost it, so the Duchess may assume I was an assassin. Either way, it’s only a matter of time.”

Titus nodded, shoving the satchel roughly back into Ana’s hooves. “Friesland, ye say? What’s that weasel Whitehorn gettin’ at?”

Ana shrugged. “He’s got the whole city on edge. I think he intends to turn the commoners against Nettlekiss, and maybe start some kind of revolt.”

“A revolt, eh?” Titus nodded again, his frown pulling up into a small grin. “It’s fittin’ I suppose, that those too-clever Frieslanders be done in by a pony like ‘im. As long as he leaves some blood fer baron blades, that is.” He looked away, brow furrowing. “I’ll have ye on a wagon t’ th’ city within th’ hour, along with one of my messengers.” He narrowed his eyes, shooting her a sideways glare. “And if I hear ye’ve meddled in his affairs, I don’t care what Whitehorn says, I’ll have yer head.”

Ana grinned, baring her fangs. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”





Rainbow Dash paused, her raised hoof hovering just inches away from Sea Sabre’s door.

What was she doing? She had to be insane, coming freely with the truth of what she’d done. She could still hide it, couldn’t she? She had the uniform Sea Sabre had given her, and although the other mare might question her suddenly starting to wear it everywhere, it should be simple enough to pass it off for some innocuous reason.

The Argo ticked at her thoughtfully as she lowered her hoof, ears drooping.

Applejack sighed to her left, stepped up, and pounded a hoof against the door. Rainbow’s eye shot wide open as she rounded on her friend, speaking in a low hiss. “AJ, what the hay!”

Applejack just shrugged. Rainbow’s pulse quickened at the sound of muffled hoofsteps on metal inside the room, and an instant later the door swung open.

Sea Sabre regarded them with her cool, impassive gaze. “Rainbow Dash. Applejack.”

Applejack tipped her hat, and Rainbow forced a tight smile. “H-hey, Sabre.”

To her surprise, Sabre’s lips pulled up into a small smile of her own. “Welcome back. Feeling better?”

“I, uh—” Rainbow glanced to her left, taking some strength from Applejack’s encouraging smile. “Can we talk in private?”

“Both of you?” Sabre arched a brow as she looked between them. “Very well. Come in.”

Rainbow could barely hear her thoughts as she crossed the threshold. The click of Applejack closing the door behind them rang in her ears like a gunshot. Sabre’s room was as barren as ever; a cloth had been spread out over the bed, her wingblades spread out upon it next to a small bottle of oil.

Sabre sat next to the bed, grabbing a smaller cloth and beginning to push it down the length of one of the blades. “I’m guessing this is about Twilight Sparkle?”

“Uh…” Rainbow choked, her mouth flopping uselessly as she failed to get any words out. What was she supposed to say? Her heart pounded against her chest, mimicking her own desire for escape. Maybe she could still get out of this, make some excuse and drag Applejack out of the room before—

“Rainbow here’s got somethin’ she needs to tell y’all, Sabre,” Applejack said firmly.

Sabre paused in her work for only a second. Her ear flicked to the side as she started again, not looking up. “I’m listening.”

Rainbow grimaced as she shot a pleading look towards her friend, but the cowpony just pursed her lips and shook her head. She was standing squarely in front of the door, blocking off any escape.

The seconds stretched on into minutes. Sabre continued diligently servicing her wingblades, and when she finally spoke, her calm voice made Rainbow jump in surprise.

“How are you feeling?”

Rainbow found herself unable to look at her. “W-what do you mean?”

“You seem tense. And not in the way you usually are,” Sabre said.

Rainbow sighed as she found a spot of bare wall and leaned heavily against it. She was silent for a moment, watching the calm, measured motions of Sabre’s hooves. “I… did something.”

Sabre stopped. She set her rubbing cloth aside and turned around, facing Rainbow fully. “Tell me.”

“I, uh…” Rainbow ran a hoof through her mane as she looked away, licking her lips. Why was this so hard? She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? She’d been so certain in the moment of it, and even when she had to face Applejack. She’d woken from her brief nap feeling refreshed, feeling proud. So why was it that now she suddenly felt like she’d done something wrong?

She looked to Applejack, receiving a small smile in return. She wasn’t alone.

Taking a deep breath and setting her jaw, Rainbow straightened up and met Sabre’s gaze. She thought back to the way Silverblood had grinned at her in his last moments, so cocksure that he was safe in his wealth, and her voice came out clear and confident. “I killed Silverblood.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment Sabre was so still that Rainbow wondered if the mare had even heard her.

“You what?”

Rainbow stiffened. Sabre’s eyes bored into her, carrying an intensity she’d only seen once before—right after she discovered Dusty Tome’s dead body.

But Rainbow didn’t flinch. “I killed him.”

Sabre stood up and stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. “When? He saw us off from the Orichalcum himself.”

“Well, I flew back!” Rainbow spat. Sabre’s eyes widened, her brow hardening at the same time, and Rainbow rushed to explain. “It wasn’t my plan, okay?! I was just stretching my wings like I said, but I ended up back around his ship, and he was right there!” She tossed her mane as she remembered it all, nostrils flaring. “He smiled at me!”

“You killed him for smiling at you?” Sabre’s voice was quiet, but it carried a tense fury that conveyed just as much weight as a full-bodied shout.

“No!” Rainbow snarled. She closed the distance between them, stabbing her hoof into Sabre’s chest. “I killed him for putting a bounty on my friends! I killed him for driving Twilight mad! I killed him—” she jabbed the hoof up at her eyepatch “—for taking my eye! And I don’t regret it!”

For a long moment neither mare said anything. Rainbow’s chest heaved as she stared Sabre down, waiting for some furious outburst to meet her own.

“Applejack,” Sabre said curtly. “Leave us.”

“Now, hold on, I’m here to—”

“This is my ship!” Sabre roared, rounding on Applejack. “And the ponies on my ship follow my orders! Get! Out!”

Applejack flinched back. She glanced to Rainbow, who gave her a reassuring nod. Thanks, AJ, but this is something I have to face alone.

“I’ll be outside.” With another quick tip of her hat, Applejack slipped out into the hall and shut the door behind her.

The click of the door had barely faded when Sabre brought her glare back onto Rainbow. “What the fuck are you thinking?” she hissed, shoving her muzzle into Rainbow’s face. “After everything we’ve done for you? This is how you repay us?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Sabre!” Rainbow seethed back. “He hurt my friends, and he was laughing in our face about it! I couldn’t just do nothing!”

“I don’t understand?!” Sabre echoed. “Of all the ponies on this ship, I am the only one who understands!”

Rainbow blinked. “What?”

“I took you on because I saw myself in you!” Sabre spat. “Because you and I share the same drive to protect our ponies from anything that might ever think to harm them, to carry them through the fire and take the burns onto ourselves, and I wanted to help you before you got yourself killed! 

“I understand exactly why you killed that sad excuse for a pony, but you’re not an island, Rainbow Dash! Your actions have an effect on the ponies around you, and in case you haven’t noticed—” she jabbed her hoof into Rainbow’s chest with each word, harder every time “—you’re—on—my—ship!”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “But you didn’t do anything! It was all me, and they saw it!”

“I told them you were on my crew, Rainbow!” Sabre slapped at Rainbow’s ear with her hoof, making her flinch back. “Crazy Rich is helping you on his own whims, and you’ve repaid him by assassinating a business partner in his name!”

Rainbow blanched. Her hind legs dropped out under her as the true weight of her actions finally caught up to her. “But I—I didn’t mean to—”

Sabre grit her teeth as she turned away, pacing across the room. “Why are you doing this to me, Rainbow? I worked hard to get where I am! I had a fucking good contract, an employer that gave me everything I needed to keep my ponies alive, and he let me operate without sticking his nose where it didn’t belong! And now?” She scoffed, tail flicking sharply behind her. “I’m done! Once word of this gets to Heighton, the fucking accountants that keep Crazy’s estate together would make sure of it! They’re always looking for excuses to cut costs!”

Sabre kicked at the wall with a hind leg, denting the metal, and the loud bang shook Rainbow from her shock. “So what are we gonna do?”

“You are doing nothing!” Sabre spat. “I am turning this ship around. This operation is over!”

“Wait, what?” A chill ran down Rainbow’s spine as Sabre turned and flung her door open, the edge hitting the wall behind it. “Y-you can’t do that!”

“I can do anything I want, Rainbow!” Sabre didn’t look back as she stormed out into the hall. “It’s my fucking ship!”

Rainbow grimaced as she gave chase, skidding to a stop at the sight of Applejack in shock after Sabre stalking down the hall.

The cowpony looked to Rainbow with wide eyes. “How’s she takin’ it?”

“She wants to turn around, AJ!” Rainbow jabbed an accusing hoof out. “She wants to ditch Twilight, and it’s your fault!”

Applejack gave her a tight-lipped frown. “Rainbow Dash, I love ya to death, but I ain’t the one that went out killin’ ponies, and I don’t take kindly to ya puttin’ the blame for the fallout on me. That mare’s got every right to leave us dry, but we’re just gonna have to do our best to convince her otherwise.”

Applejack turned, starting after Sabre without waiting for any response, and Rainbow had no choice but to follow. They trotted down the stairs to the lower level, following the sharp sound of hoofsteps towards the crew’s quarters.

Sabre was pounding on the door to Star Trails’ room as she came into sight. “Trails! Report!”

Rainbow and Applejack were just coming to a stop behind Sabre when the doorknob glowed with the pale blue of Trails’ magic. The door swung open, revealing Trails lying prone on a thickly blanketed bed, an old comic book splayed out over her forelegs and hoof-drawn star charts pinned on the wall behind her.

“What the hay, boss?” Trails asked, ears perked up in alarm. “What’s up?”

“We’re turning back,” Sabre said sharply. “Plot a course to Baltimare.”

“Wh—Baltimare?” Trails frowned as she slid out of bed. “What about Twilight?”

“That’s not our problem anymore!” Sabre snapped. “Now carry out your orders!”

The pegasus stormed off, leaving Trails blinking in surprise. She looked between Rainbow and Applejack in obvious confusion. “What the hay happened, guys? We’re almost there!”

Applejack looked to Rainbow, who let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, uh, remember how I flew off after you told us about those bounties?”

Trails frowned. “Yeah.”

“So I kinda ran across the Orichalcum while I was out there,” Rainbow said, bracing herself. “And one thing led to another, and I, uh, killed Silverblood.”

Trails blinked. She looked to Applejack with a nervous grin, only for the expression to fall away as she saw the grim frown on the other mare’s face. “Oh, stars. You’re not kidding.”

Rainbow sighed. “Yeah. I’m not.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Trails galloped past them, shouting after Sabre. “Wait, Sabre! What are we doing?”

Exchanging a quick glance with Applejack, Rainbow gave chase. They caught up to Sabre standing in front of the door to the cargo hold, Trails skidding a stop in front of her.

“You should be on the bridge, Trails,” Sabre snapped. “Or did I stutter?”

“No, no, I heard you, but I just—what’s going on here?” Trails gestured towards the cargo hold with a hoof. “We’re bringing Princess Luna to Baltimare? Those freaks’ll cut her to pieces!”

“Well we certainly aren’t taking her back to Heighton,” Sabre seethed, straightening up and staring Star Trails down. “Our contract won’t survive this, Trails. The Rich Estate will send a repo team to take the Argo, and we’ll have bounty hunters after us over Silverblood. If we want to keep it or our lives, we need someone to protect us. Baltimare is always looking for salvage crews, and we can trade Luna for a fair contract. It’s our best chance.”

“Damnit, Sabre, she’s not some mindless artefact you can pawn off to the highest bidder!” Trails pursed her lips as she spread her stance. “That’s Princess Luna, and the only way we’re gonna save her from whatever she’s suffering is taking her north, like Twilight told us!”

Sabre frowned, her voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Are you refusing my order?”

The door to the galley opened from the top of the stairs, and all eyes turned to see Flintlock squinting down at them. “What th’ buck is all this shoutin’ about, eh?”

“Sabre wants to sell the Princess to Baltimare!” Trails blurted.

Flint looked to Sabre, brow furrowing. “Boss?”

“Our contract with Rich is done, Flint,” Sabre explained calmly. “Rainbow Dash doubled back and killed Silverblood, and word will reach Rich about it long before we do. Princess Luna is our best chance at a good contract elsewhere.”

Flint blinked, turning to Rainbow. “Ye killed th’ bastard?”

Unlike everyone else, Flint actually sounded more impressed than anything. Still, Rainbow had the presence of mind to answer him with a grimace. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, fuck me, Dash, ye already had my respect, but if ye keep this up ye might get my admiration, too.”

“Flint!” Sabre barked.

“Aye, alright.” Flint shrugged as he started down the stairs. “Hope ye don’t mind if I squeeze past. Thinkin’ I’ll take a nap and let all this blow over.”

“Stay, Flint.” Sabre pursed her lips, her wings hovering an inch from her sides. “Trails, stand down. And you two—” the pegasus narrowed her eyes “—do not try to interfere with the running of my ship.”

Applejack shook her head with a sigh. “Sabre, y’all know I respect ya. If it wasn’t for me, RD probably wouldn’t have even told ya what she did. Can’t we all just simmer down and talk this out civil-like, without snippin’ at each other’s ears?”

Sabre stomped a hoof. “This is not a democracy, and this is not a discussion!”

“Boss, c’mon.” Trails stepped closer, offering up an uneasy smile. “You can’t be serious about this. Selling the Princess? That’s straight out of some comic villain’s playbook!”

“This isn’t some comic book where you can draw a clean line between heroes and villains, Trails. This is real life!” Sabre flared her wings as Flint came to a stop at her side, lending his imposing bulk to her words. “I’ve never once put anything ahead of my ponies, and I’m sure as Tartarus not starting now!”

“But why not?” Trails asked. “There’s only ever been two princesses, Sabre, and we’re their ponies. I get your priorities—I love being on your crew, right? I know you always do everything you can to take care of us. But that sleepy alicorn in there needs us, and if we let her down, Equestria will never have a chance like this again.”

“I am not her little pony,” Sabre growled. “Neither she nor her sister ever did anything to help me or the ponies I cared about. Every pony in my platoon that went home alive, they did it because of me!” She stepped forwards, pushing her snarling muzzle into Trails’ face. “An alicorn has never once answered anypony’s prayers, Star Trails! We don’t owe her a damn thing!”

Rainbow’s ears went flat against her head, anger swelling inside her at the blatant disrespect for the Princess, and before she knew it Flintlock was holding her back, his big legs wrapped around her chest while her wings beat vainly against the air.

“How dare you talk about the Princesses like that!” Rainbow screamed. “Of course they’ve never answered any of your prayers! Luna’s been sleeping at the bottom of the ocean for centuries, and I know for a fact that Celestia must be trapped somewhere too, because she’d never leave Equestria hanging!”

“Ach, get yer mare under control, Jackie!” Flint winced as her wings buffeted against his shoulders. “She’s got th’ fire of a phoenix pissin’ hot sauce!”

“Cool it, RD!” Applejack called. “We’re tryin’ to avoid a fight, remember?”

Rainbow growled in frustration as she felt Applejack bite down on her tail, helping Flint wrestle her out of the air. “It’s ponies like you that’re the problem, Sabre! The Princesses would do anything to help Equestria if they could, but this time, they’re the ones that need help, and if you’re willing to sell her out just to save your own skin, then you’re no better than Silverblood!”

“No better than Silverblood?” Sabre’s lip twitched back as she shook her head. “So what’s your plan, Rainbow Dash? Kill the entire crew of the Argo? Because that’s what you’ll have to if you want to override my orders.”

Trails stepped in front of her, hooves clasped together pleadingly. “Sabre, I’ve never once turned down an order from you, but just this once, when we’ve got the fate of an alicorn hanging in the balance, don’t you think you could ask us what we want?”

Sabre frowned down at the unicorn, ignoring Rainbow’s continued struggles. “Trails, don’t you understand how much danger she’s put us in?”

“Yes!” Trails gave an emphatic nod. “Yes, I get it! She’s a hothead, and she’s got no self-control, and just because nearly everyone else around Silverblood was constantly daydreaming about doing him in doesn’t make our position any better—even if he probably deserved it.”

Rainbow’s ears perked up at that, and she stopped struggling, Applejack and Flint both falling back with sighs of relief. “Thank you!”

Trails didn’t look back. “But we’ve been in dangerous places before. We’ve risked our lives before, right? Plenty of times! You always bring us back!”

Sabre shook her head. “Those were jobs, Trails. It’s not the same thing.”

“So, what, you’re okay with us risking our lives exploring ruins so we can bring magic trinkets back home for Crazy to show off to his friends, but now that we have an alicorn princess relying on us to wake her up it’s too much?” Trails offered a tentative grin. “We can be heroes, Sabre! We can change the world!”

For a moment, Sabre was silent. When she finally did speak, her voice was calm and measured. “And what if it doesn’t work? What am I supposed to do if we return to Equestria empty-hooved, with repo crews and bounty hunters watching every island in the north?”

“Honestly, Sabre?” Trails shrugged. “Ponies don’t usually retire from this career as it is. I’d rather meet my end trying to save a Princess than at the hooves of some lucky seapony guarding a piece of salvage.”

Sabre frowned down at Trails for several seconds, saying nothing, and Rainbow found herself holding her breath. She exchanged a nervous glance with Applejack before looking back.

If it came down to it, Rainbow decided, she just hoped Sabre would give up before things went too far.

Finally, Sabre looked away. “Flint?”

“Aye, boss?”

“What do you think about this?”

“Eh, Traily’s right that we’re on borrowed time. And as fer us two?” Flint snorted. “Considerin’ what we’ve survived, I figure maybe we owe th’ Princess a favor or two.” He quirked his lips, eyes unfocusing. “And I bet she could find us a whole heap of salvage.”

Sabre let out a tired sigh. Her wings drooped down at her sides, and for a brief moment she swayed as if exhausted.

The moment was gone as fast as it came. Rainbow blinked, and Sabre was back like she was always—firm stance, sharp eyes, and hard voice. “I’ll check with Sunfeather, then. And if she agrees, we can continue north.”

A collective breath of relief passed over the assembled ponies. Rainbow broke out into a wide grin, and she was just getting ready to jump up and cheer when Sabre fixed her with a harsh glare.

“Don’t. I’m not doing this for you.” Sabre shuffled her wings as she turned away. “Your training with me is over. You can keep the wingblades.” She stalked away, following the hall and turning out of sight.

As soon she was gone, Trails slumped against the nearest wall, running a hoof through her mane. “Sweet Luna, Rainbow, could you have possibly done anything more monumentally scuffed?”

Rainbow frowned. “I thought you said he deserved it!”

“Oh, hush.” Applejack raised a hoof and smacked at Rainbow’s ear, drawing a startled yelp. “Y’all ain’t off the hook with me, either.”

Flint let out a low chuckle. “Don’t be too hard on th’ mare, Jackie. Ain’t nobody gonna miss that grinnin’ bastard.”

“So I guess we’re doing this, huh?” Trails asked, looking between them all. “Usually when salvage crews dig something up that ends their career, it’s cause they’re all dead.”

“We appreciate ya, Trails,” Applejack said. “I hate to even think about what mighta gone down if y’all weren’t here to talk Sabre down.”

Trails grinned. “Hey, I used to daydream about meeting a Princess when I was a filly, y’know. If I really had to choose a side today, I’m not even sure where I’d stand.”

“Well, I’m done standin’ around gripin’,” Flint grumbled, turning and starting back up the stairs. “Any of ye want some drinks? Got another keg of family cider back on th’ Orichalcum. Might be th’ last one I find fer a while, but I figure goin’ rogue and decidin’ t’ go on some fancy quest is worth poppin’ it open.”

Trails straightened up, following after him. “Oh, I’m so there.”

Rainbow was left alone with Applejack at the base of the stairs. She looked to her friend, offering up a strained grin. “Guess it all worked out, huh?”

“No thanks to y’all, I reckon.” Applejack sighed, shaking her head. “Somethin’ tells me Sabre’s the kinda mare to hold a grudge on somethin’ like this, but I’m done talkin’ about it for now. Let’s go get some cider.” She walked up the stairs, following Flint and Trails down the hall towards the galley.

Rainbow hesitated for just a moment, glancing back to the cargo hold. “Don’t worry, Princess,” she whispered. “There’s a few ponies left in Equestria that have your back.”

Taking a deep breath, Rainbow followed the sounds of chatter already drifting from the galley. She still had to get her practice in for the day, but at that moment what she really wanted more than anything was a good drink, and to relax with friends.





The mining colony had gone deathly silent.

If not for the information from her pinging, Twilight might’ve thought that she’d been too late. The halls were marred by the gaping entry wounds left behind by the tunneling spiders. Twisted steel and brass blocked the path in many places, and loose rubble strewn along the floor made it difficult to walk with ease. Where before the screams of ponies and the shrieks of spiders had echoed off the rock, now there was only the constant hissing of steam and the trickling of water.

She frowned as she looked down, her hornlight reflecting off the thin stream of water coursing over the stone under the metal grid of the floor. She could smell the blood mixed into it, dripping down from the dismembered bodies left abandoned in dark corners. The pumps—the steady breathing of the mountain that had first entranced her on her arrival—sounded different.

The mountain is flooding.

Midnight said nothing.

They could have teleported across the entire colony in an instant, but Twilight felt that doing so may only further frighten the miners. It also would have felt wrong, somehow, to fling herself through the arcane, to blink past the death and destruction caused by her presence as if it wasn’t even there. So they crossed the colony on hoof, and Twilight made sure not to shy away from the ruin waiting for her behind every corner.

Even on hoof, it didn’t take long for them to climb the nearest stairwell. She paused on the landing, turning back to Scylla. Stay here.

The spider stared at her blankly. Twilight took a few experimental steps backwards before nodding to herself, satisfied that her message had been conveyed.

The halls on the top floor were dark and craggy, without any of the metal panels or piping that were such a constant throughout the rest of the colony. If not for the bits of old refuse left in the corners—broken lamps, scattered shards of clay, and rusted tools—there would be no way to tell ponies lived here.

There were only a few rooms on this level, all attached to a single hallway, and all but one was empty. She stopped before the door, looking down at the small band of light flickering beneath it. With a glance towards Midnight, she summoned a shield, raised her hoof, and pushed the door open.

“Fire!”

Thunder filled her ears, and Twilight winced back at the spray of lead that bounced off her shield. A line of six ponies carrying bulky shields rushed through the gunsmoke, followed with a second line pointing long spears between the front ranks, and Twilight frowned as the weapons cracked and shattered on impact with her shield.

The miners stumbled to a stop, those in the front regarding their broken spears with wide eyes while those in the back raced to reload spent guns.

Midnight stalked across the line with a disdainful sneer. A pitiful effort.

Twilight arched a brow. You’re not upset? I’d have thought you’d be calling for blood by now.

Normally, yes. Midnight smirked, giving Twilight a sideways look. But we cannot coerce corpses into friendship.

Twilight blinked. Although that wasn’t exactly the right idea, she supposed it was an improvement.

She turned her attention back to the assembled miners, taking in their frightened expressions. The room was wide but low, and she could see ponies hiding in the dark corners to either side, probably thinking she couldn’t see them. The only light came from a few lamps hung from posts stabbed into the walls.

Twilight kept her eyes forward as she offered a tentative smile. “It’s safe now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

They exchanged nervous glances amongst each other in silence. Behind the line, Twilight heard somepony curse as they dropped something.

“Is Peony Burrows available?” she asked, raising her voice. “Or maybe Bag End?”

“Go away!” One stallion brandished the jagged tip of his broken spear at her. “You’ve done enough!”

Midnight stepped up to the stallion, looking into his eyes. Perhaps we could kill just one. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.

Twilight pursed her lips. She was just considering how best to phrase her apology and farewell when a commotion from further into the room caught her attention.

Bag End stepped around the line, followed by Peony Burrows. He had a lamp hanging from a small clip on the side of his belt. “Let’s talk outside.”

Twilight smiled. “Of course.”

She stepped out of the doorway, holding it open with her magic to allow the two ponies to follow her through. Peony eyed the glowing door with open suspicion, while Bag End seemed to be tired more than anything else.

Twilight went to close the door, only for Peony to jar it open with a hind leg. “Don’t close it.”

“O-oh, okay.” Twilight stepped back a respectful distance before letting her magic fizzle out. The only light came from Bag End’s lamp, a small sphere of washed out color in Twilight’s otherwise ashen world. Midnight stood in the background, its purple eyes glowing with reflected light.

“What do you want from us?” Peony asked, her eyes hard. 

Twilight grimaced. “I just want to help. I’ve sent the spiders away, so you don’t have to hide up here anymore.”

“Oh, you’ve sent the spiders away, huh?” Peony snorted. “Excuse me if I don’t trip over myself to thank you for only killing some of us.”

“It was an accident!” Twilight sat down with a heavy sigh, hanging her head. “I… I didn’t mean for anypony to be hurt.”

“What you mean makes little difference for our dead,” Peony said coldly. “What do we have to do to make you leave us alone?”

“If you want me to go, just ask and—”

“Go!” Peony stomped a hoof. “And never come back.”

She whipped around, her tail flicking out, and shoved the door open. She disappeared through it, leaving Midnight standing in her place.

As I expected.

Strangely, Twilight felt only a detached disappointment. Maybe this was the outcome she’d been expecting all along. Had it been foolish of her to hope that these ponies would show any gratitude for saving them from a threat she herself had caused? That they’d show anything but disdain?

Yes, it was, and she didn’t need Midnight to tell her that. She’d known since she first found these ponies, in those thoughts that she hadn’t dared put into words, that this was the only outcome. She wasn’t like them, and this attempt at reliving her old existence, however forced and impossible it would’ve been, had always been doomed to fail.

Twilight looked up Bag End, who was watching her with a thoughtful frown. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “I believe you.”

Twilight gave him a small smile, and for once she didn’t cringe back at the way his eyes darted down to her fangs. Was she accepting her fate, or just growing numb to it? “Some of the pipes are broken, and I noticed the water’s flowing back in. I could help you fix it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He shook his head. “It’ll be rough, but the maintenance team can jury rig a solution for now. Corporate will send engineers to handle the rest.” He shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’ll probably be the first upgrade this facility’s had since it was built.”

“Are you sure?” Twilight asked. “I understand you wouldn’t want my help, but if you make any mistakes…”

“We can evacuate the colony if we have to.” Bag End sighed as he turned to the door, looking back at her over his shoulder. “I don’t know how you got in, but I trust you can find your way out. Thanks for not leavin’ us to die, I guess.”

He slipped out of the hall, taking his light with him. Twilight was left alone, surrounded by dark stone, with only Midnight’s bloodied lavender coat to break the ashen greyscale of her mutated vision.

Midnight eyed her with a level gaze. We should go.

Yes, I suppose we should. Twilight’s horn glowed as she stood, and she reached a hoof up to feel at the cold metal of Celestia’s tiara slung around her neck. The Frozen North awaits.





The siege camp around Friesland had grown significantly since the last time Ana saw it.

Tents and banners littered the hillsides, protected from the wind by their bulk. A crunchy layer of snow covered the ground, piled up into miniature walls around the tents and the most trafficked paths. Thin white powder swirled through the air, kicked up by marching soldiers and carried by the wind to sting at Ana’s eyes, and the sound of shouted orders competed with the rhythmic bass of marching hooves and the sharp clatters and clangs of the smiths and the carpenters hard at work. Banners and colored tents demarcated the borders between the encamped armies, with the soldiers mostly keeping to themselves, but there were some places where they mixed.

One such place was the long healer’s tent near the middle of the camp, pitched next to the paved road that led through the thin line of trees to the west and towards the besieged city. It was bigger than it had been before, but no less busy; she watched as a pony pulled a small wagon laden with supplies up to the side, only for it to be emptied in seconds by a swarm of nurses.

Ana frowned. Was that a bear lumbering out of the tent?

She shook her head, setting the matter aside. If she wasn’t hallucinating from blood loss and it actually was a bear, then she wanted to get in and get herself seen to before it came back.

She made for the tent at a brisk trot, nosing through the closed flaps and narrowing her eyes as she searched for a healer to attend to her. She wanted someone experienced, unlikely to balk at her appearance, and quick enough that she could be on her way without too much delay. She had a deadline to meet, and she couldn’t afford to miss it.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

Ana stiffened. She recognized that soft, fluttery voice, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She walked away from it as if she hadn’t heard, pulling her cloak tighter. Maybe if she moved fast enough—

“Wait!” With the soft flap of wings, Fluttershy landed in front of her. Her long pink mane had been tied up into a messy bun, and she was wearing a white apron with faded red stains worn into the fabric. “Your bandages need to be—oh. Um.”

Ana grimaced as Fluttershy finally recognized her. “Don’t worry. I’ll find someone else.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath and gave a firm shake of her head. “No. Your bandages are already soaked through! Come with me, please.”

“Look, I really don’t have time to—” Ana sighed as the pegasus grabbed her hoof, hauling her off to an unoccupied bedroll. Ana tried to pull her hoof free, but the mare had a grip like iron.

“That’s okay.” Fluttershy gave Ana a small smile as she began to prod at her wounds with her other hoof. “I can be quick. Undress, please.”

Ana wanted to protest further, but there was something in the mare’s tone that had her complying almost before she realized. She sighed as she shrugged her cloak off, and then her satchel, weighed down with her arcata and the food she’d taken from Titus’s camp. Next came the straps of her freshly mended vest, revealing her coal grey coat and the soiled cloth already coming loose around her wounds. It would probably be quicker if she just shut up and let Fluttershy work. She certainly didn’t seem to be as hesitant or fidgety as Ana had expected.

Ana kept her eyes forward, wincing only slightly as Fluttershy began to tug the dirty cloth free. “Why are you helping me?”

“You’re hurt,” Fluttershy said. “Somepony has to help you, so why not me?”

Ana blinked. She looked down, but Fluttershy was focused on her work. “Aren’t you worried about what I’m doing? For all you know, I could be here to kill you.”

Fluttershy hummed quietly as she bundled the spent bandages up and set them aside before grabbing a small cloth, dipping it into a nearby bucket of water, and began to dab at Ana’s shoulder. “Is that what you’re here for?”

Ana snorted. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you. And I’d wait for you to finish healing me before I did anything.”

Fluttershy paused. She pulled her cloth back, squeezing the collected blood out into the dirt before draping it over her bucket. She looked up, meeting Ana’s gaze with a stern frown. “Ana, what you do is wrong.”

Ana stiffened. Those hard blue eyes held her in place with as much steel as any shackle. Where did this cold fire come from? Where was the shivering pegasus that had been willing to do anything she asked without resistance, even if it meant carrying her own friends into a bounty hunter’s cell?

She felt an uncomfortable twinge in her gut.

“You hurt so many innocent ponies,” Fluttershy continued. “My friends saved your life, put their trust in you, and you repaid them with violence. That’s not very fair to them, is it?”

Ana’s jaw tightened. Was she being lectured now, like some unruly foal? “You wouldn’t understand.”

Fluttershy sighed. “Maybe I wouldn’t. But if you’re willing to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

Ana cocked her head, taken aback by the sincerity in the mare’s voice. Is she actually asking me for an explanation? What’s she playing at?

Fluttershy grabbed the cloth back out of the bucket, wringing the water from it with both hooves. “Could you lie back, please? I need to clean the wound on your belly.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ana complied, lying on her back so the pegasus could gently scrub at the gunshot wound on her barrel. Fluttershy began to hum once more, cleaning the wound with soft but firm pressure.

Ana took it all in with a thoughtful frown. How could the same mare who had been shaming her seconds ago now tend her wounds as if she were some filly with a scraped fetlock, and not a lying monster that had betrayed those she held most dear without remorse?

Ana felt a knot form in her chest, and it wasn’t from her wounds. The Countess had made her that beautiful dress even in spite of her resistance, and even if Pinkie had been annoying at times, they’d both always taken her side whenever someone had looked down on her for what she was. They’d been kind to her. They’d been stupidly kind, and she’d made sure they paid for it, because kindness like that couldn’t be real. It had to be a lie, some facade erected in service of selfish pursuits, and so Ana had lied back without hesitation.

But now, as Ana listened to the quiet, content melody of Fluttershy’s voice, she had to wonder—maybe it was all real. Maybe she was lying to the only honest ponies in Equestria.

“I’m helping your friends.”

“Hmm?” Fluttershy wrung the bloodied water from the cloth and set it aside, grabbing a roll of fresh gauze.

“That’s why I’m here,” Ana said. It felt odd to tell the truth without any prompting, for its own sake. “I’m going back into the city, to help them stop the siege.”

“Oh. That’s good to hear.”

Ana’s frown persisted. She believes me, just like that? Surely she should ask some questions, ask for proof, at least pry for more details to try and catch Ana out in a lie. But no, she just kept humming, smiling as she applied a dressing to Ana’s wound and wrapped her barrel tightly in the gauze.

Ana said nothing as Fluttershy did the same to the wound on her shoulder before helping her back to her hooves. She didn’t even complain when the pegasus helped her don her clothes or stuffed a few more dressings into her satchel.

At last Fluttershy stepped back, giving her a warm smile. “Is there anything else you need?”

Ana’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before she found her voice. “No. Thank you.”

“Oh!” Fluttershy started, eyes widening. “I actually had a letter I wrote for my friends yesterday, but I couldn’t find anypony to deliver it for me. If you’re going back into the city, maybe you could do me the favor?” She looked around and flipped the flap open on a pair of saddlebags lying off to the side. She pulled a letter out, holding it up with a blush. “Um, if that’s okay with you?”

Ana shook her head. “You shouldn’t trust me with that.”

“Why not? You said you’re helping them, right?”

“Yes, but—” Ana stomped a hoof, raising her voice in anger. “You shouldn’t trust me!”

Fluttershy flinched back with a startled squeak, dropping her letter. “But—”

“No!” A pair of passing nurses shot them a watchful glare, so Ana lowered her voice into a sharp hiss. “Ponies that trust me get hurt, okay? And if I don’t hurt you, I’ll hurt someone you care about! I’m a liar, Fluttershy! Everything I’ve ever told your friends, all of it was a lie meant to get them to let their guard down! I could be doing the same thing to you right now!”

Fluttershy actually smiled. “You could be. But I think ponies deserve second chances.” She straightened up, picking the letter up and holding it out again. “If you take this letter, then you won’t have to lie the next time you see my friends. It might be hard, but I’m sure they’d forgive you, too.”

Ana slapped the letter away with a snarl. “If they did, it would only put them in more danger. You can deliver it yourself when the siege is lifted.”

Ana turned away sharply, but not before she caught a glimpse of the disappointment on Fluttershy’s face. She rushed out of the tent before the pegasus could say another word. 

White powder drifted past her vision as she stepped out into the wind. Stupid pony. If she wants to get herself killed, she can do it without me.

She found a relatively sheltered spot next to a smith’s tent, and she allowed herself several minutes to indulge in a small lunch of dry bread and cider. It wasn’t an especially flavorful meal, and her thoughts lingered on the strange conversation as she ate. She had faced ponies she’d betrayed before, and they always greeted her with spite and disdain. She had learned to laugh off the hatred of ponies at a young age, and she found comfort in the knowledge that she could rely only on herself and her sister. The world was always against them. That was just the way things were.

But forgiveness? It didn’t fit into her reality. Even if a pony had never met her, they would know that forgiving her would only be an invitation for further exploitation. There were a few exceptions, yes, but they always learned quickly. Ana made certain of that.

She should’ve accepted the letter. She could’ve read it, maybe gleaned some useful information, and she could’ve used it to regain the Countess’s trust. It would’ve been the smart thing to do, and she always prided herself on being the smart sister.

But this time, the smart decision only filled her with disgust.

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away and focusing on her meal. By the time she finished she felt like herself again—cool, confident, and ready to spin the perfect lie at a moment’s notice.

The camp had grown agitated since her arrival, with troops cantering in every direction in armored columns. She fell in behind a squad clad in full sets of tarnished plate, short shoulder capes emblazoned with the image of a snarling dog.

The barons were staging for an attack on the city, and one that would hopefully be more successful than the few frontal assaults attempted in the early days of the siege. There was a buzz of tense confusion hanging in the air, and Ana couldn’t help but grin as she overheard a few soldiers muttering among themselves, questioning why the attack had been moved up a day.

It had been planned for tomorrow, but Ana’s arrival had changed that. The messenger that Titus had sent along with her had been very helpful.

Within a few minutes the squad she was following arrived at a wide hole that had been dug into the ground, the walls reinforced with strong beams of wood. The hole led to a steeply sloped tunnel, and the armored ponies were forced to slow their pace as they descended single file, taking each step with caution. Ana followed with patience as the tunnel delved deeper, and deeper still, until the only light came from the lamp held in the teeth of the sergeant leading the group.

The darkness didn’t bother her. Her slitted eyes could see even in the dim light, picking out the wooden reinforcements holding the dirt walls up as the slope leveled off. Ana could hear the collective breath of relief from the soldiers as she followed them, the tunnel just narrow enough that she couldn’t fully spread her wings. The air was thick and hot, and within seconds Ana could feel sweat beginning to build on her coat, matting the hairs into uncomfortable clumps. She could only imagine what it must be like wearing the heavy metal barding of the soldiers, but if the sound of their strained breath was any indication, it must feel like walking through Tartarus.

She wasn’t very familiar with siege warfare, but Countess Silkie had given her a quick primer on the subject. It was obvious that any assault across the fields surrounding the city, exposed to the devastating fire of the Frieslanders, would be a disastrous failure. While the baronlanders had kept up a token skirmishing force on the surface, the majority of their effort had been focused here, in the tunnels, where teams of sappers had worked day and night, fighting to close the gap between the army and its objective from underground.

The tunnel seemed to turn almost at random, sometimes sloping up or down for brief spans before leveling off again. Ana could only assume that they were still going mostly west; even only able to go forwards or back, she felt like she could get lost down here.

Her ears twitched at the sound of muted conversation ahead, and the tunnel widened out into a small chamber. A pair of sweaty, bare-coated stallions were squeezed up against one wall, greeting them with tired grins.

“Yer just in time, lads!” one said. “Charge goes in ten. Ye lot get right, line up ’n ready!”

The tunnel split into five branches, and the sergeant in front led the squad down the rightmost path. After perhaps another minute of walking they came to a stop, bunching up and going from single file to a cramped double column. Ana leaned side-to-side, but it was impossible to see the front of the formation past the bulk of the armored soldiers, and the tunnel was too short for her to climb or fly up higher.

“Soldiers!” The sergeant was barely audible from the back of the formation, her voice muffled by the bodies in the way. “Are ye ready t’ bring glory t’ yer lord, under Celestia’s light?!”

The shouted response was almost deafening in the enclosed space. “Aye, sergeant!”

“Are ye ready t’ strike fear in th’ hearts of th’ soft Frieslanders, t’ watch ’em wet their fancy blue coats when they realize they ain’t got their big guns t’ save ’em?”

“Aye, sergeant!”

“Remember th’ plan! Stay close t’ me! We will be th’ spearhead that clears th’ way fer all of Altalusia t’ bleed into this city, and when th’ bards and minstrels write their songs of this siege, they will sing of Count Dane’s steel hussars!”

Ana’s ear twitched at a faint hissing sound. A shout echoed up the tunnel from behind them. “Th’ fuse is lit!”

The tunnel fell silent. Every soldier seemed to hold their breath as the spitting hiss of the fuse faded into the distance. Ana glanced to her satchel, considering equipping her arcata, but decided against it. There would be hundreds of bluecoats between her and the rest of the city, and she wouldn’t get past them with force.

A rumble shook through the earth, and Ana flinched at the silt that rained from above. A second later the rumble was joined by two more, and she had to brace herself on the wall to keep steady.

There was a deep, shuddering crack from ahead. Sunlight streamed into the tunnel, filtered through a thick cloud of dust, and with a mighty roar and the thunder of galloping hooves, the soldiers streamed out into the open air.

Adrenaline surged through Ana’s veins as she followed, squinting past the sudden glare that struck her when she clambered past the shattered lip of the tunnel. A wide section of the city’s lower, outer wall had collapsed, disappearing in a cloud of snow and dirt along with all the soldiers and cannons that had rested atop it. Shouts of alarm competed with screams of pain, and although she could see a few more veteran bluecoats barking orders or shoving cannons into position, most of the Friesland troops simply looked on in open-mouthed shock as dozens of armored baronlanders scrambled out of the earth, bellowing throaty war cries and charging up the rubble towards the still-standing walls.

The bluecoats stood little chance. A few scattered shots was their only protest as the steelbound invaders trampled them underhoof, racing to claim as much of the wall as they could before an effective resistance could be rallied. Baron soldiers with small swivel cannons mounted on their backs followed in their wake, teams of two working as one to support the shock troops with deadly cannonfire.

Still others charged past the wall, into the streets, and Ana was quick behind them. Civilians screamed as they leapt into alleys, bolted into their homes, or simply ran in mindless terror.

Ana didn’t follow them for long. She needed to get through the gatehouse that led deeper into the city, and she expected the sound of armored hooves pounding through the snow would only attract trouble she didn’t want. She instead pulled her hood up, galloping after a group of civilians fleeing down a narrow side alley.

They apparently had the same destination in mind; the crackling of gunfire echoed off the walls as the group she was following merged with another, and then one more, and soon she was hidden in a sizable crowd of panicked ponies. Columns of bluecoats marched past them in the opposite direction, and at one point they passed a firing line forming up across an intersection just as a horde of baron soldiers came into view further down the street. Ana heard them get one volley off, but she didn’t bother listening for more.

Finally the gatehouse came into view, two large wooden doors set into the towering inner Friesland wall and protected by small towers jutting out on either side. A few bluecoats were directing traffic, ushering fleeing civilians in one side while troops streamed out the other.

Odd, Ana thought. Why are there so many soldiers inside the inner wall? She would’ve expected most of the garrison to be posted on the outer wall, ready to repel any assault, with only a small force left back to operate the cannons and police the city.

It didn’t matter to her either way. She kept her head down as she crossed under the shadow of the gatehouse, and a wave of relief passed over her as she slipped through the gates.

She could’ve collapsed right there; she was back in the city, and the hard part was over. But if she was going to collapse anywhere, it was going to be in the cheap tavern room she shared with her sister, and she didn’t want to be disturbed for a long time after.

The print shop where Whitehorn had told her to leave packages was practically across the city from here. She couldn’t fly and she was already sore from her wounds, so she opted to make for the officer’s home where she knew he was staying instead. If he had a problem with it, she didn’t care.

To her surprise, there was still a soldier stationed outside the home, looking nervously up and down the street as squads of bluecoats ran past him. She paid him no mind as she circled around to the back of the house, hidden away in a shaded alley. She grit her teeth as she climbed up to the window of Whitehorn’s room, pulled a hoof back, and rapped it against the windowpanes.

They flew open almost instantly, and she found herself staring at Whitehorn’s blue-eyed glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Special delivery.” Ana grunted as she swung through the window, ignoring his protests. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I very much do mind!” Whitehorn said, following her with his head. “We cannot be connected!”

“Y’know what? I honestly don’t even care right now.” Ana flipped her satchel open, dumping the papers inside onto the floor. The seal bounced against the stone with a dull thud. “I hope this is enough writing, because I’m not going back.”

He narrowed his eyes, looking down to her bandages. “Were you caught?”

“No, I shot myself for fun.”

Whitehorn’s tail flicked out behind him. “Anatami, my plan doesn’t work if ponies know the seal’s been stolen.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Too bad! For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone knows what I took, but I wouldn’t sit on that seal too long. And I don’t need any smart talk from you. I must’ve dodged the entire Friesland army out there!”

“I had every confidence in you.” Whitehorn smirked as he sat down and picked up one of the scrolls. “This should be enough. Though you may already be too late.”

“Again—don’t care.” Ana made for the window. “Nobody would shed a tear if all your plots suddenly sunk into the sea.”

“My only plot right now concerns saving the life of Countess Rarity.”

Ana stiffened. The Countess was in danger? She opened her mouth to ask for details, but changed her mind at the last moment. Why should she care? “I do have one request for you before I go.”

Whitehorn laughed. “That’s not how our contract works.”

Her lip curled back at his dismissive tone, but she didn’t challenge him on it. “I threatened a mare while I was out, and she didn’t listen. I need you to follow through on that threat.”

“And why would I do that?” Whitehorn asked, flattening a scroll out on a metal chest he seemed to be using as a desk.

“Considering I’m working for you, my threats are your threats. And what was it you said about threats only being as good as the enforcement?” Ana shrugged. “I suppose if you don’t want ponies taking your agents seriously…”

Whitehorn snorted. “What is it?”

“One of the writing samples I took is a short story written by Nettlekiss’s scribe. I need you to publish it.”

Whitehorn paused. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “You threatened to... publish an author’s work?”

“It’ll make more sense once you read it.” Ana winked as she climbed back out the window. “If you need me anytime in the next several days, I hope you don’t find me.”

She dropped back down into the alley with a grunt, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. She had a too-long walk ahead of her, but the thought of seeing Gava again made it almost bearable.





“Countess Rarity, you stand accused of sedition against the State of Friesland, attempting to incite an unsanctioned general strike, and as an accessory to the terroristic attacks on Old Westfort. Do you understand these charges?”

Three judges frowned down at Rarity from atop a behemoth of polished wood, each one outfitted in crisp blue coats, weighed down by their personal collections of medals and decorated in elaborately spun gold epaulettes. Two lines of bluecoats, Captain Piaffe at the head of one, stood against the walls, the barrels of their rifles gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. Behind her she knew, separated from the open space in which she stood by an iron railing, an audience of curious commoners whispered anxiously among themselves, but she didn’t dare look back.

She gulped. They’re accusing me of being party to that despicable attack as well? “Are there any other charges you wanted to add on?”

The older mare sitting in the center of the judge’s bench narrowed her eyes. “If you are found guilty, the penalty for each one of these crimes would be at minimum 10 years imprisonment, and at maximum 30. However, during wartime each of these charges expose you to a death sentence. You will also address me as Colonel, your Honor, or Ma’am for the duration of this hearing. Do you understand?”

Death? A chill ran down Rarity’s spine, but she refused to look away. “I understand, Ma’am.”

“You are entitled to appoint a pony educated in law to speak for you during this trial. If you cannot find such a pony, you will be allowed to speak for yourself. What say you?”

There was a murmur from the crowd behind her, but no offers of assistance. Either her supporters among the commoners were too afraid to speak up, or they simply knew nothing regarding the finer points of Friesland law. She bit her lip. “I’d like to appoint my associate, Whitehorn of Heighton, to speak for me, Ma’am.”

The Colonel nodded, her eyes darting to the crowd. “Would the named pony please step forth?”

More hushed whispers, but there was no comforting sound of hoofsteps. Captain Piaffe clicked her hooves together, clearing her throat. “Colonel?”

“Speak, Captain.”

“I know this pony,” she said, keeping her eyes straight forward. “He is currently under house arrest at my residence, along with the accused’s husband.”

“Very well.” The Colonel looked to the side, singling out a soldier who straightened up the instant he realized he was about to be addressed. “Ensign, retrieve both ponies from the Captain’s homestead.”

With a click of his hooves, the soldier marched out of the courtroom, and Rarity allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She’d feel much better once she had some friends at her side, and even if Whitehorn wasn’t a lawyer by any means, she thought it likely that he would have at least some better idea of Friesland’s legal system compared to her.

The Colonel leaned back, glanced at the two stallions seated to either side of her, and thumped her hoof against the wood beneath it. “Countess, how do you plead?”

Rarity blinked. She stole a glance back towards the crowd, for a moment thinking she had somehow dozed off and missed the arrival of Whitehorn and Pontius, but they were nowhere to be seen. “I’d like to wait for my legal counsel to arrive before I answer any more questions, Ma’am.”

The Colonel’s lip curled back into a disdainful snarl. “To be frank, Countess, this court will not abide any attempts on your part to delay or prolong this hearing. The city is in a state of emergency, and the fact that this hearing even needs to happen is an insult to myself, Governor Rhea, and to Friesland itself. Make your plea, or the court will decide for you.”

Rarity balked. A few angry shouts sounded out from behind her, but they were silenced by a smoldering glare from the Colonel. For the first time it occurred to her that the ponies overseeing her hearing may have already made up their mind as to her guilt, or worse, didn’t even care. She shook herself, unable to keep the hard edge out of her voice. “I plead not guilty, of course!”

“Your plea is noted. The court will now—” The Colonel paused, looking towards one of the windows with her muzzle still open. Anxious whispers filled the room as more and more eyes turned to the window, and soon Rarity found herself following suit.

A thick column of smoke was spiraling ever higher in the distance, from the eastern edge of the city. It was joined by two more a second later, the wide black clouds painting ugly scars across the sky. Airships floated between them, throwing bombs down into the city, and gasps of alarm passed over the crowd as one began to list to the side, gradually catching aflame, and drifted below the bulk of the wall.

What’s going on? Rarity looked to Piaffe, but saw her own confusion reflected back at her. The chatter grew louder, more anxious, and she saw some of the soldiers standing along the walls straightening up, fidgeting with their wings or rolling their shoulders as if to ensure their rifles were still there.

“Draw the curtains!” the Colonel barked, pounding her hoof. Bluecoats rushed to comply, pulling the curtains shut and leaving the courtroom in the dim, flickering light of its chandeliers.

Rarity jumped at the sudden slam of a door opening. “Make way! Step aside, quickly!”

She looked back and saw a sweaty bluecoat mare shoving a path through the stunned crowd. Her uniform was dirty and wrinkled, and her coat smelled of gunpowder. After a moment of confusion, Rarity realized she recognized the pony—Lieutenant Rollkur, the cantankerous mare that had first greeted her and her party as they approached Friesland under a white flag. Piaffe’s sister.

The Colonel stood up sharply, glaring down at the new arrival as she shouldered her way past Rarity. “Explain this interruption at once, Lieutenant!”

Rollkur squinted up at the Colonel before walking around the bulk of the judge’s stand and climbing up to them. She leaned into the senior mare’s ear, whispering a few words.

The Colonel stiffened. She nodded, turned to one of the stallions seated next to her, and whispered what sounded like an order. The stallion stood without hesitation and dismounted the judge’s stand.

He cast his gaze over the room, pointing to one of the lines of watching soldiers. “You all. On me.”

He trotted back through the crowd without looking back, the indicated troops following close behind. Rollkur spared only a brief moment to glance grimly towards Piaffe before following in his hoofsteps, shutting the door behind her once more.

Instantly the room burst into noise. Dozens of voices all called out for explanation, each one lost in the chaos.

“Quiet! Order!” The Colonel slammed her hoof against the stand, the sharp crack of its impact on the wood ringing over the room. “Silence, or I’ll have you all thrown out!”

Rarity looked to Piaffe questioningly. Piaffe stared straight ahead, stiff as a statue, but Rarity could still see the alarm in the way her nostrils flared, the way her gaze, normally wandering her surroundings in lazy sweeps, had suddenly come into sharp focus.

Finally the crowd began to settle down. The chatter still lingered as an anxious background buzz, but it was apparently quiet enough for the Colonel to continue the hearing.

“The court will call forth its first witness. Guild Master Marks!”

A round of boos rose from the crowd, their nerves suddenly forgotten under a wave of animosity. Mr. Marks appeared from the same antechamber that Rarity had entered from and made for a witness stand set off to one side. He regarded the crowd with a sad smile as he settled into place, though his eyes hardened when he looked to Rarity.

“Order! Order, damn you!” The Colonel looked to Piaffe. “Captain, quiet this crowd!”

Piaffe stepped forwards, the other bluecoats at her side doing the same. The audience settled down before she could take another step, and she returned to her position with a stony frown.

“Master Marks,” the Colonel began, leaning over her stand to address him. “Describe to the court your experiences regarding Countess Rarity’s attendance within the Commoner’s Guild.”

“Gladly, your Honor.” Mr. Marks straightened up, meeting Rarity’s eye as he spoke. “The Countess began to irregularly attend guild meetings three days after the terrible and bloodthirsty attack on the innocent citizens of Friesland at Old Westfort. During her very first meeting, she tricked an impressionable young guild member into getting her an audience with me. She immediately began to speak of ending the war in the baron’s favor, and attempted to recruit me in her conspiracy to force the city to surrender.”

“Conspiracy?!” Rarity echoed incredulously. “I did no such thing!”

“Silence, Countess, or we will hold you in contempt of court!” The Colonel stomped her hoof, and Rarity bit her next words back. “Carry on, Master Marks.”

The stallion nodded. “Conspiracy, yes. I don’t know what else I could call it, your Honor. She freely admitted that Governor Rhea had already refused her plea for surrender, and wanted me to declare a general strike that would force the city to its knees during its darkest hour. She tempted me with wealth and titles, even promising me a position in the new regime if I cooperated, but I refused.”

Rarity pursed her lips, glaring at the stallion as she heard the mutters from the crowd behind her. How dare he tell such lies while looking her in the eye!

She took a deep breath, forcing her anger down. Stay calm, Rarity. You’ll not help your case if you behave like a common ruffian. She would wait for now, let him spin his lies, and then she could give the truth once she was allowed to speak.

“The city is lucky to have you, Master Marks,” the Colonel observed. The pegasi scribbled furiously on their desks, recording every word. “Continue.”

“Thank you, your Honor. The Countess continued to attend meetings, though she did not speak or approach me again. I did see her associating with a baronlander that had come to the city shortly before the siege began, who I suspect may have been a spy sent in advance.”

“Focus, Master Marks,” the Colonel warned. “We are here to discuss the Countess.”

He dipped his head. “Apologies, your Honor. Upon waking yesterday morning, an aide informed me of rumors circulating regarding a supposed labor manipulation scheme between myself and the other guild masters. The guild members confronted me on this hearsay, and Countess Rarity was in attendance as well. Though she normally brought her hoofmaiden to accompany her, on that day she had instead chosen to bring her so-called husband, a brutish pegasus warrior from the Baronlands. I believe she had been expecting trouble.”

Rarity’s brow hardened. The idea of anyone describing Pontius as brutish would be laughable if not for her current situation. His nobility had certainly been helpful, however; she may have been arrested on the spot if she didn’t have him there to challenge the bluecoats. But she held her tongue, waiting patiently for her turn.

“As I was attempting to bring the guild hall to order so we could address the rumors, the Countess stood and challenged me. She incited the guild to strike without my permission, and planted sympathizers within the crowd to help her push her agenda. It was at this point, of course, that I ordered her arrest.” Mr. Marks answered Rarity’s glare with a calm smile. “She fled the scene, and I reported the incident to the local garrison immediately. That is all, thank you.”

“Thank you, Master Marks. You are dismissed.”

Rarity’s eyes shot wide open. “Excuse me? Do I not get to question him myself? To give my own side of events?”

The Colonel arched a brow, regarding Rarity with clear condescension. “Countess, your legal counsel has not arrived yet.”

“Then we can wait!” Rarity stomped a hoof. “We are discussing the matter of my life, are we not?! Is Friesland always so flippant with regards to pony’s lives?!”

“Watch your tone, Countess!” the Colonel snapped. “In fairer times, I would not be forced to do this, but this city is in the midst of a siege, and my services could be better used elsewhere than dealing with interfering baronlanders. As your counsel is not here, he regretfully cannot cross-examine the court’s witness. He is dismissed.”

“This is preposterous!” Rarity protested, spurred on by the angry mutterings from the crowd. She turned to Mr. Marks, opening her mouth to provide her side of things, only for the Colonel to cut her off.

“Countess Rarity, if you cannot show this court the respect it deserves, I will have you muzzled and shackled in place!” she shouted. She turned her glare on the crowd, who had gone from muttering to loud jeers. “And if your rabble cannot do the same, then they will have to watch from the streets! Their presence here is a privilege, and I am losing patience!”

Rarity grimaced, backing down as the audience quieted. Clearly any appeal to justice would get her nowhere here. She looked around, considering attempting an escape by force, but dismissed the thought quickly. Violence would only spur the commoners into a bloody riot—and that was assuming she could overpower the six bluecoats standing guard. 

Mr. Marks stood, dipping his head in a shallow bow. “Thank you, your Honor.” He gave Rarity one last, winking smile before stepping down from the stand and disappearing back into the antechamber.

Rarity could only look on as creeping dread crawled up her spine. She had cooperated with her arrest in the hopes of avoiding needless bloodshed, but now she was beginning to wonder if she had delivered herself to her would-be executioners.

“The court brings forth its second witness: Captain Piaffe.”

Piaffe clicked her hooves together in salute before stepping forwards. Rarity watched her intently as she walked across the room and took her space in the witness stand, but the other mare refused to meet her gaze.

“Captain, as host to the Countess and her party, you were ordered to supervise their actions and investigate any potential suspicious activity. I have here a report written from you in the wake of the attack on Old Westfort.” The Colonel donned a pair of spectacles, glaring down at the paper in her hooves. “Summarize for the record and for the court the contents of this report.”

Piaffe gave a stiff nod as she stared straight ahead. “It is my suspicion that members of the baronlander delegation have been working from within the city to stir unrest and dissatisfaction with the city’s leadership in hopes of forcing a surrender. However—”

“Thank you, Captain,” the Colonel snapped. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

Piaffe pursed her lips, finally meeting Rarity’s piercing gaze with an apologetic grimace. Rarity only glared back at her.

With a sigh, Piaffe stood and returned to her position against the wall.

The Colonel spoke quickly, as if she was rushing to finish an unpleasant chore. “Has the defense prepared any witnesses to speak?”

“Oh, ah…” Rarity glanced back to the crowd, searching for any sign of a familiar face. There were dozens of ponies all squeezed into the little space, standing on and around the benches so as to make more room.

A mare lifted her hoof, waving it frantically. River Pie.

“I do!” Rarity finished, looking back to the judges. “I would like to call Miss River Pie to the stand.”

The Colonel narrowed her eyes. “The court will recognize your witness.”

A brief commotion surged through the crowd as River Pie squeezed through its ranks. A soldier swung open a gap in the railing to allow her past, and she came up to Rarity’s side with an anxious smile. “Countess, they aim t’ see ye hang,” she whispered.

“Yes, Miss Pie, I am getting that impression as well,” Rarity whispered back. “But if we can stall long enough for my friend Whitehorn to arrive, I may yet have a chance.”

The Colonel’s hoof clapped sharply against her bench. “To the stand, mare!”

River jumped, rushing to take a seat behind the witness stand. She looked back at the room with wide eyes.

“What is your relationship to the Countess?” the Colonel asked.

“Uh… I’m ’er friend.”

“Is that a baronland accent you’re speaking with?” The Colonel snorted, looking to one of the judges beside her. “An entire city full of honest Frieslanders, and this mare chooses the one baronlander in the crowd as her witness.”

“I deserve t’ speak like any other pony!” River snapped, glaring up at the judge. “Th’ Countess is an honest ’n kind mare, and she’d never do anythin’ t’ hurt another soul, even if they’d wronged ’er!”

“We are not here to discuss the Countess’s character, baronlander,” the Colonel said. “Do you have anything to say regarding the charges brought to bear against her?”

River hesitated, glancing uncertainly to Rarity before pressing on. “She means ye no harm! She’s a diplomat, tryin’ t’ end th’ war in a way that’s suitable t’ all sides! She just wants t’ avoid any bloodshed!”

“Avoid any baron bloodshed, no doubt.” The Colonel shook her head, waving a dismissive hoof. “The court will not hear further testimony from a pony who is not even an honest Friesland citizen. You are dismissed.”

“Wh—wait!” River stood up, desperation creeping into her voice. “But I’m a member of th’ Commoner’s Guild! I’ve attended every meetin’, includin’ th’ ones th’ Countess attended! Ask me about ’em! I can—”

“You are dismissed!” the Colonel roared.

One of the bluecoats marched up to the witness stand, grabbing River Pie and shoving her back towards the audience as she continued to protest. Rarity could only watch, helpless, and mouth a silent ‘thank you’ as her only ally was pushed back behind the railing.

A distant boom rumbled through the courtroom, raising an anxious stirring from the crowd. Rarity frowned as she glanced towards one of the curtained windows. That doesn’t sound like the cannons…

“We have heard enough,” the Colonel said, lifting a hoof. Rarity closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable sentence. 

She jerked at the slam of a hoof against wood, and it was only a moment later that she realized it had come from behind her, from the door, and not from the judge’s stand.

“Wait!” Whitehorn’s breathless voice reached Rarity’s ears, and she opened her eyes, looking back to see him and Pontius standing in the doorway. His vest was wrinkled and sweat stained, as if he’d ran across the city in a single frantic sprint. “Whitehorn of Heighton, here to speak in defense of the accused!”

“Ah, I’m afraid you’re too late, Whitehorn,” the Colonel said. “The court was just about to pass its sentence.”

Pontius shouldered his way through the whispering crowd, clearing a path for Whitehorn to cross towards the railing. “I have evidence crucial to the court’s understanding of this case, and I demand the right to present it to the court for consideration!”

“You have no right to demand anything of this court,” the Colonel seethed. “All witnesses and evidence have already been presented. You’re too late.”

Piaffe stepped forwards, marching closer to the railing. “What evidence?”

“Captain! Stand down!”

Whitehorn reached a hoof into his saddlebags and pulled out an old scroll. “Here. Read it!”

“Captain, do not touch that scroll!” the Colonel warned. “I’ll have you court-martialed!”

Piaffe ignored her, reaching out and plucking the scroll from Whitehorn’s hoof. She held it out before her, quickly scanning the page, eyes growing gradually wider as she reached the bottom. Rarity looked to Whitehorn, the question clear in her eyes, and received a firm nod in return.

Piaffe turned to face the judges, opening her mouth.

“Soldiers, arrest that mare!” The Colonel stood, jabbing a hoof at Piaffe. “She is disobeying a direct order from a superior officer, and bringing shame on her uniform!” The troops standing along the wall looked nervously between each other, neither one willing to make the first move.

“It’s a letter, marked with the seal of Duchess Nettlekiss,” Piaffe said, casting her voice out over the room. “It’s addressed to a pair of mercenaries named Gava and Anatami, ordering them to bomb our granaries to ensure the city doesn’t abandon her.”

The room fell deathly still. Rarity blanched, shaking her head in shock. Nettlekiss hired them? To attack her own allies?

After several seconds, the Colonel spoke. “Captain, bring me that letter.”

Piaffe complied, her hoofsteps echoing off the walls as she walked up to the judges’ bench and held the letter up. The Colonel snatched it up, squinting down at it as the two stallions seated to her sides leaned over with grim frowns.

Rarity could scarcely breathe as the Colonel finally looked up from the letter. She cast her gaze over the audience before finally settling on Whitehorn. “Where did you get this?”

“I tracked the mercenaries myself,” he said, speaking with confidence. “They left their room unguarded, and I found that letter within.”

The Colonel narrowed her eyes. “This paper is still warm. As if someone had held a candle up to it to dry ink.”

“So you say, your Honor. Personally, I find it suspicious that you’ve carried out this trial without waiting the mere minutes required for the Countess’s defense to arrive to represent her. I have not been here to witness it myself, but such behavior might suggest you hold no intent of giving the Countess a fair trial. But that is mere conjecture, and should hold no place in a court of law.” Whitehorn turned to face the audience, raising his voice. “What we should be concerned with are facts, and the facts are as such: the attack on Old Westfort cost dozens of innocent Frieslanders their lives, and in this very room is a letter stamped with the seal of Duchess Nettlekiss ordering two cold-blooded mercenaries to carry it out. The same Duchess Nettlekiss, I would remind you, whom this whole war is being fought over!”

“Quiet!” The Colonel shouted. She stomped her hoof against her bench several times. “Soldiers, arrest him as well!”

Whitehorn only spoke louder so as to be heard over the banging. Behind him, Piaffe raised a hoof, signaling for the bluecoats to stay back. “Meanwhile, Friesland blood is being spilt within its very borders! If you open those curtains, you will see smoke rising from the eastern quarter, where baron sappers have breached the outer wall! The Governor is willingly sacrificing the lives of valiant Friesland troops in order to protect her cousin, a mare that has betrayed this city out of her own selfish desire to keep her lands!”

The crowd’s mutterings were already growing angry. Even the bluecoats lined against the walls were furrowing their brows in outrage, ignoring the continued calls from the Colonel for Whitehorn’s arrest.

“Everything this city has suffered, it has suffered in the name of defending Duchess Nettlekiss!” Whitehorn shouted, stomping a hoof. The crowd grew louder, almost drowning him out. “The extra hours forced upon you as your sons and daughters are conscripted to garrison the walls, who could even now be dying while you sit in here watching this show trial, it is all because of her! And here we have a kind-hearted, noble mare!” Whitehorn stepped to the side, gesturing towards Rarity with a hoof. “A mare whom you’ve heard the stories about, who has shown herself willing to help you even if it means her death at the hooves of rulers that care more for your labor than your lives! And if you don’t act now, she will pay that price!”

Rarity blinked, looking to Whitehorn with alarm. Just what exactly was he calling for the commoners to do?

The mutterings had turned to shouts, all mixing together into a single indecipherable mess. Sunlight streamed into the dim hall once more as ponies ripped the curtains from the windows, revealing a sky filled with smoke. Someone threw a horseshoe at the judges’ bench, and a few other ponies followed suit, forcing the Colonel and the other judges to duck their heads.

This is a full blown riot. Rarity stepped up to the rail, grabbing Whitehorn’s shoulder and pulling him to face her. “What are you doing? You need to stop this!”

“I’m applying pressure, Countess!” Whitehorn grinned back at her, reaching up to squeeze her hoof. “You want to force the city into surrender, yes? There are baron troops within the walls at this very moment, and soon there will be rioters surrounding the governor’s palace! Then we’ll be able to negotiate from a position of power!”

“But ponies will be hurt!” Rarity looked to Pontius, who was watching the crowd with a guarded expression. “Pontius, darling, back me up here!”

“I expect my support would do little fer yer cause here, my Lady,” Pontius said, keeping his eyes on the crowd. “The fuse’s been lit. We should leave before the blast.”

There was a crash as one of the flung horseshoes struck a lamp hanging from the wall. It fell to the floor and shattered, the oil within splattering across one of the discarded curtains. Within seconds the curtain was alight, and to Rarity’s dismay the ponies in the crowd actually cheered.

“Pontius is right!” Whitehorn shouted, opening the railing and beckoning to Rarity. “The chaos will only spread from here. Let us make for the governor’s palace, before the city tears itself apart!”

With a shaky nod, Rarity fell in behind Whitehorn as Pontius led the way out of the courthouse. Rioters were already streaming out into the plaza, some of them staying back only to light more fires within. Rarity’s heart wrenched as she saw the white scarves wrapped around many of their necks. How could ponies do such terrible things to each other while wearing a symbol created in her honor?

She didn’t have time to contemplate it now. She could already see the riot spreading as outraged commoners spread the word of Nettlekiss’s betrayal. Acrid smoke spiraled across the sky to the east, warning of the invaders that had come to make the city pay for the actions of a mare that had no care for the ponies within.

Rarity yelped as a squad of bluecoats suddenly cut them off. Pontius was already flaring his wings and spreading his stance when she recognized the mare in command—Piaffe.

“Countess!” The Captain spoke urgently. “Where are you going?!”

“That’s of no concern to ye!” Pontius spat back. 

Rarity stepped up to his side with an accusing glare. “You’ve been spying on us all this time!”

“And I’d do it again, certainly, because that’s what my city needed from me.” Piaffe stepped closer, hesitating as Pontius blocked her progress. “Countess, please, I know you only want the best for these ponies. Friesland was built to withstand a baron siege, but it cannot face one while its own citizens threaten it from within. My city will burn if we don’t stop one of these threats. So I ask again—where are you going?”

Rarity gasped. She isn’t trying to stop me. She’s trying to help me! “To the governor’s palace! We need to speak to Rhea and get her to surrender!”

The soldiers flanking Piaffe all shared uncertain glances, but the Captain gave her a firm nod. She looked back to her troops, raising her voice. “Right then, loves, column up around the Countess! With speed, we can keep our city in one piece!”

The rioters were already converging on the governor’s palace, just across the plaza from the burning courthouse, and although it would’ve been nearly impossible to pierce the thick mob on their own, the extra weight of a dozen bluecoats clearing a path soon saw Rarity and her companions closing in on the palace. Ponies shouted and threw rubble at the line of troops standing guard just within the walls, but the garrison stepped aside to allow Rarity and her escort through.

Piaffe led them inside as the rest of the escort fell back, waving off anyone that tried to challenge them as they ran past the flower-decorated fountain in the foyer. She took them to a different part of the palace this time, ascending a set of stairs to the second floor and bringing them to a relatively plain wooden door guarded by a pair of soldiers. 

“Halt!” The guards swung their muskets down threateningly, aiming their bayonets for Piaffe’s throat. “The Governor is not taking visitors!”

“If the Governor cares at all for her city, she’ll change her mind on that!” Rarity stepped forwards, ignoring the bayonets as they adjusted towards her. “Rhea! Are you in there? Please, talk to us!”

The door swung open. Governor Rhea glared out at them, her pink mane and yellow coat marred with obvious signs of stress. “Ah, Countess Rarity. I see it was a mistake to allow a baronlander whore like yourself into my city.”

“Ye will address her with respect!” Pontius yelled. The guards leveled their bayonets on him as he stepped forwards. “She is here to help ye!”

“Help me surrender? How kind of her.” Rhea let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside. “It pains me, but I am willing to discuss the matter.”

The guards shared a quick glance before raising their muskets, and Rarity dipped her head to each of them as she walked through the doorway, Whitehorn and Pontius following. She found herself in a large, well-furnished bedroom. A heavy wooden desk sat against a wide window on the far aside, looking out over the jeering crowds outside and the smoke rising up on the edge of the city.

There was only one seat, in front of the desk, but Rhea opted to plop down onto the bed instead. “I will admit, Countess, you are a deceptively crafty mare. I’ve clearly underestimated you.”

Rarity frowned. “You act as if I’ve tricked you.”

Rhea let out a bitter laugh. “Haven’t you? You’ve crippled my city’s workforce when it’s needed more than ever. You’ve bombed my granaries, rallied the commoners to support you in court, and then used the hearing as a platform to frame my cousin for the attack. You’ve even managed to time it all to perfectly coincide with a breakthrough on our outer wall, to ensure my soldiers couldn’t dedicate themselves fully to either threat.” She shook her head with a small smile. “It’s impressive work. I applaud you.”

“Don’t you dare blame me for that attack!” Rarity snapped. “I had no hoof in it!”

“Nor did my cousin!”

“Then how do you explain the letter?”

Rhea snorted. “A forgery, obviously. I don’t know how you got your pretty hooves on her seal, but I know my cousin, and that attack was not her doing. But of course the rabble have no mental energy to spare on critical thinking. The entire city will be convinced the war is a sham by sunset, and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do.” She clenched her jaw, lip pulling back into a snarl. “I’ll have no choice but to surrender my city to you brutes.”

Rarity’s frown deepened. So Nettlekiss wasn’t behind the bombing after all? But then who could have ordered it? And why would they frame her when I was just about to take the blame?

Whitehorn stepped forwards. “So you understand your situation. Delaying will only cause more damage to the city.”

“Will it?” Rhea slid off her bed, stalking up to the window and looking out at the chaos outside. “I know how the barons feel about us. They’ll tear this city apart. Split it up between themselves into little counties and baronies and destroy everything that we’ve worked generations to accomplish. And that’s assuming they don’t spend so long fighting over who gets what the entire city isn’t burnt to ashes.” She turned to face them once more. “Maybe it would be better to die fighting, and burn the city before they can take it from us.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way!” Rarity said, shaking her head. “Please, darling, believe me when I say that I want the best outcome for both sides. I want to end this silly feud between you and the barons, and make life better for every pony on Altalusia!”

“Life was already getting better for Friesland, until you showed up,” Rhea said. “We finally had the advantage on the barons. It was just a matter of time before they were forced to bend the knee, and the whole island could be united under a single, civilized, flag. No more petty rivalries or wars. With all this land, we could’ve outgrown Heighton. Baltimare. Even Harvest!”

Pontius let out a frustrated growl. “What does it matter who bends the knee? Yer ponies are dying out there, and ye can stop it right now.”

“Please, Rhea.” Rarity reached out to grab Rhea’s hoof, emboldened when she didn’t immediately draw it back. “I came to this land hoping to make life better for all ponies, to make Equestria more like it was when the Princesses were still alive. I know you don’t trust me, but I mean it when I say I can bring this conflict to a just resolution. I will fight the barons to my last breath to ensure that you and your ponies are treated fairly.”

“She does mean it, too,” Whitehorn added. “This mare is relentless. Though I expect you have some idea of that yourself, by now.”

Rhea grimaced, glancing to Whitehorn before meeting Rarity’s pleading gaze. Rarity offered her a tentative smile. “Please. Let us bring this violence to an end.”

After a long moment, Rhea let out a tired sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I trust you or not, does it? The city is lost to me either way. Letting it burn out of sheer spite is the kind of thing a baronlander would do.” She pursed her lips, lowering her head. “The city is in your hooves.”

Rarity let out a shaky sigh of relief. She’d done it. Finally, after all the setbacks, even if it hadn’t been quite as bloodless as she had hoped, she’d brought peace to Altalusia.

She looked to Pontius, who gave her a warm smile, and then to Whitehorn, who answered with a firm nod.

“You’ve made the right decision, Governor,” he said. “Equestrians everywhere will thank you for it.”
> XXI: Of Victories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chaos had befallen Friesland.

The barons had all but crushed resistance outside the inner wall; only a few remaining pockets of bluecoats continued to fight, their final struggles marked by the crackle of their guns and the thin white clouds left behind by their powder. The rest had all either surrendered or retreated deeper into the city, leaving the baron troops to stream through the streets in their vibrant liveries. Most remained in the shadows of their banners, guided by the shouts of their commanders. Some broke off in small groups to loot and pillage, breaking through the hastily barricaded doors of homes and shops as the panicked denizens within fled through back exits, leaving only broken wares and fresh fires behind.

Even with those opportunists abandoning their ranks, the invading force was thick enough to fill the streets. They towed in cannons and tore apart the wooden mansions in the outskirts, gathering the material in courtyards to form the skeletal outlines of battering rams. The barons had made their breakthrough, and they were wasting no time preparing for the next stage of the siege.

On the wall, the Frieslanders, unwilling to bombard their own city, had abandoned their massive cannons in favor of their rifles. Marksmares poked out all along the old crenellations, throwing scattered shots at the troops below with bitterly hissed insults, though few landed on target. Reinforcements trickled in to fill the gaps, but the sense of desperation on the wall was tangible. With so many troops occupied taming the protests in the city center, there simply weren’t enough hooves to spare.

Rarity took it all in with a grim frown as she stood atop the wall, the hot wind from below drying her mane hairs and drawing a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Bodies surrounded the breaches along the city border, with even more abandoned in alleys and on street corners. How many lives had been lost while she struggled within the walls? And what of the violence she’d caused herself, threatening the city from inside and making it easier for the besieging army to go about its gruesome work?

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath, the tang of smoke stinging her nostrils. Focusing on her failures would accomplish nothing. She had given the ponies of Friesland her best—truly, everything she had—and that was all that could be asked of her.

Now, she would give them peace.

Rarity looked to each of her friends in turn. Pinkie Pie on her left, bruised and dirtied and yet still bouncing in excitement, her wooden wheels clattering against the stone. Pontius stood on her right, his head held high as if to challenge any Frieslanders that might think to move against him or his wife. Rarity brushed a hoof over his, drawing his attention and giving him a grateful smile, and he smiled back, the expression immediately shattering his cold facade. Whitehorn stood apart from the three with his eyes on the city, expression distant, but he turned and gave her a small, reassuring nod when he felt her gaze on him.

Governor Rhea was there as well, darkly surveying the streets below. Slowly, she looked up to Rarity, lips twitching. After several seconds, she looked away, waving a hoof to signal her consent.

Rarity’s horn glowed, and the soft tinkling of her magic filled the air behind them as a long white flag floated off the stones.

She let out a shaky, relieved breath as she watched the flag catch the wind, rippling within her magic. The sunlight filtering through her aura from the west turned it from pale blue into a twinkling rainbow.

A chorus of cheers rose up from below. Around the jubilant baron troops, bluecoats fell against their positions with sighs or curses, some glaring hatefully down at the invaders while others looked to their peers with hesitant smiles.

The hard part, Rarity hoped, was over. Now she just had to somehow broker a lasting peace.

“We should go,” Whitehorn said, beckoning towards the door to the nearest tower. “If we’re quick, we can begin negotiations today.”

Governor Rhea narrowed her eyes. “I see no need to rush the imminent destruction of my city.”

Whitehorn answered her with a disarming smile. “Governor, our only goal here is to bring peace back to your city as soon as possible. I’d hope you’re not the type of mare to delay out of petty spite, but if you are, we can walk as slow as you wish. One day won’t make a difference.”

Rhea’s lip curled back, and she brushed past Whitehorn with a sharp whip of her tail. With a quick glance back to Rarity, Whitehorn followed.

Pinkie let out a strained whine. “Eeeh… that wasn’t very nice of him.”

Pontius grunted. “We’ve defeated the city with fair siegecraft. It’s unbecoming for her to act so foalish.”

“Sympathy, darling,” Rarity chided. “I’m sure she’s doing her best to carry herself with grace, but I don’t envy her position. Though I also don’t appreciate Whitehorn prodding at her. Now come along. Our job here isn’t finished yet.”

Rarity followed after Whitehorn and Rhea with a measured gait, her two companions at her sides. No doubt Titus would be his usual bullheaded self at the negotiation table, but she wouldn’t allow him to jeopardize the peace with his brutishness.

She’d tamed the city. Now she would tame the barons.





“This is it?”

Rainbow narrowed her eye as she peered through the long window of the Argo’s observation deck. The glass was already collecting frost along the edges, and was cold to the touch. She raised a hoof to the smooth surface, feeling the chill against her skin. A shiver ran down her spine, but not from the cold.

Beside her, Applejack pursed her lips. “It’s so… empty.”

There was no other way to describe it. They’d finally reached the ice sheet marked as The Grey on all their charts, but after travelling for so long with only “the Frozen North” as a destination, Rainbow had come to the realization that the Frozen North was a very big, very featureless place.

The ice went on as far as she could see, stretching endlessly across a barren horizon and gleaming with reflected sunlight. Only scattered islands of dead rock—the peaks of towering northern mountains that trumped even the Canterhorn in height—dared to rise above the surface, the once-mighty giants reduced to craggy hills buried under a glistening blanket of wet snow.

The hiss of steam from behind drew both mares’ attention, and they turned to see the rest of the crew filing in. Sea Sabre led the way, her lips set in the same stern frown she’d worn since agreeing to continue north.

“Good, you two are already here.” Sabre took a position near one of the corners, spinning to face the rest of the room. “We need to discuss our next move.”

“Don’t see what th’ rush is,” Flint grumbled as he set his cider down on the pool table. “We had a good game goin’.”

“The ‘rush’ is that we’re in the middle of what is most likely the most dangerous region in Equestria, with no clear destination and only a vague sense of an objective.” Sabre turned to Rainbow and Applejack. “Twilight told you to meet her in the Frozen North, and here we are. If you have suggestions for where we go from here, I’m listening.”

“Well, uh, heh.” Rainbow let out a dry laugh as she glanced out the window. “I was kinda hoping it’d be obvious when we got here.”

“There’s nothing here but ice,” Sunfeather said, nodding towards the window. “It’s not good for the gears.”

“To be frank, I reckon Twi didn’t quite know what she was lookin’ for up here neither,” Applejack said. “Whatever it is, we’ll have to find it the same way she does.”

“Somethin’ tells me that mare’s got a few tricks we don’t,” Flint said. “Th’ Grey’s huge, aye? Even just searchin’ above th’ ice there’s no tellin’ how long it’d take, or if we’ve got supplies t’ last.”

Sabre nodded. “And we can’t dive to search underwater. We might be able to crack the ice from above, but the submarine would be trapped under a fresh layer before we even reached the seafloor.”

Trails raised a hoof. “I might be able to scan under the ice from above. And with all those mountain peaks out there, I could even reach the bottom around them.”

“Didn’t you say it would’ve taken you days just to scan all of Ponyville?” Rainbow asked. She let out a frustrated huff. “We have so much more ground to cover here.”

“Maybe if we wait, Twi’ll come to us?” Applejack suggested.

“We’re not going to just wait,” Sabre said. “Anything could be lurking here, maybe even capable of threatening an airship. And that’s assuming that Twilight didn’t die en route.”

Rainbow stomped a hoof. “She wouldn’t!”

The room fell silent as Rainbow glared into Sabre’s calm red eyes, daring the other pegasus to repeat herself.

Trails cleared her throat. “Dash… we can’t—”

“No!” Rainbow snarled. “She wouldn’t leave us! After everything she’s been through, everything we’ve been through, I refuse to think for even a second that she would let herself die! I’m never giving up on her!”

Flint snorted. “That ain’t how death works.”

“I don’t care!” Rainbow’s tail flicked out behind her as she stalked past the rest of the crew, ears flat against her head. “You guys can do what you want, but I’m going out looking for her!”

The door hissed open, and Rainbow pushed through the swirling steam without looking back or waiting for any response. What did it matter what they said, anyways? The only thing they could do was keep looking, and she could cover more ground than any airship, and faster. A cocky smirk came over her as she quickened her pace. She’d probably find Twilight and get back before they even finished arguing over what to do!

She made a beeline for the cargo hold, fluttering up to her cloudroom and grabbing her wingblades off their rack. They might slow her down a little and make it harder to fly, but Sabre’s warning about the potential dangers of the ice still lingered in the back of her mind. She secured each blade tightly before making a few experimental flaps of her wings, testing the reassuring weights.

Her ears twitched at the sound of the door opening, followed by Applejack’s concerned voice calling up at her. “Rainbow? Y’all left yet?”

“Not yet.” Rainbow poked her head out her doorway with a suspicious frown. “But that doesn’t mean you can stop me!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “RD, y’know I’m on y’all’s side in all this, right?”

“Yeah, but sometimes you’ve got a real weird idea of what being on my side means!”

“It means I want to find Twi just as much as you do!” Applejack snapped. “But it’s just about killin’ me seein’ y’all like this all the time! I know you’re upset, RD, but ya ain’t gonna get anythin’ done if ya keep pushin’ ponies away!”

“We don’t have time for this!” Rainbow jumped down to the floor below, jerking her head to the side. “Let me go.”

Applejack grimaced. “C’mon, filly. Let’s talk it all out with the others before ya go flyin’ off into who knows what.” Her voice grew strained. “What am I supposed to do if ya don’t come back?”

Rainbow blinked. Her shoulders slumped as the realization sunk in that Applejack wasn’t trying to keep her from saving Twilight; she was just worried.

Rainbow stepped forwards and pulled Applejack into a tight hug. “I’ll be careful. But I have to do this.”

Applejack sighed as she returned the hug. “Yeah, I get ya. Hang on just a sec.”

Pulling out of the hug, Applejack trotted for her room, disappearing through the curtained doorway. She came out a few seconds later with a thick grey scarf in her muzzle, which she deftly wrapped around Rainbow’s neck.

Rainbow looked down. The scarf was broad enough to cover her shoulders entirely, and it hung down just past her knees. “What the hay, AJ, this thing is huge!” She wrinkled her nose up at the faint smell of oil hanging on the fabric. “And what’s with the smell?”

“It’s, uh, Flint’s.” Applejack let out a dry laugh. “Seein’ as we’re up in the cold and all, and neither of us have really put much thought or money into our wardrobes, so he figured I could use it. Y’know.”

Rainbow arched a brow as she looked up, seeing the slight blush on her friend’s cheeks. “So are you two like a thing now or…?”

“Consarnit, Rainbow, a stallion can give his mare friend a scarf without gettin’ all romantic-like!” Applejack snorted, adding in a quiet grumble, “I reckon even Winona couldn’t find a romantic bone in that pony’s body.”

Rainbow blinked. “You said marefriend.”

“Landsakes, I’m his friend, and I’m a mare! There’s a gap between them words!” Applejack grabbed Rainbow’s shoulders, pushing her towards the door. “Don’t ya got somewhere ya wanna be? Or did ya wanna sit around talkin’ about my love life all day?”

The pipes vented steam as the door clunked open, and Rainbow grinned as she let the flustered cowpony shove her out into the hall. “So you admit that Flint’s involved in your love life!”

“I ain’t admittin’ nothin’!” Applejack stepped back, giving an exaggerated wave as the door began to shut between them. “Bye! Be careful! Don’t do anythin’ ya’d normally do!”

Rainbow snickered into her hoof as she turned away, making for the nearest hatch. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about a pony like Flintlock being close with one of her best friends, but it was fun to tease her over it either way.

Taking a quick moment to adjust the scarf around her shoulders, Rainbow reached up and spun the hatch open, revealing the open bay where the ship’s submarine was secured. The cold arctic wind rushed in without hesitation, and she was thankful for Applejack’s gift as she stepped onto the narrow catwalk outside and locked the hatch shut behind her.

Now out in the open, Rainbow stepped into open air. The roar of the Argo’s propeller was ripped away by the whistling of the icy wind, and after a couple seconds of freefall, Rainbow spread her wings and pulled up into an easy glide.

She took a deep breath, adjusting to the shock of the cold air in her lungs as the Argo drifted gradually away. It was still moving, but she’d spent all her youth on a moving cloud city; finding the ship again later barely even registered to her as an inconvenience.

Within seconds the sound of the engine had faded into a distant buzz, and soon even that was inaudible under the gusting wind. The cold air slipped between her feathers and nipped at her hooves, but she knew how to deal with the chill of altitude.

Her wings pumped at her sides, driving her over the featureless ice and stoking the warmth of exercise in her veins. She kept her eye on the distant line where the white ice met the pale blue sky, scanning in either direction and squinting to see through the mist of her breath. She traded height for speed, looking down to scan the black faces of each craggy island as she passed for any sign of life or color.

Nothing.

Rainbow didn’t have the best sense of time, but she was intimately familiar with the strain each mile traveled put on her body. After the first ten, she tilted her wings to the right, leaning into a gentle northward turn. Was there some pattern she could discern from the islands? She knew they had to be the peaks of submerged mountains, so perhaps she could find some hint in their formation. Maybe she could find a ridgeline and go to search the valley beside it, or she could follow it until she found something.

The wind shifted, whipping her scarf across her vision, and she stopped to shake it free with a frustrated scowl. She turned a slow circle, eyeing each island carefully.

Nothing.

She gave a vicious shake of her head. Twilight was the smart one, not her! Maybe if she was here, she’d be able to find the clues Rainbow needed; maybe it was even how she’d found the way to whatever hidden key was waiting for her among the ice. Rainbow’s scowl turned to a grimace. What if the mountains were the only clue, and they’d never find where Twilight went, because Twilight was the only one smart enough to decipher it?

“No! You’re being stupid.” Rainbow shook herself before pumping her wings once more, muttering under her breath. “You’ll find her. You’re the most awesome pony in Equestria. It’s just a matter of time.”

Twenty more miles rolled beneath her, and Rainbow still saw nothing but rock and ice. She was facing east now, and the sun cast long shadows before her. For a brief, insane moment, Rainbow imagined herself as the last pony alive, a mare on an unending quest to fly the breadth of the entire Frozen North, driven to an impossible task by her unwavering determination.

Was this how the last survivors of Cloudsdale had felt? Everything she’d ever heard in the future indicated that the great cloud city had been destroyed along with the rest of Equestria, though it didn’t make much sense to her. If all these flying islands could still exist, then surely her home should’ve survived as well? Had the clouds just suddenly fallen apart, leaving all the pegasi living atop them to fly above the rising ocean until their wings grew too weak to carry them? Even if the city had been destroyed, the population should’ve been able to take refuge on the leftover clouds.

Had some traveling pegasus returned home only to find empty sky? Maybe they’d done the same thing she was doing now, flying endless circles across empty horizons, searching in vain until they finally gave in. Until they died, alone.

Finally, something caught her eye. She slowed, squinting down at what looked like a ring of small pockmarks dug into the ice around one of the rocky islands. She flew lower, and with a start she realized that what she was seeing weren’t pockmarks but the shadows of strange, round bumps sticking up.

She flew two full laps of the island as she bled altitude, observing the bumps from every angle. They looked to be covered in a layer of wet, hardened snow, though she still couldn’t make out the details of what lay hidden underneath from so high. There were no markings on the outsides or any other irregularities around them.

Taking one last look at the horizon, Rainbow swept in for a landing. The ice was slippery and shockingly cold, and she almost lost her balance before she brought herself to a stop. She kept her wings flared out for stability as she approached the nearest bump, squinting through the mist of her breath.

Although they looked relatively small from above, now that she was up close Rainbow could see that each of the strange shapes was about the size of a small Ponyville cottage. Were these what Twilight was looking for? She glanced back, raising her voice.

“Twilight? You here?”

Only the wind answered back. She shivered as the chill of the ice crept further up her legs.

Pursing her lips, Rainbow turned back to the weird, icy orb in front of her. She lifted a hoof and gave it an experimental tap.

Her ear twitched at the faint sound of the impact. Was it hollow? She leaned in, pressing her ear up to the surface.

For a moment, she thought she could hear a faint rumbling inside, but it was impossible to tell over the wind and the beating of her own pulse. Pursing her lips, Rainbow pulled her hoof back and struck the ice again, harder.

It was definitely hollow. And the rumbling had stopped.

A chill crept down Rainbow’s spine. An animal instinct reared up from the bottom of her mind, screaming its panic.

Fly!

Rainbow pushed off with all four hooves just as the ice beneath her blasted apart with an ear-splitting crunch like the breaking of bones. Heavy chunks of ice pelted her belly and her wings, throwing her into a spin, and she cried out as she smacked back into the ice and was sent sliding across the surface.

She snapped her wings out, digging the pointed ends of her blades into the ice to arrest her momentum. Using her makeshift icepicks for support, she shakily climbed back to her hooves and turned to face her attacker.

Still half-submerged in the water, all Rainbow could see was the massive pair of chipped horns sticking out of its head. A thick curtain of sleek hair drooped down over its face and much of its body, hiding the details of its form, but she could still see the pairs of blunt, hooked claws on the ends of its forelegs as it dragged itself onto the ice.

Rainbow’s eye widened as it drew up to its full height, at least three times her size. It paused, sizing her up as it drew heavy, rattling breaths. She pulled her blades out of the ice and spread her stance, waiting for it to make a move.

The beast snorted, stomping on the ice before it and sending long cracks across the surface. Rainbow’s tail lashed out behind her as she scratched at the ice with a foreleg, flaring her wings.

“You think you can scare me?!” Rainbow let her anger slip into her voice as she shouted her challenge. “C’mon! Step closer! See what happens!”

The beast roared as it charged, the ice crunching beneath it with each step as it hooked in with its long claws and threw itself forward. It moved surprisingly fast, crossing a huge distance with each bound, but Rainbow was faster. She flew up and to the side, dodging around the bloodstained tip of its horn as it tried to gore her, and raked her blade along its body.

She grinned as she felt the resistance of its flesh against her wing and heard its pained howl in her ears, only for her expression to falter as the thing dug its claws into the ice and turned on the spot. It charged her again, the thick ice spiderwebbing in its wake, and she just managed to fly up out of its reach as it passed through the air where she’d been hovering.

A sharp crunch reached her ears, and Rainbow twisted to see that the monster had embedded its horns into one of the pale orbs rising up from the ice. It snorted and stomped, sending shards of ice flying around it as it tried to free itself, but Rainbow didn’t wait for it to succeed. She snarled as she darted down onto its back, drawing another dry roar from its throat as her hooves struck the coarse flesh around its shoulders, and drew her wingblades back for a killing blow at its neck.

Just as she was about to strike, the monster jumped, forcing her to use her wings just to stay balanced atop it. Its horns remained stuck in the ice, but when its massive weight crashed back down, the ice underneath it finally gave way.

Rainbow yelped as the jolt of the impact raced up her hooves. She lowered herself against the monster’s back instinctively and, still recovering from the sudden shift, she felt icy water rising around her legs.

A shuddering gasp escaped her. It felt like her legs were on fire, and the shock of the sheer cold overwhelmed her. She blinked, and she was underwater, looking up at a jagged hole in meter-thick ice, every muscle seizing up with debilitating shivers.

No. Her hooves were caught in the knotted hair of the monster beneath her, dragging her deeper into the killing ice. I can’t die here.

Clenching her jaw, Rainbow focused on the fiery anger rising up inside her. It would be so stupid to die like this. To survive so much, to come so far, to cross such a distance searching for Twilight only to be killed by some stupid monster. It couldn’t even beat her! She’d had it dead to rights, and she wasn’t going to let it kill her on accident. She couldn’t leave her friends behind. She wasn’t going to die like this!

Bubbles flurried around her as she let out an enraged roar, channeling all her willpower into moving her wings. Her pegasus magic wrapped around her, prying the icy fingers from her bones.

It was enough to keep the worst of the shivering at bay, and Rainbow’s legs began to respond again. She pulled them free from the monster’s hair, her eye focused on the circle of light above her even as darkness crept into the corners of her vision. She pushed herself up with every limb, every muscle focused on the singular goal of raising her out from the darkness.

Something caught her tail.

Her fury redoubled. She screamed with the last of her breath, reaching back with a wing and slicing through the long rainbow hairs.

Free of any grip, Rainbow rocketed up towards the surface. A thin coat of ice had already reformed on top of the water, but she didn’t waver. She crashed through the ice and out into open air, opening her lips to gasp in a deep, freezing breath.

Rainbow tried to flap her wings and gain more altitude, but now her muscles were burning both from the cold of the water and the exertion of her escape. The best she could do was extend her wings out and try to catch the air, but the soaked feathers did little to slow her fall.

She grunted as her hooves skidded over the ice and pain flared up her legs, but the sound of ice crunching behind her promised that if she stopped she’d die. Over the chattering of her teeth, the heaving of her breath, and the rush of her blood, she heard the monster roaring behind her, and she could feel the impact of its claws as it chased her through the pale mist hanging over the ice.

Of course she could never beat the thing in a hoof race; she could feel it closing the gap with each crashing bound. She just had to stay ahead of it for long enough that she could dry her wings and take flight. She pumped them as she ran, both propelling her forward and flinging off excess moisture with every flap.

Come on, Rainbow! She shifted her weight forwards, throwing herself across the ice almost too fast for her to keep her hooves under her. You’re not dying here! You have to save Twilight! You have to kill Gava!

Her lips twisted into a snarl at the thought of the griffon’s sneering beak, and the rest of the world began to bleed away. It was just her, the monster, and the image of the creature she hated more than anything waiting in the distance, looking back with a cocky smirk.

Rainbow’s drying wings began to catch the air. Her steps became longer as each flap began to push her off the ground. The shadow of the monster’s horns fell over her.

She cried out as she set her hooves, coiled up, and jumped. A horn scraped against her leg, drawing a hiss of pain as she beat her wings and fled into the sky.

Rainbow clawed for altitude, spurred on by the ragged roars from beneath. When she finally felt safe enough to turn and look at the monster, it was jumping and stomping in frustration far below her.

It hurt to laugh, but she embraced the pain. “Hah!” Rainbow winced at the stinging in her lungs as she pointed a shaky hoof down at the thing. “T-thought you c-could c-c-catch me, huh? N-nothing can c-c-catch Rainbow D-Dash! Oh, it’s so c-c-cold!”

Rainbow grimaced as she wrapped her hooves around herself, the shivers returning to full strength now that the immediate danger was gone. With a groan of dismay she realized that she’d lost the scarf Applejack had given her during the fighting, leaving her body bare to the elements.

She really needed to get back to the Argo. 

She turned a slow circle, ignoring the continued complaints of the monster beneath her. She wasn’t sure exactly what direction she’d run in after nearly drowning, or how far, but if she found the weird ice orbs then she’d be able to get her bearings. She flew higher, warming herself with the heat from her muscles.

A glow appeared on the horizon, opposite the sun.

Rainbow frowned as she focused on it, flying higher. Slowly the light seemed to lengthen, and with a blink of realization she saw that it was some kind of tall, slender structure, catching the sun’s brilliance and reflecting it back on the ice all around it.

As she climbed higher, further from the reflective ice, she began to make out more details. The strange beacon was some kind of massive spire, a facade of blue crystal towering over its surroundings. And then she saw the balloon of an airship crest the horizon, trailing tendrils of swirling purple smoke as it circled the tower.

That’s where we need to be.

Rainbow turned away sharply, her near-death forgotten as she pushed herself through the sky with fresh energy. She needed to get her bearings, get back to the Argo, and lead it here.

Twilight needed her. And Rainbow Dash never left a friend hanging.





The water was getting shallower.

Twilight hadn’t noticed it at first, so engrossed in the process of testing and note-taking as she investigated her powers of compulsion over her new pet spider. She had been brought out of her study-haze once, briefly, when Midnight noted the presence of a solitary railroad curving through the mountains, but only long enough to let her other half guide their body along the track before sinking back into her work.

She’d learned much, and after hours of relaxing experimentation and iterating a few drafts of her written findings, Twilight had finally pulled her attention back to the world around her to find that she could see the surface.

Ah, welcome back, Midnight quipped. That’s been there for almost an hour now, you know.

How long has—Twilight blinked. Oh.

Yes, I was wondering how long you’d go before finally looking up. Or perhaps noticing the light all around us.

Twilight was too focused on taking in her surroundings to bother with acknowledging the jab, and after so long with Midnight’s constant prodding in her ears she would’ve barely registered it anyway. The rails they were following hugged the mountains here, with a wall of jagged stone to her left and a sheer cliff on her right. Actual sunlight filtered down from the ocean surface, lending some color to the craggy terrain around her, and a small gasp escaped her as she spotted vibrant mounds of coral clinging to the stones. Small fish fled into hidey-holes as she passed, poking their heads out in her wake, while larger ones swam the valley to her side in sparse, scattered groups.

There were no bones or ruins here.

Where could this railroad possibly lead? she wondered. We’re so far north, beyond the furthest Equestrian border, and these mountains are so high! Who would’ve built rails on this kind of terrain with no destination?

Not a pony smart enough to survive the task. There must be something here. Most likely, it’s the very same thing that the weak princess came searching for.

She has a name, you know. Twilight shot Midnight a reproachful glance. I’d appreciate it if you used it.

Why? She is a corpse, and without any accomplishments to speak of. She does not deserve a name.

Twilight pursed her lips, but didn’t rise to the bait. Cadance isn’t dead. And she’s a good friend!

Midnight didn’t respond, but her skepticism was apparent across their mental connection. Twilight sighed.

They walked in silence for a time, observing their surroundings as they followed the rails ever higher up the mountain.

I noticed something. When you were doing your tests.

Twilight arched a brow, turning towards the spot in the side of her vision where Midnight seemed to be lying on some invisible, floating platform. Yes?

The apparition seemed strangely hesitant, looking down before speaking as if to consider her words. When you order Scylla, she responds.

Twilight cocked her head. Well, yes. I noticed that, too. I’m hoping there might be some pattern to the responses, but it’s impossible to tell with such a small sample size.

Midnight narrowed her eyes. She responds to us the same way we speak to her. In our minds. Through our darkness.

Twilight quirked her lips. Were you paying attention when I was taking notes? I already got all this.

Think, little flower! Midnight stomped a hoof, and Twilight could hear a dull thud even though there was nothing but empty water underneath it. We are able to command her with spoken orders through our darkness, and she can speak back! Remember when we fought Spike, and his own darkness made an assault on our minds?

Twilight blinked. After a few seconds, her eyes widened. You don’t think…

He was trying to dominate us, as we dominated those spiders! Midnight stood, stalking through the water to Twilight’s side. This power is not unique to us. Any of our kind are capable—or vulnerable—to the same.

But that would mean, all this time—Twilight looked into Midnight’s bloodshot eyes, seeing her own realization reflected back at her—all these monsters we’ve faced, even the seaponies—

We’ve been at risk of losing ourselves to them. Midnight nodded with a self-satisfied smirk. Now you see.

A shiver passed down Twilight’s spine. She looked back to where Scylla was following dutifully behind them and let out a thoughtful hum. Fascinating.

No! Twilight blinked, and Midnight was hovering in front of her with a frustrated scowl. Dangerous! We should kill the spider, before it attempts to manipulate us.

What? But we just got her! And I still have so many tests I can do! Twilight paused before coming up with a third, more appropriate argument. And she hasn’t done anything wrong!

Is it your pet now, little flower? You realize it only listens to your lab reports because you tell it to, yes?

Ugh! You’re being ridiculous! Twilight rolled her eyes as she stepped through her dark reflection. No matter how we feel about her, she’s useful and she’s not a threat! She can scout ahead in dangerous places, hunt for us while we—

Bah! Fine. Midnight’s cold weight settled on Twilight’s back, and she leaned in close to breathe her next words into her ear. But if the thing dares to betray us, I shall ensure it lives just long enough to regret its actions.

She’s a she! Twilight snapped. Midnight only laughed in return.

Then they crested the rise ahead of them, and Twilight drew up short.

The craggy ascent that Twilight had taken for a mountain came to a stop in a sudden plateau that stretched before her far into the distance. And in the center of that plateau, shimmering with colorful patterns of captured sunlight, was a magnificent tower of smooth blue crystal.

The railroad tracks came to a stop only a few dozen meters away from the ridge—perhaps at the site of a long-decimated train station—but Twilight paid them little mind. Without hesitation she pulled Scylla in close and channeled her magic, flinging herself across the seafloor with a crackle and a flash.

She came out of the teleport in a wide avenue paved with diamond, flanked on either side with angular buildings carved from translucent emerald, ruby, and sapphire, all twinkling with the sunlight filtered through the ice above. Rough-hewn, equine statues dotted the street, each one posed as if rearing up or galloping. They were far less polished than the rest of the city, and colored a menacing purple. Long, sharp trails of crystal jutted out to their sides, looking almost as if some painter had called them into being with pained, hurried strokes.

What is this place? Twilight gaped up at the towering palace in the center of the city, taking in the way it channeled the sunlight like a beacon before reflecting it out over the city almost like some ethereal, rainbow shield. An entire city of crystal?

This must be what we’re looking for. Midnight walked a slow circle around one of the nearest statues before jerking her head towards the palace. I can sense a powerful darkness in there, like the Beast-Queen of Canterlot, but far worse. 

Twilight nodded. We’ll have to be careful. She approached the statue next to Midnight, inspecting its craftsmareship.

A chill crept down her spine. These aren’t statues.

Ah. Midnight let out a thoughtful hum. This is a powerful magic.

Now that she was close, Twilight could just make out the very real, flesh-and-blood pony encased within the jagged shell of shadowy crystal. It was difficult to pick out the precise lines of  the face, but the wide, terrified eyes of the mare frozen before her caught the light with an eerie glimmer.

Are all of these—? Twilight went from statue to statue, a deepening pit of dread forming in her gut as she found a pony in each one. Some looked as if they’d been running for their lives, while others wore the grim visages of soldiers, the shapes of their helmets and spears still recognizable as they stood petrified in some ancient battle. Sweet Celestia.

We should keep moving, Midnight said, starting towards the palace. The thing that did this may still linger.

Right. With a gulp, Twilight turned to follow Midnight’s lead.

Midnight glanced back to the crystal spider chittering along at Twilight’s side. Scylla, lead us forth.

The spider chirped her assent before speeding her pace, Twilight’s magic moving unbidden to split their shield into two. Twilight shot Midnight a sideways look, but said nothing.

As they traveled deeper into the city, the petrified crystal ponies became more common, and then were joined by giant, jagged spearheads of black crystal that stabbed up out of the ground. The dark protrusions didn’t reflect any light at all, and where they disturbed the smooth diamond of the street or pierced damaged buildings alongside, even the crystal around them seemed to lose some of its luster. Twilight began to cast anxious looks over her shoulder, wary of some monster waiting in ambush, but even the pings she sent out returned only more crystal—or bodies trapped inside it.

The city was large, but the path Scylla was leading them down traced a straight line to the palace in the center, and it didn’t take long for them to reach it. Four massive vaulted legs formed a square base, with wide, towering arches on each side giving pedestrians free reign to walk under its shadow. In the very center, above where intricate patterns of multi-color crystal had been worked into the shape of a snowflake, two thin, tapering columns of crystal waited. They reminded Twilight of a stalactite and stalagmite, with perhaps a pony-sized gap between their pointed tips.

It almost felt like there should be something between them, but the space remained empty.

Scylla turned around, sensing that she had fulfilled her given objective, and returned to Twilight’s side.

Where do we go from here?

We will most likely find what we seek in the tower, Midnight suggested, looking up at the conspicuous gap. But we should prepare thoroughly before we brave it.

Twilight arched a brow at her doppelganger’s back. What, no bluster about us being unstoppable together?

Midnight’s tail flicked behind her as she let out a low growl. There is a difference between fearlessness and arrogance, little flower. If you wish to chide me for not charging into uncertain peril, then you are free to lead us into it in my stead.

Twilight pursed her lips. Sorry. It’s just unlike you.

Shaking her head, Twilight trotted to the opposite side of the tower and cast her gaze across the city. More ruins. More crystal corpses. Had even this distant, unknown corner of her world been left dead and cold by whatever fate befell Equestria?

A fuzzy shadow passed over her, and Twilight looked up. She squinted in confusion as she picked out a smooth, rounded silhouette floating lazily above the ice.

Is that… an airship?





As it turned out, taming the barons was something easier said than done.

The negotiations were taking place in a well-stocked tavern near the edge of the city, miraculously untouched by the fighting despite the burned out and collapsed ruins of its neighbors. A squad of bluecoats waited outside in a disciplined line, their rigid posture and stern faces belying the exhaustion evident in their dirtied uniforms. Baronlanders marched through the street before them, jeering and laughing and displaying the spoils they’d already looted from the city, but if the Frieslanders took any offense from the mocking, they did a fine job hiding it.

Rarity was far less skilled in such matters. She was seated on a blanketed pile of loose cobbles across the street, pointedly ignoring the soft smudges of rock dust on her white dress. She scowled at the foalish behavior on display before lifting her mug to her lips and taking an unladylike draw of cider.

It wasn’t her first choice. She would’ve preferred something smoother, perhaps a relaxing glass of wine or a daiquiri, but finding cider was infinitely easier amidst the chaos of a reorganizing army.

And after spending hours locked in a room with Governor Rhea and a trio of barons all bickering over who got what, she really needed a drink.

“Are ye well, my Lady?” Pontius stood beside her, surveying the street as if he was on guard duty. “Ye appear unwell.”

“Just tired, darling. And you know you could just call me Rarity, if you wish, hmm?” She narrowed her eyes at the tavern’s door. “I think I’ve had quite enough of titles for some time now.”

“Oh. Ah.” Pontius cleared his throat. “If it pleases ye… Rarity.”

She gave him a warm smile, and he looked away with a soft blush. “Well, if we dally out here for too much longer then we risk the peace being struck without us. Shall we?” She took one last drink before setting her cider aside and rising to her hooves.

Pontius walked by her side as she crossed the street. “To be frank, my—Rarity, only Celestia’s intervention could get the ponies in that room to come to an agreement without our aid.” 

“True. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the barons got it in their heads to simply overpower Rhea and force her hoof. Brutes.” Rarity shot Pontius a sideways smirk just as the sound of Pinkie’s wheels clattering over the potholed stone caught her ear. “Oh, is Pinkie back?”

“Rarity!” Pinkie’s shrill sing-song voice gave just enough forewarning for a few idle soldiers to leap out of the way before she skidded around a corner, muzzle stretched into a wide smile, and quickly galloped up the street. “I found Fluttershy!”

On cue, Fluttershy stepped into view, much of her body and her wings hidden behind a long cloak and a young brown bear bounding along at her side. She kept her hooded head down, long mane brushing the street, as she hurried to catch up. The baronland troops all along the street shifted from boisterous merrymaking to quiet, polite conversation as she passed them, and some even stepped away from their peers to greet the blushing pegasus with gentle greetings or waves.

Pinkie drew up as if to stop, but too late. She giggled as Pontius—now somewhat familiar with her antics—braced himself and arrested her rapid approach with a quiet grunt. 

Rarity was more focused on Fluttershy, however. She welcomed the pegasus with a warm smile as she walked up. “Fluttershy, darling! I do hope the siege camp wasn’t too rough on you in our absence?”

“Oh, no, thank you, Rarity,” Fluttershy answered with a demure smile. “Brownie kept me company, and the soldiers are all very nice.”

“So I see,” Rarity said, scanning the street. Although the soldiers had loudened some after Fluttershy passed, their behavior was still far from the rambunctious rowdiness it was before. She looked back to Fluttershy with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps you could explain how it is that your presence gets these troops in line when their own officers seem incapable of it?”

“They know I don’t like it being very loud, is all.” Fluttershy sat down, smiling as Brownie nuzzled himself between her forelegs. She waved to Pontius as he freed himself from Pinkie’s hug. “Hello, Pontius.”

“Lady Fluttershy.” Pontius dipped his head. “It is good to see ye’ve earned the respect of the troops so quickly.”

“Indeed it is,” Rarity agreed, “though I admit I’m somewhat surprised. No offense, dear, but truthfully I’d been rather concerned about them bullying you while you were on your own.”

The corner of Fluttershy’s smile twisted into a small grin. “And we all thought you’d be helpless when those diamond dogs dragged you into their dens, but you’re stronger than that.” She hugged Brownie against her as she looked away. “I guess, um, I can be strong, too. N-no offense.”

Rarity blinked. For a moment she was so shocked at hearing that kind of ribbing in Fluttershy’s bashful voice that she wondered if she’d imagined it. My, she’s changed so much!

But then, perhaps all of us have.

Rarity shook herself. “Well, darling, as much as I’d love to trade stories of our times apart, I’m afraid Pontius and I really must be getting back to the meeting.”

Fluttershy looked to Pinkie. “Is Pinkie not going?”

“Nope!” Pinkie blew a loud raspberry. “Those stuffy stiff-n-stuffs in there think I wouldn’t have anything meaningful to contribute! Me! Hah!”

Rarity exchanged an amused glance with Fluttershy. “Either way, I quite look forward to catching up later. Ta for now, girls!”

With one last wave, Rarity and Pontius turned for the tavern door. He stepped forward to hold it open, and she thanked him with a graceful nod before crossing inside.

With the curtains drawn shut, the door closed, and the one table remaining on the floor illuminated only by candlelight and a quietly crackling fire in the hearth, the inside of the tavern might have inspired a certain sense of dread, or perhaps mystery. Indeed, on first arrival Rarity had almost expected the negotiations to take place during some kind of masquerade ball.

But then the talking had started, and all sense of atmosphere had been promptly murdered by an endless tirade of bitter argument. That was perhaps six hours ago. And it was still going.

“Ye’re daft in th’ head if ye think I’m gonna let ye get all that t’ yerself!” Count Dane slammed a hoof against the table as he yelled. His beard was notably shorter than when Rarity saw him before the siege, the scruffy hairs charred and blackened at the tips, and he now wore a set of chainmail under his shoulder cape. “Twas my hussars that led th’ charge int’ th’ city, and ye know yer musketeers woulda been helpless without ‘em!”

Count Armet, the only baronlander at the table not wearing armor, merely arched a brow. He remained seated, but the edge in his voice was clearly audible. “Aye, yer hussars were vital t’ th’ battle, as were my musketeers, as was every soldier in th’ fight, but I’d hardly say they were irreplaceable.” He raised a hoof to cut off Dane’s heated response. “If ye were t’ speak of those truly vital, ye’d speak of my cannoneers and sappers. We’d never even reach th’ wall otherwise.”

Countess Silkie, her mussed up mane no doubt the fault of the helmet resting on the table beside her, let out a loud snort. “It’s good we’re speakin’ of vital, then. I’ll gladly accept th’ glory fer victory, considerin’ both yer armies’ve been growin’ fat on rations from my villages.”

“Bah!” Count Dane waved her away with a hoof. “We’re payin’ ye fer th’ supplies!”

“I’ll accept that argument once th’ first bits finally show up.” Silkie smirked. “Until then, ye two remain indebted t’ me.”

Governor Rhea, who’d sat quietly smoldering as the three nobles argued around her, drew attention with a forceful clear of her throat. “Perhaps it would be easier for you to decide how to split the glory once we’ve actually reached a peace agreement.”

Rarity let out a quiet sigh. Here we go again.

All three barons were offended by the suggestion, but Count Dane was the loudest. “Ye know exactly what we’re gettin’ outta th’ peace! Yer city belongs t’ us now, Frieslander!”

“If that’s what you believe,” Rhea growled, “then perhaps I should lock myself back within its inner walls and let you bleed for it.”

The counts faltered, exchanging glances with each other. Everyone in the room wanted to avoid the bloody battle that would be required in order to truly earn an unconditional surrender. Count Dane sat back down with a bitter grumble.

Rarity looked to Pontius, leaning over to whisper. “If we don’t find some way to resolve this, then they will fall back on bloodshed, and all our struggle will’ve been for naught!”

Pontius nodded gravely. “We must somehow satisfy the barons without destroying the city.” He pursed his lips, glancing back towards the door. “If only my father was here. The others hold much respect fer him, and he could stop their petty bickering.”

“Couldn’t you speak for him?” Rarity asked. “As his heir, you must hold some sway.”

Pontius grimaced. “I might, aye, but they don’t respect me as ye do. They see me as a child. Nothing I say would be taken as my father’s word.”

“But we know you’re no child, don’t we?” Rarity gave him an encouraging smile. “I suspect your father would love nothing more than for you to step out of his shadow and become your own stallion, and after what we’ve been through in the city, I have faith that you’re ready for that.”

Pontius blanched. “But… Rarity, what I do doesn’t matter. It’s how they see me.”

Rarity stifled a giggle into her hoof. When she looked up the young pegasus was looking down with a fierce blush, and she pulled him into a reassuring hug, bringing her muzzle to his ear. “What you do is far, far more important than how ponies see you, darling. And you should never let the latter influence the former.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Now, follow my lead.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond before turning away and approaching the table. If he had any lingering doubts in his mind, she expected his chivalry would spur him into motion once she’d put herself under the spotlight.

She greeted the table with her most polite smile. “I do hope I haven’t missed too much in my brief absence. Have we made any progress?”

“We’ve lost progress,” Governor Rhea said, glaring at the barons. “As usual, it seems baron greed can’t even wait for a peace to be struck before they begin squabbling over who gets which slice of the corpse.”

Count Armet scoffed. “These are important parts of th’ negotiation! How can any of us agree t’ peace when we cannot be assured that we’ll be properly compensated fer our losses?”

“Compensated?” Rhea echoed acidly. “You besieged my city! It’s far from our obligation to compensate you for your trouble!”

“Darlings, please.” Rarity lifted a hoof, cutting off what she could tell was yet another pointless circular argument. “You came here for Nettlekiss, did you not? And I’m sure the Governor is more than willing to withdraw her protection.” She shot a pointed look at Rhea. “Right?”

Her lips tightened, but she nodded. “I am. My cousin is not worth my city.”

“And we would’ve been happy t’ leave ye t’ yer walls if ye’d done as much when we arrived,” Countess Silkie said, pointing a hooftip at the city mare. “But ye challenged us, and ye forced us t’ spend blood fer yer compliance, so now reparation must be made. ‘Tis not an unreasonable claim.”

I suppose we’re all ignoring the fact that the Frieslanders lost lives too, then. Rarity shot Rhea a sympathetic glance, but didn’t voice the thought. It would only make the peace between the two sides even more tenuous that it already was.

“I can understand your want for… reparations,” Rarity said, trying to hide her disdain at the idea of the aggressors being paid for their actions. “But surely there’s no need to butcher the city for it!”

“Butcher it? Nay.” Count Dane shook his head. “But th’ only way t’ ensure we’re paid what we deserve is t’ take th’ city fer ourselves. Ye’d have t’ be mad t’ trust a Frieslander t’ pay ye a fair earnin’!”

“What if there wasn’t a Frieslander in charge?” Rarity suggested. She walked around the table as she spoke, subtly giving Pontius a pointed look while all eyes were on her. “A baronlander could supervise the city, ensuring you receive your compensation—” she looked to Rhea “—without bleeding it dry.”

Armet let out a thoughtful hum. “But with whom could we entrust th’ task? Any one of us, or our vassals, would be sure t’ favor one party unfairly.”

“I shall do it.”

All eyes turned to Pontius. He stood firm, meeting the skeptical and suspicious gazes leveled on him. Rarity gave him a reassuring smile when he looked to her.

“Young Pontius?” Countess Silkie asked curiously. “What do ye know of runnin’ a province?”

“And how could we trust ye t’ pay us fairly?” Count Dane added, his suspicion clear in his tone.

“Have I ever been known to lie to ye?” Pontius asked, meeting the older stallion’s stare. “Ye all know me to be an honest pony, and I give ye my word to lead the city justly. I’m not some puppet fer my father, but even though he’s not here, I can speak fer him on this matter.” Count Dane leaned back with a grunt, and Pontius turned to the other nobles. “Duke Titus has no wish to destroy the city, or to loot it, but to ensure the benefits of its resources can be felt all across the island.

“It’s true that I’m not as experienced as many of ye in these matters, but my father’s taught me much, and I’m well capable of learning from the city ponies.” He glanced to Rhea before continuing. “I’m sure the governor would be more than willing to assist in an advisory position.”

After a brief hesitation, Rhea nodded. “I would.”

“Hmm.” Silkie leaned in, crossing her hooves on the table. “But if we cannot take th’ city fer ourselves, then what does it offer us in return fer our losses?”

“Shares,” Rhea answered quickly. “We can grant you shares in our largest guilds. Our wealth will be yours.”

“Shares?” Armet echoed, looking around the table in confusion.

Silkie rolled her eyes. “It means ye get th’ profit, but ye don’t have t’ manage it. It’s a good deal. It has my support.”

Count Dane snorted. “What worth is guild profits t’ an honest baron lord? I want land!”

“You can get your land from my cousin,” Rhea countered. “Or the fields around the city. But you won’t get a single inch within our walls without fighting for it.”

Count Armet nodded. “Guild shares’re quite valuable, Dane. We’ll get more in th’ long run than we ever would from lootin’ th’ city center.”

“Bah! Fine.” Count Dane leaned back with a scowl. “But if th’ city doesn’t give what’s promised, I’ll be holdin’ th’ two of ye accountable.”

For a moment, the table lapsed into silence. Rarity, who had been watching the exchange with bated breath, finally spoke. “So we are agreed, then?”

Silkie nodded. “Aye. Unless any of ye have last objections?” After waiting to receive nods of assent from everyone at the table, the countess looked back to the bar, where a single bespectacled unicorn sat in silence. “Whitehorn! Draft th’ treaty, just as we’ve discussed it. I’ve had enough of this place fer today. Shall we convene here again on th’ morrow?”

“It suits me,” Armet said, rising to stretch his legs. “Fer now, I bid ye all farewell.”

With a quick bow across the room, Armet made for the door. Silkie was close behind, pausing beside Pontius to give him a reassuring pat and smile before following the other noble outside. Dane was the last to leave, his messy beard twitching as he grumbled under his breath with every step.

Rhea stood as well, looking to Pontius. “You meant what you said, about keeping me on as an advisor?”

He nodded. “I’m sure ye know much about the running of the city that I wouldn’t. Yer exile would only cause the city needless harm.”

“You see, darling?” Rarity offered up a tentative smile. “Surely this peace is better than the alternative.”

Rhea pursed her lips. “In that regard, only time will tell.”

The governor’s shoulders sagged as she made for the door. She paused as she reached it, took a deep breath, and raised her head high before stepping outside.

Finally, the table was empty. Rarity exchanged a proud glance with Pontius before turning to Whitehorn, who was nursing a clear glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself at the bar.

“You can write the deal, right?” she asked. “Do you think any of them will back out?”

He smiled before giving a small shake of his head. “No, my Lady. I expect all that remains is the formalities of signing. Aside from some last damages from the more opportunistic baron troops… the city is safe.” He raised his glass to her in toast. “Nettlekiss will see the wisdom of surrender once her Friesland support pulls out. Thanks to you, the island will be at peace once  more.”

“Goodness.” Rarity let out a shaky breath as her hind legs dropped out from beneath her, and she leaned against Pontius for support. “I—we came so close to disaster. Perhaps it’s silly of me, but somehow I keep expecting some new crisis to arise and throw us into the fire once more.”

Whitehorn snorted. “Even if that were to happen, we could face it. We make a good team.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose we do.” Rarity glanced up towards Pontius. “We all do.”

For a moment, none of them said anything. Pontius rested a hoof over Rarity’s, and she didn’t pull it away.
> XXII: Of Unions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rainbow Dash gnashed her teeth and pumped her wings and fought against the biting wind.

The blizzard had come over her without warning, a mile-high, howling thunderhead that chewed through her exposed coat with ice and sleet. She knew she was close to the Argo, having caught a glimpse of it cresting the horizon just as the storm wall overtook her.

She hoped they’d seen her, too.

Even with her magic warding off the worst of the storm, she was chilled to the bone. Her legs shivered violently with each flap and her teeth ached from clenching them to keep them from chattering. She wished she hadn’t lost Flint’s oversized scarf; oily smell or not, it would’ve gone a long way towards keeping her warm right now.

What if Sabre had ordered the ship up over the storm? As exhausted and cold as she was right now, Rainbow wasn’t sure if she’d be able to follow. It was hard enough just keeping her wings from buckling already. She gulped as she glanced downwards into the opaque white shroud that surrounded her in every direction. Perhaps she could find a mountain peak and take shelter in its shadow until the storm passed.

But who knew how long that might be? Rainbow shook her head. She wasn’t the type of mare to deny the truth to herself. If she let her hooves touch the deathly cold ice below right now, she’d never fly again.

Come on. She scanned her surroundings again, but all she saw was the same impenetrable whiteness. The wind howled in her ears, and she flinched as a sliver of ice cut into her cheek, drawing a thin trail of blood. Where are they?

Rainbow’s breath caught as she picked out a faint glow off to her side, below her. She bled altitude, praying to Celestia, and sighed her relief at the sight of the Argo’s bridge, the light filtering past its frost-coated glass with the promise of warmth.

A powerful gust of wind buckled Rainbow’s left wing, and she cried out as the storm dragged her along like some giant foal. Instinct honed over a lifetime of flying took over, and she closed her eye and tucked her other wing in, feeling the turbulent currents warring over her body. Blood pooled in her head as she spun, drawing what little warmth was left from her limbs. She didn’t know how far the ground was, or even whether the storm was dragging her downwards at all but she didn’t have time to worry about it.

She snapped her wings open almost without realizing, catching the wind again at the perfect moment. She opened her eye and pumped her wings hard, wrestling the storm, pouring her last reserve of energy into the battle. She was so close! She could see the shadow of the Argo’s hull, and then the shape of its propellers, and then the fluttering flaps of the torn canvas as she neared its envelope. The wind slapped her to the side, and she grunted as she bounced off the ship, nearly throwing her into a spin once more. Thinking quickly, she pushed herself deeper into the heavy canvas with one wing while tearing into it with the blade on her other.

One instant she was struggling to keep her wings open, and then she was falling through calm air.

Her grin of victory was interrupted by the impact of hard metal against her back.  Stars exploded in her vision, and for a long moment she lay still, listening to her ears ringing and the canvas flapping and the hull groaning.

She’d made it.

As if there’d been any doubt.

Rainbow groaned as she rolled back onto her hooves. She was on the catwalk that ran the length of the ship’s envelope. The gas-filled balloons arranged around the space swayed with the wind leaking in through the tears.

She limped forwards, driven on by ragged determination. She just had to find Sabre and tell her what she’d found. Then she could rest.

She found the trapdoor that led down into the infirmary, and after a few tries managed to pull it open. She half-fell, half-fluttered down into the heat of the ship.

“S-Sabre?” Her voice came out in a barely audible croak. She licked her lips as she stumbled out into the hall and towards the bridge. “Sabre!”

A door opened behind her, and she turned to see Flintlock leaning out of the galley with a small frown on his face. He glanced back into the room, raising his voice. “Hey, Jackie, Dash is back.” He turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. “Without my scarf.”

“Rainbow?” Applejack brushed past him, rushing up to support Rainbow’s weight. “Tarnation, RD, y’all’re cold as an apple popsicle and shiverin’ like a leaf!” She wrapped a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders, guiding her back towards the cargo hold. “C’mon, let’s get ya tucked in somewhere warm.”

“N-n-n-no.” Rainbow grunted her frustration at her chattering teeth and tried to pull away. “Gotta t-t-talk to Sabre. F-f-f-found something.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Sabre ain’t goin’ anywhere, filly! We need to get ya warmed up before y’all’s hooves start fallin’ off, and she can talk to ya just fine when you’re wrapped up in a warm bed.”

Rainbow growled, trying again to push the other mare off, but even on her best day she couldn’t beat Applejack in a real contest of strength. After a brief struggle she collapsed against her friend with a tired sigh, allowing herself to be carried down the stairs and into the cargo hold.

“Flint!” Applejack called back as they stepped through the steam of the door. “Bring Sabre back here, would ya?”

“Aye, ma’am. Whatever ya say, ma’am. I’m yer ever-loyal servant, ma’am.” The big stallion’s grumbling was cut off by the door hissing shut behind them.

Rainbow’s shivers grew stronger as the colder air of the wide, open cargo hold washed over her. “There’s a v-v-village. Airships.”

“Shh. Let’s get ya in a bed first.” Applejack led her through the curtain leading to Twilight’s vacant room. She flicked the neatly made blanket back with one hind leg before gently lowering Rainbow onto the bed. She frowned as she looked down at the cold steel fastened to Rainbow’s wings, the metal marred by black bloodstains. “Somethin’ attack ya out there?”

Rainbow grinned weakly. “Yep. K-k-k-killed it.”

Applejack rolled her eyes and pulled the sheets up to Rainbow’s chin. “Stay here. I’m gonna go stir up somethin’ warm for ya to fill up on.” She turned, pausing in the doorway to fix Rainbow with a stern glare. “And if ya ain’t in this bed when I come back, I’ll knock y’all’s lights out and tie ya to it myself.”

Rainbow opened her mouth to shoot back a retort, but the cowpony was already gone. She was left alone, listening to the sound of the cargo door opening and the rhythmic ticking of the Argo’s hull.

She could already feel the freezing chill beginning to recede. She rolled onto her side, wrapping her hooves up in the blankets and curling into a ball.

I should get up, she thought. I need to talk to Sabre, now.

She didn’t move.

Gathering all her will, she pursed her lips and resolutely decided to throw the sheets aside, hunt Sabre down, and report her findings—and fell into a deep sleep.





Ana shook her head in disdain as she frowned up at her sister’s extended wings. “Seriously, sis, I was only gone for a few days. What were you even doing to mess your feathers up like this?”

“Just stuff.” Gava shrugged, and Ana reached up to deliver a soft slap at the back of her head.

“Hold still, you. This takes precision.”

It had been a full day and night since Ana slipped back inside the city walls, but even spending nearly twelve hours dozing in bed with her sister hadn’t been enough to dispel the last dregs of her exhaustion. All the inn’s other patrons—and even the owner—had left last night, hoping either to avoid the chaos of the battle or exploit it, leaving them free to use the building as they saw fit.

Presently, that meant Ana preening Gava’s disheveled wings as they relaxed behind the bar. Two empty bowls sat on the counter before them, still carrying the faint smell of homemade rat soup.

Gava had never quite developed proper wing care habits in her youth. Sure, she’d twist around and pull a broken feather free or push one back into place if it was really bothering her, but she rarely spent time on them otherwise. It fell to Ana to ensure her sister looked civilized—or as civilized as she could look when she so often insisted on talking to ponies without cleaning the blood off her beak.

“Are you done yet?”

“Not nearly,” Ana said with an exaggerated sigh. “Would it kill you to do this yourself when I’m gone?”

“If I did it myself, you’d have nothing to do when you got back.”

Ana smirked, and she could easily imagine Gava’s self-satisfied grin as she leaned in and grabbed a feather in her teeth. Truthfully, she didn’t mind the work, and there was a part of her that enjoyed it. After the stress of her last mission, it was comforting to return to her sister’s side and know that, no matter how much chaos there might be surrounding them, Gava would always need her there to keep her wings neat.

“Hey, Ana?”

Something in the griffon’s tone gave Ana pause. “Yeah?”

“Let’s not split up anymore.”

Ana blinked. Her sister suddenly sounded tired, drained of all her usual bluster. She jumped up onto the bar and lay down, bringing herself to Gava’s eye level. “You alright?”

Gava clacked her beak. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh.” Ana grinned, nudging Gava’s leg with a hoof. “So that’s the problem.”

“I’m being serious!” Gava snapped, wiping the playful smile off Ana’s face. She sighed and shuffled her wings, looking away. “Dad always told us we needed to stick together, right? As long as we were together, we could do anything. Everything bad that’s happened to us? Losing the Screech, our crew, doubling our bounty, nearly dying, and getting stuck working for some stupid pony instead? It all started with us splitting up.”

Ana leaned into Gava’s shoulder, nuzzling against her soft plumage, and decided not to point out that just about all of those things were results of Gava’s actions. “Don’t worry, sis. If I’ve learned anything these past few weeks, it’s that you can’t be left on your own for long. From now on, I don’t care what the price is, I’m sticking by your side.”

Ana didn’t blame her sister for the consequences that had befallen them; she never did. She’d known since fillyhood that Gava was callous and overconfident, and that leaving her alone in any situation was liable to lead to violence sooner or later. She saw it as her role, almost, to be there to keep those wilder instincts under control until they were needed, like a hound on a leash.

It may have been Gava’s actions that directly led to the destruction of the Roc’s Screech, but Ana blamed herself. She should’ve been smart enough to realize that the strange Gifted were too powerful and forced Gava to back down. But she’d been cocky too, convinced that nothing could stand up to her and her sister united, and they’d lost something that could never be replaced.

Gava turned her head, resting her chin on Ana’s brow. “I’m sorry.”

Ana let out a derisive snort, but her smile was genuine. “Careful, sis. If you spend too long thinking you might turn into a pony.”

Gava sighed, and Ana imagined her rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something smart about it.”

Ana grinned as she wrapped her forelegs around the griffon’s bulky shoulders and squeezed. “There’s nothing to forgive, sis.”

For a moment the two were silent, opting to share their affection without words. The wind whispered through the alleys outside, complementing the soft crackling of the fireplace.

There was a click from the door. Ana pushed off her sister hard, sliding a short distance across the bar and looking to the door with a well-practiced expression of distant curiosity. Gava grabbed a drink from under the bar in her tail and flung it towards Ana, and she caught it in a wing, popped the cap off with the claw on her wingtip, and raised the bottle to her lips.

By the time Whitehorn stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he was met by a pair of crude bounty hunters. Ana watched him approach with a skeptic eye as she nursed her bottle—plain cider, to her disappointment—while Gava made a show of scratching crude images into the cheap stone countertop with a talon.

“Ladies.” Whitehorn dipped his head, dislodging the thin powder of snow that had collected on his mane, and took a moment to adjust his clothes before taking a seat at the bar. “What happened to the innkeep?”

“We ate him.” Ana smirked, pushing her emptied soup bowl forwards. “There’s plenty more in the back if you’re hungry.”

Whitehorn grimaced as he glanced down into the bowl and spotted the last strings of bone and meat floating in the thick broth. “Ah, no, thank you. I’m afraid I’m here to talk business, and don’t have time for a meal.”

“We got you the surrender you wanted.” Even with a barstool beneath him, Gava still towered over the unicorn. “Our business is done, pony.”

He answered her with a polite smile. “To be accurate, when I clarified our terms with your cleverer sister, I said that we could revisit the negotiations once the city fell. I’m not releasing you from our contract just yet.”

Without warning Gava leapt on top of the bar, knocking dishes to the ground and buffeting Whitehorn with a powerful wind from her wings. He fell backwards with a strangled cry, and Gava was already crouching down to pounce when Ana spoke up.

“Wait.”

“Why should I?!” Gava countered. Her tail lashed behind her as she watched the unicorn cower on the floor. “He’s a snake!”

Ana fixed her with a stern glare, and after a brief moment Gava settled onto the countertop with a low growl. Ana hopped off the bar and circled around to Whitehorn’s head, gently pulling his hooves away from his face. “Seeing as you didn’t bring any guards and I know you don’t have a deathwish, I assume you have something else to say.”

“Yes, of course!” His words came out with an irritated bite. “I have no wish to hold you here! The job is done, and you did it well, and if you want to be on your way then I’m ready to provide final payment and leave you be.”

He glanced towards where Gava was still watching him like a cat sizing up prey, and Ana pulled his chin back towards her with a hoof. “Hey, eyes on me. I know you’re just dying to tell me the other half of your offer, so you’d better make it quick before the big bird gets bored. I can only hold her back for so long, y’know.”

“That much is clear.” Ana reached a hoof into Whitehorn’s vest, pulling out a bag of bits and throwing it back towards Gava. He wisely decided not to question her. “If you’re interested in more money, I’d be willing to draw up a more long-term contract for your perusal. Something written down and signed by all three of us, with rigid terms.”

Ana arched a brow at that. “Triple pay, and we reserve the right to break the contract if you try to send us on a suicide mission. Oh, and we’ll need a new airship.”

He laughed in her face. “I would be insane to sign such a deal! You can have a half-over raise, with adjustments at quarterly reviews. And I’ll put in a good word with a friend to get you a lease on an airship.”

Ana nodded. She had been hoping to maybe haggle him up to double, but she knew the longer negotiations went on the more he’d slide into his scheming mindset. The airship had been a stretch, too—no merchant lord would lease a ship out to a lying thestral and a savage griffon—but she knew Whitehorn’s influence reached far and carried a heavy weight. It was the best shot they had at regaining their freedom of movement without stealing a ship.

She extended a hoof and hoped Gava wouldn’t decide to interject. “Deal.”

“Ah. Well, then.” He accepted the hoof, groaning as she pulled him off the ground. “Excellent. I can have the contract drafted, though it will take some time, and I won’t be on Altalusia long enough to see it signed.”

Gava scoffed. “I knew you’d have some excuse, pony.”

Whitehorn glared at her as he straightened his vest. “This is no excuse, Gava. The deal is struck and I have every intent of seeing it through, but logistics won’t allow that to happen here or now. The Equestrian Parliament has already been in session for a week, and I need to be in Harvest at my earliest convenience.” He looked back to Ana. “All I ask is that you two meet me there. You can consider those bits you stole from me an advance payment, and I’d encourage you to hire passage.”

“We’ll find our way,” Ana said. She grabbed his shoulder with a wingtip, intentionally tearing into his vest with her claw, and began guiding him back to the door. “Any last scheming you wanted to get done before you go?”

He frowned, but didn’t resist. “I believe we’ve finished with our business for now.”

“Great. Good to hear.” Swirling motes of snow danced into the room as Ana pulled the door open and shoved him back out into the street. “If you need anything before the contract is assigned, don’t ask us. We’ll kill you.”

With one last, fanged smile, she shut the door in his face, cutting off his answer.

“And that, Gava—” Ana twirled back to face her sister with a little dip and bow “—is how you negotiate.”

“You didn’t even ask my opinion,” Gava said, tail still lashing slowly behind her. “I really wanted to kill him.”

“See, that is exactly why I didn’t ask your opinion,” Ana said as she walked back to the bar. “Thanks for not interrupting, by the way.”

Gava shrugged. “I figured you had a plan.”

“I did, and I’m glad I can always rely on you to stand in the background and look menacing.” Ana winked. “So, you wanna get a new ship? Good pay?”

Gava clacked her beak. “I don’t like being tied down.”

“Neither do I, but he’s our best shot at rebuilding. Hey, does this place have anything mango?”

“Ana, there’s nothing behind this bar but unlabeled bottles of cider.”

“Oh.” Ana sighed before hopping onto a barstool. “Whatever. Look, almost every airpony in Equestria hates us after what you did in Leviathan Wakes, and no merchant lord is gonna even talk about selling us a ship. Just look at us.”

Gava snorted. “We could steal one.”

“Yeah, and get even more heat on us.” Ana shook her head before picking her bottle back up and reluctantly taking a sip. “I don't know where or how he gets it, but Whitehorn has connections everywhere he goes. He can protect us. And we can use him to replace the Screech.”

“A pony ship can’t replace the Screech.”

Ana sighed again, frowning down at her bottle of tasteless cider. It wasn’t that she disagreed. The Screech was irreplaceable in so many ways. It was the ship that had saved her, the ship she’d grown up on, the ship where she’d learned what it meant to have a family again. It was her home, the only place where she didn’t feel like she had to keep a wall at her back. Almost every good memory she ever had was set against the backdrop of that ship, accompanied by the voice of the old griffon she’d called Dad.

And now it was gone, and all they had to remember him by was a bleached skull in a tarnished chest and a revolver older than they were.

When it was quiet, and Ana wasn’t immersed in the rush of violence or the strained tension of subterfuge, and the nights were still and there was nothing but Gava’s breath and a muffled wind to distract her, sometimes she wondered if they’d ever recover. Of course they would, she always told herself. As long as they had each other, they would survive. Like her father, the ship would always live on in their memories.

The wound was still fresh, and it wouldn’t stop hurting just because she knew it would heal.

“I’m gonna go check the docks,” Ana said, sliding out of her seat. “Wash your beak and chew some mint. No pony’s gonna take us on with blood on our breath.”





When Rainbow woke up, she was warm and comfortable.

She sighed and rolled over, snuggling a little deeper into the bed. The scratchy wool wasn’t nearly as soft as her cloud, but she was loath to drag her aching body away and abandon the precious heat trapped under the blanket tucked snugly around her shoulders. The quiet rumble of the engine drifted through her ears, lulling her back towards sleep with its vibrations.

Rainbow frowned, eye fluttering open. Sea Sabre was sitting attentively in front of her.

She was in Twilight’s room. Applejack was dozing next to the bed with her battered hat pulled down over her eyes. The curtain drawn across the empty doorway waved softly with the motion of the ship, and a bowl smelling faintly of apple and ginger was carefully squeezed onto the one space of Twilight’s old desk not covered in the unicorn’s abandoned notes.

“Sabre.” Rainbow’s throat was so dry it hurt. She winced, licking her lips.

“I heard you found something.” Sabre grabbed the bowl off the table and held it out. “Drink.”

Rainbow sat up with a groan, and a small shiver passed through her as the blanket fell off her shoulders. She accepted the bowl in silence, cradling it in her forelegs, and brought it to her lips.

Apple soup. Rainbow didn’t think it was possible to cook apple into a soup, but Applejack had apparently found a way. The broth was thick and creamy, with dried apple chunks mixed in among potato, celery, and carrot. She could still feel a bit of lingering heat on the bottom of the bowl, but the soup itself was only lukewarm. Warm or not, the smooth broth sliding down her throat was a welcome relief.

“The ship’s taken some damage.”

Rainbow frowned as she lowered the bowl, meeting Sabre’s steely gaze. “Huh?”

“Sunfeather spotted you right before the storm hit us,” Sabre explained. “We could’ve flown above the worst of it, but I expected you might have trouble tracking us after losing visual. We anchored to one of the mountain peaks, low to the ground. The envelope is in tatters, and our main propeller lost a blade.” She pursed her lips. “I hope you found something solid, because every day we spend out here we risk hitting another of those storms, or worse.”

Rainbow answered with a tired grin. “Well you’re in luck, because I found exactly where we need to go. Probably ten times faster than if I had stayed with the ship, too.”

Sabre narrowed her eyes, and Rainbow suddenly realized what the other pegasus had meant with her words. Sabre had put her ship—her crew—in danger for Rainbow’s sake.

Her grin faltered as she looked away. “I mean, uh, there’s a tower thing, north-by-northwest. There was an airship around it, too, so maybe we can get repaired there.”

“A tower? And an airship?” Sabre’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be right. There’s no settlements this far north. It’s nothing but ice.”

“I know what I saw, Sabre,” Rainbow said, meeting her gaze once more. “Someone is living out there, and whatever that place is, that’s where we need to be. I’m sure of it.”

For a long while, Sabre didn’t say anything. She sat in silent contemplation, one ear occasionally flicking. Rainbow continued to sip at her soup while she waited, already forming her arguments for why they needed to press on, why they couldn’t turn back and leave now that they were so close.

“Very well. North-by-northwest.” Sabre stood up, stepping towards the doorway. “And Rainbow?”

Rainbow sighed. No doubt this was when she’d get an earful about endangering the crew or the ship, or maybe another lecture on discipline. “Yeah?”

“Applejack cares about you.” Sabre jerked her head towards the sleeping cowpony. “You should remember that more often.”

Sabre left without waiting for a response, leaving Rainbow blinking after her in surprise. What was that supposed to mean?

Rainbow looked to Applejack, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She lifted the bowl of soup to her lips and took another long sip.

We’re coming, Twilight.





“Ah, finally!” Rarity let out a relieved sigh as she wiped a single, solitary bead of sweat from her forehead. “All done packing. Can you handle that, dear?”

Pontius grunted. He stood in the center of Captain Piaffe’s bedroom with a metal lockbox hanging from each flank like oversized saddlebags and several colorful bundles stacked up and roped together on his back. “Not a problem, my Lady.”

“Exquisite.” Rarity walked up and encouraged him with a chaste peck on the cheek before pirouetting back towards the door, her own, far lighter pair of saddlebags bouncing at her sides. “And so, away!”

She stepped into the hallway first, holding the door open for Pontius with her magic while he clenched his jaw and followed. She took one last look at the room where she’d spent so many hours agonizing over the siege—she’d ensured it was left exactly as it was when they’d arrived—and closed the door.

Pontius was already making slow progress down the stairs, so she followed patiently. Pinkie was recounting the story of the siege to Fluttershy in the common room, hooves flying with every dramatic turn while the pegasus listened with an attentive smile and scratched idly at Brownie’s tilted head.

“And I said, fine, I’ll take your bet!” Pinkie slammed a hoof against the table with mock fervor. “If you win, you get my wheels, but if I win, you turn them into rockets!”

“Oh, goodness.” Fluttershy glanced towards Rarity and Pontius with a welcoming smile. “So who won?”

“I don’t know!” Pinkie shrugged. “It’s kinda blank, and then I woke up snuggling with Piaffe on a roof somewhere. Let me tell you, sister, this city is not built for wheelchair access!” She giggled into a hoof before waving at the new arrivals. “Hey, you two! Finally done packing?”

“By Celestia, I hope so,” Pontius wheezed.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Pontius,” Rarity said, squeezing past him and opening the front door. “Let’s get going, girls. Whitehorn will be waiting at the docks, and I’ve had quite enough of Altalusia for now.”

They made a strange procession as they filed out into the street, taking a moment to organize and make final checks as citizens with bags under their eyes and patches in their clothes bustled through their afternoons. Pontius led the way with Brownie, his broad shoulders supplemented with heavy luggage serving as an effective crowdbreaker. He had done away with his usual breastplate in an effort to appear less foreign and confrontational to the city, replacing it with a very chic blouse-and-shirt combination in aesthetic shades of orange and white—Rarity’s own creation. As the finishing touch, he wore a band of blue and white cloth around a foreleg, a symbol of unity and peace.

Rarity followed close behind, a soft smile on her lips and head held high. She didn’t feel like standing out today—she’d had quite enough of being the center of Frieslander drama—and so she covered much of her distinctive white coat in a long, turquoise jacket that hung low enough to conceal her cutie marks. She wore her mane in a ponytail hidden under a matching tricorn.

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie brought up the rear, walking to her either side. Fluttershy wore only plain brown saddlebags and a drab green cloak, while Pinkie wore a thin string around her barrel attached to a veritable fleet of balloons, tugging up on her rear enough that her wheels only occasionally touched the ground. Her luggage bounced along behind on their own miniature discs, forming a colorful pink train that drew many glancing looks from passers by.

“That Captain Piaffe sounded very nice, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said. “Especially letting you all stay in her home like that. How come I didn’t see her inside?”

Pinkie’s grin faltered somewhat. “Oh, well, um…”

“I’m afraid the good Captain Piaffe is suffering some fallout for what assistance she lent us, darling,” Rarity answered, looking back with a thin frown. “I don’t understand it myself, truthfully. She was only acting with the best interests of the city at heart!”

“Ye don’t understand because ye’re not a soldier, my Lady,” Pontius called back, voice muffled by the weights on his back. “The chain of command is not something any soldier may disregard lightly, well wishing or otherwise. The court-martialing is necessary, but with my new authority I will ensure she receives a fair trial as she deserves. Most likely she’ll only be sentenced to a dishonorable discharge.”

“Dishonorable?” Rarity scoffed. “She’s the most honorable bluecoat I ever met!”

“Aye. Which is why I fully intend to offer her a position in my administration,” Pontius said. “I assure ye, my Lady, ponies such as the Captain shall be well looked after as long as I have my say.”

“Good!” Pinkie brightened up again, shouting to be heard as a wagon laden with grain bounced down the center of the street. “She’s a good pony!”

It had only been a day since the signing of the peace treaty, and the city was already slowly returning to life. Those tradesponies least damaged by the conflict had already propped up their stalls and begun calling for customers, and crews of laborers had started cleaning the streets of rubble and detritus left in the wake of the riots. On some streets, burnt out buildings still smoldered as workers broke their charred skeletons into more manageable pieces; the homes of the wealthy were the most common victims, torn apart and looted by angry commoners.

Most notable was the absence of bluecoats. What was once a professional army supplemented by a well-drilled levy had been reduced to a small, supplementary police force restricted to only certain sectors of the city. Baronlander soldiers now stood on the street corners in their place, grizzled veterans in gleaming steel breastplates equipped with vicious melee weapons instead of slender rifles. They all still wore their house colors and crests, with little intermixing within each patrol, raucously heckling rival groups over the lowered heads of citizens or filling the air with loud, vulgar laughter. The animosity between the soldiers and the citizens was palpable, especially among the Frieslanders who defiantly insisted on wearing solid blue bands around their legs or their necks, proudly displaying their resistance, and Rarity could only hope that Pontius would be able to keep the rivalry from breaking out into fresh violence as time went on.

But there were signs of hope mixed in as well. Ponies wearing white scarves traveled in small groups of three or four, tending to injuries and passing out food to those most devastated by the siege. Rarity kept her head down when she saw them.

“Oh, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, “I think it’s just amazing what you’ve inspired in these ponies. I wish I could do that.”

Rarity shot her a sideways look and tried not to smile. “Please, Fluttershy, you must realize that you can inspire others just as well as I. I’ve seen the way that the soldiers look at you, you know. It’s almost as if you’re their adoptive mother.”

“O-oh, um.” Fluttershy looked away, hiding behind her mane. “I m-mean, uh, they just, um—”

“Shh. Relax, dear.” Rarity giggled, pulling the sputtering pegasus into a sideways hug as they walked. “Perhaps it’s not kind of me to tease, but I couldn’t resist. You seem so much more self-assured compared to when we first split ways. I admit I was concerned for how you’d fare on your own in a camp full of crass fighters, but it appears I’ve underestimated you!” She smiled as Fluttershy risked meeting her gaze. “Won’t you share some stories of your time there?”

Fluttershy looked away, her voice quiet. “Not right now, Rarity.”

Rarity frowned, feeling how the other mare had tensed under her hoof. Fluttershy had undeniably grown stronger from her time in the siege camp, but Rarity was beginning to suspect that strength was only the scar that had healed over some pain she wasn’t yet privy to. Well, if she isn’t ready to talk of it, I shan’t prod. She’ll share in her own time if she wishes.

“Oh, oh, look!” Pinkie’s excited voice drew Rarity’s attention. “Hey, River! How’s it going, filly?”

They were passing by the ruins of Old Westfort, its foundation cleared of most rubble, only a few waist-high stacks of stone left to suggest the old layout of rooms and halls. A half-dozen workers wearing white scarves were milling over it, erecting tents and clearing out more space, and all six of them looked up at Pinkie's shrill greeting.

At the head of the group stood River Pie, her pastel pink cheeks flushed with the winter breeze. She wore a simple cloth vest to ward against the cold, and a long white scarf that hung past her knees.

“Pinkie!” River waved before hopping down to the street and closing in for a quick hug. “I hadn’t been expectin’ t’ see ye today. What’s all that mess behind ye? Ye look like one of th’ trains th’ merchants from south talk about!”

“Choo, choo!” Pinkie giggled. “We’re actually going to the docks to get on a ship!”

River’s smile faltered. “Ye’re leavin’ already? But what about—” she looked to the rest of the group, eyes widened as she recognized Rarity under her hat. “Countess? I nearly didn’t recognize ye in that get-up!”

“Yes, dear, that was somewhat the idea, I’m afraid,” Rarity said with a wan smile. River frowned, and she rushed to clarify. “Not for you, darling! There’s just been so many emotions running high in the city of late, and I’d hate to disturb things now that we finally have some peace. It’s nice to see you, truly.” She nodded towards the bustling ruin, hoping to change the subject. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh!” River grinned, her enthusiasm returning quickly. “I got permission from th’ city t’ start my own guild, here in th’ ruins! Can ye believe it?”

“Your own guild?” Rarity frowned thoughtfully up at the ruins. Did River even have any trade skills? And even if the city was under baron control, she would’ve thought that would only make old prejudices dig deeper. How did she convince the pony in charge of such things, most likely a spiteful Frieslander, to grant her such a privilege?

“Aye,” Pontius said, drawing her attention. “A guild fer charitable acts. I pushed it through myself.”

“Mhm!” River looked to Pontius with a wide smile. “Th’ ponies at th’ governor’s house were turning me down, but Master Pontius overheard and came t’ my rescue.”

Rarity cocked her head as she took in the way River looked at the young stallion, the slight downwards turn of her head and the little flare of her nostrils. Is she…? “And what is your guild called, out of curiosity?”

“The White Scarves!” River used a hoof to wave the scarf wrapped around her neck. “Like ye like t’ wear!”

“Oh, goodness.” Rarity let out a little, flustered laugh. A guild in her honor? She’d been flattered when the protesters had first started wearing white accessories after her own fashion, and hadn’t particularly minded seeing helpful ponies in the street continuing the trend, but an actual, organized entity? Ponies coming to this old ruin to sign up and help others, all guided by an old bandit, the one mare that had embraced the lessons of the past and given Rarity hope when she’d thought there was no way she could ever turn back the darkness that had corrupted the heart of Equestria?

It was more than a little overwhelming. They hadn’t even asked her permission! For a moment she opened her mouth to politely ask River to stop, or to change the name or symbology to something else, but the words never came.

This is a good thing, she reminded herself. Even with everything lost, Equestria was still a big place filled with hundreds of thousands of ponies, and she was just one fabulous mare. Even if she hadn’t thought so initially, an organization dedicated to spreading and practicing old Equestrian ideals could only do good, right?

Surely she should be proud, to have inspired such a thing.

Fluttershy giggled behind her. “She’s very flattered, River. I’m Fluttershy, by the way, and this is Brownie. We’re old friends of hers.”

“Always fine t’ meet more of th’ Countess’ friends,” River said, extending a hoof. Fluttershy shook it with a demure smile. “So are all of ye leavin’ th’ city, then?”

“I’ll be staying.” Pontius shifted his weight, causing the hefty load on his back to teeter dangerously. “Just lending a hoof to help my Lady with her luggage, and see her off as I should.”

“How kind of ye.” There was that smile again, and was she blushing, or was it just the frost gathering on her cheeks? “I hope ye don’t mind if’n I accompany ye.”

“Of course not!” Pinkie said. “The more, the merrier!”

With their party strengthened by one, they continued west towards the dock. River fell in at the front of the group, talking with Pontius, who answered her questions politely but offered little in the way of conversation. The mare was persistent though, her ears swiveled towards him and her eyes wide, and now Rarity was certain of it.

River Pie had a crush on her husband.

In a vague, distant way, Rarity was somewhat offended. She should be offended, shouldn’t she? What right did another mare have to harbor such feelings for the stallion that was supposed to be sworn to her? It was disrespectful to her, and dishonest.

But far more practically, it was relieving.

Rarity had grown more affectionate towards Pontius since first meeting him, but she was by no means in love with him. She didn’t think she could ever come to see him that way. She had been forced into the relationship, and yes, so had he, but the fact would hang over any potential future they had like a shadow, keeping her distant. He tried hard to make them work, perhaps based on stories from his father of arranged marriages that eventually turned to love, but Rarity knew more than anything that she would never be able to put the origins of their empty marriage behind them.

And now here was this other mare, a mare whom Rarity considered a friend, who was younger than her and from the same culture as him, and she was about to leave the two of them in the same city together, without her.

A plan formed in her mind.

“River?”

River looked back with a start. Rarity beckoned her closer with a smile, and River slowed her pace to fall back to her side. “Aye, Countess?”

Rarity affected a conspiratorial glance around the street before leaning in, and River cocked her head before stepping closer. In a playful whisper, Rarity asked, “Am I right in thinking you have an affection for my husband, darling?”

River stiffened, face paling. “Uh, n-no, Countess, I swear! I just—well, eh, he’s very kind ’n strong, ’n it’s nice t’ have a baronlander t’ talk t’ and—”

“Shh. You’re fine.” Rarity winked. “I’m merely teasing.”

“Oh.” River laughed, doing a terrible job of hiding her anxiety. “Ye’re, ah, very funny, Countess.”

“Thank you, dear. But what I really wanted to talk to you about” —she straightened up, returning to a normal speaking volume— “is who’s going to take care of him during my absence.”

River blinked. She tried to keep the hope out of her voice, but not hard enough. “I don’t know what ye mean, Countess.”

Rarity smiled. The bait had been set. “You know how stallions are, I’m sure, always getting themselves into trouble. Well I won’t be around to watch him for a fair while, and I need a mare I can trust to keep an eye on him while I’m gone. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

A few seconds passed where River only stared. She yelped as Pinkie bumped into her rear with a giggle, shaking her head and focusing back on Rarity’s carefully measured smile. Her lips twitched up as if to return the smile, but then straightened out—no doubt she didn’t want to seem too happy about the request—and she jerked her head in a firm nod. “Aye, Countess. I won’t let ye down.”

“Wonderful.” Rarity didn’t have to fake her happiness; River had fallen into her ploy without resistance. “Having you around him will put my heart at ease. Ah, and here we are!”

The docks in Friesland were always busy, but they’d been strained beyond their limit after the lifting of the siege. Villages and noble houses across Friesland, cut off from the rest of Equestria with the only port on the island locked down and dedicated wholly to supporting the city, were sending tradesponies in flocks to acquire goods they couldn’t make with undeveloped land dedicated to agriculture. At the same time, opportunistic foreign merchants who’d been waiting for this very moment were already flooding in to exploit the stressed economy before prices settled back to their norm. Every pier was taken, some with multiple ships, and crews were working overtime to get cargo unloaded and packed away on an ever-cycling sea of wagons. Dozens of ships loitered ahead like hungry vultures, blotting out the sun and coming dangerously close to colliding as they all raced to be chosen whenever one of the city’s little tug skiffs floated up to choose the next in line.

It was chaos, and if not for the sight of Whitehorn trotting gamely towards them with a thin-lipped smile, Rarity might’ve turned and given up right there.

“Countess. Pinkie, Pontius, Fluttershy. And Miss Pie?” Whitehorn dipped his head in greeting, speaking loudly to be heard over the commotion. “I’ve already secured us transportation to Harvest, though I’m afraid we’ll have to room in the cargo hold. Come now, quickly, before the dockmaster grows impatient and shoos our captain away without us.”

Traveling in single file and with no small amount of pushing, the party navigated the tumult of the crowd and finally arrived at their destination: a wide-bellied trade ship so thick it appeared almost spherical. Pontius let out a sigh of relief as he set Rarity’s luggage down onto the pier, and a team of airponies showed up in short order to take it all aboard.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now.” Rarity turned to Pontius and River Pie, Fluttershy and Pinkie at her sides. “Take care of yourselves, you two.”

Pontius lowered his head into a bow, but Rarity stepped forwards and pulled him into a quick hug. “Whatever you do, darling, remember the ponies at the bottom, and don’t let your father bully you around.”

He hesitated before returning the hug. “I will, my Lady. Yer trust in me will not go unfounded.”

Releasing him, Rarity turned to River while Pinkie and Fluttershy bid their farewells to Pontius. “And you remember what I asked of you, my sweet. He’s all yours.”

River blushed as she hugged Rarity tightly. “I’ll take care of ’im, Countess. Just make sure ye come take ’im back off my hooves before he gets too comfortable.” She laughed, looking away.

Once Pinkie and Fluttershy had finished with their goodbyes, all three mares turned and crossed the narrow walkway bridging the gap to the ship. The captain, a busy mare sporting a fluttering green shoulder cape, greeted them briefly before handing them off to an airpony who showed them to their rooms.

And by “rooms,” apparently, he meant little curtained off sections of the cargo bay, with stacked crates for walls and piled blankets for beds.

Rarity sighed as she settled down onto her makeshift bedroll, packed into a cramped space along with Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Brownie. They’d all had busy mornings making final preparations for the departure and seeing to the formal signing of the peace, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to rest her head without having to worry about if someone might die if she relaxed too much.

She was glad to put Friesland behind her. No doubt Whitehorn would accost her within a few hours to begin planning out their arrival on Harvest and the inner workings of the Equestrian Parliament, but for now, at least for this short time, she could close her eyes as a pony instead of a politician.

She settled in with a contented hum, letting the rhythmic lurching of the deck beneath rock her to sleep.





It was definitely an airship—and it wasn’t the only one.

Twilight and Midnight floated silently just under the surface as Scylla dozed on the bottom of their magic air bubble. The ice was thick, thicker than a pony was tall, but some carefully applied heat from their horn had thinned out a small circle for them to look through without drawing attention by breaking the surface. Twilight could sense curious seaponies—as well as other, more foreign creatures—swimming up to leer, but she paid them no mind; a single growl from Midnight was all it took to send them away.

Instead she focused completely on her little looking glass, the heat-smoothed ice catching the glow of her magic and painting everything beyond it with a shimmering lavender. The huge spire in the center of the mysterious crystal city, aided by the plateau the city was built on, was tall enough to breach the surface and then some. It was hard to gauge its height from her perspective near its base, but it had to rise at least several dozen meters over the ice, its translucent walls catching the sunlight and funneling it down into the sunken city below.

And there were ponies living on it.

The tower itself was smooth and sheer, but platforms were erected on every side. She couldn’t tell what they were made from—most likely more crystal, she assumed, although most of the platforms were covered by some kind of coarse fabric—or what might be waiting above them.

Really, she couldn’t see much at all from beneath. What she could see was the pair of airships tied off around the tower. They were small and sleek, with angular hulls made of crystal and envelopes supported by curving supports reminiscent of a giant ribcage.

A thousand questions raced through her mind, but the one that frustrated her most was the question of what to do next. She would have to talk to these ponies if she wanted to learn anything, but her memories of the mining colony were still fresh. How would they respond to a stranger appearing in the midst of their far-isolated village, bypassing horizons filled with ice and a sheer crystal cliff with no discernible means of climbing it? Twilight knew, both from her readings and her own corrupted senses, that the ice was a dangerous place infested with monsters. The ponies living here would either be hardened and wary or, worse still, monsters of their own breed.

We can handle monsters, Midnight growled. It’s ponies that give us trouble.

Maybe we should try being honest? Twilight suggested. The miners became a lot more amenable once we came clean.

True. If we strike fear into these ponies early, they’ll know better than to threaten us.

Wha—Twilight looked to Midnight pointedly—That’s not what I meant!

Isn’t it? Midnight cocked her head. The miners only cooperated out of fear.

And they only imprisoned us because we lied to them, Twilight countered. If we’d been open with Bag End from the start, then it might’ve gone differently!

Midnight’s frown slowly stretched into a victorious smirk. If you recall, little flower, I had wanted to approach him openly. It was you that insisted on hiding our true nature.

Twilight looked away with a frustrated huff. It doesn’t matter! We’ll talk to them openly, and just hope they aren’t hostile. Wait. Her eyes shot wide open, as she saw movement along the edge of her little looking glass. Is that…?

Ah, excellent. Midnight appeared on top of the ice, craning her neck up to watch the Argo as it came fully into view. Our underlings have arrived.

They’re my friends! Twilight corrected harshly. Not underlings.

Midnight glanced back, cocking her head with a mischievous smile. Surely they’re our friends, Twilight?

Twilight pursed her lips. That’s not up to me.

Helpful as always. Magic began to pool in Twilight’s horn, slithering into the familiar form of a teleportation spell. Shall we?

Twilight’s pulse quickened. What if her friends didn’t accept her how she was? What if she arrived on the Argo only to find that they’d been hurt or killed in their attempts to follow her here as she asked, or if they had a trap waiting and tried to capture her in some misguided attempt to cure her? Would she be able to stop Midnight from fighting back and hurting them again?

And if they had somehow found some cure, and she was able to control her dark passenger—would she let them use it?

Midnight—

Midnight grinned down at her as she cast the teleportation, cutting off Twilight’s last-moment attempt to stop her and put together some kind of plan first. Twilight’s heart dropped as the distant airship disappeared in a flash of lavender, and she suddenly found herself in the cargo bay, eyes wide, hooves shaking, and breath coming in quick gasps.

Midnight!

Yes? Midnight cast her eyes around the airship with a casual smirk. Hrm. It looked different in our memories.

Twilight turned a quick circle. Princess Luna’s cot was missing from its former place against the far wall, and Rainbow’s cloudroom near the ceiling had been expanded and reinforced with more rigid lines. The ticking and hissing of the hull was overwhelmingly loud compared to the quiet rumble of the ocean floor, and she pinned her ears back and reached out with a hoof, grabbing Scylla and holding her close as the crystal spider chittered curiously.

Really, you reach for it?

“Shut up!” Twilight snapped. Sweet Celestia, she could barely think over that incessant ticking and the rush of her blood in her ears! She rounded on Midnight and jabbed a hoof into her icy cold chest. “I wasn’t ready and you knew it!”

What did she do now? Had anyone heard them teleport in? Maybe she could hide somewhere, or teleport back out, anything to give her time to come up with a plan! This was too important for her to go in without thinking it through first! She needed to make notes, an outline, chart out conversation paths and—

“Twilight.” Midnight’s voice had an unusual softness to it, and Twilight blinked as she suddenly found her doppelganger’s hooves wrapping around her shoulders. Instead of the icy frost she’d been expecting, the contact filled her with an ethereal, pleasant chill, and she found herself leaning in without thinking. “Calm down. If I let you start trying to plan this, you would never stop. Focus. Look at me.” Twilight looked up, staring into the slitted, bloodshot lavender eyes of her own face. “We cannot be defeated as long as we are together, and no ill shall befall us as long as I’m still here. No matter what.”

“B-but my friends.” Twilight spoke in a strained whisper, almost a whine. “You might h-hurt them.”

“I hurt your friends once, little flower, and it was not my intent.” Midnight glanced away briefly, tightening her lips before meeting Twilight’s eyes once more. “They—I was distracted. We were scared and angry, and I acted without thought.”

Twilight blinked, processing the words. Had that been an actual admission of guilt? She’d never heard Midnight speak like this before. It was always the world, or Twilight, or a thousand other things that had done wrong.

“No matter how meddling or soft, I would never intentionally hurt our friends,” Midnight said. And Twilight believed her.

Midnight had made a mistake back on Altalusia, when both of them had been stressed and caught up in fear for the lives of Twilight’s friends. And hadn’t it ultimately been that very fear, that urge to protect them, that had always spurred Midnight on? When she’d taken over on Gava’s ship, or when she’d assumed control during the fight with Philomena, it had always been with the lives of Twilight’s friends at stake. Any malice or hatred or bloodthirst had always been directed at the ones who had endangered them.

Was it right for her to continue holding Midnight accountable for a single rash mistake, even as terrible as it had been?

Didn’t everyone deserve a chance to redeem themselves?

“O-okay.” Twilight jerked her head in a hurried nod. “We can do this. I—” she gulped “—I’ll trust  you.”

Midnight smiled, revealing a mouth lined with sharp fangs. Somehow, Twilight found herself tentatively smiling back. “That’s all I ask, Twilight.”

“T-Twilight?”

Twilight stiffened. Her blood ran cold. Slowly, she turned around.





Standing in the door to Applejack’s room, Rainbow watched with bated breath as her best friend slowly turned to face her.

Twilight looked as if she’d just spend a month trekking through the Everfree. Her coat was matted and stained with dark colors that Rainbow didn’t want to think about, and her cheeks were outlined in faded red trails. The tinny smell of dried blood was palpable even from across the cargo hold, triggering a flighty prey response that made Rainbow’s wings twitch. And her eyes. The strange slitted pupils had haunted Rainbow’s memories ever since Canterlot, but that didn’t stop them from holding her frozen in their reptilian gaze.

Movement caught Rainbow’s attention, and she glanced down to see the pony-sized spider cradled between Twilight’s hooves, its blue crystal body tarnished by swirling streaks of purple and red. It clicked its jaw at her in greeting.

And there was Twilight, gaping back at her with her fangs on full display.

Rainbow gulped. Slowly she forced her wings back against her sides and took a step forward. “Twilight? Are… you okay?”

Twilight let out a choked laugh. Her lips drew back into a nervous smile as she absently pet the crystal spider with a hoof. “Y-you have no idea how n-nice it is to hear your voice, Rainbow.”

Rainbow grinned. The sound of the unicorn’s relieved voice washed over her like magic, dispelling all her reservations. She rushed forwards, hooves outstretched, and tackled Twilight to the ground in a full-bodied hug. “Twilight!”

Twilight laughed again, harder this time, and returned the hug. “Rainbow!”

Her hooves were strangely cold against Rainbow’s back, but the odd observation was the last thing on her mind as she raised her voice in an excited shout. “Applejack, c’mon! Twi’s back!”

There was a dull thud from Applejack’s room, and scantly a second later the cowpony came stumbling out past the curtain, one hoof adjusting her hat on her head. “W-huh? Twilight?” She blinked, groggy green eyes suddenly brightening. “Twilight!”

Soon all three mares were wrapped in each other’s hooves, giggling and crying and mumbling each other’s names while the discarded crystal spider paced around the periphery chittering in excitement.

Even if she smelled like blood and her fur was coarse against Rainbow’s belly, Twilight was finally back in her life. In that moment, all the waiting and anxiety was forgotten, driven out by an overwhelming wave of relief.
> XXIII: Of Welcomes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight didn’t know how long she lay there, bathing in the love and heat of her friends.

She’d grown familiar with timelessness during her solitary journey. There was no sun or moon, no dawn or dusk on the ocean floor. No chirping birds to herald the day or clicking insects to nurture the night. With only the quiet rumble of the ocean, the light of her horn, and the washed-out, colorless ruins of drowned Equestria slowly shifting around her, time had lost meaning to her. Where once she needed every month meticulously plotted on a schedule before she could face it, now the concept of tomorrow felt foreign to her. There was only the next meal, or the next sleep, or the next teleportation. Even now, she could only guess at how long had passed since Altalusia. It felt like another life.

Now, with her friends braced tight to either side and her cheeks sore from smiling, she fell back into a different timelessness. At that moment she would be content to spend eternity wrapped in the hooves of her friends, and maybe she did. Or maybe it was only a few minutes. The effect was the same either way. Even just a single second was enough to set her mind at ease, and yet every second was something precious to be hoarded.

But time didn’t stop just because she couldn’t feel it passing. When the door clunked open with a hiss of steam and Sea Sabre stepped into the cargo hold, Twilight returned to reality with a distant, sad acceptance.

The time for friendship would come later, Sabre’s expression said. The world wasn’t waiting.

“Sabre!” Rainbow laughed as she extricated herself from the bundle of hooves on the floor. “Twilight’s back! And she’s okay!”

Sea Sabre didn’t acknowledge the announcement. She kept her eyes on Twilight, boring into her soul, wings hovering unwavering an inch off her sides. Twilight held the gaze, her smile fading.

Finally, Sabre nodded. She shuffled her wings and folded them fully. “Is this where we need to be?”

Twilight blinked, startled by the straightforwardness of the question. Sabre had always been terse, but this was different. Something had happened in her absence. “I believe so.” With a reluctant glance to Applejack, she climbed back to her hooves. “It’s the only lead I have left. Princess Cadance must have come here before the floods.”

“Good.” A couple seconds passed in silence as Sabre looked to where Scylla waited patiently to the side. “What’s this?”

“Oh, this is Scylla,” Twilight answered with an awkward smile. “She’s my, uh… a test subject.”

Sabre pursed her lips. “Is it dangerous?”

Twilight shook her head assuringly. “No, not at all! She’s under my complete control, actually. Here, watch.” She looked to Scylla, speaking both in her mind and with her voice. “Scylla, roll over!”

The spider chittered. It crouched down before pushing off with half of its legs, teetered precariously sideways for a moment, and then fell onto its back with a quiet clank.

Twilight smiled, looking to each of her friends and then to Sabre. “See? No danger!”

“Twi,” Applejack asked slowly. “Did y’all get a pet spider monster?”

“She’s not a monster!” Twilight insisted, petting Scylla’s abdomen with a hoof. “And she’s not my pet, either. She’s a test subject.”

Rainbow snickered. “Twi, you’re giving it a belly rub.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sabre said, cutting off Twilight’s response. “We’re landing on that tower in ten. Be ready.” She turned on the spot, letting the door hiss shut behind her.

Twilight grimaced, looking to her friends. “I’d been hoping to have some time to catch up first.”

“Shoot, I think all of us’d like that.” Applejack let out a weary chuckle. “A lot’s happened since we parted ways, Twi. I reckon it’d be better if we maybe waited ’til we sort this tower thing out first, though.” She offered a hopeful smile. “We’ll talk after, all right?”

Twilight pursed her lips, glancing towards Rainbow Dash. The pegasus was looking away, ears drooping. Not only had something happened, but it was something bad, bad enough that they didn’t want to tell her until the conversation could be had away from any potential, unexpected stress.

She nodded, noting the way Applejack relaxed. “Right. Let’s focus on the present.”

The big room settled into an awkward silence as they listened to the sound of the Argo’s engines steadily spinning down. Rainbow turned for the door, and Twilight cocked her head as she noticed the absence of most of the pegasus’s long rainbow tail. Where once it would bob just a small distance off the floor, now it had been cut short, fanning out wildly above her dock. Was she trying to imitate Sea Sabre’s style?

Twilight shook her head as Rainbow disappeared deeper into the ship. A couple seconds later, with a small, reassuring smile, Applejack followed.

They don’t trust us. Midnight’s weight suddenly appeared on Twilight’s back, her cold breath tingling into her ear. They’ve gone to whisper behind our back.

They don’t trust you, Twilight corrected. And we can’t blame them. All they’ve ever seen of you is hurting their friends.

How convenient that they forgot all the times we saved them, together. Midnight’s spiteful expression hovered around the corners of Twilight’s vision. You trust me, don’t you, Twilight?

I trust you to do what you think is best for me. What I doubt is your judgment.

Mmm. The feeling is mutual, little flower.

Twilight sighed. The blissful peace of the reunion was already fading, giving way to fresh concerns. Her friends felt the same way about her right now that she did about Midnight: trusting of intent, but cautious of action. Could she blame them? In a way, even she didn’t trust herself to take the right actions anymore.

It was draining, and she didn’t want to think about it. Instead she turned her attention to her old room, a simple section of the hold that had been cordoned off with thin metal. It had been weeks since she’d slept in a bed, or even on a bedroll, and the idea of having a proper pillow to rest her head on was far more encouraging than contemplating the trust of her friends. She nosed through the curtain that served as a door, curious to see if any changes had been made in her absence.

Princess Luna was in her bed.

Twilight paused, watching the steady rise and fall of Luna’s chest. In retrospect, it made sense that they’d put her here; it wasn’t like anyone had been using the room. Midnight stood by the head of the bed, looking down on the princess with brow furrowed.

Her darkness is powerful, she said. But trapped.

Twilight watched her curiously. Do you remember our time in her dream?

I have wispy moments. I recall fighting a monster, and… being angry. Midnight frowned. You would not accept my help. You fought me as much as you fought it.

I was afraid. Twilight’s tongue flicked over the sharp points of her fangs, tasting dried blood. I thought I might become a monster myself.

Midnight’s lip curled back into a snarl. I would rather die.

Twilight blinked. She herself had said those very words, in almost the exact same tone, to Midnight—several times, even. Weeks ago, lacking the experiences she’d had since becoming a victim of the strange corruption, she might have mistaken the thought for one of her own.

Maybe it was one of her own?

She turned to her desk, her lips curling up into a little smile as she saw that her notes were all just as she’d left them. Textbooks theorizing on the origins of the floods and covering the early history of the reborn Equestria were stacked haphazardly towards one edge, and her own notes on the rudimentary mental experiments she’d performed on herself were tucked away near the back. The center of the desk was occupied by works on anatomy, natural magic, and fundamental spellcraft—her attempts at divining a way to repair Rainbow’s vision.

A familiar pang of guilt struck her as she thought of her friend’s wound. She’d lapsed gravely in her research towards that problem while exploring the terrifying ruins of Canterlot, and had never quite refocused on it since. Rainbow seemed like she was adjusting well to the loss, but that didn’t keep Twilight from feeling obligated to offer some kind of solution.

But what could she do? She didn’t know anything about healing magic; she didn’t know if she could even cast a spell to stop bleeding. If she could just find the right books then she was certain she’d be able to form a proper spell, but arcane tradition had all but died along with Old Equestria.

She bit her lip, thinking back to Rainbow’s descriptions of living blinded in one eye. It reminded her of her first days in Canterlot, crawling through rubble in pitch darkness, incapable of seeing even out to the length of her leg while changelings chittered and screeched all around her, forced to stop every few steps to cast her ping spell and hope that nothing saw the lavender glow of her magic. She didn’t know if she could’ve survived without that spell to guide her through the city.

She gasped.

Twilight’s rear plopped down to the floor, and her horn twinkled to life as she reached for one of the magic texts she’d borrowed from Heighton’s library—probably far overdue by now, but the chiding librarian in her was silenced quickly by the magic student on the cusp of breakthrough. She was thinking about it all wrong! She didn’t need to replace Rainbow’s eye. She merely needed to replace its function.

She held the relevant page open with a hoof, eyes darting across the words. Enchantment! She already had a means of seeing in the dark using her ping spell, and in some ways it was even better than regular sight. Rainbow would be able to perfectly gauge distance, determine material, even sense threats through obstacles! All Twilight had to do was find a way to connect the spell to Rainbow’s natural magic so her mind could process it quickly and intuitively.

She flipped to another chapter, one describing the natural magic systems that allowed ponies to gather raw magic from the environment and channel it for their own use. The question was what material to use for the connection? She could enchant anything with a spell, but getting the magic to flow into a pony from an inanimate object would require some kind of conductor. And the only known magic conductors were moondust, dragonbone, and…

Hornbane.

Twilight looked up, meeting Midnight’s knowing gaze. There might be a reserve of moondust left in Canterlot, but she’d just gone through so much traveling here from Canterlot, and making more was impossible without the help of Princess Luna. Likewise with dragonbone, the destroyed capital city was the only source she knew of, and also attached to someone she could never imagine hurting even in the most dire circumstance.

It’s the only choice, little flower, Midnight said. And not a difficult one to make, at that. We saw many unused horns preserved in crystal beneath the ice. We cannot leave our friend impotent out of fear of offending a lifeless corpse.

It’s not—Twilight sighed, shaking her head. I know! I know I should do it. It just… scares me that I’m so willing. I used to get nauseous just thinking about it, and sometimes I still have nightmares about it, and now here I am planning on diving down to steal some horns for my own gain. She grimaced. I’m just like Flint.

Flintlock is strong. He would serve as a competent tool.

Twilight groaned, hanging her head. Of course you’d like him.

Further, we’re not contemplating this for our own gain. Midnight’s chill hoof slid under Twilight’s chin, pulling her gaze gently back up. This is for our friend. No barrier should stop us. Not even our own.

Twilight snorted. Implied or not, it was clear exactly what barriers Midnight was talking about: the sanctity of life and its trappings seemed like a concept completely foreign to her no matter how many times Twilight tried to teach it. She also noted that Midnight had included herself in the question of barriers; did that mean that she, too, had limits she didn’t like to cross? Maybe she’d even already crossed them, barreling over her own morals as a mere matter of course out of her acute protective drive. It was an interesting thought, though Twilight knew Midnight would never admit to it.

Sweet Celestia, that willingness to break any limit, to sacrifice even the things held most sacred, all to protect those she saw as friends—Twilight knew she should be terrified of such conviction. And yet she couldn’t help but find it almost endearing.

No, we shouldn’t. But disturbing a few ancient bodies isn’t so bad. She tried to force a tentative smile. It’s like archaeology! I’ve done archaeology before.

The sound of hissing steam drew her attention, followed quickly by several sets of hooves and quiet chatter. Marking her place and closing her book, Twilight stood and stepped back into the wider cargo hold.

The entire crew was assembled—minus Sunfeather—with most equipped as if for a dive. Sea Sabre and Star Trails had adorned their armored dive suits, helmets held under-wing and aloft in magic. Twilight’s eyes lingered on Applejack and Rainbow, wearing the same custom suits she’d seen them in when they came for her in Canterlot. Flintlock walked at the back of the group, unarmored.

Twilight felt like an animal in a zoo. Rainbow and Applejack offered small smiles before walking past, continuing their conversation in a hushed tone. Star Trails eyed her with a curious, wary interest, looking away awkwardly when she realized she’d been caught staring, while Flintlock looked her over with the same casual disinterest he normally affected, meeting her gaze with a quiet suspicion.

Sea Sabre beckoned to Twilight. “Let’s go. I want you in the front with your friends.”

“So you’ll be between my crew and the danger,” Twilight imagined her adding, but she nodded and complied nonetheless.

The ship lurched to a stop, sending all six ponies rocking slightly forwards with its inertia. The big propeller normally audible above the hold fell silent as the ticking of the hull quieted, and Twilight looked up at the impassive steel facade of the cargo door.

Sabre’s hooves clanked against the floor as she walked up to the door’s control panel. “Remember,” she said, “our goal here is to assess the site for potential threats, and nothing else. Do not break away from the group, and do not cease security until the Argo’s cleared off. Got it?”

Nods and murmurs of assent passed around the room. Sabre looked to Twilight. “And stow that spider.”

Twilight nodded. Scylla, sleep in my room. She didn’t look back to watch, but she could sense the spider click her acknowledgment before scuttling away.

With a quiet grunt and a loud click, Sabre threw the switch.

The large gears built into the cargo door groaned as they stumbled to life, and puffs of steam burst from the pipes set into the wall around it. It ratcheted out and down slowly, beginning to unfold like a heavy metal drawbridge.

Twilight’s breath caught as the first drifts of snow swirled into the cargo hold and fell against her coat. She’d expected it to be colder, but all she felt was a distant sense of numbness. All around her, the other ponies donned their helmets with quiet hisses of steam, the powerful lamps built into their suits throwing long lances of light into the flurry. She felt naked next to them, and for a moment contemplated running back to acquire her own suit, or perhaps just casting a quick spell to hide her true nature, but she dismissed the thoughts.

Twilight.

Twilight blinked as Midnight appeared at her side, horn glowing. There was an edge to her voice that made the hairs on Twilight’s back stiffen. What’s wrong?

This place is dark, she said, narrowing her eyes and staring through the still-unfolding door. Dark like us. Do you feel it?

Twilight shook her head. Is it dangerous? She glanced towards Sabre, who was focused resolutely forward. Should we stop them?

Stop them? Midnight scoffed. With us here, they will be safe. But they must be made wary.

Twilight nodded. The clicking of the chains unspooling echoed over the room as she cleared her throat and raised her voice. “I’m sensing some corruption around the spire. We should be careful.”

Sabre glanced back, her voice filtered through the tinny speakers of her helmet. “Noted.” The ramp settled into place with a deep thud that vibrated through the floor, and she gestured sharply with a wing. “All right, out, out, quick! Security!”

Rainbow, Applejack, and Trails all rushed out in quick succession, leaving Twilight blinking in surprise. When did they get so coordinated? Their armored hooves cracked against the crystal as they fanned out, each watching a different angle with low stances. Sabre took a position in the center of the trio, and Twilight followed at an awkward trot, suddenly feeling very out of place.

The instant Twilight stepped off the ramp, Sabre shouted back to Flint, who was waiting inside. “All out!”

“Aye, boss!” More steam hissed behind them as the ramp began to reel back against the ship, and the propeller above it stirred into a lazy spin. Twilight’s mane and tail danced with the drifting snow as the ship lumbered away.

“Trails, scan.”

“Yep.”

Trails’s horn sparked to life, but Twilight was already taking in their landing zone with wide eyes. It was difficult to see far past the thick curtain of swirling frost, but during brief lulls in the wind she caught glimpses of the silhouette of a tower before them, glowing with flickering orange light. The blue crystal underhoof was hard, but oddly warm, tapering to a rounded edge behind her.

Twilight lit her horn and sent out a ping.

The first thing she noticed was that they weren’t alone. Far from it, there were dozens of ponies in front of her, totally still. Watching them.

Her pulse quickened as she picked them out one-by-one, each watching from high perches all around the tower, invisible behind the swirling snow. Midnight stood at her side with lips curled back to reveal her fangs, tail lashing and legs spread.

They all have it, she growled. Every one of them is touched.

Twilight’s ears flattened back against her head. The ping just kept telling her more; she detected hunks of meat and bones and hide spread all throughout the tower. These ponies didn’t merely kill. They were practically bathing in corpses, a society built on the exploitation of the dead.

“Sabre!” Twilight hissed. “We’re being watched!”

Sabre looked back sharply. “Where?”

“Everywhere!”

Rainbow’s ears perked up. “Up front!”

A single pony stepped out of the snow, his body silhouetted by the glow behind him. He was wearing a coat of thick, coarse fur to fend off the cold, his limbs decorated with dangling jewelry cut from bone and crystal. His icy blue fur had a strange, translucent quality to it, and as he came closer he smiled, revealing teeth filed down into sharp points.

Sabre took a step forward, projecting her voice through her helmet. “That’s far enough! Keep your distance!”

The stallion stopped, eyeing them each in turn. “Welcome to our village.” His gaze lingered an extra second on Twilight before settling on Sabre. “Please, come eat. It has been a long time since Equestrians visited.”

With another smile and a deep bow, the old stallion turned and walked away, leaving only more questions in his wake.





Rarity had almost forgotten what it meant to relax.

She’d only been in Friesland for around a week, but every day in that week had been hectic, filled with meetings and conversations all burdened by the weight of passing lives. Every hour not spent acting was interspersed with constant, thundering reminders of the cost of inaction, and at times she had driven herself beyond exhaustion. She did it all without hesitation, for that was the least she could do.

And now there was none of that. She was lying on a cot with a small notebook open between her forelegs, staring blankly down at a matching page. A pen hovered in her magic, as still as her mind, softening the shadows of the curtained space between cargo crates that served as a room.

When Pontius had approached her asking for advice on how to appear more familiar to the Frieslanders, she’d been able to compose and construct a wardrobe for him within the day. It had been so long since she’d practiced her craft, she’d been full of ideas. The creativity had sprayed out of her like dye thrown against the wall, and she’d struggled to keep it focused on the one solution she’d eventually chosen to implement. It had been fun to create again, but once the job was done there were more important, more pressing tasks clamoring for her attention once more.

Now she had nothing but time, and that energy refused to flow. She flipped back through her journal with a pensive frown, looking at the half-sketched designs abandoned on that day, and couldn’t picture their finished forms. What was wrong with her? She wanted to create. Lying down to doodle new ideas during a quiet moment had always been a relief for her during hectic days at her boutique, but after an hour of trying all she had was a blank page.

Her ears twitched at the sound of clattering wheels and cheery humming, and she looked up to see Pinkie nose her way through the curtain separating her from the rest of the ship. A tray of bread, smelling of cinnamon, was balanced on her back.

“Hi, Rarity!” Pinkie smiled and flapped a hoof in an exaggerated wave. “Want some zucchini bread?”

Rarity cocked her head. “There’s an oven on this ship?”

Pinkie’s eyes widened, and she leaned back, making a show of checking around in both directions before pulling the curtain closed behind her and rolling closer. She leaned down low, beckoning Rarity in with a hoof, and Rarity obligingly offered up her ear.

“Don’t tell the captain,” she whispered, “but I built a campfire in the balloon.”

Rarity frowned. “What?”

“Y’know, like an oven, but on a campfire!” Pinkie grinned, bobbing her head side to side. “So you want some or not?”

“Well, it does smell just divine, but surely some of the crew would ask questions?” Rarity pouted, looking up and adding quietly, “Is that even safe?”

“Oh, pshaw!” Pinkie waved the thought away with a hoof as she grabbed a plate off her tray, dropped it on Rarity’s notebook, and followed it up with a thick slice of toasty bread a half second later. “Not if they want more baked goods!”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right.” Rarity shrugged, breaking a small piece of the bread off and popping it into her mouth. Zucchini, cinnamon, walnut, and love. The corner of her lip curled up into a small smile. “This is very good, darling.”

“Very good? That’s it?!” Pinkie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Her hoof flashed out, resting against Rarity’s forehead, and she let loose with a horrified gasp. “Oh, no, Rarity! Something’s happened to your inspiration!”

“Only a temporary draught, I’m sure.” Rarity plucked another piece off the plate, munching on it with a wistful hum. “Where did you even find zucchini?”

“Rarity, this is important! You are an arteeste, and I know something’s bothering you!” With a small grunt and an impressive display of dexterity for a pony capable of using only half her limbs, Pinkie shifted her weight and rolled onto her back, the bread tray bouncing once before settling onto her belly. She peered up at Rarity with narrowed eyes, her voice losing some of its playfulness. “Is it because of Pontius?”

Rarity’s eyes bulged as her attempt to swallow her mouthful turned into a gasp, followed by a choke as the bread lodged in her throat. A pink hoof jutted out and smacked her solidly in the chest, forcing the wad of half-chewed zucchini bread out of her muzzle and soaring through the air.

Pinkie’s head darted out like a viper’s, catching the flying morsel with a snap of her teeth. She licked her lips as she looked up at Rarity patiently.

It happened so fast that it took Rarity a few seconds of stillness to catch her breath and comprehend it all.

Finally she gathered her thoughts. She cleared her throat with a dainty cough. “Pontius?”

Pinkie nodded, bumping the top of her head against the ground. “Mhm! Are you feeling bad about setting him up with River Pie?”

Rarity blinked. She stalled for time with a flat laugh while Pinkie looked up at her with that same expectant stare. “You’re straightforward as always, darling.” And perceptive. But then Pinkie was always startlingly observant. As silly as she might act in the midst of one of her parties, the mare was a ceaseless collector of information, processing every detail with frightening intuition. Of course she’d noticed what Rarity did. And of course, Rarity decided with a sigh, there was no point in trying to hide it.

And maybe talking things through with a friend was what she needed anyways.

“I don’t know if I’d say I feel bad about it, exactly,” she began. “He’s an upstanding young stallion, and really he only wants to do right by his father and his ponies—and me, I suppose.” She looked away, biting her lip. “Well, maybe I am feeling some small amount of remorse regarding the issue.”

Pinkie didn’t say anything, just listening with wide, attentive eyes. She glanced towards Rarity’s abandoned bread, and the unicorn broke another piece off to chew on for a moment.

“He deserves better, you know? He deserves a real relationship, with a pony who loves him for who he is and not just some mare his father forced into his bedroom. A mare who might be a little bitter about the whole situation, and maybe doesn’t treat him fairly considering how uninvolved he was in it all, and isn’t even from his world, really. He should have someone his age. I mean, I’m certainly no crone—” she paused to cringe at the thought “—but goodness, I feel more like his mother than anything else. And that’s not really appropriate, is it? Am I boring you at all?”

“Nope!”

“Oh, that’s good. And he’ll be happier this way, I think. A mare from his culture, who admires him for what he is.” Rarity nodded, reassuring herself of the decision. “Everypony wins.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure he’d like it,” Pinkie said. She tilted her head and nibbled at the corner of Rarity’s plate.

Rarity’s brow furrowed as she met her friend’s eyes. “Of course he would, dear. Why wouldn’t he? She’s young, attractive, motivated. And far more interested than I’ll ever be.”

“But she’s not you.”

“Wh—” Rarity pursed her lips as she struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I didn’t ask for him to fawn after me like some crushing schoolcolt! If it were up to me I’d ask Twilight to cast a spell and let the whole thing go to ashes, and I’d never talk to him or his wretched father again!” She knew she’d failed to keep her poise, but it felt so good to let loose, so why stop now? She deserved it. “And what do I care what he thinks of it? I’d rather he be smitten with her and find his own way out of my life, but so what if he’s not? So what if he finds out what I told her? Let him get angry! Maybe then he’ll finally run to his father and end this dumb charade!”

She was breathing hard, she realized, her lips curled back into a spiteful snarl. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, adjusting her mane with a hoof as she added in a more reserved voice, “Apologies, darling. That wasn’t behavior appropriate for a lady.”

Pinkie giggled. “That’s okay, Rarity. I understand.” She let out a little grunt, and there was a clatter of wheels, and when Rarity opened her eyes Pinkie was standing upright once more with the bread tray balanced on her back. The other mare gave her a bright smile. “I’m sure Pontius would understand, too. He’s a good pony. Do you want another slice?”

Rarity looked down to her plate, now all but empty. “I suppose… one more couldn’t hurt.”

“Okey dokey lokey!” A fresh slice of zucchini bread plopped down onto the plate. “It’s sweet of you to be concerned about him, you know. That’s how I know your heart’s in the right place. Boop!” Pinkie’s hoof flashed out, bumping softly against Rarity’s nose. “See ya around, Rare-bear!”

With one last laugh and a squeal of her wheels, Pinkie skidded out through the curtain. The sound of her humming faded away, melting into the creaking of the ship and the buzz of the engine.

Rarity spent several seconds looking after her, going over the conversation in her head. Was it concern for Pontius that had been haunting her after all? Friesland had been a powerful distraction to keep her mind off the predicament of her marriage, even with his attempts to follow after her everywhere she went. With the city behind her, her mind was left to wander.

And somehow the thing that was bothering her most, more than the idea of a life wasted away in an empty marriage, was the thought that her actions might break the young stallion’s heart.

She sighed, looking back down at the blank page of her journal. She picked up her pen in her magic and chewed absently on the tip. It’s better for him in the long run.

Finally a wisp of inspiration graced her. Perhaps some kind of skirt for Pinkie to wear, something to turn her practically-designed wheels into an expressive fashion statement.

Hmm, yes. A small smile came over her as she pictured it in her head. That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?

She set her pen against the paper and began to draw.





Rainbow had been ready for anything when she stepped off the ship.

She’d faced monsters before, even some that didn’t introduce themselves with a smile. She’d experienced the agonizing helplessness of being trapped in a little submarine while other ponies fought for her life, she’d witnessed the sunken gravestone of everything she ever held dear, and she’d struggled with the very real potential that she may have to take out one of her closest friends as a merciful necessity. She’d been naive and foolish when she first woke up in the future, and now she was beginning to feel like she understood how the new world worked.

The new world respected strength. It rewarded conviction, and punished weakness.

When she heard the Argo pulling away, leaving her and her companions to fend for themselves atop a mysterious construct that had no reason to exist, she’d expected monsters. She’d been prepared to put her training to use to defend her friends from mutated beasts and help Twilight uncover the mystery of what had happened to her world.

But the only thing that stepped out of the tower had done it with a smile—lined with teeth that ended in fine points—and invited them in for dinner.

The radio popped in Rainbow’s ear, carrying Trails’ voice. “I’ve been to a lot of weird places since signing up with you, Sabre, but this one might just be the weirdest.” She heard it twice—once over the radio, and a second time, muffled by her armor, from Trails’ speakers, projected for Twilight to hear.

“Did they just invite us to supper?” Applejack asked. “That’s, uh, mighty hospitable of ‘em.”

“We’re not moving till that scan is complete,” Sabre said. “Do you know anything about this, Twilight?”

“I’m as lost as you are.” Twilight’s voice was difficult to hear past the wind and the bulk of Rainbow’s armor. “But there’s a large amount of meat and… other spoils. Which combined with the sharp teeth—”

“Cannibals!” Trails blurted. “I’ve read about this kinda stuff! They live out in abandoned corners of the world and lure in unsuspecting ponies by inviting them to dinner, then serving them the corpses of past victims!”

Rainbow blinked. All eyes turned to Trails, who returned the looks innocently.

“What? You heard it, too!”

“Nothing can grow out here in this cold,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “These ponies seem to have been living alone here for a long time, and they might have no choice but to hunt for survival. That doesn’t make them monsters.”

“Twilight, they’re predators,” Trails insisted.

“I’m a predator.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Twilight’s rebuttal had come out in low growl that made the hairs on Rainbow’s back stiffen, a far cry from the hesitant, ashamed way that she’d spoken about her turn to carnivorism back in Canterlot. Now it almost sounded like she was offended at the implications of what Trails had said. Perhaps even like she was proud of what she was.

“We’ll go in,” Sabre said firmly. “Keep a tight formation.”

She led the way, and Rainbow fell in on her right, forming a circle with the rest of the group. Her every sense was on high alert as they crossed the crystal walkway, approaching the looming maw of the great arched doors set into the wall. They, too, were made of crystal, and had been left slightly ajar, leaking a warm orange glow.

Sabre pushed the door open wider, glanced back to beckon at her team, and stepped inside.

Rainbow was quick after her, rushing to brandish her wingblades in case of ambush, only to stumble in awe as she crossed the threshold.

It felt like stepping into another world. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a thick column of complicated crystal piping in the center of the cavernous circular room, radiating twinkling rays of light that reflected off the walls, bounced up into the vaulted ceiling, and scattered, giving the illusion of a shimmering rainbow sky. Small huts were erected all around the edges of the chamber, made from thick-haired hide draped over supports of banded bone, each one with its own crackling brazier to outline the silhouettes of curious ponies watching from within, and many more were built into the wall high off the floor, accessible only by ladder or rope or narrow walkway.

And it was warm. Rainbow thought back to the searing cold that had gripped her when she plunged under the ice, to the frigid wind that lingered inside the Argo even with every hatch sealed. That chill had no place here. Here the air was warm, heated by fire, glowing crystal, and the bodies of uncounted ponies.

Most of those ponies watched from within their tents. Rainbow saw old mares watching crystal pots, young stallions looking up from racks of stretched hide, and the wide eyes of foals looking over upturned skulls filled with soup. Some were seated around a low table that circled the center of the room, almost hugging the glowing crystal centerpiece. They all turned curiously, their conversations quieting.

And with a start, Rainbow realized—every one of them was looking at Twilight.

“I don’t like this.” Sea Sabre’s voice was quiet in Rainbow’s ear; she was speaking softly, ensuring she’d be heard only over the radio. “Too many unknowns.”

“I’m telling you, Sabre, these ponies are gonna eat us!” Trails hissed.

“Y’all’re jumpin’ to conclusions faster than Rainbow in cider season,” Applejack said. “These ponies ain’t done nothin’.”

“Is there a problem?” The elderly stallion that had invited them inside offered a reassuring smile. “If you have any questions—”

“What is this place?” Sabre asked.

He blinked. A second passed, and his brow furrowed with confusion. “You do not know us?”

Sabre stomped a hoof. “Answer the question!”

“I’m sorry. It was rude of me to answer a question with a question.” The stallion shook his head slowly. “My name is Serene Agate, and you stand in the warmhall of the South Face.”

“And where are you taking us?”

Serene’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “To the Spire, to be welcomed by our regents. I’m sure they’ll be eager to discuss your gifts, or arrange warm beds if you’re tired.”

“No.” Sabre stepped back, shaking her head. “We’re not following you anywhere. If you have leaders that need to speak to us, then they can speak to us here.”

Serene grimaced. The strange ponies watching from around the room whispered among themselves. After several long seconds, he tried again. “I feel there’s some misunderstanding. May I have your name?”

“I’ve said all I need to,” Sabre said. “Your leaders can speak to me here, or we won’t speak at all.”

“Sabre, c’mon,” Applejack said. “He’s bein’ mighty polite.”

“I’ve seen polite ponies kill before,” Sabre shot back. “It’ll take more than a smile to gain my trust.”

Rainbow nodded, but didn’t say anything. A part of her felt bad for the old stallion, but she trusted Sabre’s judgment. As warm and comforting as she found the gentle heat and the shimmering colors, the excess of sharpened teeth, bone, and hide only filled her with unease. There was no telling how many ponies might be living in this mysterious construct, or what they might do once they felt they had the advantage.

Twilight cleared her throat. “I’ll go.”

Serene’s relief was obvious. He took a tentative step towards her, and she smiled, revealing her fangs as she extended a hoof to shake. “My name’s Twilight Sparkle. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Welcome, Twilight Sparkle. It’s an honor to have one of The Shaper’s chosen among us.” Serene bowed, kissing her hoof, seemingly oblivious to the small “eep!” of surprise that escaped her. “Please, come with me. Unless your companions protest?”

“I’ll go too.” Rainbow trotted up to Twilight’s side without hesitation. Letting Twilight follow this pony alone, splitting ways so soon after being reunited, was enough to make her stomach churn.

“I appreciate it, Rainbow, but you should stay here with the others.” Twilight turned to face Rainbow fully, a sincere smile on her lips, and leaned in to whisper, “Sabre’s right. These ponies could be dangerous, but I feel like this is where I need to be. Try not to worry, okay?” Her smile grew wider as she glanced to the side, to something Rainbow couldn’t see. “We can take care of ourselves.”

Rainbow blinked, taken aback by the strange choice of pronoun. Was Twilight talking about the dark magic that’d been possessing her? She wanted to say something, but Twilight was already following Serene across the room, ignoring the many eyes that followed her.

Rainbow was just about to run after her when an armored hoof wrapped around her shoulder. “Leave her be, RD,” Applejack said.

Rainbow stiffened. “We just got her back, AJ.”

“And I reckon we’ll get her back again. She’ll be fine.”

Rainbow sighed. “You’re right.” She shook her head, allowing herself to be guided back to the rest of the team.

She’d worked so hard to be strong enough to protect her friends, and now that she was ready, it seemed like they didn’t even need her.





All these ponies. Twilight’s mind raced as she followed Serene Agate across the room, skin crawling at the sensation of dozens of eyes following her. You said they’re all like us?

Not completely. Midnight walked beside her, frowning down at the watchers. They are lesser. They sharpen their teeth in imitation of what they cannot achieve.

Serene called me a chosen of The Shaper. Twilight watched the old stallion attentively as he led her up a smooth ramp that curved up the far side of the room. She looked back, looking over the room from on high and marveling at the way that the ponies themselves seemed to sparkle with light. What do you think that means?

“You.” Midnight’s voice was stern and demanding, and Serene’s ears twitched in response. “Who is The Shaper?”

Midnight!

What? If you truly cared, you could’ve stopped me.

“The Savior.” Serene paused at the top of the ramp, turning to an arched double door engraved with an image of a pony looking up at a hard-edged heart. “The master of crystal, who raised us from The Dark and protects us from its advance.” He glanced back at her as he pulled his coat tighter. “You’re blessed by The Savior’s magic. I did not know it was possible for an Equestrian to know that touch.”

Snow drifted inside as he opened the door, and Twilight followed him out onto a wide balcony. It was impossible to see far past the thick flurry, but she could see a path outlined before them with glowing crystal, extending out past the balcony like a bridge and swaying side-to-side in the wind. Serene walked with confidence, and Twilight followed, eyes widening as she realized the bridge was little more than bone lashed together with sinew and hide.

She shook her head, focusing on her guide. “Where is The Shaper now?”

“Deep in the Spire, holding back The Dark.” He had to shout to be heard over the wind.  “Perhaps you’ll descend as well, and join The Savior in battle?”

Twilight hesitated, but Midnight didn’t. “Perhaps.”

What are you doing? Twilight shot her a sideways glare. We shouldn’t be making any promises until we know what he’s talking about!

Midnight scoffed, reclining in the open air next to the bridge as if on an invisible cushion. We shouldn’t give a solid answer of any persuasion until we understand the question.

Twilight’s tail flicked behind her, but she couldn’t argue with the logic. For all they knew, saying no could provoke violence. For now, they would play it safe.

The bridge led to another tower, but instead of ending at a door, it curved up and around, tracing the outer wall. It was sturdier here, anchored firmly to the crystal, and they passed two more bridges as they climbed, whatever waited on the other side of each hidden by the snow. Serene walked slowly and without haste, and as the minutes piled on Twilight allowed her mind to wander, playing with the scattered clues she’d collected thus far.

Princess Celestia had sent Cadance north looking for something, and obviously this had to be it, but where had it come from? Twilight knew her geography; there were no significant pony settlements north of Stalliongrad. She knew that the yaks built their villages in the mountains of the Frozen North, but what she’d seen under the ice was far, far more than a mere village, and it’d had a railway built straight to it.

She pursed her lips, brow furrowing in frustration. She had the puzzle outlined, but the most crucial pieces were missing! Equestria wouldn’t build an expensive railroad to nothing, so she had to assume that the city had been here the whole time. But why wouldn’t it be on any maps? Why had she never heard of these strange ponies whose bodies caught the light like living gemstones?

It wouldn’t be the first grand secret Celestia kept from us. What of the Nightmare? Darling Celestia hid the truth from you even when you held it within your very hooves.

She had a reason for that. I needed to make friends to defeat Nightmare Moon, and chasing after prophecies wouldn’t have done that.

Midnight let out a low chuckle. I’m impressed, little flower. I didn’t expect you to accept that she lied to you so easily.

Twilight blinked. Had she just—she rolled her eyes, looking away from Midnight’s grin. Sometimes she had to lie to us! But she always had a good reason. It was only ever for our own good.

Well, as we’ve taken one step, let us take the second. Midnight slithered back into view, filling Twilight’s vision with her slitted eyes. Celestia lies. She knew this crystal city was here, and hid it from all Equestria. Why?

Twilight sighed. The city must be dangerous somehow. It’s the only explanation. But she sent Cadance here to try and find a solution to the corruption, so—

She nearly tripped. It was like the pieces of an optical illusion sliding into place, the puzzle pieces forming an outline that could only be recognized one way. Even if she didn’t know what exactly filled the gap, there was only one explanation for its nature.

The city must be the source.

That thing you felt in the center!

Midnight nodded. When we face it, we will have our answers.

If Twilight wasn’t busy climbing a narrow path in the middle of a snowstorm, she’d have jumped for joy. After everything she’d been through, so many vague clues and dead ends, she was nearly there!

But she had to be cautious. As tempting as it might be to leave at that very instant, to teleport back under the ice and follow Midnight’s senses to the source of the corruption, she couldn’t risk failing now. Whatever was waiting for her in the core of the crystal spire, it had brought her whole world to its knees. The more she thought she understood, the more she had to remember to keep her guard up. If she failed now, it was likely that the mystery of Equestria’s destruction would never be solved.

She was pulled from her thoughts by light ahead. Looking up, she saw shimmering rainbow light piercing the snow above her, and with a start she realized that they had climbed all the way to the top of the tower. Serene stood nearly doubled over as he reached the peak and looked back to wait for her, his coat drawn tight around his shoulders and a hood raised over his ears.

For the first time, Twilight realized that she should be cold. She took a deep breath and let it out, and shivered when she realized that she couldn’t see her breath.

She decided not to linger on the revelation. Next to fangs, bleeding reptilian eyes, and obligate carnivorism, cold acclimation was almost quaint. Instead she quickened her pace, cresting the last few steps and meeting Serene’s smile with her own.

The top of the tower was open to the air, with a pointed roof held up by a circle of engraved crystal arches. A curtain of thick fur hung in each arch, weighed down by bone and stained with swirling patterns of color, and Serene pulled one open, ushering Twilight inside.

Huge braziers burned within the curtains, the light soaking into the crystal and shimmering in a smaller imitation of the grand hall Twilight had just come from. The floor was recessed into the tower, forming a sort of flat bowl shape, and in the center rose jagged spikes of inky black crystal that appeared to absorb light instead of reflecting it. It was difficult to focus on—Twilight’s eyes seemed to slide off whenever she tried to get a better look—so she instead looked to the ponies seated around it.

Although about a dozen ponies stood in silence along the edge of the room, the focus was clearly on the three elders arranged around the black crystal like the points of a triangle. Each sat in the center of a heart-shaped symbol, engraved into the floor and outlined with glittering silver, and each wore heavy fur robes adorned with colorful trinkets of stained bone and carved crystal. All three watched Twilight with their wizened gaze, showing little outwards reaction.

One, the only stallion in the group, turned to Twilight’s guide. “Who have you brought us, Serene Agate?”

Midnight stepped forwards, and Twilight moved with her. On this, they were in agreement.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle,” she said. “I come from Equestria, and I’m chosen by The Shaper. I…” She hesitated only for a moment. “I think this is where I need to be.”
> XXIV: Of Rest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome to the Crystal Empire, Twilight Sparkle,” the old unicorn stallion said. His coat was a dusky grey, disappearing so smoothly into the shadows of his thick hides that his body appeared almost made of glittering smoke. “I am Smoke Quartz, twelfth regent of the West Face.”

“And I am Arctic Rose, tenth regent of the East Face.” The unicorn mare bowed where she sat opposite him. The colorful crystals woven into her greying pink mane chimed softly as she moved. “I welcome you to the Crystal Empire, Twilight Sparkle.”

Last to speak was the pegasus mare sitting between them, the youngest of the three, though still venerable in her own right. She wore less clothing, and her body was so translucent in the firelight that for a moment Twilight imagined she was looking at a ghost. “My name is Ametrine. As the twelfth regent of the South Face, I welcome you to the Crystal Empire.” She smiled as she bowed, her long mane tickling the floor between her hooves. “You honor me greatly with your arrival, Twilight Sparkle.”

So polite, Midnight mused. It is good of them to know their place. What are you doing?

Twilight was already bowing back, a wide smile on her face. These ponies don’t see us as monsters, Midnight. We should show them the same respect they show us.

They may not think us a monster, but they think us something. Something greater. You lower us to their level.

I’m not looking for servants. Twilight lifted her head, and the three regents followed suit. To her surprise, the ponies watching from the edges of the room had bowed as well. “The pleasure is mine, really. I’ve come a long way with many questions, and you have no idea how relieved I am to be able to speak to you like this!” She paused to take a breath before her excitement got the better of her. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Ametrine shook her head softly. “We’ve been waiting for you since marking your ship, just before the storm. Though we were not expecting a chosen.”

“Not expecting it, but it aligns with the snow,” Arctic Rose added. “A strong fall from the east. The flurry favors your visit.”

Smoke Quartz nodded. “It’s been centuries since Equestrian eyes shone upon the Empire. Have you brought the stock we agreed upon? We can have food brought, if you’d like to discuss trade.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but there must be some misunderstanding. We didn’t know you were here until we saw you, and we didn’t bring anything to trade. We’re… explorers.” It was the easiest way to explain it. “To my knowledge, nobody in Equestria knows you’re here.”

The regents frowned, looking among themselves. Smoke spoke first, eyeing her with a new curiosity. “You do not know Count Deep Diver?”

Twilight cocked her head, thinking it over. She wasn’t the first Equestrian to discover this settlement? It made sense; the evidence suggested that the city had been here at least before the floods, which gave at least half a millenia for explorers venturing north to find it. The way the regents spoke gave her the impression that some kind of regular trade deal had been struck, but then why did nobody in Equestria seem to know about the city now? Perhaps the ponies on the Equestrian side had kept it as a trade secret, and it had died along with them? How did this city maintain such secrecy despite being so developed?

With a sigh, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Whatever trade deal you made, I’m afraid it’s been forgotten. Please, do you have time to answer some questions?” Her horn glowed as she pulled her brother’s notebook and a pen out of her saddlebag, flipping to an open page with a hopeful smile. “Or maybe schedule an appointment, otherwise?”

Smoke Quartz arched a brow, but Arctic Rose answered her with a slow nod. “Trade or not, you are our guest, and chosen. We are honored to assist.”

Twilight grinned. Finally, answers! She was just opening her saddlebag and reaching for Shining Armor’s journal when Smoke stomped a hoof, the sharp crack of the impact drawing her attention. He was watching her with narrowed eyes. Had she done something wrong?

“I will ask my question first, one which I think sits in all minds assembled here today.” He glanced towards the other two regents, waiting to see if they’d interrupt him. “Do you know the Shaper, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight blinked. Was he suspicious of her? “I… I don’t know. I’ve never heard the name until today, but perhaps you could explain who they are?” She slowly pulled Shining’s journal out and began to levitate it before her, watching for any negative reaction to her magic, but she saw only curiosity, wonder, and confusion around her. “I might know them by another name.”

Ametrine answered with a warm smile, far more inviting than Smoke’s piercing stare. “The Shaper saved us, raising us above the ice during the flood that formed the world. They taught us to carve crystal into our homes, to hunt the beasts that travel in the frost, and to control the darkness that lives in our hearts.” She looked up to the circle of strange black crystal that sat between her and the other two regents.

Following her gaze, Twilight noticed a shimmering crystal statue raised in the center of the circle, tall enough to be seen from all around the room. Two maneless heads shared a single body, each facing an opposite direction and looking resolutely forward with smooth, blank eyes. One head was slender and elegant, appearing strangely familiar to Twilight, while the other projected masculine authority. The first head had a long, slender horn that reminded Twilight of Princess Celestia, a stark contrast to the short, sharp-edged horn that curved out of the crown of the other. They both shared a single neck that swelled out into an oversized, angular heart shape. A single wing flared out opposite the heart, like it was growing from the middle of the two-headed pony’s back.

Twilight blinked, her eyes sliding off the black crystals that hemmed in the statue like a glittering palisade.

After a brief pause, Ametrine continued. “They make their home deep in the Spire where they protect us still, warding off the creatures of darkness that attempt to rise from beneath the ice, and we live our lives by the code they established long ago.”

Arctic Rose nodded. “You express the signs of the Shaper’s blessing, Twilight Sparkle, and they’re stronger than I’ve ever seen. I cannot recall any stories of the Shaper ever choosing an Equestrian to aid in the battle, but it is clear you have been chosen, and you’ve been brought here from very far away.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed as she took it all in. It was clear to her by now that the Shaper was more of a religious symbol than an actual pony, but there was still much she could learn from the legend. The rest of Equestria had developed new religions around the Princesses after all, and so perhaps this Shaper was based on a real pony as well—or more likely, two ponies.

Could one of them be Cadance? She bit her lip as she glanced back to the long horn of the more feminine figure. It was a long shot to identify the bust as anyone with the near total lack of identifying features, but it was clearly an alicorn’s horn. And besides that, who could have inspired the masculine image?

Twilight jotted down a few notes for later. “How come I haven’t seen any other chosen ponies?” she asked. The regents spoke like it was a relatively common occurrence. “Do they live separate from the others?”

“The Chosen do not live among us,” Smoke said, eyeing her intently. “They descend into the Spire, to fight as guardians against the darkness. It is the Shaper’s will.”

Twilight stiffened, glancing to where Midnight watched in thoughtful silence. She parted her lips in a bloody smile. That sounded almost like an order. Or a threat.

Ametrine smiled, nodding encouragingly. “That is why you came here, yes? To be chosen from so far and travel all this way… you must be a very special pony.”

Twilight licked her lips, ignoring Midnight’s conjured mental images of the entire room bathed in blood. “What does it mean to descend into the Spire, exactly?”

“It is the greatest honor any pony can have,” Ametrine said, waving a wing to the black crystals in the center of the room. “The door opens only for the chosen. They traverse the winding stairs down beneath the ice, and will fight at the Shaper’s side until the world thaws.”

If they attempt to force us, I will kill them.

Yes, you’ve made that very clear, thank you. Would you please keep your daydreams to yourself at least while I’m talking to them?

Hmph. I don’t complain when you dream of coconuts and conga lines.

Twilight answered with a mental roll of her eyes as she stood, approaching the black crystal. Disturbing as it was when she’d first entered the room, it was forthright menacing from up close, towering four times her height. Even though it was impossible to see any edges with the way it absorbed the light, she was certain that she would cut herself if she touched it in the wrong place.

Midnight stepped up to her side as she examined it, her eyes focused intently on the surface. Slowly she reached out a cracked hoof.

The tower shivered under Twilight’s hooves, and she took a step back, ears flattening in alarm. With the sound of grinding stone, the section of crystal in front of her slid down into the floor, leaving a gap wide enough to step through.

What did you do?!

Wh—you’re the one that touched it!

Midnight scoffed. Foal! Our hooves remain firmly beneath us. We both know I didn’t move them.

Twilight jumped as a hoof wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her away from the gap, and she turned to see Smoke Quartz had left his seat.

“You may descend soon, but not yet,” he said firmly. “First we must hunt, and then a feast in your honor. Every pony in the Empire will want to attend your ceremony.”

“O-oh.” Twilight glanced back to the gap. She just caught sight of the lip of a stairwell carved into the floor, and then with a shuddering screech, the black crystal that had sunk out of sight shot back into place, blocking her sight.

“I need to talk to my friends.”





Rainbow had never been the best at judging the passage of time, but she was sure that Twilight had been gone for too long.

Had it been five minutes? Thirty? It felt like hours to her. She could tell exactly how long an exercise lasted from the burn in her muscles or how long it took her to fly from Cloudsale to Canterlot, but when stuck in a room and told to sit still, time lost all meaning.

She stood stiffly a short distance from the big crystal doors that led back outside, stealing quick glances to her left every few seconds to make sure Applejack was still there. Sea Sabre and Star Trails waited right next to the door, the former scanning the chamber with slow sweeps of her head while the latter’s attention darted from point to point with something between nerves and interest.

And then there were all the other eyes in the room. Shimmering, curious eyes perched above mouths lined with teeth ground down to fine points. Most of the adults had gotten over their staring by now, turning back to focus on their grisly tasks. The foals, meanwhile, wouldn’t look away. They huddled together in small groups of three and four, watching the armored ponies with wide eyes and whispering among themselves.

Where was Twilight? What were these weird predator ponies doing with her? Rainbow thought back to Daring Do and the Curse of the Jungle Queen, when Daring had met a lost tribe of cannibals very similar to this. They’d been peaceful at first. Then they got hungry.

One of the foals, a little yellow filly with a bobbed red mane, stepped out from her group of friends. Rainbow stiffened as the filly approached, all big eyes and sharp teeth, and came to a stop a few steps away from her and Applejack. The filly paused, glancing back to her friends watching from behind a rack of tanning hide, and then mustered her courage.

She looked to Rainbow first, then Applejack, asking in a quiet, hopeful voice, “Did you bring us apples?”

Rainbow blinked. Sea Sabre’s voice clicked into her ear. “Ignore her.”

But Applejack was already moving. Even past the stern facade of her helmet Rainbow could see the cowpony giving in. She reached back to the bulky saddlebag built onto her side, a small jet of steam venting from the watertight seal as it opened, and extracted a single, hoof-sized apple.

For a moment, Rainbow considered asking why Applejack had brought an apple to explore a mysterious, frozen city that more than likely was filled to the brim with snarling monsters, but then she realized—of course she had an apple on her. It would be like asking why Pinkie carried cupcakes.

“Applejack,” Sabre cautioned. “We can’t trust these ponies.”

“Y’all can hush, Sabre,” Applejack said calmly. “No disrespect to y’all, but it just ain’t in my blood to turn down a cute little filly askin’ for an apple.” She crouched down to the filly’s level, the smile in her voice clear past the tinny echo of her helmet. “Here ya go, sugar cube.”

The filly’s eyes lit up with joy as she jumped forwards, grabbing the apple in her little sharp teeth. She reared up to give Applejack an enthusiastic hug, shouting muffled thanks through the package in her mouth, and then turned and darted back to her gaping friends, each of which rushed out from behind the tanning rack to meet her halfway.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Sabre said. “Now they’ll all want one.”

“Wait, are we just gonna brush over the fact that she actually was carrying an apple on her?” Trails asked. “Or that the filly knew to ask for one? Am I the only one weirded out by this?”

“I’ll have ya know, an apple is a healthy, filling, and delicious snack no matter where ya might be,” Applejack shot back. She sighed over the radio. “And I reckon wherever ya find ponies, someone’ll be achin’ for one.”

Rainbow frowned, seeing the way Applejack watched after the little filly and her friends. A soft gasp escaped her as she realized—yellow coat, red mane. The filly reminds her of Apple Bloom.

Instead of the swarm of demanding foals that Sabre had predicted, the little crystal ponies all gathered into a circle, passing the apple between themselves. One by one they took turns snipping little bites off the fruit, laughing and grinning at the juice dripping down their lips. Soon other foals were running up to join, and they were welcomed graciously into the circle where they patiently waited their turn. By the end there were over a dozen foals passing the apple amongst themselves, chattering eagerly and shooting curious, nervous glances towards Applejack, who would lift a hoof to wave every time.

An adult came over to inspect the commotion, and Rainbow tensed as she anticipated some kind of negative reaction, but instead the mare smiled and laughed along with the foals before looking at Applejack with a dip of her head and moving on. The apple survived three rounds of the circle before being chewed down to its core, and a colt let out an exclamation of surprise as he spit the seeds out into his hoof. He grinned, showing it to the others, and an instant later ran off to speak to an elder mare watching from inside her tent, who accepted the seeds with a soft smile.

“I’m gonna talk to them.” Applejack stood up, already reaching for her helmet.

“Applejack, we need to stay together!” Sabre hissed. “The thinner our formation, the easier it’ll be for them to catch us off guard!”

“Look, Sabre, I dunno what y’all’ve been through, and I know ya got only the best of intentions here, but I ain’t felt this right since—well, not since I baked them apple fritters for the wedding with Cousin Apple Fritter.” Her helmet popped off with a hiss of steam, and she clipped it onto her side before glancing back with watery eyes. “And them foals look like they might need someone to show ’em what to do with apple seeds.”

She walked off without waiting for a response, smiling down at the foals as they gathered around her, and settled down to speak at their level.

Rainbow cringed, already bracing herself for Sabre’s reaction to being brushed off so roughly, but it was Trails’ voice that crackled into her ear.

“She has a cousin named Apple Fritter? That bakes apple fritters?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said quietly, still expecting to be interrupted by Sabre at any moment. “Her family tree reads like a dessert menu.”

“And it’s all apples?”

Rainbow sighed. “Yep. All apples.”

“Rainbow Dash.” Sabre’s voice was terse. “I’m bringing the Argo back in. You have five minutes to get yourself and Applejack aboard, or I’ll leave you both.”

Rainbow pursed her lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

She reached up, releasing the locks on her helmet with a hoof, sliding it off, and transferring it back to one of her wings. Tossing her mussed mane side to side, she took a breath, nose twitching at the strange taste that hung in the air. One glance back confirmed that Sabre and Trails had already stepped back outside, leaving her and Applejack alone amidst the tribe of potentially dangerous meat-eaters.

She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t even offended. If there was one thing she respected about Sea Sabre, it was that the mare always had her priorities straight, and after the mess Rainbow had brought on her, she doubted she’d ever be counted as one of her crew again.

Rainbow pushed those thoughts aside as she approached Applejack and the ring of foals, putting on a stiff smile when they rushed around her, lips flapping like a school of adorable, clumsy piranhas.

“Ms. Applejack, who’s this?”

“Do you have another apple? Or maybe a strawberry?”

“What happened to your eye?”

“Your mane is so pretty!”

Rainbow did her best to keep the smile from twisting into a grimace. “Uh, hey, kids. Sorry, but AJ and I have really gotta get going.”

“Aw, already?” A sky blue filly with stubby little wings pouted up at her, glancing back to Applejack. “But you just got here! Don’t you wanna stay to watch your chosen friend descend?”

Rainbow blinked. She let out a nervous laugh as she pushed through the foals and wrapped a wing around Applejack’s side, hissing quietly past her smile. “AJ, Sabre’s leaving.”

“That’s fine by me,” Applejack said. She’d donned her hat sometime while Rainbow wasn’t looking, begging the question of where she’d stashed it until then. “These kids ain’t done me no harm, and we still got time while we’re waitin’ for Twi. Did ya know they used to have an apple tree in this place?” She shook her head with a bemused smile. “Hay if I know how they ever got an apple to take seed this far north, but little Soda Lite there says her great-aunt got a bite from its last fruitin’.”

“And now I got one, too!” A unicorn filly with swirly blue mane pranced in place, grinning ear to ear. “I can’t wait to tell her!”

Rainbow’s smile was already cracking. “AJ, look, I know how you feel about apples, but we really shouldn’t be stranding ourselves here. Twi can always teleport back onto the ship whenever she wants, but—”

“But nothin!” Applejack turned away sharply. “Twilight’ll be expectin’ us here when she gets back. Y’all can go on if ya want, I won’t blame ya, but by Celestia, I am not gonna leave that filly turnin’ circles wonderin’ why we ain’t around when she shows up.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to spew out some rebuttal, but nothing came. No matter how she looked at it, Applejack was right, and there was a part of Rainbow already hitting herself for not realizing it on her own. Even if it meant allowing themselves to be left behind in the middle of an unknown village inhabited by potentially dangerous cannibals, even if Sabre got fed up at dealing with them and decided to fly back south and gamble Princess Luna’s life for those of her crew, there really wasn’t any other choice. That was just the kind of thing the Elements of Harmony did for each other.

“You’re right.” She sighed, plopping down and leaning against Applejack’s right side. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, sugar cube.” Applejack leaned down to nuzzle Rainbow’s cheek. “Now why don’t ya tell these foals about y’all’s Sonic Rainboom, huh? Colorful as this place might be, I’d wager they ain’t never seen anythin’ like it.”

Rainbow frowned, casting her eye around the ring of foals and watching their ears perk up as they picked up on a potentially interesting story. One of them stepped forwards, wings spread. “What’s a Sonic Rainboom? Is it like snow?”

Rainbow snorted. “Nah, it’s not quite like snow, kid.” With another sigh she straightened up, treating the assembled foals to a cocky grin as she slid into her bragging voice. “But I can tell you what it is like. And who knows, maybe I’ll even have a chance to show you one…”





Lips pouted in concentration, Rarity put the finishing touches on her signature and leaned back to review her words.

Despite the various upsets, she’d tried to keep a regular habit of exchanging letters with her friends elsewhere in Equestria. She’d send them off to Heighton to be forwarded to wherever they might be, and as long as she kept Mr. Rich’s staff up-to-date on her travel plans they would ensure that any responses got back to her in kind. Of course the schedule had been somewhat disrupted when an entire island had dropped out from under her hooves, and the mail had slowed significantly during the siege, but with the excess of peace and time aboard her current vessel, it seemed pertinent to try again.

The last letter she’d received from the Argo had come to her just before the siege. Rainbow and Applejack had written about finding Twilight in Canterlot, the near-fatal showdown with Spike, the fate of the Elements, and Twilight’s plan to travel north. She’d yet to hear from them since.

Rationally, she knew the silence was most likely due to a lack of stops. The Argo would have little reason to make port on its way north, and even if it did, there likely wasn’t much happening aboard. Still, she couldn’t help but worry. And seeing as she herself had been unable to get letters off the island during the siege of Friesland, she had every intent of sending one out the instant she set hoof on land once more. And so she had put pen to paper, describing the chaos of her time in the city.

She tapped the butt of the pen against her chin. Pinkie would want to add some words of her own. And Fluttershy…

Rarity’s brow furrowed. She still hadn’t quite caught up with Fluttershy. Well, I’m sure the dear would appreciate a quiet conversation over tea.

She stood, stretching her legs and collecting her writing supplies. It was growing late, and with the sun hanging low over the horizon it was too dark to be writing in the little cargo nook that passed for her quarters. She’d taken a position on deck instead, using a saddlebag packed with fabric as a makeshift desk, set far enough back from the bow that the headwind toying with her mane wouldn’t make off with her paper. The ship’s envelope cast a deep shadow over the rear half of the deck, the drone of the large propellers at the rear somewhat muffled by the bulk of the hull.

Though the crew numbered only about twenty, it was usually easy to find one, and this time was no different. Rarity spied an earth stallion looking over the railing amidships, and after pausing to don her saddlebags, approached him with a polite smile.

“Excuse me. Have you seen my friend Fluttershy? Soft-spoken, yellow pegasus?”

The stallion’s ear flicked, but he kept his eyes focused on whatever he was watching below. “Heard she’s tendin’ folk in the mess.”

Rarity nodded. “Thank you. Ta-ta for now!”

The stallion didn’t respond. Curious, Rarity leaned over to see what he was so intent on, and her eyes widened as she saw a pegasus mare dangling from a rope on the side of the hull. She had a toolbox slung around her neck, and was busily digging around in a maintenance panel with her front hooves.

Rarity looked back to the stallion. “Is she—what is she doing?”

The stallion grunted. “Workin’.”

“But if she fell, then—”

“You questionin’ my knots?” The stallion finally looked up, fixing Rarity with a callous glare, and with a start Rarity realized that the mare’s rope was tied off to the railing beside him. “If it breaks, I’ll catch her. So quit distractin’ me.”

“O-oh, of course. Apologies.”

Rarity dipped her head, backing away, and tried to put the mare out of her mind. Surely she was a professional that knew what she was doing. No doubt the captain and crew took every precaution to ensure safety.

It was a short walk down to the mess room, a long, somewhat cramped room filled by a single metal table. The sound of cooking and the not-so-enticing smell of boiling vegetables drifted from a doorway in one corner.

Fluttershy, Brownie, and one of the ship’s crew were seated at the table, in front of a mat of white cloth weighed down by various little bottles and thin linens. The crewpony, an earth mare with bags under her eyes, clenched her jaw as Fluttershy used a wingtip to dab clear goop over a wound on her leg. Next came a square of thick white cloth, which she pressed atop the treated wound with a hoof.

Fluttershy nodded to herself, not looking away as she spoke. “Bandage, please.”

Brownie grunted. He turned to the mat of supplies, big nose sniffling thoughtfully before he selected a roll of gauze, measured out a length, and cut it free with a slice from his claws.

“Thank you.” Fluttershy took the gauze in her other hoof, wrapping it around the crewpony’s leg and tying it tight with her mouth.

“Uh, ya done?” The mare frowned down at her treated leg. “I gotta get some sleep while I can.”

“Mhm. All done.” Fluttershy smiled at her. “Just be more careful in the future, okay?”

“Yeah. Appreciate it.” The mare slid off the bench, shooting a curious glance at Rarity as she walked past her and out of sight.

Rarity greeted Fluttershy with a smile. “You’re becoming quite the accomplished healer, darling.”

Fluttershy blushed, keeping her eyes on her medical supplies as she carefully began to roll the mat tight. “Um, I’m not, really.”

“Nonsense!” Rarity sat beside her with a quiet tut. “You knew just what to do during the attack on the manor, after all. Why if I’d had your help in the city, the good we could’ve done!”

“Mm.” Fluttershy’s lips stretched into a thin smile, but she said nothing.

Rarity’s brow furrowed. Fluttershy was always a shy filly, yes, but she was hardly adverse to conversation among her friends. Right now it was just the two of them, and she even had Brownie nearby to give her extra confidence, so there had to be a reason for her silence. Rarity watched the way the other mare’s hooves shivered as she tied off the ends of her mat, securing the supplies inside, and turned away to scratch at Brownie’s chin.

Something was on Fluttershy’s mind, and for whatever reason, she didn’t want to share.

Then it came to her in a flash of insight, and Rarity bit her lip as she realized her blunder. She’d been so eager to compliment Fluttershy on her skills, to try and make her feel good by mentioning how she’d be so useful inside the besieged city, that she’d completely forgot that Fluttershy had spent said siege inside an actual military camp, among soldiers partaking in active warfare—most likely tending to the wounded every day.

It all clicked together. Her newfound confidence among strangers, the way the soldiers had treated her after the siege, how she’d avoided talking about her time in camp since they reunited. Rarity thought back to the image of Friesland airships dropping fire bombs on the siege camp, how afraid she’d been for her friend trapped beneath them.

Fluttershy had seen terrible things while Rarity played diplomat in the city. As gruesome as she’d thought it was tending to the victims of one bombing, Fluttershy had been forced to—even if only by her own unending well of kindness—wade through worse. Every day.

And she’d gotten good at it. She’d grown proficient in the bloody art of saving lives, her basic veterinary knowledge honed on the groaning whetstone of ponies brought down by cannon and bayonet. No doubt she’d saved dozens of lives during her stay in the siege camp, rescued more wounded than Rarity had even seen within the city, and Rarity had been so foolish as to suggest that she’d have been more useful elsewhere. That she hadn’t already been useful.

Rarity closed her eyes and took a breath. Fluttershy had every right to be upset, to snap out at her and correct her. But, graceful angel as the other mare always was, she’d kept it all inside.

Rarity wouldn’t press her further on the matter. Fluttershy processed her emotions quietly, and often only in the confidence of her animals. She opened her eyes to see Fluttershy watching her with a quiet, somber smile.

Even if they didn’t talk about it, sometimes friends didn’t need words.

Rarity’s horn glowed, and the moment passed. Both mares followed the rolled-up letter as it floated out onto the table and straightened out. “I was just writing a letter to our friends, keeping them updated, assuring them we’re all well, and the like. I’m sure Pinkie will want to have her turn as well before we send it off, but I thought you might want to include your own thoughts first?” She smiled and tossed her mane with a playful wink. “I’m sure you know how difficult it can be to try and write on paper after she’s gotten her hooves on it.”

Fluttershy returned the smile, warm and genuine. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. She, um, really knows how to put love into a letter.” She pulled the paper closer with a wingtip. “I’m sorry, do you have a pen?”

“I most certainly do, my sweet. No trouble at all.” Rarity levitated her pen out and placed it neatly next to the paper. “Take as long as you like. I have spare pens.”

She made to stand, but Fluttershy’s wing flashed out to stop her. “Don’t go.” She blushed as Rarity froze, waiting expectantly, and looked away. “Um, I mean, unless you need to. I don’t want you to leave, is all. Or, uh—I mean I don’t really need you to stay either, but—ugh.” Fluttershy hung her head with a frustrated little groan. Brownie snuffled curiously, nosing past her mane, and she leaned into him with a huff.

Rarity giggled, relaxing back onto the bench and scooting a little closer. “Do not fret, dear Fluttershy. I’d love to spend some quiet time together.” She leaned in with a playful whisper. “I don’t believe there’s a spa anywhere aboard this vessel, but I do believe I could acquire some tea from the galley, if you’re interested?”

Fluttershy nodded, risking a glance up past her mane. “Yes, please.”

“Your wish is my command.” Rarity gave Fluttershy a brief nuzzle before standing. “I shall be back in mere minutes, even if all I can find for us is two cups of hot water.”

She paused in the doorway to the galley, glancing back. Fluttershy heaved another sigh before straightening up, scratching a wing under Brownie’s chin and cooing softly.

With a content smile, Rarity went in search of tea.





I saw you touch it, Midnight! It responded to you!

Cease this at once! I refuse to suffer your imbecilic attempts at tricking me!

Twilight groaned out loud, thankful that the whipping of the wind kept anyone else from noticing. They were descending the central Spire escorted by Ametrine, Serene Agate, and a trio of aides she’d yet to be acquainted with, making back for the tower she now knew as the South Face. She’d been doing her best to appear composed, friendly, and confident during the walk, but the task was made somewhat difficult by Midnight’s constant assertion that she hadn’t touched the black crystal.

I know what you’re thinking, you know. It doesn’t matter if you voice it or not.

Oh, be quiet! Twilight rounded on her other half, who was busily floating in the open air just off the path with a petulant glare. I’m not trying to trick you! As much as you talk about never lying to me, maybe you could take your own advice for once, look in my head, and see that I’m not lying to you!

Midnight’s lips curled back. They held each other’s gaze for a few moments.

Finally, Midnight scoffed and looked away. I know.

Twilight blinked. Wh—then what in Celestia’s name are we arguing about?!

We’re arguing because I’m—Midnight growled, a low, guttural hiss so loud in Twilight’s ears that she nearly tripped in shock. I was not in control! The infernal crystal muddled me and I wasn’t aware of my actions until it was done! She disappeared from Twilight’s sight, voice taking on a slight shiver. Does that please you? Let me be!

Twilight’s jaw dropped. Midnight was gone. She’d sealed herself up in the shadows that lurked at the bottom of Twilight’s mind. The dark, slithering tingle that Twilight had felt stretching out to her hooftips ever since Altalusia had receded, fading into memory.

Twilight’s first instinct was to wonder when it’d be back.

Her second was revulsion at the first, followed shortly by confusion.

Shouldn’t she be happy? This was what she’d wanted ever since she struck that terrible bargain with Midnight, wasn’t it? To have her body back, to be free to do whatever she wanted without that sneering voice in her head, to be able to close her eyes without seeing that slitted gaze staring back at her.

But no, she felt empty. She felt like she had as a filly when her big brother had gone off to boot camp, leaving a quiet, empty room next to hers with a closed door that she walked past every morning. She felt like a pony sitting alone at a table for two. And she kept looking up expectantly, glancing out the window, stomach churning with concern for the pony that was supposed to be sitting with her.

I’ve lost my mind. Twilight shook her head, trying to focus on the steps. She’s finally broken me. I finally got what I’ve been asking for and all I can think about is whether or not she’s okay. Her ears drooped as she willed herself to be happy, to imagine running back to her friends and announcing that she’d finally locked Midnight away once more and would never risk letting her out again.

“Midnight?” She whispered the words under her breath, and only the wind answered back.

Serene came to a stop in front of her, and with a start Twilight realized that they’d reached the bridge leading back to the South Face. He raised a hoof towards Ametrine, who took it with a gracious smile, and together they stepped off the firm crystal and onto the swaying bridge of bone.

Twilight took a deep breath as she followed. Midnight will be fine. She was strong-spirited, maybe even too much, and probably just frustrated. Twilight snorted as she had the sudden mental image of a snarling Midnight stomping off to her room and slamming the door shut like a sulking teenager, and then her smile faded as she remembered what Midnight’s “room” looked like: an empty cell in a ghostly recreation of Gava’s ship, haunted by eerie song.

There was nothing she could do about it now, though. She would give Midnight her privacy. Until then, she had her own friends to catch up with, and a wealth of notes to review. She was sure Dusty Tome would be excited to go over some of her discoveries.

Following Serene and Ametrine off the far side of the bridge and into the warm glow of the South Face interior, Twilight couldn’t help but smile at what she saw below. Rainbow and Applejack were seated in the middle of a throng of foals, helmets off to reveal genuine smiles. Rainbow had her hooves and wings spread wide in a pose that Twilight recognized well, and she shook her head as she realized that the pegasus was recounting the story of her first Sonic Rainboom, the gathered foals leaning forwards to hang on her every word. A flick of her mane and trademark grin marked the end of the tale, her young audience all stomping their hooves in amazement before breaking out into a flood of questions.

Ametrine pulled her hoof from Serene’s grip, leading the way down the ramp and onto the main floor. Several crystal ponies approached her, bowing their heads in greeting, and she smiled as the group of foals left Rainbow and Applejack to bound around her legs, each competing to be the first to share the new story.

“We are favored by the east snow today, my children,” Ametrine said, each of the foals falling quiet to listen. She lowered her head to speak to them, but raised her voice so that the gathered adults would be able to hear clearly as well. “This is Twilight Sparkle, an Equestrian blessed by the Shaper in a way I’ve never seen before, and we must help her make her Descent. Do you know what that means?”

A young colt gasped. “A hunt!”

“And a feast!” Another, thicker colt added.

A filly with a ribbon in her mane fluttered her wings excitedly. “And stories!”

“That’s right. Run along and tell your parents for me, please.” Ametrine nodded as she straightened, looking now to the adults. “We’ll set out with the dawn.”

The crowd cleared quickly, adults splitting off into pairs and trios that trotted off to make preparations while the foals each raced for different tents calling for their parents. Rainbow and Applejack were left waiting a respectful distance away, and Twilight shot them a quick smile before turning to say goodbye to Ametrine.

“You’re very generous,” she said, bowing like she’d seen the other villagers do. “Should I be here for the hunt in the morning?”

Ametrine shook her head. “You honor us most by accepting our gifts. Serene will provide beds for you and your companions.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Twilight smiled, hoping Ametrine wouldn’t be offended. “I have my own room on our ship.”

“Ah. I see.” Ametrine dipped her head. “I shall leave you, then. If you need anything—bed, food, or counsel—please, let us provide it.” Taking a few steps back, she raised her head and turned away, leaving Twilight with her friends.

“Back already, Twi?” Rainbow gave her a friendly bump. “We figured you’d be gone longer.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to that one none. She was about ready to chew the walls until them foals distracted her.”

“Hey! I was just making sure they didn’t eat you or something!”

Twilight smirked, warmed by the duo’s familiar antics. “Where are Sabre and Trails? We can catch up back on the ship.”

“Ah, about that,” Appleback began.

“They already left.” Rainbow shrugged, looking away. “Sabre didn’t feel safe.”

Twilight cocked her head. It was understandable that Sea Sabre might feel threatened in a village full of obvious meat-eaters, but it was unlike her to leave anyone behind like that. Even in Canterlot, when she had barely known them, she’d refused to abandon them to the monstrous changelings haunting the city. “She left without you?”

Rainbow grimaced. “She wanted us to come, but, y’know. We were waiting for you, so.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. Rainbow was hiding something from her. She looked to Applejack and received a guilty shrug in response.

“I can teleport us back aboard. Come on.”  She trotted between her friends, making for the great door that led to their landing zone. “Do you still have tea in supply? I’d love to catch up over some hot tea.”

“Y-yeah.” Rainbow grinned weakly, her and Applejack following on Twilight’s left. “That’d be sweet.”

The snow was clearing when they stepped outside, giving Twilight a clear view of the snowy landscape. Smooth, glossy ice surrounded the tower, catching the warm rays of sunset and channeling it into a gleaming white river of light that scattered into little tributaries on impact with the tower base. Further out, the ice was hidden beneath a layer of lumpy snow, the barrier between the realms forming a perfect circle centered on the central Spire. And past all that, marked by the pale white frost drifting off their peaks like banners in the wind, were the protruding caps of mountains brought low by the floods, once-towering lords of geography reduced to petty scattered islands.

Twilight paused, drinking it in. She’d spent so long on the ocean floor, where even to her mutated vision the world all faded to a dead and featureless grey, broken only by the faint shadows that hinted at the drowned corpses of old Equestrian villages and townships. The ridged and snow-flurried horizon of the Frozen North seemed a beautiful splash of color by comparison, and Twilight hoped that Midnight, even secluded as she was, could somehow catch at least a glimpse of it.

Movement caught her eye, and the moment was gone. The Argo drifted lazily over one of the rocky islands, its envelope marred by long, slender rips and its hull already stained white with frost. She sent out a ping to gauge the distance before preparing a teleportation spell.

“Stay still,” she called to her friends beside her. “You might feel a little disoriented.”

If they had any reaction to her warning, it was lost in the lavender flash of her magic. Her weight shifted, and a moment later she and her friends appeared in the ship’s cargo hold, bringing with them a light swirl of snow.

“Whoa!” Rainbow stumbled to one side. “That felt… freaky.”

Twilight smiled. “Sorry. I’m mostly just used to teleporting myself.” She looked around, stretching her neck. “So how about that tea?”

Some minutes and a brief fuss with the stovetop later, the three mares were all gathered in Applejack’s makeshift bedroom, arranged in a rough triangle. Twilight and Applejack reclined on opposite ends of the bed, the former holding her warm tea close to her chest while the latter nursed a mug of cider. Rainbow, also with cider, stretched out on Applejack’s desktop, tail flicking nervously over her hind legs.

“So do you wanna go first, Twi?” she asked, offering a hopeful smile. “We’ve all been wondering what you’ve been up to down there.”

“I don’t know. I’ve spent a long time with only… my own voice to listen to.” She paused, half-hoping that Midnight would appear to take a jab at her, but to no avail. “I think I’d like to listen at least for a little bit. Did you have any trouble getting north?”

Her question was met with a pregnant silence. Twilight looked from Rainbow to Applejack, watching them have some kind of silent exchange.

Finally, Applejack spoke. “Yeah, I guess y’all could say we did.” She grimaced, looking down at her drink. “Changeling snuck aboard when we left Canterlot.”

Twilight gasped. “Did anyone get hurt?”

Another pause. This time it was Rainbow that spoke, her voice low and distracted. “It got Dusty.”

“Got him?” Twilight frowned, looking between her friends. A sense of dread crept up her spine. “Is he okay?”

Applejack sighed. “He was dead when we found him. Bled out on the floor of his clinic.”

Twilight blinked. “Dead?” She shook her head, eyes wide. She hadn’t exactly curated friendships with any of Sea Sabre’s crew during her time aboard—she’d even neglected her own friends during her long hours of research—but she’d known Dusty better than any of them. They’d shared several meals together discussing their respective worlds, exchanging notes and theories, and she recalled him once talking about taking her to Sanctaphrax, the academy-island where he’d received his education.

She still had the note cards from their first proper conversation, before she’d even seen Heighton.

“Don’t worry.” Rainbow’s voice came out in a dark growl. “I killed it.”

Twilight’s ears flicked back, a shiver passing through her at the anger in Rainbow’s voice. She sounded almost like Midnight talking about Gava, listing off the myriad imagined punishments she planned to unleash if they ever captured the cruel griffon. Twilight knew that Rainbow was still processing her anger over the loss of her eye, but she’d never expected to hear anything like that spoken in a voice normally crowing boasts or challenges between good-natured laughter.

The words hung in the air for a long moment, each mare lost in their own thoughts, before Twilight broke the silence. “Is that why things feel so different with Sabre?”

Rainbow’s ears drooped. Applejack pursed her lips.

“Girls?” Twilight felt like she was back in the vault beneath Stalliongrad, dread building with every door she opened. Except instead of skeletons and portraits of the long dead, now she was coming upon something far worse. “What is it?”

“Tell her, RD,” Applejack said. It sounded almost like a threat.

“I will!” Rainbow snapped. “I’m just… getting the words right.”

Twilight waited with bated breath. What had happened to her friends while she was gone? Was it her fault for asking them to follow her north? Maybe she should’ve spurned them in Canterlot, delivered a second, more forceful warning not to follow her so she could unravel the mysteries of the ocean on her own, assured in the knowledge that they were safe.

Maybe it had been a moment of weakness. Maybe the best thing for her friends was to simply not be her friends.

Finally, Rainbow spoke.

“There was a stallion,” she began. “Prince Silverblood.” She curled her lip as if the name carried a bad taste. “I don’t know why he was a prince. We needed repairs after the changeling, and he had a ship that could help.

“We spent a few days on it. It was big—there were hundreds of ponies living on it—and he kept trying to make me and Applejack sign on with him. He wanted to trap us, followed us around like a collector looking to buy new toys, and he didn’t care how much we said no. He just kept offering more.”

Applejack cleared her throat. “Had a smile like Flim and Flam, except at least they cared about each other.”

Rainbow nodded. “It was a relief when we finally left. I was afraid I might explode if I had to deal with him any longer. Then Trails mentioned that she’d connected him to one of the bounties put on us.” Rainbow’s brow furrowed and her tail flicked behind her. She looked up, jaw clenched in a snarl, and her one cerise eye was burning with sudden fire. “It was his fault, Twilight! Everything with Gava—my eye, Applejack’s capture, all that bloodshed on Altalusia, even—y-you. All because of monsters like him!” The fire had spread to her voice. Twilight could see it burning in Rainbow’s chest, making her hooves shake with fury. “And he laughed in my face!”

Twilight’s stomach knotted. She slid off the bed, stepping closer to embrace her friend. “Rainbow.”

“No!” Rainbow stood up sharply, flaring her wings to drive Twilight back. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, but I don’t regret it either! He hurt you, hurt all of us, and he thought he’d gotten away with it! I gave him a chance to explain himself, and you know what he said?” She shook her head, stomping hard enough to dent the metal desk she stood on. “He said it was our fault!”

“Oh, Rainbow,” Twilight’s lip quivered. It wasn’t enough that almost everyone she loved had died? Now she had to watch her friends get twisted, too? “What did you do?”

“I killed him.” Rainbow looked Twilight in the eye as she said it, the fire giving way to steel. “I stomped him into the ground of his own ship. I made it right. I was the only one that could.”

“And that’s why…?”

Rainbow nodded. “Sabre hates me now. All of Equestria thinks I was part of her crew, and there’ll be bounty hunters after her. Her contract with Crazy is done.”

She held Twilight’s gaze, nostrils flared, an unspoken dare for Twilight to condemn her, and Twilight felt frozen in place. It was just like with Midnight, wasn’t it? Rainbow would do anything to protect her friends, and after learning the identity of a pony that caused them so much grief for such petty causes, surely it would’ve been torture for her to just walk away.

Monster. It was a word that Midnight used often, one that Twilight knew carried a heavy meaning. A monster wasn’t defined by sharp fangs or slitted eyes, bloody tears or fearsome spines. It was about actions. A monster was something that threatened your friends. It was something to be stopped immediately, at any cost, once and for all. You didn’t leave a monster breathing, because it would never stop chasing you or the ones you loved.

What would Twilight have done if she had been in the same situation, face-to-face with a pony-shaped monster that hid behind its smile? She knew what Midnight would say, but Twilight wasn’t sure if she’d argue.

“Do—” Rainbow licked her lips, her eye watering. “Do you hate me, too?”

“No.” Twilight shook her head, reaching up to lay her hoof softly on Rainbow’s. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t need to. “I understand, Rainbow. Thank you.”

Rainbow slumped down like a puppet with her strings cut, every tensed limb suddenly giving out as she let out a held breath. A second later she spread her wings, looking away. “Sorry.”

She took off without looking back, leaving Twilight alone with Applejack. The sound of the cargo room door hissing marked her departure deeper into the ship.

Applejack sighed. “She’s probably off for another fly. Clears her head, y’know.”

“Yeah.” Twilight spent a long moment looking after the pegasus. “Do you think it’s my fault? For asking you to follow me?”

“Tartarus, Twilight, could ya sit down for one minute and not try to carry all Equestria for once?” Applejack let out a dry laugh. “We’re all grown mares, sugar cube, and if ya told us not to follow ya we woulda done it anyway. Wouldn’t be the first time, either.” She walked up to Twilight’s side, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m just glad y’all’re here, alright? It’s been rough, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Twilight melted into the hug with a somber smile. “Sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I reckon that’s what we all love about each other, huh? The things we can’t help.” Applejack snorted. “Either way, we’re here now. Sabre’s rightly pissed over the mess, nearly turned us around, talkin’ about usin’ Luna as a bargainin’ chip to get her a new contract.”

Twilight stiffened. “Why didn’t she?”

“Believe it or not, her crew spoke against it. Mostly Star Trails, really. They had a vote, and I guess it came down on the right side.”

Twilight nodded, nuzzling her cheek against the soft fur of Applejack’s chest. “That’s some good news, at least.”

“So what about y’all?” Applejack asked. She stepped back to look Twilight in the eye. “I’m hopin’ your trip wasn’t quite as eventful as ours.”

Twilight smirked. “It was certainly something. I found some clues in Stalliongrad about the floods that confirmed they happened two months after the wedding, when we were captured.” She paused, considering whether she should mention the story behind finding Scylla, but decided it was irrelevant. “I can sense something inside the central spire of this city. Whatever it is, I’m convinced that it’s the key to figuring out what happened.”

Applejack arched a brow. “City?”

Twilight nodded. “There’s a whole city under the ice, and those towers are just the upper half of the palace it’s built around. It looks like there was some kind of fighting here, with powerful magic involved.”

“And all that nonsense about you bein’ ‘chosen,’ makin' some kind of descent?”

“The ponies here appear to have some kind of spiritual relationship with the corruption,” Twilight said. “I’m still hazy on the details, but I think it’s not uncommon for them to fall victim to it. They send the corrupted ponies down into the Spire to help some figure they call ‘the Shaper’ ‘fight the darkness.’” She shrugged back at Applejack's confused expression. “They say I’m the most corrupted pony they’ve ever seen, and they want me to go through the ritual as well. I need to explore the Spire anyways, so I see no reason to argue.”

Applejack sighed, taking her hat off and running a hoof through her mane. “Uh huh. And what’re we supposed to do in all this?”

Twilight frowned. “I’m sorry, but it feels like this is something only I can do. Maybe you could try to ask around and learn what you can? This city was built before the floods, but I’ve never heard or even read about it, so maybe the ponies here can shine some light on that.”

“Y’all want us to make nice with a bunch of cannibal ponies that decorate their rooms with hide and build huts out of bone?” Applejack grimaced. “I dunno, Twi.”

“Applejack, please.” Twilight grabbed her hoof, holding it in hers. “Trust me when I say I understand how you feel about this, but eating meat doesn’t make ponies bad on its own. Just look at the climate here; this is probably what they have to do to survive. Give them a chance.”

“Well, I guess them foals were mighty cute.” Applejack shrugged, squeezing Twilight’s hoof. “I’ll give it a shot. Reckon Rainbow might like helpin’ out, too.”

“Thank you.” Twilight smiled, pulling her friend into a quick hug. “It’s good to be back.”

Applejack didn’t miss a beat. “It’s good to have ya.”

With one last squeeze, Twilight pulled back and turned for the curtained door. “I think I’m going to try and get some sleep. It’s been a while since I had a nice bed like these.”

“Hopefully it ain’t too soft for y’all’s taste now.” Applejack smirked, waving a hoof. “Good night, Twilight.”

“Good night, Applejack.”

Twilight grabbed her tea off the bed before leaving, taking the few steps required to make it to her own little room tucked into the corner of the cargo bay. Scylla chittered out a greeting as she entered, popping up from where she’d been waiting under the desk to brush against Twilight’s legs.

“Hey, you.” Twilight lifted her hoof, scratching idly at the crystal spider’s chitin as she sipped at the last of her tea and regarded the sleeping alicorn currently occupying most of her bed. I guess I won’t get the bed after all.

It didn’t bother her much. She’d grown used to sleeping on hard rock, sand, or the crushed stone of old ruins. She pulled her bedroll out of Shining’s saddlebag, which she’d left propped up by the bed, and laid it out on the floor.

Scylla scuttled on without hesitation, and Twilight smiled as she set her empty teacup aside and curled up next to her. Princess Luna’s gentle breathing was barely audible under the ticking of the hull.

Twilight closed her eyes. Sleep eluded her.

She opened her eyes with a huff and tried adjusting her position. Compared to the suffocating darkness and quiet rumble of the ocean floor, the bright, loud Argo made her feel like she was sleeping in the middle of a Canterlot thoroughfare. The cargo hold always had its dim overhead lights on, and though the steady tick of the hull would sometimes quicken or falter, it never fully faded. She grabbed the trailing end of the blanket off her bed and tugged it over her head, being careful not to pull it so hard that it would fall completely to the floor and leave Princess Luna exposed.

And still, sleep refused her.

That nagging sense of emptiness hadn’t faded, either. She almost missed the sensation of Midnight prowling nearby, growling threateningly at any sea creature that came to investigate the little lavender bubble at the bottom of the ocean and the unicorn curled up inside.

As if on cue, there was a knock.

Not a physical knock, but a mental one. A prodding from the dark place to where Midnight had retreated. Firm, but not demanding. A request.

Twilight opened the connection without hesitation.

Instantly the darkness flooded back through her, filling out her limbs and wreathing her body with the warm, velvety tingle of Midnight’s presence. She cracked an eye open, tugging the blanket off her head.

Midnight was standing in the corner, watching her with narrowed eyes.

Twilight said nothing. Midnight had made it clear that she needed time to process things on her own, and Twilight didn’t want to drive her away again with a misspoken word. They held each other’s gaze in silence.

Midnight’s eyes flicked away, focusing on Scylla, and her lip curled back to reveal her fangs. Twilight’s brow furrowed as she focused on her dark passenger’s emotions, trying to decipher them without being too intrusive. It wasn’t revulsion. Anger? No.

Envy.

Midnight stiffened. Her eyes snapped back to Twilight, hard and challenging. Slowly Twilight adjusted herself, scooting over to make more space on the bedroll. A low growl came from Midnight’s throat, echoing in Twilight’s head.

Perhaps a minute passed. At last Midnight stood, the growl dying away, and walked closer. She dropped down onto the bedroll with an indignant huff, curling up pointedly facing away from Twilight.

Gradually she relaxed, leaning back into Twilight. Twilight’s fur tingled with the strange, warm buzzing of their contact.

Twilight smiled, closing her eyes. Midnight growled again, but didn’t move away.

She fell asleep shortly after.
> XXV: Of Harvests
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvest. The Flying City.

When Anatami was a filly, she’d asked her father why ponies had given the city such an odd nickname. Didn’t all cities fly, and all the farms and the forests and everything else in the world? What was it about this city in particular that made it the flying city?

And he’d just smiled and ruffled her mane with a wing, and told her that she’d understand once she saw the city herself.

Years passed between her rare visits to Harvest, but the effect it had on her as it crested the horizon was always the same. The city got its name a long time ago, when it was less city and more farmland, but its central location relative to the rest of Equestria had drawn in merchants and craftsponies aplenty. It was just a matter of time before the trading post established on its coast began to expand, eating up more and more land with every passing year.

When they ran out of forests and farms, Harvest expanded vertically, blazing a path that all other city-islands would follow in the future. Towers were erected and mines were dug, and as the mines ran dry they were carved into homes for the miners to live as they dug ever deeper, a wave of urbanization crawling inexorably towards the bottom of the island. And then one day, after hundreds of years of growth, there was no land left to dig into.

Heighton was a city built on flying islands, and Baltimare was a city that had taken flight, but Harvest, more than anywhere else in Equestria, was truly a flying city.

Ana reclined in a hammock she’d set up on the stern of the tradeship that had carried her and Gava from Friesland, shaded from the dawning sun by the ship’s hull, and watched the urban sprawl slide past beneath her. There were places where she could see straight through to the ocean, gaps in the island that snaked through the city like invisible rivers, crisscrossed by bridges large and small. She’d heard that some of the larger mines had never been built back up, leaving behind huge hollow chambers deep in the city that were rented out to wealthy families in the middling levels or used as warehouses, hiding away great stores of wood or precious metals that were traded back and forth for decades without ever being moved. Unlike Heighton, the streets on the surface of Harvest were kept clean and open. The rich here valued space more than anything; business was conducted underground, and heavier industry was shipped abroad.

And even they live in shadow. The corner of her lip pulled up into a wry smile as she watched the shadow of her ship flicker across the architecture, just one hard-edged shape among a hundred others. Airships came here from across Equestria, and there simply wasn’t room to process them all around the coast, so many ships docked at the freight towers that jutted out either above or below the city. She’d heard it said that the roofs didn’t even get rain in Harvest—the airships were thicker than the clouds.

“Ana? You out here?” Gava glided down around the curve of the hull, hovering next to the hammock. She had the chest with their father’s skull—and Rarity’s dress—tied snugly on her back between two saddlebags.

Ana greeted her with a lazy wave. “Hey, sis. Wanna sit and citygaze with me?”

Gava clacked her beak. “This ship will be docking now. I don’t want to deal with ponies poking their hooves in our stuff.”

“Why not?” Ana grinned. “It can’t be that expensive to bribe an old skull past customs, right?”

Gava rolled her eyes. “Do you know how addresses work in this dump?”

“Missing that baronland air already, huh?” Ana grinned at her sister’s scowl as she slid into her own saddlebags and stood, stretching her wings. “Alright, big bird. Let’s get this over with.”

She stepped into open air, enjoying a few seconds of freefall before snapping her wings open and settling into an easy glide. She twitched an ear, caught the sound of Gava’s heavier wingbeats behind her, and aimed for the nearest chasm.

Ana wasn’t especially familiar with Harvest’s layout, but she knew the basics. There were three main layers where the city was mostly contiguous and the streets were mostly flat: one being the surface, the largest right in the middle, and a smaller one near the bottom, where the island’s original structure started to taper. Merchants and administrators lived in those areas, and they ensured it was easy to travel within and between them for their own convenience.

But then there was the rest of the city, a hodgepodge puzzle carved out of or around old mineshafts and natural caves. It was never obvious how to get anywhere in that mess; ponies lived or worked in little pockets of architecture, often walled off from immediate neighbors while being connected to others via tunnel, and the city didn’t care to enforce such frivolities as street signs or building codes. As Ana drifted down into one of the island’s urban chasms and descended past the tightly packed makeshift homes built into the walls, she wondered if there were ponies that died in this city without ever seeing the moon.

The chasm widened sharply as they reached the central layer. Ana pulled up, hovering in place and turning in a slow circle above a bridge crowded with ponies. The bridge connected two wide avenues, bathed in a warm orange glow by ever-burning lanterns hanging sporadically from any available surface. Ponies walked in and out of buildings that merged right into the walls, less built up than dug out, or sometimes slipped away into claustrophobic tunnels that Ana guessed took them to other streets, the sounds of their hooves and the smell of their sweat filling the stuffy air.

They were lucky that the address Whitehorn had given them was in the central layer, as Ana didn’t like her odds of exploring the labyrinthine outskirts. After landing and spending an annoyingly long time trying to find a pony brave enough to give them directions, it only took a bit over ten minutes for them to find the place.

“A bank?” Gava landed heavily next to Ana, paying no mind to the ponies who scuttled away from the duo. The bank looked much like most of the other buildings down here, as though a sculptor had carved a life-size picture of a building face into the cavern wall before hiring a team of miners to dig it out. The stone was painted in polite blues and whites, while a long, gilded wood sign hung above the door, claiming a dozen feet on either side with its frame. Seventh Harvest Central Bank. “We’re meeting him in a bank?”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Ana said, already starting for the doorway. “Maybe I can find a few bonus payments lying around.”

The entrance hall split around a wall that greeted potential customers with a colorful mural of fish swirling around a sunken ship, muffling the bustle of the street and granting the interior a more private, subdued air.

Ana hadn’t been to many banks since her youth—she’d had some poor interactions with them as a filly—but somehow they all looked the same on the inside. Short row of teller booths, bland sofas that were never used, and a pair of recessed offices to one side for customers to figure out the details of how they wanted to indebt themselves for life. She looked it all over with a discerning eye, noting the fearful or shocked looks turned towards her and her sister.

“Ms. Anatami? Ms. Gava?” An aging pegasus mare with a pale green coat and a tired smile stepped up to greet them.

“Who’re you?” Ana asked. From the look on the mare’s face, she guessed that Gava was doing something menacing behind her. “We’re here to see Whitehorn.”

“My name is Fritzy. Mr. Whitehorn hasn’t arrived yet, and I’m to handle you until he does. If you’d please come with me?”

“Handle us?” Gava asked. “We still don’t have a signed contract. How’s he going to get us that when he isn’t even here?”

“We can settle the contract now, ma’am,” Fritzy said, turning leadingly towards a door at the far end of the room. “But not in the lobby.”

“Ma’am?” Ana chuckled, but waved the mare on. “Can’t remember the last time I heard someone call her that.”

Fritzy forced her smile a little wider, making a bad attempt at a grin, before walking for the door. She held it open for Ana and Gava, shutting it quietly behind them as they stepped into a narrow, sparingly lit hall. “There’s a staircase at the back.”

Ana followed the hall at a relaxed pace, ears perked and listening for activity behind the closed doors on either side. She heard the jingling of bits from one and a hoof being stomped in anger from another, and the muffled shouting from the door next to the stairs was loud enough that she paused to listen.

“It’s not fair! I’ve banked here for ten years, paying every month without fail, but we both know I can’t meet the new rate! You’re putting me out of business!”

“Your previous rate was not set in stone, Mr. Strikes. It’s within the bank’s right to change it.”

“Like Tartarus it is! Where’s Sunrise Venture? She and I had an understanding. You tell her—”

“Mr. Strikes, Mrs. Venture hasn’t headed this branch since the riots two months ago. And Mr. Goose only takes meetings by appointment.”

Ana pursed her lips thoughtfully as she started up the stairs. New management, huh? And now Whitehorn was arranging meetings with mercenaries in the back of the bank.

The door at the top of the stairs opened onto a square, mostly empty room with a single potted plant drooping sadly in one corner. Each wall had an unlabeled door set into it, and Fritzy—after squeezing past Ana and Gava with some quietly muttered apologies—went for the one opposite.

“Mr. Goose?” Fritzy called, opening the door without knocking. “Your new guests are here.”

The door led to a wide, important-looking office dominated by a wide, messy desk. Behind the desk sat a yellow pegasus stallion that was grimacing down at a pile of papers through thick-rimmed square spectacles. He jumped, eyes darting up to the doorway, and adjusted the loose tie around his neck as he set the papers aside. “More? A-already?”

“Is that a problem?” Fritzy stepped fully into the office, nodding to Ana and Gava as they followed. “This is Ms. Anatami and Ms. Gava. They’ll be staying in your spare room.”

Mr. Goose’s eyes widened, and he looked slowly between the two sisters with obvious trepidation. “T-those are—”

“Yeah.” Gava cut him off with a flick of her tail. “What about it?”

“Nothing, nothing!” The stallion waved his hooves in what Ana imagined was supposed to be a placating way, but to her it looked more like he was trying to flag for help. “There’s no issue! T-though I only have one bed.”

“Don’t you worry about that, cutie.” Ana grinned, flashing him her fangs. “We’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

His mouth flapped soundlessly for a few seconds, confusion joining the anxiety on his face. Finally Fritzy gave a slight, judgmental shake of her head before beckoning Ana and Gava out of the room. Gava followed right away, but Ana paused in the doorway, glancing back and spotting the hoofwritten name card propped up on his desk. Mr. Swoose Goose, Branch Head.

Fritzy led them to one of the other rooms, which looked more like living space than an office, and Ana’s gaze immediately went to the bed in the center. One bed, my plot! The thing was bigger than any bed she’d slept on in years, taking up half the room. An attached kitchen—not just a kitchenette, but an actual full kitchen—could be seen through an open doorway, and there was another door that Ana assumed led to a bathroom.

Fritzy grabbed one of the lanterns from the adjoining room in a wing, using it to light the ones spread evenly around the suite. That done, she set the lantern aside, reached into a folder tucked under a wing, and pulled out a pair of pristine white papers. “Here’s your contract,” she said, holding it out.

There was a simple wood table at the foot of the bed, and Ana exchanged a quick glance with her sister before dropping her bags, grabbing the contract, and sliding it onto the table. The text was dense, but surprisingly short, and Ana had made it her business to be familiar with such fare since her father passed. Fritzy waited patiently by the door and—after shrugging off her luggage—Gava paced impatiently in the kitchen, so Ana was free to read in relative peace.

Ana and Gava had worked under contract before, and the types of ponies that wrote them seemed to usually take great joy in outlining every possible way that they tied you down and restricted your freedom, using as many words as possible. It was odd, then, that this contract was only one page, and actually had more space devoted to outlining compensation than potential punishments. In a way it didn’t feel like Whitehorn was really employing them so much as he was just reserving the right to hire them first, but otherwise allowing them to operate where and how they wished.

It made Ana suspicious. She read it over three more times, pausing after every sentence and rephrasing it in her head to make sure she was understanding it right, and yet no red flags were raised. She looked down to his signature at the bottom of the page, smooth and styled.

“How did he sign this?” she asked, looking up. “You said he’s not on Harvest yet.”

“It’s a form contract,” Fritzy said. “Is there an issue?”

Ana frowned, but shook her head. “It seems too good to be true.”

“Mr. Whitehorn prefers to let his contractors work with the freedom to best employ their talents, when possible,” Fritzy explained, glancing to Gava. “If everything is acceptable, then please sign. I have an assignment for you.”

“Already?” Gava asked suspiciously. “We just got here.”

Fritzy pursed her lips. “Please sign.”

Ana sighed and returned her gaze to the contract. As much as they’d pushed earlier to get a proper, written contract before continuing to work for Whitehorn, now that she was here she couldn’t help but have second thoughts. She had the gut feeling there wouldn’t be any going back after this; ponies were never happy with the initial terms of a contract. They always pushed for more, tried to twist the words and add more and tie you down and make you theirs.

She glanced up to Gava and saw the griffon watching her with a curious frown. Gava trusted her to make the right choice here, and Ana had never been a mare to make choices with her gut. She was a mare that thought things through and measured the facts and weighed the odds, and right now, as far as she could reason, everything was in their favor.

And at the very worst, even if they did end up tied down without the means to break out and return to their old life, at least they’d still be together. That was the thing that mattered.

Ana lifted a wing, grabbing the pen waiting on the table and clicking it open. She signed quickly, with both their names, and then again on the second copy.

“Thank you.” Fritzy grabbed one copy and returned it to the folder under her wing. In almost the  same motion she pulled out a different sheet, placing it down on the table. “Your first job.”

Ana cocked her head, and Gava padded over to lean over her shoulder. The sheet had a sketch of a unicorn mare on it, her confident smirk rendered in greyscale charcoal. Small text in the corner described the mare’s colors and name: Sapphire Swing.

Gava grunted. “You want us to kill this pony?”

Fritzy arched a brow. “Please don’t. She’s a member of the Harvest delegation for Parliament, and her death would be unfortunate for Mr. Whitehorn. We need you to threaten her.”

“Oh, I get it.” Ana nodded. “She’s stepping out of line, huh?”

“Mrs. Swing and Mr. Whitehorn have a deal, and she merely requires a reminder of the consequences of reneging on that deal,” Fritzy said. “She’s currently staying aboard a ship on the south end, the Dragonscale, and has threatened to withdraw her support unless Mr. Whitehorn opens to a renegotiation. You need to board the ship, find her lodgings, and remind her why that’s a bad idea.”

“Seems simple enough.” Ana looked to Gava, exchanging nods, before turning back to Fritzy. “And what’s with the banker? Should we be worried about him?”

“Mr. Goose is well under control,” Fritzy said. “He won’t tell anyone you’re staying here. At least not without a certain amount of physical persuasion.”

“Got it.” Whitehorn must have some strong dirt on him. She turned to Fritzy with a playful wink. “Anything else? It’s extra if you want to share the bed.”

Fritzy frowned, but shook her head. “I’ll be back in a week at most. And remember, don’t kill her.”

Ana put on her best unnerving smile, all sharp teeth and wide, slitted eyes. “We’ll do our best!”

The door shut with a quiet click, leaving the sisters alone, and Ana let the fake smile fall. She looked down to the drawing of their target with a tired sigh, then back up to Gava.

“Do you think they sell fish here?”





They called themselves the Crystal Empire.

Twilight had always been fascinated by the unwritten meaning of words, sometimes far removed from how they were described in the dictionary. Empire had fallen out of use long before Twilight’s time, but she had seen it many times in her textbooks. It summoned images of long, well-patrolled roads binding different cultures hundreds of miles apart, grand palaces where the greatest wonders from around the world were gathered in displays of prestige, and sometimes legions of soldiers, marching in lockstep on the way to expand their borders.

The last recorded instance was the Griffonian Empire, and some scholars debated the existence of an Equestrian Empire, far in the past. But never once had Twilight read anything, anywhere, about a Crystal Empire.

Her thoughts lingered on this mystery as she and Midnight wandered through the drowned streets, Scylla scuttling a few steps ahead. How did one hide an entire empire from history? Why? Perhaps some vengeful rival had burned every mention of their existence after defeating them in a bloody war? Had they hidden themselves, ashamed after committing a terrible sin? Or maybe the crystal ponies were merely following the tradition started by some delusional ancestor, referring to themselves as an empire when in truth they were nothing more than a lonely far-northern settlement.

Unlikely. Twilight shook her head, looking up to the palace and admiring the way it channeled and radiated the sunlight from above. An isolated township couldn’t make something like that. It would have required many skilled architects and craftsponies and arcanists, more than a small community could provide.

And the soldiers, too. Midnight guided their gaze towards one of the crystallized ponies, his body protected with battered barding, locked in combat with a rival armored in dark, angular plating.They walked up to the pair, and Twilight picked up a weathered helmet half-buried in the sand. There are hundreds, on both sides. Great powers battled here.

How long have they been frozen here? Twilight wondered, turning the helmet over in her hooves. If I’d come here as a filly, what would I have found?

An insignificant question. And not what we came here for.

Twilight pursed her lips, her eyes wandering until they found the gaze of one of the frozen soldiers. He looked so animated, his face contorted with such fury, that she could almost believe he was still alive, miraculously preserved in much the same way as she and her friends. Perhaps he was even still conscious, looking out at her, silently begging for rescue.

She shivered at the thought. She’d spent her time in the dark unconscious, blissfully unaware as her world drowned all around her. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be trapped in crystal for such a time.

She shook her head, focusing back on his horn. Most of the horns she’d seen in her travels had been weathered and chipped, often already separated from the skull of their owner or crumbling into dust, but this one had been perfectly preserved by its crystal casing. She wrapped it tightly in her magic, cringing as she began to pull, but it didn’t budge.

Midnight sighed, seizing control of their magic, and Twilight flinched as the horn broke free with a sickening snap. Little pieces of crystal sparkled in her hornlight as they fell to the half-buried street.

You must pull swiftly and at once, little flower, Midnight chided. Bones do not break to hesitation.

After a few seconds, Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding. It had happened so fast, and for some reason she was expecting… more.

But there was nothing. No creature was roused by the deep crunch of thick bone breaking, and no ghost jumped out to haunt her for disturbing its grave. The ocean rumbled carelessly around her as she held the chunk of crystallized horn in her lavender glow.

With a grimace and a burst of energy, Twilight crushed it in her magic. There was a sound like grinding teeth, and the horn was reduced to a small orb of pale white rock, the crushed crystal in the mass emanating a rainbow shimmer as it rotated in Twilight’s magic.

Impressive, Midnight mused. I’d expected you to balk at such work.

Twilight took a deep breath, waiting for her pulse to slow back to normal. I’m not as weak as you think.

Midnight’s smile hovered in the center of her vision. I know. You’re not as weak as you think.

Twilight let the small ball of hornbane hover beside her as she walked from body to body, breaking her grim trophies free and grinding them up with bursts of magic. She moved stiffly, almost in a trance, her mind dancing around what she was doing as her ball of stolen bone powder grew steadily larger.

Was she a bad pony? She kept thinking back to when she’d made this decision with Midnight, reminding herself that she wasn’t hurting anyone. These were just empty bodies, abandoned, as inert as any rock. It felt wrong, but she’d learned by now that her gut instinct on right and wrong couldn’t always be trusted. She’d thought it through herself, and she knew that the sense of unease would pass with time and repetition, just like when she’d started eating meat.

She took some comfort in that. But there was another thing bothering her.

What if Rainbow asks how we made this? she asked as she passed through a line of frozen soldiers, plucking a pair of horns from their owners. A crystallized father and foal hunched down behind the formation, and Twilight was glad they weren’t unicorns. She may not understand.

She is unlikely to ask. Curiosity is not in her nature.

But what if she does? Twilight insisted. We should have a plan.

They worked in silence for some moments. Twilight passed under a crystal arch and came out into the courtyard of a small villa. There were skeletons here, washed up against the columns on either side, but she was more interested in the two soldiers locked in combat beside the entrance. Their horns came free with sharp cracks.

Are you suggesting that we lie?

Twilight stopped. She kept her eyes on the ball of hornbane, now larger than the bottom of her hoof. She wouldn’t understand this. She’d think I’m a monster.

Lying is for cowards. Midnight’s growl echoed in her ears. We are not cowards.

Are you sure? Twilight bit her lip, looking up to meet Midnight’s glower. I’m afraid of losing her.

Midnight’s brow furrowed in thought, and after a few seconds she spoke, her words slow and measured. We will always be Rainbow Dash’s friend, even if she thinks otherwise.

Twilight sighed. She knew that her friends’ trust in her was tenuous at best, and the idea of losing that trust terrified her more than anything she’d ever faced, but she knew that lying would only make things worse. If Rainbow asked her about the nature of the arcane prosthetic, then Twilight would be honest, no matter how much it might hurt their relationship. She’d just have to hope that any damage could be repaired with time.

Still, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. A broken friendship could be harder to heal than a lost eye—and a lost eye was painful enough.

This should be enough material. Twilight closed her eyes, calling Scylla back to her and gathering her magic to teleport. Let’s get this over with.

With the crack of magic and a rush of water, she left the ruins behind.





“Sabre?” Rainbow Dash called out as she stepped into the navigation room. “You in here?”

Sea Sabre and Flintlock looked up from where they were standing around the map table. At the far end of the room Sunfeather, who was busy with a wrench in front of an open panel in the wall, glanced back before returning to her work.

Sabre cocked her head. “How did you get back on my ship?”

Rainbow blinked. “Huh?”

“I left you on the tower.” Sabre stood, walking around the table and up to Rainbow, eyes narrowing. “How did you get here? Did you leave your armor behind and fly?” Her frown tightened. “That armor is very expensive.”

“What? No!” Rainbow shook her head, confused by the sudden questioning. “Twilight teleported me and AJ up once she got back from her meeting.” She looked to Flint, eyes widening as she saw his expression. “Wait, Sabre, were you actually going to leave us? What about Luna?!”

Sabre pursed her lips. “I told you we were leaving.”

“And you weren’t gonna come back?!”

“I planned on checking on you today, after you’d had some time to think about whether you want to follow orders or not, but it seems no matter how hard I try to discipline you, you’ll always find a way to do whatever you want.” Sabre turned away, stalking back towards the map table with a frustrated flick of her tail.

“Wh—we could’ve been dead!” Rainbow trotted after her. “You said you didn’t trust those ponies!”

“Yes, you could’ve been dead!” Sabre rounded on her with a sharp snarl. “I’m glad you’ve finally caught up to my thought process, a whole day later!”

Rainbow gaped back, shocked by the sudden outburst.

“You listen to me very closely, because you’ve done a very good job of putting me into a very tight situation ever since I pulled you out of that damn cocoon!” Sabre jabbed a hoof into Rainbow’s chest, making her flinch. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want my ponies here. The only reason we are here and not getting comfortable with a new contract in Baltimare is because my crew has convinced me to let them risk it! I know you’re smart enough to understand that, which is why I’d think you’d be smart enough to show some skies-damned gratitude and listen to me!”

Rainbow licked her lips, opening her mouth to utter an apology, but Sabre silenced her with a fierce glare.

“I’m done with it! I’m telling you, right here and now, if you disobey me again, if you so much as question an order in the field, I’m leaving. I’ll take your Princess with me and sell her to the highest bidder, and the only time I’ll think of you again is when you haunt me in my nightmares!”

Rainbow hadn’t realized until then, but she’d actually started to cringe back under Sabre’s tirade, leaving the other mare to lean over her with lips curled back in a snarl. She waited a few seconds, making sure Sabre was done, before gingerly stepping back and straightening up.

“Y-yes, ma’am.” She cleared her throat, looking down. “I understand.”

“I sure hope so,” Sabre growled, though some of the heat left her voice. “Now, what did you want to see me for?”

Rainbow frowned, momentarily confused, until she remembered that she hadn’t been looking for Sabre just to get chewed out. “I just wanted to let you know I was heading out. I mean, if that’s alright with you?” she added hastily.

The corner of Sabre’s lips twitched up before she turned back to the map table. “I’m glad you asked. I have no plans for you as of now, so you’re free to go. What are you doing?”

“Well, uh…” Rainbow grinned sheepishly, hoping Sabre wouldn’t think she was going mad. “The crystal ponies invited me to join them on a hunt, and I thought I’d go along.”

“Ach, a hunt?” Flint arched a brow. “Ye turnin’ into a griffon now?”

Sabre looked up from the map table, narrowing her eyes. “Explain.”

“It’s kinda complicated.” Rainbow shrugged. “But I guess the quickest way to sum it up is that the crystal ponies think Twilight is blessed by their god, and they want to hold this big ceremony for her, and for that they need to have a hunt and a big feast. And Twi wants us to try and learn more about these ponies, so I figure coming along with them should help with that, right?”

Sabre blinked. She exchanged a glance with Flintlock, who offered up a quiet grunt. “Applejack is aboard, right?”

Rainbow nodded. “She’s in the cargo hold, I think.”

“I’ll debrief her for details.” Sabre was already making for the door to the rest of the ship. The door parted with hissing steam, and she paused to glance back over her shoulder. “Be back by sunset.”

The door hissed closed, leaving the room quiet but for the ticking of the gears. Rainbow looked to Flint.

“What’re ye lookin’ t’ me fer, huntress?” He nodded to the door. “Ye ain’t got all day.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes before following Sabre out the door. The other pegasus was nowhere to be seen, so she walked down the stairs to the lower level and to one of the side hatches in silence.

The sun was low on the horizon when Rainbow stepped out into open air and let the wind catch her. The Argo was hovering a short distance above one of the rocky islands that ringed the smooth ice around the Crystal Empire, and Rainbow glided down the slope at a leisurely pace, stirring up swirling eddies of snow with her wingbeats that tickled at her hooftips. She pumped her wings, feeling the weight of the blades nestled among her feathers, and skimmed low over the surface of the ice.

She’d caught glimpses of the crystal ponies’ airships before—once from afar when she first spotted the city, and a second time as silhouettes during the snowstorm that was going at their arrival—but this was the first time she’d seen them up close in clear weather. There were two ships, one still moored and loading passengers while the other floated slow circles around the city. Rainbow aimed herself towards the latter, enjoying the burn in her flight muscles as she climbed.

It looked almost like a ship built around another ship. At the center was a hull of sleek, inky black crystal, slim and angled to cut effortlessly through the air with the slanted edge of its prow. It curved gently outwards towards the center, where an upper deck rose seamlessly out of the lower.

And then there was the rest of the ship. A railing of bone had been erected around the otherwise totally featureless lower deck, and rope bridges hanging from either side allowed crew to get between the bow and stern without having to climb up and over the cluttered upper deck. Ropes were wrapped around almost every part of the ship—sleeved with leather where the sharp edges of the crystal might fray or cut—giving grips to traverse with and anchors for supplies to be tied down to. Netting hung loose at the sides for ponies to climb aboard, and platforms of hide and bone were erected all around the uneven upper deck, providing space for ponies to stand. The whole ship was suspended from a long, slender envelope that looked to be made of furry hides stitched together and supported by the bleached ribcage of some huge creature. An odd purple smoke drifted from small flaps in the envelope, angry and thick, holding together longer than Rainbow would’ve expected before being torn apart by the strong northern wind.

In place of any propellers, the ship had an angled sail extending from its stern like a fish tail, with a few smaller sails placed to either side. Rainbow could already see over a dozen ponies clothed in heavy fur cloaks busying themselves about the deck, tying knots and conversing among themselves as they organized supplies.

She’d never admit it, but the sight sent a chill down her spine. Aside from the strange crystal hull, almost every part of the ship—even down to the clothes of its crew—was built with material harvested from the dead. But she steeled herself, determined not to be cowed by the grisly outwards appearance. One of her best friends was a slit-eyed fanged predator, after all, and she knew Twilight wanted her to give these ponies a chance.

Good thing they’re all so polite, she thought. They’ve been nicer to me than most of the other ponies I’ve met in the new Equestria.

She landed gently on the rear lower deck, straightening up defiantly as several ponies glanced in her direction. These weren’t like the young children and elders she and Applejack had spoken with inside the tower yesterday; these ponies were rough around the edges, their fur as coarse and scarred as the thick hides they wore around their shoulders.

There was a moment where the chatter around the deck stilled. Rainbow set her jaw, silently daring them to challenge her.

A stallion stepped forth, his dark fur cloak accented with a fuzzy white hood. His face was a pale grey that appeared almost marbled in the sunlight. “You’re Rainbow Dash? Chosen Twilight’s companion?”

Rainbow nodded, tossing her mane. “That’s me.”

He broke out into a wide, friendly smile. “Good! I am Brucite Beau, Huntmaster of the West Face and chief of the Crystal Heart. Welcome! We are honored to have you join us for the hunt.”

“Oh, uh.” Rainbow blinked, momentarily confused as several of the other hunters stepped up to greet her, bowing their heads or slapping her on the back with eager grins. “Thanks?”

The greetings didn’t last long. The hunters parted quickly, returning to their tasks and leaving Rainbow more or less alone with Beau.

“So, uh, nice ship you got here,” Rainbow said stiffly, still recovering from her surprise. She looked up, spotting the banners hanging from the bottom of the envelope depicting a curving red horn on black fabric. “You guys built this all on your own?”

“Not us, no.” Beau looked up to the banners with reverence. “The Crystal Heart and the Flurry Heart were carved by our ancestors during the thawing of the world, guided by the Shaper. They’ve been with our people since the first stories, giving us means to harvest food and clothes from the ice.”

“Huh.” Rainbow sat down, taking the ship in with a fresh perspective. Maybe it really was like Twilight had said. Maybe these ponies really were just doing what they had to to survive, and if that was the case, who was she to fault them? Even if it was gross. “So, how can I help?”

“Your appearance is help enough,” Beau said, turning his smile back to her. “The hunt is dangerous, and it would be a great tragedy if you were to be injured. But we are honored to have Chosen Twilight’s friend with us, and your presence will bolster our spirits.”

Rainbow frowned. Even here, on the edge of the world, ponies wanted her to just stand by and watch while they risked their lives? Her lips tightened, and she opened her mouth to protest, to demand that she be be allowed to help!

But she hesitated. Every time she’d been told to stay back, hadn’t there ultimately been a good reason? And hadn’t she or the ponies she cared about suffered whenever she tried to force herself into things where she was told she didn’t belong? She flexed her wings, thinking of how frustrated Sabre had been the last time they spoke.

“Alright.” She forced a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. “I’ll keep back. But if you need anything, you call me in, got it?”

Beau dipped into a quick bow. “So it shall be, Rainbow Dash. With the Shaper’s guidance, we will bring back the makings of a great feast for your friend.”

Rainbow awkwardly returned the bow before stepping back, and Beau turned away without hesitation, calling out commands.

There wasn’t much room on the deck—it was narrow enough without the supplies stacked along the centerline—so she settled for a spot near the middle, leaning against the strangely warm crystal of the upper deck. She let the hunters work in peace, responding to their friendly smiles with stiff nods. Despite what Beau had said about the hunt being dangerous, the ship almost had a carnival air about it, with everyone chatting excitedly in little groups as they worked. Was every hunt like this, she wondered, or was it just because of her and her friends showing up?

Before long, the other airship—the Flurry Heart—finished its preparations and pulled up beside the Crystal Heart, its crew signaling its readiness for the hunt. Both ships sailed west with the wind behind them, and Rainbow found herself enjoying the trip. She moved to the bow and took a spot next to a younger huntress, who introduced herself as Esmeralda, watching the frozen landscape pass by and listening as she named all the submerged mountain ranges and spoke of the hunt. She told her about the yaks—huge, hairy monsters with horns almost as thick as a pony’s chest—and Rainbow realized that the description fit the beast that had nearly drowned her under the ice perfectly.

She’d never met a yak before the wedding, but she’d heard of them before, and it suddenly struck Rainbow that whatever apocalypse befell Equestria must have affected the whole rest of the world as well. She wondered what a corrupted griffon might look like, or a zebra. Were there any survivors far beyond Equestrian borders, their descendants living on in much the same way ponies were? She knew that there were griffon eyries on mountains taller than the Canterhorn. Maybe Gilda had survived and had chicks, and her descendants were living now on an island that had once been a towering mountain.

She found it difficult to focus on such thoughts, however, as Esmeralda then moved on to enthusiastically explain the process of gutting and harvesting a yak carcass, naming all the ways one could use the body. Bone for tools, hide for clothing, fat for burning. And of course meat for eating, though apparently yak meat was stringy and tough, unpopular for cooking.

“Oh, look!” she said, her ears perking up. “There they are now!”

Rainbow leaned forwards as she followed Esmeralda’s hoof. Jutting up out of the ice between two rocky islands was a group of the strange white orbs that she’d seen earlier, just before that yak had attacked her. “Those are yak dens, right? I thought you guys didn’t like, uh, eating yak.” She grimaced and glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting someone to shoot her an odd look after speaking such a strange sentence.

“We don’t,” the huntress said. “But the yaks give us more than just their bodies.”

Rainbow arched a brow at the cryptic answer, but Esmeralda walked off before she could press for any details. She watched as half the crew began to pair off, taking positions around the chains while the ponies working the rudder and sails began to shout between each other. The deck swayed underhoof as the ship began to turn, losing altitude until it was circling the yak dens, low to the ice.

She saw the Flurry Heart dipping lower as well, though it kept its distance from the dens. Rainbow had to squint to see the crew scurrying around the deck, though she couldn’t make out what they were doing.

She cocked her head as a trail of colorful crystal balls, about the size of a pony’s head, were thrown from the Flurry Heart’s deck. They hit the ice with a crunch she could just barely hear from the distance, bouncing along in the ship’s wake on thin chains and leaving a path of chipped ice behind them.

What’s the point of that? Rainbow scratched her head, confused, and then the ice suddenly exploded in front of the bouncing weights, right under the Flurry Heart’s belly.

A huge yak burst out of the spray, roaring and stomping in fury. Rainbow gaped as a second yak broke through the ice an instant later, and then another, and soon there was an entire herd of the monstrous beasts racing across the ice, jumping and snarling in the ship’s shadow.

“The Shaper is with us today, friends!” Beau shouted merrily over the deck. Rainbow tore her gaze away from the Flurry Heart to see him raising a hoof high from his position next to the ship’s wheel. “Let us show our honored guest our bravery!”

Whoops of excitement sounded across the deck as ponies began to jump over the edge, the jumpers all tied by rope to a partner that remained on the ship with their legs braced. Rainbow ran to the edge, peering over, and saw six crystal ponies land heavily on the ice, empty baskets at their sides, before galloping towards the yak dens.

They all swarmed around the nearest den, turning and bucking against the thick ice as one. There was a deep crunch, and they kicked again, and then again, until finally with a resounding crack the round ice buckled, exposing the shadowed interior.

It was impossible to see inside from where she stood, but Rainbow didn’t have to wait long. The hunters dove inside with excited shouts, and a few seconds later they began to leap back into the crisp open air, their baskets filled with frozen fish. Each one sprinted for the ship as they emerged, calling to the pony on the deck holding their rope. They would jump as they drew close, pulling themselves up with gritted teeth, until their partner helped them back aboard with grunts of exertion and grins of approval.

Rainbow looked back to the Flurry Heart, watching as the crew of the distant ship dropped heavy stones on the pursuing yaks, and it all clicked together. The yaks were predators that hunted under the ice, stashing leftovers and excess in their dens. The crystal ponies used one ship to draw them away, and then used the other to get in close, break through the thick ice of the yak dens, and steal the frozen meat.

“Sweet Celestia,” she muttered. “These ponies are crazy.” They weren’t even Gifted like her. She hadn’t seen a single cutie mark among the crystal ponies, and they were brave enough to jump off their ship and literally steal food right from a monster’s lair. They had to know how dangerous it was; almost all of the hunters had scars on their faces or long patches in their cloaks from previous wounds.

Her eyes widened as she saw a trio of yaks peeling away from the Flurry Heart, angling themselves back towards their dens before bowing their heads and storming across the ice at a full gallop. They’d noticed the intruders, and there were still ponies down on the ice!

She flared her wings, watching another hunter scramble out of the den and get hauled up to the deck, but a quick glance around told her that there was still one pony left. The crew shouted warnings as the trio of returning yaks grew closer, one peeling ahead of all the others.

Finally the last pony appeared. Esmeralda nearly tripped as she climbed out of the den with a full seapony carcass splayed limply over her shoulders. She clenched her jaw as she ran for the ship, but it was obvious she wouldn’t make it. The lead yak would be on her in seconds, and although the crew was already running to grab heavy rocks they could throw down to try and defend their comrade, Rainbow doubted it would make any difference.

Rainbow leapt off the ship almost without thinking. She wasn’t going to just sit and watch this pony get gored, even if she barely knew her.

And maybe she still had a bit of a grudge from the last time she’d faced one of these beasts. But that was just a bonus.

The huntress drew up short as Rainbow snapped her wings open, but Rainbow ushered her on. “Go, go!” she shouted, pouring on speed. She didn’t watch to see if the mare listened.

She could get to the yak in time, but she had to be sure it would chase after her. She extended a wing and pulled off to one side before twisting into a snap turn, slicing across the yak’s face barely a hair’s breadth from its deadly horns.

The yak roared, and she grinned as she felt the warm splash of its blood on her feathers, but she couldn’t relax just yet. There were still two others to contend with, and if she flew to safety too soon then the beasts might turn back to the easier prey. She spared a glance toward Esmeralda and saw she had reached the ship, but it seemed she couldn’t climb up with the weight of the seapony on her back. More ponies were rushing to grab her rope and help pull her up, but in the meantime, Rainbow would have to keep stalling.

“Hey, ugly! Haven’t you ever heard of a haircut?” Rainbow banked towards the yaks once more. The lead one dug its claws in and chased after her, but the two further back didn’t seem to have noticed her yet. She whistled to catch their attention before landing on one of their backs, taking care not to get her hooves tangled in its thick hairs.

The yak skidded to a stop, leaving a deep gouge in the ice behind it, and reared up, trying to buck her off. Rainbow held firm, shifting her weight and using her wings for balance, and grinned as she saw the lead yak still barreling towards her, head down.

There was a wet crunch, and the yak under Rainbow’s hooves wheezed as its gut was opened by the horns of its kin. She jumped off with a whoop, watching the surviving yak struggle to free its horns, only for her grin to falter when she realized that there was still one yak missing.

A mare’s scream drew her attention. She whirled mid-air, gasping as she saw Esmeralda clinging desperately to the rope, still keeping the seapony balanced on her shoulders even as blood gushed from a fresh wound on her leg. The last yak skidded to a stop, its horns glistening with blood, and turned to line up for another charge.

That’s when Rainbow saw it—a flash of bright rainbow hair, tangled up and stained red around one of the yak’s horns.

Rainbow snarled, the fire rising in her chest. “Back for more, huh?” she growled under her breath, coiling her body like a spring. “I’ll teach you to mess with Rainbow Dash!”

She surged into motion, mist swirling to either side of her rainbow contrail. The yak’s head jerked towards her as she closed, but it wasn’t quick enough to react in time; she turned and crashed into its forehead with both hind legs, the hard edges of her hooves connecting with its skull with a sickening crack.

The yak stumbled back, but kept its balance. Rainbow bounced away, spinning once before landing on the ice and flaring her wings.

“Rainbow Dash! Esmeralda is safe!” Beau shouted down from the deck. “Come back!”

Rainbow ignored him, keeping her eye locked to the yak’s beady glare. It had gotten the jump on her last time, but now they were face-to-face. She wasn’t going to run from it a second time.

“Come on. What are you waiting for?” Rainbow took a quick step forwards, trying to goad the beast into charging her, but it only snorted and lowered its stance. She narrowed her eye, flexing her wings. Does it remember me?

Well, if it was afraid to make the first move, then she’d gladly strike first. She leapt into the air, arcing towards the yak’s flank, only for it to rush backwards, turning its head to keep its huge horns pointed in her direction. She grimaced and tried for another angle, but the yak never let its eyes off her, bellowing and brandishing its horns every time she tried to dart in to strike.

Rainbow drew up short, hovering in front of it with a snarl. “What are you so afraid of? Come and—whoa!”

The yak charged without warning, forcing Rainbow to awkwardly flutter out of its way. It pivoted quickly, rushing her a second time while she was still off balance, and Rainbow was forced to tuck her wings in and drop to avoid its horns.

She smacked into the ice with a grunt, wincing as the yak’s shadow passed over her. It pivoted again, rearing up over her, lifting its head to roar triumphantly as it prepared to stomp her skull in with hooves that could break through ice as thick as a pony.

Time seemed to slow. Rainbow could hear the crystal ponies shouting something from the ship, but that was the last thing on her mind. She saw every part of the yak in crisp detail—the thick, coarse fur, the long hairs that hung down all around its face like a curtain, the cloven hooves, each toe tapering into a blunt claw—and a small line of pale, exposed skin, just under its jaw.

Rainbow screamed, throwing her weight to one side. The yak’s hooves crashed down on either side of her head with sharp cracks that made her ears ring. And the pointed tips of Rainbow’s wingblades sunk into its throat.

Thick black blood splattered onto Rainbow’s face, dripping down into her mouth. She coughed and looked away, only for a fresh, even stronger spurt to slam into her. The yak gurgled above her, its legs going weak, and Rainbow’s eye widened as the weight on her wings began to grow.

“Oh, hay!” Rainbow lifted her hooves to try and shift the huge thing off of her, but it was heavy. Even with most of its body already limp on the ice, she could just barely keep her legs from buckling under the weight of its upper body. And it wouldn’t stop bleeding on her! “Uh, anyone there? Help!”

She blinked as the yak suddenly rolled to one side, landing on the ice beside her with a dull thud. Four hunters looked down at her with wide smiles, haloed by the sun.

“Rainbow Dash!” Beau laughed, bending down and hauling her to her hooves. “You truly do honor us!”

“What?” Rainbow looked around with a tentative smile as the other three crystal ponies all clapped her on the back excitedly, some even sloughing yak blood off her face before painting it onto their cheeks. She hadn’t really been thinking about how they’d react to her risking her life and ignoring the order to come back to the ship, but after all her past experiences with Sea Sabre, approval had been on the bottom of her list.

“Killing a yak in lone battle!” Beau exchanged smiles with the other hunters, who were already taking positions at either side of the beast’s carcass. “Such courage hasn’t been displayed in two generations!”

Rainbow’s smile grew into a grin as her unease was quickly overtaken by pride. She straightened up, striking a pose. “I am pretty awesome, yeah. Good to finally get some recognition for it!”

“And as reward for your bravery,” Beau continued, crouching by the yak’s front end and pulling a knife out from under his cloak, “you may have its heart!”

Rainbow stiffened at the sound of a knife piercing flesh. “Wait, did you say—” Her eye shot wide open as she turned and saw Beau digging around in the yak’s chest. The other three hunters busied themselves tying rope around its legs as he straightened up, a bloody black organ still pumping in his hooves.

Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her muzzle scrunched up in disgust as he presented the yak heart to her with an encouraging nod. “You want me to eat that?”

He nodded again, and Rainbow noticed the other hunters had stopped to watch. “Normally we would share the heart among the hunters, but when a pony takes down a yak on their own, it belongs to them.” He bowed his head, holding the heart higher. “To eat the heart of a yak is to take its strength for yourself. It’s your honor as a yakslayer.”

Rainbow blanched. “But—I mean, won’t I get sick?”

Beau looked up with a frown, cocking his head, and for a moment Rainbow thought she had offended him. But then his eyes lit up and the smile came back, and he shook his head good-naturedly. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten that Equestrians don’t eat meat! You may feel ill, yes, but the heart will not hurt you. All of our children must learn to eat meat as they grow.” Her uncertainty must have been obvious, because he added, “We understand if you turn it down, and will not be offended. We merely wish to give you what you deserve.”

Rainbow pursed her lips, watching as the heart squirmed in his hooves. It looked and smelled disgusting, but something held her back from rejecting the offer outright. Was this how Twilight had felt back in Canterlot when she’d first had to eat meat? If what Beau said was true, then it wouldn’t hurt to at least try a bite, right?

The crystal ponies had been nothing but kind to her so far, and she was loath to repay their kindness by turning down what was clearly an important gift from them. Ever since waking up in this twisted, shattered version of Equestria, she felt like she was punished no matter what she did. Every single time she’d tried to help, tried to do what she felt in her gut was right, she’d been beaten or chastised, lectured by the very ponies she was trying to help or left broken on the floor while her enemies gloated.

But not this time. The crystal ponies had told her to stay back, but they didn’t hold it against her when she jumped to help. Instead they thanked her, congratulated her, and even offered her an award of sorts. And as gross as that award was, Rainbow wanted it.

Besides, Twilight had eaten meat, right? Was Rainbow really going to back down from something that egghead had been brave enough to do?

She reached out, taking the heart with bated breath. It was slippery and wet and warm, still pumping almost as if it had a life of its own. Rainbow grimaced as she looked down at it, watching thick black blood drip from both ends.

If she kept staring and thinking she’d never work up the courage, but if there was one thing Rainbow was good at, it was not thinking.

She closed her eye and leaned in, sinking her teeth into the heart. It was tough and gamey, and she had trouble keeping her grip as she worked her head side-to-side, struggling to pull a piece free with her flat teeth. Blood pooled in her mouth, strangely tangy, but she’d tasted blood before, and it wasn’t enough to scare her off.

Finally she pulled her head back, peeling away a stringy bite. She kept her eye closed as she chewed, trying not to think about what she was doing. Her teeth were ill-suited to the task, but the heart was slick with blood, and after working at it in vain for several seconds she just threw her head back and swallowed the bite whole.

She opened her eye and stuck her tongue out, fighting to keep it down. A little voice in the back of her head screamed that she’d gone mad, and the bitter aftertaste lingered no matter how much she licked her lips.

Beau cheered, and an instant later he was joined by a chorus of other voices. Rainbow looked back and saw the ponies of the Crystal Heart all watching from the deck, stomping their hooves in approval, and she couldn’t help but grin back at them.

“Not too bad, huh, Yakslayer?” Beau said, taking the heart back with a wide smile. “But do not force yourself further. Let’s get back to the ship with your kill, and quick! We’ll have a great feast on our return, and there will be stories to tell! Come!”

Rainbow smiled back, laughing at his contagious enthusiasm. She kept smiling as she helped the hunters haul the dead yak onto their ship, and smiled wider as everypony on the crew came to congratulate her personally. Her cheeks were starting to hurt when they flew close to the Flurry Heart and Beau shouted the news of what she’d done, spawning a fresh wave of roared approval, but she never stopped smiling.

She liked these crystal ponies, meat-eating and all.
> XXVI: Of Stories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In some ways, Rarity felt like she were enjoying a cruise, relaxed on the deck with the afternoon sun warming her coat and the wind of travel toying with her mane and the company of friends to keep a smile on her face. Pinkie and Fluttershy were playing a game with Brownie and a pair of crewponies, tossing a balloon between each other while the young bear tried to intercept it. Most of the crew still shied away from him whenever he and Fluttershy made an appearance, but they were beginning to relax after three days of travel.

Rarity didn’t partake in the game herself. It was unbecoming for a mare of her station to be seen playing with common airponies, or so she was happy to let them believe if it got her out of it. She would hate to work up a sweat on a ship that lacked the amenities for a shower.

“So you see the issue, then?” Whitehorn asked from beside her. He’d been explaining the finer details of the Equestrian Parliament, using some diagrams from a small notebook.

She nodded. “Truthfully, it seems like a system designed to get nothing done.”

“You aren’t the first to make that observation, my Lady. Perhaps once the Table is established we could make that a second goal of ours, reforming Parliament.” He tapped his pen against his chin with a thoughtful hum. “But alas, the islands will not give up their independence easily. We should focus on one lofty goal at a time.”

Rarity ran it over in her head one more time. Each island, no matter its size, was given a single vote on all issues, and a bill could be passed via simple majority, and a bill required support from a twentieth of the assembly to go up for vote. It was easy to understand at a surface level, but twenty percent of the vote was always reserved for the Princesses, who—as far as Equestria at large was concerned—had been gone for centuries.

And so with a fifth of the vote always abstaining, every island out for itself and fighting anything that might harm their independence, and the fact that there wasn’t any organization in place for enforcing whatever did get passed, Parliament was effectively neutered. From the way Whitehorn described it, each year’s assembly was used more as an opportunity for the island representatives to meet and network than guiding the development of Equestria.

She sighed, watching the clouds roll past. There was so much that needed to be changed, and she only had one lifetime to do it in.

Pinkie’s voice broke through her reverie. “Hey, look!”

Rarity turned, spotting the airship that had crested the horizon. She couldn’t see any details from this distance, but the plume of smoke swirling in its wake was obvious even from afar. She frowned, standing up. “Oh, goodness. Are they okay?”

The balloon fell to the deck as all eyes turned to the distant ship, popping under Brownie’s weight as he pounced. One of the crewponies stepped up to the rail and raised a spyglass to her eye.

“They’re signalling,” she said. “Dead in the clouds.”

Fluttershy gasped. “They need our help!”

The other crewpony shook his head. “Nah. Boss don’t wanna bother.”

Rarity blinked, staring at the back of his head. “I beg your pardon? Those ponies are literally asking for help.”

“Bad luck we found ’em,” he said, frowning down at the popped balloon. “Orders’re we don’t stop for nothin’.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Pinkie said, narrowing her eyes.

The stallion shrugged. “Nice don’t pay wages.”

“Wages are beside the matter!” Rarity stomped a hoof, beckoning to Whitehorn. “Come along,  dear. We’ll talk to the good captain ourselves.”

She marched off without looking back. Whitehorn caught up to her a couple seconds later, his voice low but urgent. “Countess, we’re guests on this mare’s ship. We shouldn’t be questioning her orders.”

“I’ll have none of it!” Rarity practically kicked the door to the lower deck open, ignoring his hints to quiet down. “Those ponies need help, and that’s all that matters. I can’t sit and watch while lives are risked over mere profit!”

Whitehorn grimaced, but thankfully didn’t push the matter further. A pair of crewponies stepped into view, eyes widening at the sight of Rarity’s expression, and leapt back out of sight as she stormed down the hall, stopped in front of the captain’s door, and delivered a series of sharp knocks.

“Captain!” She didn’t stop knocking even when she heard furniture scraping inside. “Captain, I require your attention this instant!”

“What?!” The door swung open to reveal an irritated, sandy-coated pegasus mare wearing a ruffled white blouse and green shoulder cape just a shade darker than her mane. She glared past her bangs, meeting Rarity’s disapproving gaze.

“Your crew has spotted a ship in distress,” Rarity said. “And they tell me that you’ve ordered them not to stop.”

“Aye,” the Captain said evenly. “It’s not our problem.”

“It is our problem,” Rarity countered. “You would want those ponies to help if the roles were reversed.”

“But they’re not,” the Captain shot back. “So we won’t.”

Whitehorn leaned around Rarity’s shoulder with an appeasing smile. “My apologies, Captain. I know you’re a busy mare with much on your mind, but the Countess isn’t quite familiar with—”

“Shut!” Rarity stomped a hoof, cutting him off. If she’d had this conversation a month ago, then no doubt she’d have been surprised—even shocked—that anyone would be so callous with the lives of other ponies, but now she knew the truth. Equestrians didn’t care about each other anymore. If you wanted them to do anything, even something that the youngest foal would have understood was right in the past, you had to take another approach.

She narrowed her eyes at the other mare. “Do you know who I am, darling?”

The Captain’s lip curled back in a snarl. “You’re a mare on my ship, who I’d be in my rights to throw overboard if she tried a mutiny.”

Rarity arched a brow at that, but pressed on. “I am Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Old Equestria, wife of Sir Pontius, Baron-Governor of Friesland, son of Duke Titus of Canterthusia, liege to many other powerful lords on Altalusia.”

The Captain blinked, losing the snarl, but kept her lips pressed into a tight frown. “What of it?”

“Your hold is filled with lumber and crafts from Altalusia,” Rarity said, speaking in the slow, measured tone one used when educating the ignorant. “I know this because I cannot get the smell of wood dust out of my mane despite several thorough attempts, and I expect your insistence on speed is due to a hope that you’ll be first to reach Harvest with these goods after the lifting of the siege. I imagine you would profit greatly from such a deal, and even if you’re not the first, demand for these goods will still be high for some time.”

“I don’t see what my cargo has to do with this,” the Captain said, but Rarity could see she had lost some of her bluster. “This is my ship, and that’s all that matters.”

“Yes, of course, your ship, insofar as you and your crew operate it.” Rarity smiled sweetly. “Though the merchant lord who leases it to you may see it differently.”

The Captain’s tail flicked behind her. “Get to the point, mare.”

“Very well, mare, though I’d advise you to listen carefully, as I will say this only once.” Rarity leaned in, dropping the smile. “If you do not turn this vessel around and help those ponies within the next thirty seconds, I shall make it my business to write to my husband in Friesland. He’s a good stallion, a caring stallion, who does not put the wealth of his pocket over the lives of his ponies, and not only will you never set hoof on Altalusia again, he will see to it that every tradespony under your merchant lord’s employ pays for your callousness.” She paused, letting her words hang in the air. “And I expect any frustrations about such business would come squarely down on your head.”

The Captain had gone stiff. She glanced uncertainly towards Whitehorn before meeting Rarity’s glare once more. “You’re bluffing. Lady Dahlia could take her business anywhere, and Friesland would be the ones most hurt by it.”

“Perhaps so,” Rarity admitted. “But I doubt she would appreciate the inconvenience. And I can assure you, darling, I do not bluff. You’re down to twenty.”

The Captain was silent for several long seconds, and for a moment Rarity began to wonder if she was right. She couldn’t really know how many merchants she’d be asking Pontius to embargo with this threat, nor the economic damage that would be done by it. But it was the only card she had, and she had to play it with confidence.

“Fine.” The Captain grabbed a hat from behind the door, dropping it onto her head. “But once you leave my ship, I never want to see you again.”

“The feeling is mutual, Captain.” Rarity stepped aside with a smile, leaving room for the other mare to pass. “It’s good to meet a pony that cares for more than just herself.”





Rainbow Dash felt light as air as she landed in the Argo hall and pulled the hatch closed behind her. “Applejack!” she called, starting towards the cargo hold. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

A door clicked open behind her, and Rainbow turned to see Applejack’s head, sans hat, leaning out of Flint’s room with wide eyes. “Rainbow Dash, I swear to Celestia, Luna, my parents, and everythin’ I can’t think of right now, if you’ve flown off and killed somepony else, I’m disownin’ ya.”

Rainbow frowned. “Wait, are you two banging again?”

Applejack pursed her lips. “I really don’t see how that’s important here, sugar cube, considerin’ y’all’re covered in blood.”

Rainbow cocked her head. She looked down, and only then realized that in her excitement she’d forgotten that yes, actually, she was covered in blood. “Oh! No, don’t worry, this isn’t pony blood, this is yak blood.” She grinned and struck a pose. “I went out on a hunt with the crystal ponies like Twi suggested, right? And there were all these yaks running around—that hairy thing that attacked me earlier was a yak apparently—and then one of the crystal ponies was in trouble, so I swooped in and saved her!” She jumped into the air, doing a loop for emphasis. “But then I realized one of the yaks was the same one I’d fought earlier, and I couldn’t just let it get off scot-free, so I challenged it to single combat and cut it down with all the hunters watching! And then I ate its heart and everybody cheered, and now they’re all calling me Yakslayer!”

Applejack blinked. “I ain’t even sure where to start respondin’ to all that.”

“Did she just say she ate its heart?” Flintlock’s head leaned into view. “Ye ain’t gonna start glowin’ ’n blow th’ ship, are ye?”

“What? No!” Rainbow groaned, throwing her hooves up. “Can’t you guys just be happy for me? This is awesome!”

Applejack sighed, exchanging a glance with Flint. “I’m happy for ya, RD, really. Why don’t ya go get yourself a shower and then ya can tell us all about it?”

“Ugh, really?” Rainbow shook her head in exaggerated disgust. “Fine, you two have your fun with each other. But you better show up for the feast!” She spun in place, grinning at Applejack’s eye roll, and made for the ship shower.

The sun was starting to set by the time she’d finished scrubbing dried yak blood out of her coat, and after checking with Sabre to let her know she’d come back on time and get permission to set out again, Rainbow went looking for her friends. She didn’t think Sabre was interested in docking again, so if Applejack was going to attend the feast they’d need Twilight to teleport them down as a group. She couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when the crystal ponies told the story of her heroism out on the ice today.

“Twi, AJ? You guys in here?” she called, stepping into the cargo hold and wringing the last drops of moisture from her mane. “You guys don’t wanna miss this feast!”

Twilight’s voice answered from her room. “In here, Rainbow!”

Rainbow grinned as she walked through the curtain. Twilight was standing in the center of her room, facing the entrance, her hooves held close together and her slitted eyes wandering. Rainbow arched a brow, picking up on her friend’s distress. “Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Twilight said. She offered a nervous smile. “I heard you went hunting.”

“Yeah, actually. Did AJ tell you about it?” Rainbow straightened up, flexing her wings nonchalantly. “You’ll hear about it tonight, so I don’t wanna spoil you with the details now.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Twilight nodded a few times too many, tapping a hoof against the floor. She looked away, focusing on something only she could see, and then took a deep breath and licked her lips, meeting Rainbow’s gaze. “I made you something.”

Rainbow’s ears perked up. From the way Twilight was acting, this had to be important. She sat down, giving the other mare her full attention. “What is it?”

“It’s—well, here.”

Twilight’s horn glowed, grabbing a plain cloth off her desk and pulling it aside to reveal a smooth orb of glittering white stone. Rainbow walked up to it, watching the way it seemed to catch the light and twinkle with a rainbow of different colors. She frowned as she saw the runes engraved into its surface, reminding her almost of a wide-open eye.

Rainbow picked it up, feeling its weight. “What is it?”

“It’s an eye.” Twilight’s words came out in a rush. “For you.”

“For me?” Rainbow frowned, looking up and seeing Twilight watching her anxiously. “Like, for decoration? I guess the twinkling is kinda cool.”

“No, Rainbow, not for decoration!” Twilight groaned, hanging her head in her hooves. “Ugh, why is this so hard? It’s an eye, to help you see. To—you know?” She looked up, gesturing at her face.

Rainbow cocked her head, a creeping dread rising at the back of her mind. “Am I supposed to put this in my… wound?”

“Yes.” Twilight nodded firmly.

Rainbow waited for some further explanation, but nothing came, and the room lapsed into an uneasy silence. She looked down at the strange eye and was filled with an unexpected sense of revulsion. Why did she feel that way? She should be happy to have something to fix the damage Gava had done to her, right?

And yet when she looked at the eye she didn’t feel relief. She felt weak. She felt angry. The joy of her victory during the hunt was suddenly swept away, replaced with the hazy, red-tinged image of a sneering griffon with a bloody beak. Her shoulders slumped and her eye itched, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run, to escape into the sky and fly faster than her thoughts could follow.

“Rainbow?” Twilight sounded worried. Probably because she knows how worthless I am. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Huh?” Rainbow blinked, and the memory was gone.

“This will give you your vision back,” Twilight continued, stepping closer. “Well, not exactly. You still won’t be able to see, but you’ll be able to tell what’s around you, even through walls or darkness. In some ways it’ll even be an improvement from before.”

“Oh.” Rainbow wasn’t sure what to do with the thing. She didn’t want to hurt Twilight’s feelings by putting it down, but she didn’t have any pockets or bags on her either. She settled for looking back to Twilight, trying to ignore the weight in her hooves. “Um, thanks, Twi.”

Twilight’s brow knit with concern. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s not that.” Rainbow sighed, closing her eye. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m sure you went through a lot of trouble to make this, and I bet it works great and all. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Maybe you could try it out?’ Twilight suggested gently. “I haven’t been able to test it properly without you.”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head emphatically. “I’m sorry. I just—I was kinda getting used to this, and I haven’t really thought about it in a while, and—if I was gonna get fixed, I’d hoped I would be… fixed. Y’know?” She grimaced, opening her eye, but half her world remained in darkness. “But I guess that settles it, huh? I’ll always be… a little broken.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. Maybe she didn’t know what to say. Either way, Rainbow didn’t want to look up and see her friend’s disappointment. She turned away to leave, transferring the eye to one of her wings, and paused in the doorway. “Sorry.”

She left quickly, before Twilight could get out any response. She flew up to her cloud room and stuck the eye in the little chest she’d made for storing the few personal items she owned, then made for the nearest hatch.

She was tired from the hunt, but not too tired to fly away from the things that haunted her.





They’d arrived at Harvest early in the day and, being well-rested and with nothing else to do, Ana had suggested that they take care of the job as soon as possible. It should be easy enough—find a way onto the ship, find the target, flash some fangs and talons. They could be in and out quick enough for an early dinner and still have time to get the lay of the land afterwards.

That plan didn’t last long.

It wasn’t as easy to find fish for sale in Harvest as it was in Leviathan Wakes, but there were a few spots on the lower levels where it was served. The ponies had cheap metal platforms strung up to ropes and pulleys, and would lower themselves to just above the water to cast out lines or nets before being pulled back up with their day’s catch. Ana and Gava had found a spot behind one such fish restaurant, sitting on the edge of a short metal pier with nothing but open ocean beneath it and listening to the squealing of the pulleys as they shared a plate of fried fish.

It also gave them an excellent view of the Dragonscale.

“By Luna,” Ana muttered, shaking her head.

Gava hummed, tapping a talon against the pier. “That ship is made for war.”

It was an odd thought, an airship built for war. Ana was no historian, but her father had ensured she’d had a basic knowledge of pony history growing up. There was a brief era, centuries ago, where the islands had warred between each other, sending armies abroad on primitive airships in hopes of asserting themselves as the center of a new Equestrian Empire. But such incursions had always carried with them hefty losses in both lives and materiel.

There was no easy way to land a ship on an island that didn’t want to be landed on, and after several devastating wars that saw dozens of ships carrying hundreds of ponies apiece fall from the skies before they ever reached their destinations, ponykind collectively agreed that war was a thing that belonged exclusively on land. They may jostle for economic supremacy or send agents to interfere with islands distant and far, but every ruler knew that an actual invasion of another island was tantamount to suicide, and so ships were never built with war in mind. There were ships for trade, ships for salvage, ships for travel and ships for hunting, but ships for war were relegated to the pages of history.

Except, it would seem, for the Dragonscale. Ana had done some asking around on the way here, and she’d gotten a few conflicting answers about the ship’s purpose. Some ponies said it was a warship, the pride of the Harvest fleet, ready to push off and destroy any vessel that might threaten the city’s airspace. Others said it was just a historical piece, a walk-in museum that harkened back to a less civilized time. And there were even a couple ponies that had disparaged it as little more than a tourist trap.

It was long and wide, four times at least longer than the Roc’s Screech had been, with a pair of gas envelopes to either side of the hull armored with thick metal plating suspended off sturdy trusses. A trio of huge, double-barreled turrets occupied the centerline of its open deck, all currently pointed away from the city, and the prow bulged out into a vertical hammerhead, with angled towers jutting out both above and below the glinting glass of the bridge on the ship’s bow. The hull widened at its rear, providing mounts where four huge propellers sat idle, while a number of sails and fins protruding at angles from the bottom allowed for steering.

It was a warship, and Ana would hate to be on the other side of its cannons, which is why it struck her as odd that so many ponies could be seen milling about the deck, swarming around the great turrets in a dazzling variety of expensive clothing. Travelers from both near and far wanted to see the last surviving warship, and it seemed Harvest was more than willing to indulge them—for a price.

“Well, might as well get on with it.” Ana grabbed the last piece of fish off their plate and popped it into her mouth, kicking the empty plate off the pier to spin down into the waves.

“Just like that?” Gava narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want to spend a few days scoping it out or something?”

“Sis, we’re gonna go scope it out right now,” Ana said, flashing the griffon a teasing smirk. “It’s a public attraction, remember? We don’t even have to sneak aboard.”

Gava grunted as she stood. “They’ll see us.”

Ana smiled as she leaned into her sister, nuzzling under her chin. “Gava, I appreciate you thinking about being subtle and all that, but believe me, if I was worried about being seen, I’d have asked you to stay home.”

Gava clacked her beak, looking around as if to ensure she wasn’t spotted being cuddled. “I’d come anyway. We’ve split up too much lately.”

“Good thing we don’t need to for this job then, huh?” Ana broke away from the nuzzle, crouching low and flaring her wings. “Now let’s get going. I bet they’ve got mango cocktails on that ship.”

As dizzying as the city could be when navigating by hoof, it only took a minute of easy gliding for the sisters to cut across the open air, swerving around the lazy little airboats that drifted slowly across the city’s underbelly like fleas on a dog. Ana landed first, startling a few tourists, and several more balked when Gava’s heftier bulk landed behind her, buffeting them with her wings. Ana offered them her best unnerving smile, but somehow didn’t feel the same satisfaction as usual when they shied away.

The Dragonscale was moored at the end of a long, wide stone pier lined with statues of propellers, cannon, and sails. Each one was flanked by a small plaque describing some historical landmark in the defunct field of military aviation, but Ana kept her eyes on the ship itself as they fell into the loose line of ponies filing aboard. A pair of marines were stationed to either side of the gangway, stopping each party and collecting a fee of bits before directing them onto the ship. Their uniforms were elaborate and ostentatious, with polished black helmets crested by an ornate golden horn and a gilded ship’s prow adorned across the forehead. Each one wore a long black cloak decorated with patterns of gold and silver that hung down almost to the ground and concealed most of their bodies. Silvered sheaths strapped to their shoulders completed the image, carrying daggers that Ana suspected were there more for show than battle.

It was an impressive getup, and after a few seconds watching the way the marines scanned the  crowd, eyes simultaneously sharp yet half-lidded with apparent boredom, she determined that these weren’t mere ceremonial troops; despite their gaudy uniforms and lack of any obvious practical weaponry, these ponies were trained soldiers.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” Ana said, glancing towards Gava. “Those guards aren’t expecting a fight, but they won’t back down from one.”

“I’m not blind, Ana.” Gava rolled her eyes.

Ana smirked at that, turning her gaze on the ponies waiting in line around them. Some looked like locals, perhaps lesser crewponies stationed on the ship or workers that had saved up enough for a visit, but most were clearly from abroad, displaying several distinct fashions. Thankfully, all of them were pointedly avoiding looking at the big, menacing griffon in their midst, which made it trivially easy for Ana to relieve a couple of the more pretentiously dressed ponies of their bits.

The marines straightened up as Ana and Gava reached the front of the line. The eldest-looking stepped forwards, his rank designated by a red scarf tucked into his collar. “Thirty bits, each.”

Ana nodded, producing the required bits with a toothy smile. The guard’s eyes never left hers, though she could see his subordinates glance towards her fangs. “Sixty for two of us, then.”

“Enjoy your visit. Guests leave at sundown.” He stepped aside, fixing each of them with a meaningful look that Ana took as a warning not to cause any trouble.

“Thanks, stud.” She winked, the other two marines watching her with open curiosity as she led Gava up the gangway. The metal rattled underhoof, the departing ponies on the opposite side of the gangway shrinking back when they passed.

Gava snorted, flaring her wings and causing an older couple to quicken their step. “Never gets old, huh?”

“Yeah.” Ana flicked her tail, shooting a dark look at the couple’s back. “It doesn’t.”

The attitude didn’t change once they made it onto the deck. Ana took the lead once again, doing a slow circuit of the ship and playing the part of the interested tourist while surreptitiously soaking in every detail of the security and layout, but she found herself getting strangely irritated by the wide berth given to her and her sister. Why was it bothering her so much, the way ponies would shoot her nervous glances and tug their foals closer whenever she got close? It’s like they thought she was going to suddenly turn and pounce on their children. Normally such an idea would make her snort and show her fangs to the superstitious parents, but for some reason, today she only wished she’d thought to wear a cloak.

Despite the distraction, they were on a time limit, and Ana forced herself to focus on the mission. The ship was lightly crewed, with only a token garrison of marines aboard acting more as curiosities for the guests than effective security. The public was given free reign to ogle the huge turrets, pester any crew they could catch with questions, and tour the uppermost decks, but the pony they were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

Acting on a hunch, Ana tried asking one of the marines where she could rent a room for the night. She was given directions astern, and after a short walk, she and Gava found themselves in what looked like a hotel lobby that had been transplanted into the center of the ship.

“Welcome to the Dragon’s Tail!” a cheery clerk mare called as they stepped inside. “The most—o-oh.”

Gava rolled her eyes, stepping up to the mare’s desk. “Hey. We need a room.”

“Oh, uh, r-right.” The clerk smiled anxiously, setting a large notebook down in the center of the desk and flipping it open with shaky hooves. “Um. L-let me just—oh.”

The mare froze as Gava grabbed the notebook and pulled it across the desk, spinning it around to face her. She clacked her beak and scanned the first page before flipping to the next one. “Which of these is free?”

The clerk grimaced, opening her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Ana smiled at her as she walked up to Gava’s side. “How much for a room?” She leaned around Gava’s shoulder, scanning the pages as the griffon quickly flipped through them.

“Um. Would y-you ladies prefer a suite or o-one of our economy options? The suite is f-five—”

“Hold that thought.” Ana’s hoof flashed out, stopping Gava from turning the page. She tapped once at a name written in small, careful script. Sapphire Swing. VIP Level, Glory Suite. Getting a room next to her would be too expensive, but a cheaper plan was already forming in her mind. She feigned surprise, looking to the clerk with a wide, befanged grin. “Hey, we know this pony! You don’t mind if we go say hi, do you?”

“Who? Um.” The clerk frowned, trying to see the name Ana had pointed to without leaning any closer. “W-we, uh—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gava slapped the book shut and shoved it towards the clerk. “We’ll find our way.”

“W-wait, you—”

“Have a nice day!” Ana waved before trotting down one of the halls that split off the lobby, Gava at her side, snickering at the fading sounds of the clerk’s stammered attempts to call them back. She led the way around a corner at a brisk pace, glancing back to her sister. “Did you see the room map?”

“I got a glimpse.” Gava kept her eyes forward as they walked. “You think that pony’s gonna call security?”

Ana shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll just have to be quick.”

Every part of the warship they’d seen previously had been designed for military efficiency above all else, with cramped halls made for organized troops to file past each other during battle and regular bulkheads to keep fires contained. Where they walked now, however, looked as if an aristocrat had been hired to remodel the interior in the likeness of their traditional family home. The piping running along the walls was covered up with faux furniture or small potted plants, the normally bare riveted steel walls were now painted in domineering blacks and silvers, and the heavy hatches found throughout the ship were replaced with elliptical wooden doors decorated with geometric patterns. What little wall space remained between the portholes, bulkheads, and hatches was filled in with wood-framed landscape paintings, perhaps in some attempt to make the hall feel more open.

“Here.” Gava nodded as the hall widened to accommodate a slim, steep stairway descending to a lower deck. “The VIP suites.”

The lower deck didn’t look much different at a glance, but most of the hatches had been covered up along with the piping, while those that remained had their doors decorated in gold and silver trim, each depicting a unique image of a heroically posed pony wearing snappy clothes and a grim expression. Ana took the lead again, eyeing the plaques beside each door.

She drew up short at movement ahead of her. A pair of marines had been leaning against the wall, hidden from view with all the clutter edging the hall, and had stepped out into the open with arched brows.

“Good afternoon,” the first said, dipping her head in greeting. “Did you just check in?”

Ana grinned and prayed to Luna that Gava would be able to pull off a half-convincing excited tourist. “Yes, ma’am! We’re heading to our room now.”

“Packed real light,” the second marine said. He narrowed his eyes. “Which suite?”

“We find vacationing more fun without all the baggage.” Ana giggled to buy time as she thought back to what she’d seen of the room list. She knew at least one of the suites was empty; she just had to remember the right one. “We’re staying in the Wheedle Suite.”

The marines frowned. The mare’s cloak fluttered back with a dramatic flourish as she revealed the wings hidden beneath—and the blades strapped to her feathers—while the stallion lowered his head, brandishing the sharp steel spearhead encasing his horn.

“Oh, was that the wrong one?” Ana grimaced. “I meant, the, uh—”

Gava slammed into the stallion, knocking him to the ground. She coiled her body like a spring as she landed before throwing herself sideways into the mare, who cried out in alarm before her helmet struck the hard edge of a bulkhead and she toppled limply to the floor. The stallion rolled to his hooves, a silver whistle held in his lips, only to have it torn free as Gava raked her talons across his face, leaving him dazed and bleeding.

Ana huffed. “I could’ve sworn that room was empty.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gava rolled the stallion onto his back and tugged his helmet off, exposing his neck. “We’re gonna need to find a place to stash these bodies.” She grabbed his throat in her talons, her beak twisting up into a predatory grin, and—

“Hey, whoa!” Ana rushed forwards, pushing her sister off the groaning pony. “Stop!”

Gava blinked. She looked down at Ana with brow furrowed. “What’d you do that for?”

Ana stared back at her wide-eyed. What had she done that for? Seconds passed in silence but for the stallion’s pained moans.

Gava’s tail flicked behind her. “We can’t just leave two bodies in the hall, Ana.”

“They’re not dead.” Ana shook herself, reaching for some explanation of her actions. “We can interrogate them.”

Gava cocked her head. “Why? We know where we’re going.”

Ana bit her lip, stomping a hoof in frustration. What is happening to me? “Alright, but—look, the garrison’s clearly not expecting trouble, right? They weren’t even watching the stairs or the lobby, these ponies think they’re on tourist watch.” She nodded, speaking more confidently as she sounded out her logic. “If two of them turn up dead, they’ll be on high alert. Two ponies bound and gagged in a closet, not so much—and we can use them to scare our target!”

Two seconds passed as Ana met Gava’s judging gaze. Why was her heart pounding in her ears?

Finally Gava snorted, rolling her eyes. “Fine.”

“Great! Come on, let’s get them restrained.” Ana grinned in relief as she walked up to Gava’s side and pulled some rope out of the griffon’s satchel, silently praying that she wouldn’t be questioned further once they were in the clear.

It only took them a minute to bind and gag the two soldiers. Ana hauled them both onto Gava’s back, and they resumed their search at a much quicker pace, glancing behind them every few seconds. Luckily, the suites didn’t seem to be in heavy use, or at the very least none of the guests were using their rooms at the moment, and after a few minutes of searching they finally found the room they were looking for.

Glory Suite. Ana took a second to admire the gilded likeness of a unicorn mare emblazoned on the door, her patronizing features exaggerated to match the extravagant flourish of her hat and cape. She pressed her ear up to the door and, hearing nothing, nodded to Gava before picking the lock and pushing it open.

The suite itself did an impressive job of pretending it wasn’t crammed onto a military vessel. Walls of smooth wood paneling had been erected inside a wide, low chamber to create a trio of smaller rooms, each illuminated by sunlight filtering in through the narrow portholes that lined the far walls. Paintings of the same mare that had been featured on the door competed with imagery of warships similar to the Dragonscale, sometimes locked in battle with rivals of equal stature, while a round wooden bar next to a collection of sofas served as the foyer’s centerpiece and plush rugs kept the hard metal floor at bay. Ana peeked inside each of the other doorways, spotting a well-stocked office and a lavish bedroom, with a smaller door inside the latter that she assumed led to a bathroom.

“Looks clear,” she said. “Close the door and stash the ponies in the bedroom. We’ll wait for this Sapphire Swing mare to show up, then put the fear of Luna into her.”

Gava shrugged and kicked the door shut behind her. “Fear of Gava sounds better to me.” The soldiers on her back stirred as she stalked into the bedroom and dumped them roughly onto the floor, ignoring their protests.

Ana nodded. “I’m gonna go check that office. Might be something interesting in there.”

“Sis, there’s nothing but paper in there.”

Ana smirked, shaking her head in bemusement and walking for the office. “Just don’t kill the captives, alright?”

She made a beeline for the desk, ignoring the paintings and other trappings of wealth that rich ponies so loved spreading around their rooms. It was mostly well organized, with multiple paper bins for organizing correspondence and a filled-out calendar that seemed to double as an eating surface if the crumbs on it were any indication. A letter was left unfolded in the center of it all, next to a blank sheet and a small pile of crumpled papers. Ana leaned over it curiously, frowning at the lack of the usual clutter important ponies always decorated their paper with.

I am warning you for the last time, Mrs. Swing, ponies who attempt to go back on an agreement made with me do not enjoy the consequences that befall them. You may think yourself superior to me, but I think you will find that any contract is only as binding as its enforcement, and my enforcement reaches far wider than you know.

Ana’s frown tightened. Whitehorn’s voice echoed in her mind, bringing with it the memory of a royal statue of Princess Luna judging her with a silent frown. “A contract, even one as informal as ours, is only as binding as its enforcement.”

Could it be coincidence? There was no signature anywhere on the letter to indicate who sent it, and she’d never gotten a grasp on what Whitehorn’s hoofwriting looked like, but all the pieces lined up. Someone had written this mare a letter threatening her not to pull out of a deal, and now Ana and her sister had snuck into her quarters to deliver a more physical, far less forgettable message. It had to be from Whitehorn.

Her ear twitched at the sound of a muffled whimper from somewhere close—too close and too high-pitched to be one of the guards. She froze, ears swiveling, and a second later was rewarded with a sharp gasp.

Ana stepped back, eyeing the thick curtain that ringed the desk. Slowly she bent down, reached out, and pulled it back.

An earth filly stared back at her, frozen in fear, squeezing herself down under the high legs of the desk.

Ana frowned. A foal? She hadn’t seen any toys anywhere, and there was only one bed. Had she snuck inside as well, or had her mother left her here alone, with nothing to play with and nobody to talk to?

She tried a comforting smile, but the filly only shut her eyes tight and choked out a sob in response. She pursed her lips, hiding her fangs.

“Hey, kid. You alright?” She kept her voice low, both to avoid startling her further and to avoid attracting her sister’s attention.

The filly cracked an eye open. “Where’s my m-mommy?”

Ana sighed, straightening back up and casting an exasperated look around the office. This mare couldn’t at least afford a foalsitter? Her gaze stumbled into Gava, who was watching her from the bedroom.

“Something up?” she called.

Ana put on a stiff grin. If Gava caught wind of the fact that their target’s foal was in the suite, she’d want to use her as a hostage too, both to drive the point home harder and to enjoy the rush of threatening her life in front of her mother. Ana found herself trapped; she could either tell a stark lie right to her sister’s face, or tell her the truth and give the kid up to her vices.

Every other time Ana had been in this situation in her life, the choice had been easy. It was her and Gava against the world, after all. Even if she didn’t trust Gava to always make the best decisions, and Gava didn’t trust her to always be the most forthcoming, they had an understanding—family comes first. Even threatened by death or torture, neither sister would ever hide anything from the other.

But this kid doesn’t deserve that.

Ana wasn’t sure what she’d say when she opened her mouth. Perhaps it was just old habit that made her go for the lie. “Nothing. Just wondering when the target’ll finally show up.”

Gava snorted. “Whatever happened to ‘patience is a virtue,’ huh?”

Ana’s grin grew strained. It was a flimsy lie, but Gava had trusted her anyway. “Guess I’m just a little nervous about someone noticing the guards missing.”

Gava nodded. “Don’t worry. We could probably take on the whole crew ourselves, if we had to.” She chuckled darkly before stepping out of sight, no doubt to try and entertain herself taunting their captives.

Ana let out the breath she’d been holding before dipping back down under the desk. “Hey. My name’s Anatami. What’s your name?”

The filly sniffled, looking up from the floor. Her coat was a pale peach, and her mane reminded Ana of the way the sky glowed at sunrise. “Petite Orchard.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Petite Orchard.” Ana held out a hoof, and after a few seconds the filly hesitantly lifted her own hoof to meet it. Ana’s brow knitted as she tried to think of how to cheer up a filly that didn’t live out on the streets. “I, uh, really like your mane.”

The filly looked away with a sigh. “Thanks.”

Ana nodded, a tentative smile on her face. With introductions out of the way, the kid seemed to have mostly gotten over her panic. She probably wasn’t yet old enough to know that thestrals couldn’t be trusted. “Is this your hiding spot?”

She shook her head. “I like to nap here when mommy’s out.”

“Oh.” Ana nodded again, considering her words. “Well, me and my sister just need to talk to your mother a bit, okay? You get back to your nap, and she’ll come get you when it’s time to come out. Understand?”

Petite Orchard sighed again, but nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

With one last encouraging smile, Ana let the curtain fall and straightened up, relieved to see that Gava was still out of sight. She stretched her wings as she walked around the desk and stepped out of the office, quietly closing the door behind her.

As if on cue, the jingling of keys out in the hall caught her ear. Ana rushed into the bedroom, falling back into her business mindset, and found Gava sitting on one of the soldier’s backs, tapping her talons against his helmet.

“Hey!” Ana hissed. “Show time. Get these set up.”

Gava grinned as she stood and grabbed a leg in each talon, dragging the bound ponies out of the bedroom. Her grin faltered when she spotted the closed door to the office. “What’s that closed for?”

The second lie was always easier. “Cutting off any escape routes.” Ana pulled the bedroom door shut before grabbing the captured mare, and after a few hectic seconds they had the two soldiers posed in front of the bar, facing the entrance.

They had just enough time to face the door themselves as their target stepped into the suite. Sapphire Swing was muttering bitterly to herself, so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice even as the soldiers tried to warn her through their gags. She glanced back, turning the lock on the door, and took two steps towards the bar before drawing up short with a startled squeal.

Ana grinned, and tried not to think about how much Petite Orchard took after her mother. “Mrs. Swing. Welcome back.”

“W-who’re you?” The mare stumbled backwards, bumping her tail against the door as her gaze darted from Ana, to Gava, to the soldiers—then to the office. She’s looking for her daughter. “What’re you doing here?”

“I think you know,” Ana said. She began to stalk closer as Gava made a show of examining her talons. “You struck a deal with our employer. He doesn’t like it when ponies go back on their deals.”

“H-how’d you even get in here?” Sapphire grimaced, eyes darting back toward the office, then the bedroom. “What do you want?”

“Shh.” Ana used one of her wings to gently shush the mare, giving her an up-close look at the little claw at the joint. “We don’t want anything, Mrs. Swing. We’re just here to send a message.”

Sapphire’s eyes shot wide open. She raised her voice into a panicked shout, tears starting to well in her eyes. “Petti! Where are you, baby?!”

“Mommy!” The filly burst through the door to the office, and Sapphire practically collapsed as she met her daughter in a tight hug.

Ana frowned. She could hear the click of Gava’s talons as the griffon straightened up behind her. I can handle that later. She lowered herself down to the floor, catching Sapphire’s gaze intently. “That’s a relief, isn’t it?” She put on an empty smile and tried to avoid the implications of what she was about to say. “But it’ll be different next time, understand? All those soldiers out there? They can’t stop us.”

Sapphire clutched her filly tighter, glaring defiantly into Ana’s slitted eyes. “You’re a monster,” she growled. “Both of you! To come here and threaten my filly over politics.” Ana flinched as the mare spat in her face, shaking with fury.

“You want to see a monster, pony?” Gava lunged past Ana and knocked Sapphire to the ground, and the filly let out a shriek as she was torn from her mother’s grip. Gava held her up by her tail, shaking her like a toy. “Maybe I should show your crotch-fruit what a monster is!”

Ana froze. She watched with wide eyes as both mother and daughter descended into incoherent babbling, begging for each other’s lives. Gava reared up, her beak twisting into a predatory grin, pressing her talons into the filly’s neck hard enough to draw blood.

What is happening to me? This pony family had never done anything for her! She’d never even met them before today! What could possibly set them apart from every other pony she’d ever met, distinguish them from all those selfish, heartless Equestrians who had filed her away as a thief and a liar the instant they laid eyes on her? She was supposed to take joy in being called a monster, in knowing that she was the thing that made a pony look over their shoulder at night. Nothing she did would ever be seen without suspicion in pony eyes, so why should she care what they thought of her?

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care! She had a job to do, and by Luna, she had to do it! To shirk the job would be to threaten her and Gava’s reputation as mercenaries, to put doubt in the heart of any potential employers, to imperil the very livelihood of the one being she knew, without doubt, loved her. Trusted her.

Yet when Ana saw the mother prostrating herself on the floor, begging for the safety of her filly, she found herself thinking back to Countess Rarity, surrendering herself to save five bandits that had ambushed her in the woods. She thought of a dress stashed under an old skull, made of fabric that looked like it had been cut from the night sky itself, and the eager smile of the mare that had made it for her purely on a whim, expecting nothing in return but the chance to see her wear it.

She never did get to see me wear that dress, did she?

“Gava, stop.” Ana rushed in front of her sister, pushing her back with a hoof. “Stop!”

“What? Why?” Gava’s sadistic grin gave way to a confused frown. She glanced towards the filly and gave her another little shake, spawning a fresh wave of wailing. “Am I screwing up the plan here?”

“Yes!” Ana winced at the hoarseness in her voice. She grabbed the filly, relieved that her sister didn’t try to fight her over the little thing, and set her down gently by her mother.

“Ana?”

Ana ignored her, turning to Sapphire Swing instead with a snarl. “Here’s your damn kid back! Listen to Whitehorn, or I guarantee you won’t be so lucky in the future.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “And get her some toys or something! You can’t just leave her alone in here all day with nothing to do!”

“Ana.” Gava’s voice had gained an edge that made Ana’s blood run cold. Still Ana ignored her. She had to make sure this mare got the message they’d been hired to send.

Sapphire nodded shakily as she swept her daughter into her hooves. “I will! I’m sorry! I’ll do what we’ve agreed to, just please don’t hurt my baby!”

“Good.” Ana finally glanced toward Gava, avoiding eye contact. “Come on. Let’s get out of here, quick.”

“Ana!”

Ana froze with one hoof on the door.

“We need to talk.”

Ana bit her lip. Her hoof was shaking. “Y-you’re right.”

There was a long silence. Ana listened to Gava’s talons slowly click closer until her sister drew up beside her, frowning down at her with a mix of confusion and anger. “Why?”

Ana shook her head, fighting back tears. “After we’re safe.”

“After we’re safe.” With one last glare, Gava wrenched the door open and stormed into the hall.





“Oh, thank Celestia!” The crew of the damaged ship all gathered around as Rarity stepped gingerly off the wide gangplank she’d used to board. A bruised stallion practically fell at her hooves, bowing low. “Bless you, ma’am! We thought ourselves goners, for sure!”

Rarity grimaced as she took in the scene. The crew was sparse, not even ten ponies by her count, and every one of them was marked by some recent injury. They looked to her with tired, sunken eyes, their limbs wrapped in soiled bandages and their expressions alternating between hope, exhaustion, or in one case just a blank stare.

“What’s happened here?” she asked, looking down to the stallion she took to be in charge. Fluttershy, Brownie, and Pinkie stepped onto the deck behind her, the former immediately rushing to tend to the nearest pony. “Were you attacked?”

“Not us, ma’am. Engine went a couple days ago, and we hadn’t time in the rush to get provisions for a full trip.” He looked to her and her friends with a tentative smile. “Perhaps you could spare us some food and drink? We’ll work it off, and you can have the ship!”

Pinkie scanned the assembled ponies with narrowed eyes, tongue stuck out in concentration. She nodded once, firmly, then hauled herself back onto the gangplank. It was just barely too narrow for her wheels, leaving one of them spinning slowly in the open air. “Don’t you worry, ponies!” she said with exaggerated gravity. “I’ve got this.”

Rarity lowered herself to the stallion’s level, drawing his attention back to her. It was odd that he’d be willing to surrender his ship even in this circumstance, and she suspected it may not truly belong to him. “What did you mean, not us? Was someone else attacked?”

“Not someone,” he said hoarsely. “It’s Leviathan Wakes, ma’am. They killed one of the leviathans!”

“What?” Rarity’s eyes widened. “Who?”

“The sea monsters.” The stallion shuddered as he explained. “They just up and attacked out of nowhere and bled it dry. The other leviathan’s panicked and we got no way to lead it—those horrors come up every night and we can’t even move!” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “And there’s this light down there, wailin’ and screamin’. Some demon out of Tartarus to drag us all down to the cold!”

Rarity’s blood went cold. A light beneath the city? The image of a ghastly Princess Celestia wading through a flooded, sinking street rose to the forefront of her mind. She remembered the screams of the refugees when that tingling wave of magic had passed over Fellis, their only warning before it plunged out of the sky and broke against the unforgiving ocean.

Is it her? She’s found Leviathan Wakes now? Unlike a normal island, the floating city couldn’t be merely dropped out of the sky and dragged down into the depths. Whatever monstrous creatures the Princess may have brought with her would have to jump up out of the water and pull ponies down with fang and claw, leaving the survivors to hide in some desperate hope that they may survive until the predators moved on. And this stallion spoke as if it’d been ongoing for days before he left, and this ship had been floating dead for days further!

The city was under siege, and their assailants were far worse than a mere rival faction.

“Don’t worry,” she said, helping the stallion up off the ground. No doubt she would have to have another talk with the Captain. She could only hope her leverage would be enough. “Come aboard and we’ll get a warm meal in front of you. And I’ll need you to tell me everything you know.”





With a crackle of magic and a flurry of disturbed snow, Twilight, Rainbow, Applejack, and Star Trails burst into being.

The sun was setting, painting the smooth crystal of the wide balcony in marbled reds and yellows. Both of the strange crystal pony airships were moored to this tower—the South Face, as Twilight remembered they called it, the same tower where the Argo had first made its landing. Although the interior was sealed behind thick doors of engraved crystal, Twilight could sense the bustle inside with her pings. It was time for the feast, and ponies from all three towers had come to the South Face to celebrate her arrival and, more importantly, her coming descent.

Twilight glanced back at her friends. The malaise that had struck Rainbow when Twilight had given her the eye had retreated somewhat, probably pushed back by the imminent opportunity to preen while the crystal ponies fawned over her. Twilight was pleased her friend didn’t seem stuck in a rut, but she was also still upset—and confused—that the gift she’d put so much thought into had apparently done more harm than good.

Applejack appeared more uneased than anything. She offered a tentative smile as she caught Twilight’s gaze, one hoof reaching up to fuss at her hat, and Twilight smiled back. Although she couldn’t help but be hurt by her friend’s obvious struggle to accept what Twilight had become during their time apart, it was clear she was trying, and Twilight was more than willing to give her space to adjust.

She’d been a little surprised when Star Trails had asked last minute to attend the feast, rushing into the cargo hold just as Twilight was instructing Scylla on how to behave during her absence. Sea Sabre had made it plain that she didn’t trust the crystal ponies and wanted to keep her crew safe aboard the Argo, but it seemed Trails had convinced her otherwise. Now the younger unicorn was beaming up at the tower before them, her green eyes glittering almost as much as the crystal.

Twilight wondered how she’d react if she saw Midnight lounging on her back, sneering at the display of wonderment.

“So this feast is all in your honor?” Trails asked as the group started for the doors. “Is it like a religious thing?”

“I think so,” Twilight said. “I haven’t had time to sit and talk with any of the crystal ponies about their culture, but they worship a being—or maybe a historical figure, I’m not sure—they call the Shaper. And being—” she paused to choose an appropriate word “—wyrded? Like me is a blessing from the Shaper.” She shrugged as they reached the door, placing a hoof against the warm crystal. “This ceremony is to send me off.”

Trails cocked her head. “Are you going somewhere?”

Twilight nodded. “Down into the central Spire. I can sense something in there, and whatever it is, I think it’ll be key to figuring out what happened while I was gone, and maybe even how to fix it.”

“Wow.” Trails shook her head, then looked to Twilight with an appreciative smile. “I’m glad I get to be here.”

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” Rainbow shoved between them, placing both hooves against the door. “C’mon! We’ve got a feast waiting!”

She grunted as she pushed the heavy door open, and Twilight was immediately struck by the mouth-watering scent of cooking meat.

The warmhall of the South Face was packed with ponies, each one shimmering with the warm light radiating from the column of crystal piping in the center of the expansive chamber. All the bodies combined with the room’s normal warmth left the air stuffy and hot, and so the crystal ponies had abandoned their furs, leaving their bodies bare but for their twinkling bone and crystal jewelry. Some of the tents had been torn down and pushed up against the walls, the huge cauldrons normally kept inside left exposed for ponies to gather around and share each other’s company. The eldest ponies were mostly seated around the circular table that filled the center of the room, chatting among themselves or entertaining the foals with fondly told stories.

The festivities didn’t slow as Twilight and her friends filed inside, but it didn’t take long for someone to notice and call out their arrival.

“Chosen!” A scarred, pale grey stallion approached them with a wide, sharp-toothed smile, a trio of similarly rugged ponies behind them. “And Dash!” He turned his grin on Rainbow, greeting her with a hard smack to her back that made the pegasus wince. “With your arrival, now the feast can truly begin!”

A roar of approval went up from several of the ponies in earshot, sending Twilight’s ears flat against her head. Rainbow wrapped one leg around the stallion, looking to her friends with a smug smile. “Twi, AJ, Trails, this is Beau. He’s the captain of the Crystal Heart. I met him on the hunt!”

“Yes!” Beau laughed and gave Rainbow a one-legged shake. “She is Yakslayer, and saved my dear Esmeralda’s life! Your arrival has truly brought great fortune to our home, Chosen.”

He bowed, the ponies behind him following suit, and Twilight looked away with a quiet, “Thank you.” This is all too much.

Midnight stood beside her, eyes alight with glee. No, this is perfect! We should stay here and conquer this place after we explore the Spire. These foals wouldn’t even fight us!

In their mind’s eye, Twilight fixed Midnight with a disapproving stare. In reality, meanwhile, she cleared her throat and tried to nudge Beau up off the ground. “This feast is really great, thank you, but my friends don’t eat meat.” She glanced back, catching Applejack’s expression of poorly concealed disgust and Trails’s nervous curiosity. “Is there anywhere they could get some vegetarian food? Or maybe a drink? And do you know where I can find Ametrine?”

“Of course!” Beau straightened up at once, already pointing a hoof towards a tent near the entrance. “The elders remembered the story of the last Equestrian visit and picked fresh caps from our farm, and we have herbs picked from the nearby islands. As for drink?” He offered an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid we have only blood soup and water. But they say Equestrian water is of poor stock compared to our own.”

Rainbow scoffed. “I bet it is, dude! You wanna go get some food, AJ?”

“Uh, I reckon it’d be the polite thing to do.” Applejack pursed her lips as Rainbow zipped towards the indicated tent. She glanced uncertainly to Twilight before following.

Twilight turned back to Beau with an anxious smile. “Thank you, really. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It is our honor!” Beau pounded a hoof against his chest. “And you wish to speak to Ametrine? She is seated at the table with the other elders, preparing to tell the story of the world’s first thawing. I’m sure she would like to welcome you herself.”

“Storytime, huh?” Trails asked. “I want in on that.”

Twilight dipped her head. “Thank you again, Beau. I hope you enjoy the feast.”

He bowed again, and Twilight turned toward the center of the room, hoping to avoid the louder festivities in favor of talking to the elders—only to nearly smack into another group of crystal ponies.

They each bowed just like Beau had, and Twilight grimaced as she realized they were waiting for her to bow back. She returned the bow quickly, hoping they’d be pleased and leave her alone, but then they each approached her individually, shaking her hoof or hugging her or slapping her on the back as they introduced themselves and told her how happy they were that she was there. Twilight kept a stiff smile through it all, offering polite responses until they finally had their fill and walked away, chatting excitedly among themselves.

And then there was another group waiting, and it suddenly clicked in Twilight’s mind that she was the guest of honor, and just about every crystal pony in the hall wanted to talk to her.

Oh, Celestia. This is like all those Canterlot garden parties I went to with the Princess! She shivered at the memories of being pulled away from her library and shoved in front of bickering petty nobles, given no time to herself to read or talk to the one or two interesting ponies that would show up each time. I don’t know if it’s better or worse that they’re all so sincere. I’ll feel bad if I don’t talk to them!

Oh, how terrible. Midnight straightened up when the third group approached. Command them to step aside! They can shower us with adulation as we pass.

Twilight’s smile grew strained as a stallion approached with a young foal balanced between his ears. It was difficult to maintain the expression with Midnight constantly trying to twist it into an imperious frown. Stop that! These ponies are only trying to be nice to us!

There is nothing nice about being stopped by a hundred inane sycophants, little flower! They have their place behind or beside, but never in front! A pony walked up with a wide wicker tray on her back, filled with cuts of spiced meat that made Twilight’s belly rumble. Ah, perhaps we should indulge them for a moment.

Everytime Twilight finished speaking to one group and tried to take a step towards the table, another would appear, just as eager and friendly as the last. Some of them brought her gifts—either samples of meat cooked with their most beloved family recipes or small pieces of jewelry made in the local fashion—and before long Twilight was forced to get Trails a tray to carry the excess food on, assuring the crestfallen gift-givers that she would eat it after her descent into the Spire and that, yes, she would tell the Shaper all about how delicious it was. Thankfully she had no piercings, but that didn’t stop a few crystal ponies from offering to give them to her, and even without earrings she could feel the weight of her accumulated necklaces and mane beads pulling her down.

Star Trails, for her part, seemed to be having a blast. The crystal ponies were happy to talk to any friend of the Chosen, freely answering all her questions and even giving her some gifts as well. It pained Twilight that she couldn’t hear the answers to Trails’ questions over the clamor, but she promised herself she’d have plenty of time to interrogate the other mare later. She didn’t want to offend their hosts, and even if their attentions were exhausting, they really were just trying to be nice.

There was one pony in the neverending stream that stood out to her, though. She’d noticed him standing alone near the elders’ table, a younger stallion with a sparkling blue coat that reminded her of the ursa minor she’d dealt with in Ponyville. He stole nervous glances between her and the elders, his gaze sometimes wandering around the room before jumping down to his hooves.

He approached her alone, after most of the other crystal ponies had said their piece and the way to the elder’s table was clear. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for more fawning, and greeted him with a thin smile.

“Chosen Twilight.” He bowed quickly, not waiting for Twilight to return the gesture before he rose. “My name’s Azuric. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The honor’s mine, really,” Twilight said, like she’d told the past dozen ponies. She paused, waiting for him to pull out some gift or continue to praise her, but he said nothing. He bit his lip, looking at something behind her, but when she glanced back all she saw was Star Trails nervously accepting a bowl of blood soup from a group of foals.

Several seconds passed, and Midnight’s impatience picked at her hooves. She was just opening her mouth to bid him goodbye when he spoke again, squeezing his eyes shut as if afraid of something.

“You’re to descend tonight?”

Twilight arched a brow. “After the ceremony, yes.”

He nodded, keeping his gaze down. “Are—are you scared?”

Twilight frowned. Here she was, talking about trekking down into the dark, abandoned ruins of an impossible empire that was no doubt home to at least one horrific monster, and it hadn’t even occurred to her until now whether she should be scared. After braving the pitch-dark carcass of Canterlot and traveling hundreds of miles across an ocean floor filled with corpses and beasts, the thought of exploring the crystal palace alone barely registered as something to fear. She knew to be cautious, yes, but she was more curious than frightened.

She thought back to how she’d felt the first time she’d stepped out of the Argo’s submarine and drifted into the sodden ashes of Ponyville, clad in a metal coffin. Horrified, frightened, guilty. Had she lost something along the way?

“I’m not,” she said. “Should I be?”

“No.” Azuric risked meeting her gaze, giving her a brief glimpse of his purple eyes. “That’s what the elders say, at least.” He sighed, turning away and disappearing into the crowd without saying goodbye.

How very odd, Midnight mused. The others are all so much better at groveling.

I feel like he was hiding something, Twilight thought as she made for the elder’s table. He’s trying to find an answer without asking the question.

Perhaps we can ask after the question another time. Midnight was sitting on the table in front of Ametrine, the regent’s plate of half-eaten seared steak between her chipped hooves. But for now it is only a distraction.

Noticing Twilight out of the corner of her eye, Ametrine turned and stood to greet her fully with a warm smile. The thick hides she’d been wearing when they last spoke were gone, revealing her soft pink coat and long, icy blue mane. 

“Chosen Twilight. I hope my ponies weren’t too eager with their welcomes on your way here?” She glanced knowingly at the jewelry festooning Twilight’s body.

Twilight giggled. “I’ve been through worse. Is it okay if I ask you some questions about the descent?”

Ametrine answered with a sagely nod. “I would love to answer any questions you have. However, now that you’re here, it is my duty to call the feast together and tell the story of the first thaw. I hope you’ll allow me this honor?”

“Oh. Of course.” Twilight dipped her head. It wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, but it sounded like some kind of creation myth, and she could discern many clues from hearing it. “Should I sit, or?”

“You may have my seat.” Ametrine gestured towards her spot in front of the table, between two quietly watching elders. “When the story is told, come see me. We may talk as we ascend the Spire.”

With a graceful bow, Ametrine took her leave. Twilight spent a few seconds watching as she circled the table and made for the stairs that led to the upper exit, ponies quietly parting to clear a path.

“Twilight, did you hear that?” Trails came up to her side and clapped her hooves. “I’ve heard some great stories already, but this one sounds special!”

Twilight smiled. She’d never seen her so enthusiastic before. “I suppose we should sit down. Have you seen Applejack and Rainbow Dash?”

“They were hanging out with the hunters, I think. Oh, there they are.”

Rainbow and Applejack stepped out of the crowd, the former wearing a smug grin and the latter, although still clearly uneased, appearing more relaxed than before. Rainbow was holding a horn in one hoof, her lips stained a dark red.

“Twi!” She smiled, showing more red on her teeth. “Have you had this blood soup? It’s not bad!”

“Ain’t good, either,” Applejack mumbled. “Dang near threw up when that mess hit my tongue.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Rainbow shrugged, taking a very tiny sip from her horn. “But you get used to it, y’know?”

“What’s it taste like?” Trails asked. “Actually, do you think I could try it?”

“Are you tough enough?” Rainbow grinned as she held out the horn. “This horn is from the yak I killed, by the way. Pretty cool, huh?”

Trails took the horn in both hooves and looked down into it pensively, muzzle scrunching up at the scent. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and lifted it to her lips—and immediately dropped it as she slapped her hooves across her mouth, hunching over with bulged cheeks.

Twilight grabbed the horn in her magic, doing her best to catch the spilled soup before it hit the floor. She rubbed at Trails’ back with a hoof as the mare retched, using the distraction to sneak a sip of her own.

Delicious. Midnight licked her lips. We should take one of the crystal ponies to cook for us.

Rainbow doubled over laughing. “You shoulda seen the look on your face! Oh, that’s priceless!”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Not like y’all weren’t there all of ten minutes ago or nothin’.”

“Eugh!” Trails’ tongue hung loose as she straightened up. “Yeah, I regret that. Think we can get Flint to try some?”

A trio of deep, rhythmic bangs echoed through the room, drawing all eyes upward. Ametrine stood on the balcony overlooking the chamber, leaning on a simple staff of gnarled wood. She looked over the room with a motherly smile as she waited for silence. Within a minute everypony in attendance had taken a seat, with the elders at the center of the room where it was warmest, the foals in a thin circle around them, and the adults gathered in clumps around burning braziers or cauldrons.

Ametrine cleared her throat before speaking in a steady, strong voice that carried clearly across the chamber. “You all know why we are here, I’m sure. Chosen Twilight has come to us from Equestria, honoring us with the presence of herself and her companions, and above all, promised to fulfill the Shaper’s will by taking the descent into the Spire to join his ranks and help defend the Crystal Empire from the darkness that lives beneath the ice. Many stories will be told of today’s hunt, and I expect more will be made by the time the sun sets and our visitors from the East Face and West Face return to their homes with full bellies and smiling lips. But for now it is time for me to fulfill my duty and, for the second time in my service as regent, tell the story of the first thaw.”

Midnight stepped up next to Ametrine with an exaggerated yawn. How melodramatic.

Quiet! I’m interested in this.

“A thousand years ago, before the Shaper came to our world, all was darkness and cold, encased within a single, unbroken shard of crystal. When the Shaper came, she saw this crystal and was inspired by its beauty, and so gathering up chisel and hammer he took the image in his mind and worked tirelessly through a single endless night. And when he set his tools down, the Crystal Empire was born.

“The Shaper was pleased, but when the Sun rose and melted the ice that encased the world, she was inspired again by its warmth. So he took up his tools once more, gathering the heat of the Sun into two crystals he carved after his likeness and mixing it with her love for what she had made. And when he set her tools down, the crystal ponies were born.”

Twilight frowned. I don’t understand. She keeps using different pronouns for the Shaper.

Midnight hummed in thought. What of the idol we saw at the top of the Spire? Two faces, each turned away from the other.

Some kind of dual-aspect deity? Maybe. Twilight nodded, keeping her eyes on Ametrine as she continued the story.

“The crystal ponies were enamored by their creator and the city they had been given, but the Sun was jealous. It whispered into each of the Shaper’s ears and planted a seed of darkness in his heart, splitting his soul in two, and the Crystal Empire was sundered by strife and bloodshed. Sister fought against brother and mother against son, and the Sun smiled as the Shaper’s creation was brought low.

“The fighting touched every heart in the Empire, spreading the seed of darkness planted by the Sun, until one day the crystal ponies grew tired of warring. They came together and petitioned the Shaper for peace, and seeing that the violence was bringing nothing but pain to her creation, the Shaper sealed her souls away within the Spire, vowing not to return until peace could be found.

“The crystal ponies rejoiced, but the Sun heard of this from on high, and it flew down into the  depths of the Spire to confront the Shaper. Their battle went on for three days and three nights, rocking the very foundations of the Empire with its violence, until at last the Shaper was able to defeat the Sun, striking a mortal blow on its breast. But the Sun was crafty and vicious, and as it fought it hid its shadow away in the Spire, and it fled high into the sky, far from the Shaper’s reach, withdrawing its warmth from our land out of petty spite.”

The Sun, Midnight mused. This must be your darling Celestia.

But why would she be the villain in the crystal ponies’ mythos? Twilight shook her head, pursing her lips in thought. And if she’s the villain, then maybe Cadance isn’t the Shaper after all? What could possibly drive Celestia to that kind of violence? Twilight’s eyes shot wide open, mouth gaping as she looked back to Ametrine. Unless the Shaper created the corruption.

Ametrine’s voice grew somber and quiet, and looking around Twilight saw many of the crystal ponies leaning in attentively, ears turned forward.

“Although the Shaper had emerged victorious, the Sun had committed a terrible crime. The heavens wept for the blood spilled between families, a torrent of rain never seen before or since that threatened to destroy everything the Shaper had built. She ran through the streets as the rains flooded the homes of our paradise, gathering us to her and bringing us all to safety high in the Spire. And when the rains finally stopped and the air grew cold and the ice froze beneath us, the Shaper taught us how to survive. He taught us to hunt, to create the tools we need from the bodies of our predators, to fend off the cold with the burning of yak oil, and to gather the herbs and spices that grow on the islands.

“But she could not stay with us forever. The shadow left behind by the Sun encroached ever higher, threatening to rise above the ice and swallow us all. And so the Shaper descended alone into the Spire, promising that he would return when it was defeated to guide us into a new age of paradise. And when his battle grows hard and he requires our aid, he summons us with the signs of her blessing, selecting the Chosen.”

Ametrine raised her voice once more, turning to look at Twilight directly. “And now here we stand, another Chosen in our number, feasting in celebration as we prepare for her descent. She will stand at the Shaper’s side in the Spire, granted the ceaseless vitality of one of his servants, and she will fight the darkness. And when at last it is defeated, she and every other Chosen will return with the Shaper, and we will rejoice with a feast that will be remembered for a hundred generations!”

The crystal ponies cheered, their hooves stomping against the floor filling the air with rolling thunder. Ametrine smiled down at them all as she leaned on her staff, waiting for the applause to abate.

“With the first story told, it is time for others to follow. But first, I must take my leave.” Ametrine looked to Twilight again before bowing her head. “For it is time for Chosen Twilight to make her descent and stand at the Shaper’s side.”

Twilight blinked, suddenly realizing that every eye in the room was turned on her. She stood up with a nervous giggle. The thought of braving the dangerous ruins of Equestria may not faze her, but being the center of attention like this was enough to make her hooves tremble. In the corner of her eye she saw Midnight shaking her head in disapproval. “R-right. Just give me a moment to say goodbye to my friends first.”

Ametrine nodded, and Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding as the crystal ponies looked away, the room filling with excited chatter once more. She turned to her friends with a relieved smile.

“Wait, Twi.” Rainbow was watching her with a concerned frown. “You’re coming back, right? Cause she makes it sound like this is a one-way trip.”

“For the crystal ponies, I think it is,” Twilight said. “But don’t worry, Rainbow, I have every intent of returning the moment I discover what’s waiting down there. This ceremony, the titles, everything—I’m indulging their traditions to learn what I can before I set hoof into the Spire.” She shrugged, glancing around and lowering her voice. “To be honest, I expect the Shaper is based on a real pony, maybe even Cadance. She may have just told them this story so they wouldn’t worry about her.”

“Ain’t ya worried they might be a bit upset when ya come back, though?” Applejack asked. “They’ve built their traditions around this story, Twi. No tellin’ what they’ll do if somethin’ endangers it.”

“I can always just teleport onto the Argo from under the ice if I have to,” Twilight said. “They would never know I came back.”

“Hey, I have a question.” Trails raised a hoof. “Who’s Cadance?”

“Twilight’s old foalsitter,” Rainbow said. “Really, really likes pink.”

“And an alicorn,” Applejack added.

Trails blinked. A couple seconds passed as she gaped. “Wh—there’s three of them?!”

Twilight giggled. She stepped forward, pulling Applejack and Rainbow into a tight hug. “Thanks for everything, girls. You’ll be the first to know when I get back.”

“We’d come with you if you asked, you know,” Rainbow said, returning the hug.

“I know.” Twilight smiled as she stepped back. “And I appreciate it. But it’s dangerous under the water, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to any of you.” She grimaced, bracing herself for an argument. “I feel like this is something I have to do myself.”

To her surprise, Rainbow only nodded and looked away. “Yeah, I get it. We’ll make sure Luna is safe, and find out what we can up here.”

“Thank you.” Twilight’s smile returned quickly. “Wish me luck. I’ll be back before you know it.”

With one last wave, Twilight turned and made for the stairs. The crystal ponies gave her a respectful berth as she walked, bowing their heads low in a way that made her gut clench, but she kept her head up high as she climbed the stairs and stopped at Ametrine’s side.

“Are you ready?” The old mare smiled, holding out a hoof as she turned for the door behind her. She had donned her cloak since finishing the story. “We will make the climb alone.”

Twilight nodded, stepping closer so Ametrine could lean on her. “Let’s go.”

Night had fallen when they walked out onto the balcony and started across the bone bridge. An ethereal rainbow glow shone down on them from above, and Twilight looked up in wonderment as she spotted what looked to be a glowing river of light meandering across the night sky. The Spire caught the light in its crystal, channeling it down into the ice and seeming to pulse with gentle blues and greens as they climbed the steps.

Ametrine let out a quiet chuckle. “So many good omens. Never have I seen a pony as blessed as yourself, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight looked down to her, patiently waiting for the elder mare to take each step before following. “Have you seen many Chosen?”

“I have been lucky to escort two others up the Spire, before you,” she said. “A young mare named Angeline, and an older stallion, Agate Apricot.”

“So it happens often?”

Ametrine answered with a thoughtful hum. “Not often, no. Most regents see only two or three from their ponies. Though most do not get visitors from Equestria, so perhaps the Shaper favors me, as well.” She smirked, giving Twilight a playful wink.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile back, and the two continued the climb. Midnight draped herself over Twilight’s back, her presence felt as a tingling warmth against her coat.

It was strange. This moment of quiet isolation with the elder was exactly what Twilight had been hoping for when she arrived at the feast, an opportunity to question her about the details of what it meant to be Chosen or descend the Spire, but now that she had it she found herself content to climb in silence. Even her best friends were still struggling with their doubts about her changes, but Ametrine felt so genuine and accepting, and Twilight was loath to violate the comfort of her quiet company.

But as they approached the top the questions began to nag at her once more. This would be her last chance to learn more before facing whatever awaited her inside the Spire.

“Ametrine,” she said. “I noticed that sometimes you referred to the Shaper as a he, and sometimes a she. Why is that?”

Ametrine smiled. “Let’s finish the climb, first. It will be easier to explain.”

Twilight pursed her lips, but didn’t object.

Finally they crested the winding steps, and together they stepped through the fur curtain that warded the tower’s peak from the worst of the cold. Although there was nobody else there, the braziers around the edges were still burning, filling the space with their warm light. Twilight’s gaze was immediately drawn to the circle of black crystal that dominated the center of the room, and inside it, the two-headed statue of the Shaper.

Ametrine stepped away from Twilight, walking slowly towards one of the three hearts engraved in the floor and sitting down with a quiet grunt. “The Shaper is not a pony like your or I, Twilight,” she began, looking up at the statue. “She was split in two by the Curse of the Sun, and his two halves are often at odds, though they also often work together.” She pointed a hoof towards the slender, feminine head, its brow crested by a long horn. “She is kind, caring, and wise.” Her hoof shifted towards the masculine head opposite, its horn curved and sharp. “And he is brave, protective, and fierce. Together they are the Shaper, who saved us from the spite of the Sun, but each pony will speak of her differently, depending on their relationship with her and, at times, the subject being discussed.

“The hunters most often relate to the Shaper’s West Face,” she continued, nodding towards the masculine head, “for that is how they know him best. Mothers, by contrast, know the Shaper by her East Face. Do you understand?”

Twilight nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” Ametrine smiled. “Now, are there any more questions you’d like to ask this old mare?”

A gust of wind blew past the tower, rippling the heavy hides that hung around them. Twilight looked to Midnight, spotting her dark passenger leering at the black crystal from the shaded edge of the room.

“Can you tell me what’s down there?”

“I cannot,” Ametrine said gently. “Only the Chosen are permitted entrance, and they do not return. But this is the task given to us by the Shaper, and we owe her our very existence. He has always been there to protect us.”

Twilight nodded, taking a deep breath. “Can you make the climb down on your own?”

Ametrine let out a quiet chuckle. “Do not worry about me, Twilight. I was a young mare once, and the ice makes us strong. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Twilight stepped slowly up to the crystal, staring into its inky black surface. She reached a hoof out, feeling Midnight’s presence coiled within.

The crystal was cold and smooth underhoof. The tower shuddered, and a section of crystal slid down into the floor, revealing the top of a curving stairwell, the steps fading down into darkness.

Ready?

We are.

Together, Twilight and Midnight started down the stairs. The black crystal snapped shut behind them.
> XXVII: Of Sisters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight had almost forgotten what darkness looked like.

She still remembered the pitch-black shadows of Old Canterlot, yes. She remembered braving the graveyard of sunken ships in the Everfree or exploring the bloodied remains of her old treehouse, her world lit only by the pale lamps of her dive suit or the steady glow of her own magic. She remembered what it meant to not know what was a mere two steps forwards, to have to keep pushing on while monstrous things chittered in the distance unseen.

But darkness had taken on a new meaning after her time in Canterlot. With her mutated eyes she could see clearly even on the seafloor, far beyond the reach of the sun. Where previously darkness had been a thing of mystery, a thing that swallowed up the world and spat it back out only in reluctant bits and pieces, now darkness felt like a sad old friend. It had been her constant companion during her journey north, wrapping the world in a blanket of ashen greyscale, and she’d grown used to being able to see clearly no matter where she was, never having to fill in the shadows with her own imagination.

And so when the black crystal had locked shut behind her, sealing her within the Spire, it came as a shock when she found herself swathed in that old darkness once again.

She couldn’t see a thing.

The shadows are more than shadows in this place. Midnight’s bloodshot eyes floated in front of her, looking around curiously. We should be cautious.

Twilight gulped and lit her horn. A wall of smooth crystal curved away from her on her right side, a neatly cut stairway winding around it underhoof, but there was only empty air on her left. The air was still and stale as if she were inside, yet no matter how much power she pushed into her horn, her light never illuminated any far wall.

That wasn’t a mundane doorway. She leaned over the edge, twisting her magic into the familiar shape of her ping spell and sending it questing down into the depths. It returned garbled and messy after a far too long wait. We’re not in the Spire anymore.

Or perhaps the Spire is more than it seems, Midnight suggested. We should move as quickly as we can.

Twilight nodded, pushing herself into motion. The seconds stretched into minutes, and as the minutes added up she would sometimes pause to peer over the edge, shining an arcane spotlight down into the shadows and frowning when no end came in sight. Midnight walked through the air beside her, a barely visible silhouette with a pair of bloodshot purple eyes, making no attempt to hide her mounting impatience.

Twilight didn’t mind the walk. The dead, almost smothering silence, broken only by the rhythmic clopping of her hooves on the crystal, gave her plenty of space to think. How many ponies had made this descent before her, and where did they go when they reached the bottom? Logic dictated that they either moved on to some other, further destination, or that they spent the rest of their lives within these crystal walls. Would she find some isolated community of Chosen living in servitude to a being they believed to be a god? Old bodies piled up in dark corners with only the trappings of their lost lives to hint at their fates? Or worse—the thought was enough to make her stomach twist with anxiety—more empty ruins, a dead end to reward her for her long journey north?

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she started her descent, but she let out a sigh of relief when she finally reached the bottom. The crystal was cold underhoof as she stepped off the stairs, casting her light around. The empty, shadowed void stretched on in all directions, with the sheer column that the stairs wrapped around as the only landmark.

She walked around it slowly, searching for some hint as to where to go next, until her light fell on a plain door of black wood set into the crystal. A small gem was embedded on top of its arch, its inky surface absorbing her light.

There is magic on this door. Midnight stepped forwards, narrowing her eyes. Magic of my nature.

Do you think it’s safe to open?

Midnight scoffed. Does it matter? We will not turn back now, and we will face the threat of the door together. Her horn glowed, and a red-tinted beam of lavender magic struck the gem on top of the door.

The gem glowed in response, dark purple smoke curling from behind it as the magic traveled down and outlined the door with its glow. A second later the door flew open with a violent rattle, revealing a blinding white light within.

Twilight moved to enter, but Midnight stepped in front of her. I shall be first. She paused, waiting for some protest, but Twilight only nodded in response.

Midnight turned to the door, horn glowing and ready for any threats that might wait on the other side, and walked confidently forward.

Twilight blinked. The dark void, the crystal pillar, and the glowing door had vanished. She found herself instead on a flat plane of windswept ice, swirling clouds of snow drifting past in the howling wind’s wake. Midnight stood opposite her, kneeling with her jaw clenched in obvious pain and her eyes narrowed in distress.

“What…?” Twilight looked around in confusion, seeing her friends standing to either side. They were arranged in a circle with Midnight between them, their eyes hard and their ears back as they glared at the creature between them. The Elements of Harmony glowed against their chests, and with a quiet gasp Twilight glanced up and saw the Element of Magic perched on her brow, the tiara teeming with energy.

“This is it, Midnight!” Rainbow snarled, scratching a hoof against the ice. “You’re going down!”

“And good riddance!” Rarity tossed her mane as the gems began to glow brighter, rainbow light arcing between them to form a pulsing ring around Midnight.

“Foals!” Midnight spat back. “All I’ve ever done was try to protect you! To protect Twilight!”

Nopony responded, instead closing their eyes as the hum of the Elements grew louder. Their hooves drifted off the ice as the magic coursed through their bodies, lifting them into the air and glowing almost blindingly bright. 

“You never understood us!” Midnight’s voice broke as she collapsed against the ice, red tears budding in her eyes. Her jaw quivered and her lips trembled, and the next time she spoke her imperious condescension was gone. In its place was a desperate, hoarse anguish, blood dripping down her cheeks and splattering to the ice below. “I was just trying to help! I saved her! I saved you!”

Twilight’s gut churned. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? This was what she’d hoped for when she’d first found the Elements: a way to make things how they used to be, to eject the evil invader that had taken root in her mind and take her body back.

“Please! I beg you!” Midnight turned a slow circle, gazing up at the impassive silhouettes surrounding her. At last her eyes settled on Twilight’s, wide and fearful. “Please! W-we understand each other! Don’t let them do this to me!”

Twilight froze, held in place by the sight of her own, bloodstained face twisted in despair. This wasn’t right. As much as she’d wanted nothing more than to be rid of Midnight in the past, things were different now. Midnight had never asked for any of this. She’d made wrong decisions for the right reasons, and she was already learning to see the world as more than just a collection of adversaries to destroy.

Further, Midnight was her own pony. Even if she’d forcefully inhabited a part of Twilight’s mind and tried to take over their body in a misguided attempt to protect their friends, she deserved to live as much as anyone did.

But most important of all, Midnight was her friend.

Six rainbow beams shot out of the Elements, converging above Midnight’s head like a spear about to drop. She looked up, the rainbow colors reflected in her slitted eyes, and let out a terrified scream.

“Stop!” Twilight’s hooves flew up to the Element of Magic, ripping it away. The rainbow magic fizzled with a sputtering crackle as the tiara struck the ice and shattered to pieces, but Twilight paid it no mind. She barely noticed as the silhouettes of her friends blew away in the wind like scraps of paper as she fell back to the ice. She ran forward and pulled Midnight into her hooves, cutting her sobs off with a tight, comforting hug.

They were back in the dark void an instant later, holding each other in front of the open door. The only sound was Midnight’s rapid breathing.

“It wasn’t real.” Twilight stroked a hoof through Midnight’s raggedy mane, squeezing her tight. “It was an illusion. I’d never do that to you.”

“W-what?” Midnight went suddenly stiff, her breaths cutting off with a sharp gasp. She didn’t say anything for several seconds, but Twilight didn’t let her go.

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” Twilight expected Midnight to pull away, to quickly assert that she’d never been afraid of anything, but the other mare remained silent and still. “It’s the door, I think.” She lifted her head to try and catch Midnight’s eye.

Midnight kept her head down, ears drooping. Finally she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Why did you stop it?”

Twilight frowned. “Huh?”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To destroy me? To be like you used to be?” Midnight shuddered, but didn’t pull away. “So why didn’t you let it happen?”

“Because you’re my friend.” Twilight gently guided Midnight’s eyes up to her own. “Even if we have our disagreements, I know your heart is in the right place. You’d do anything to protect me or my friends, and—” she paused, putting as much confidence in her voice as she could “—and I’d do anything to protect you, too.”

They shared a moment in silence, and Twilight offered up a tentative smile. Slowly, Midnight’s breathing steadied, and Twilight’s smile strengthened as she felt her other half’s fear and panic fade away.

“Twilight!”

Twilight leapt back as Rainbow Dash careened out of the sky, crashing into the featureless ground beside her. She was beaten and bloodied, her eyepatch torn away to reveal the ugly gash of her old wound, and she groaned as she tried and failed to climb to her hooves.

“Rainbow?” Twilight rushed to her friend’s side, rolling her onto her back. “How did you get here? What happened?”

“M-monsters.” Rainbow’s voice was weak, forcing Twilight to lean in to hear her. “The c-crystal ponies, they—ngh—t-turned on us.”

More groans sounded behind her. A chill ran down Twilight’s spine as she turned to see all her friends stumble down the steps, each one covered in weeping wounds worse than the last. Pinkie was sprawled out immobile on Applejack’s back, and Fluttershy was quietly sobbing as Rarity helped support her weight. All four of them slumped down next to Rainbow, and Twilight’s nose scrunched up at the scent of blood.

Fluttershy moaned as she laid on her side, gasping in quick, pained breaths. “S-save us, Twilight. They’re coming.”

Twilight grimaced, gaze darting from one friend to the next. Each of them looked to be on death’s door, and she didn’t know how to save them! “Who? Who’s coming?”

A deep, overlapping growling filled the air, seemingly coming from every direction. Twilight’s breath caught as she looked up, spotting the ring of crystal ponies that had appeared from the shadows all around the crystal pillar. Their faces were streaked red with blood and their bodies weighed down by thick hides and bone. Skulls impaled on spears swayed over their backs as they began to advance, chanting in a deep, guttural chorus that grew louder and more fervent with every step, and as Twilight stood and put herself protectively in front of her friends a mist of dark purple magic began to rise from the crystal ponies’ eyes, stinging at her nose with the acrid stench.

“S-stay back!” Twilight poured power into her horn, but the spell fizzled out with a pitiful spark, smothered by some unseen force. She grimaced as she tried again, to no avail. “I’m w-warning you!”

“You can do it, Twi.” Twilight’s ears flattened as Applejack’s exhausted voice cut through the chanting. “I know you can do it. You can save us.”

“N-no.”

“Please, Twilight,” Rarity moaned, eerily quiet. “We need you to save us.”

“I can’t. I c-can’t!” Tears welled in Twilight’s eyes, blurring her vision red. “Please leave us alone. Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Why are you just standing there?” Rainbow asked. “We need you to stop them!”

Twilight’s legs buckled as the crystal ponies came closer, blood drooling past their teeth. “I can’t! I’m sorry, but t-there’s nothing I c-can do!”

“There is.” Midnight appeared in front of her, her horn glowing with power. She reached a hoof out with a reassuring smile. “Together. Nothing can stop us.”

Twilight blinked, and the chanting was gone, not even a fading echo in its place. She looked around with a confused sob, but her friends had vanished. It was just her and Midnight again, alone in the smothering silence of the dark void.

“It seems the door has revealed your fear as well.” Midnight pulled Twilight to her hooves, holding her gaze. She pursed her lips, and Twilight reflexively braced herself for some jab about her being weak or fearful. “But I’m here to guard you from it. As you did for me.”

Midnight smiled. It was a warm, comforting expression, something that looked almost surreal on a face marred by bloody fangs and slitted eyes. It almost made Twilight want to laugh.

But instead she smiled back, forcing her pounding heart to slow. Twilight sniffled, wiping her tears away. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yes. Well.” Midnight pulled her hoof back gingerly, nodding towards the door. “It seems the path is open.”

Twilight smirked at her friend’s discomfort, but took the hint. The enchanted door hung open before them, the blinding white light replaced with a shadowed doorway. “Let’s see what’s on the other side.”

Stepping over the threshold, Twilight cast her light around. She was in a smooth, cylindrical room of crystal. A chipped and irregular stairway wound up the wall, disappearing into the shadows above.

“Great. More stairs.” She sighed, starting gamely for the first step.

Wait.

She froze with one hoof in the air. What is it?

There’s something coming.

A long, sibilant hissing echoed off the walls above, bouncing back and overlapping on itself as it grew steadily louder. Twilight’s ears flattened as she backed against the wall, looking up towards the source of the sound and trying to imagine what kind of dark creature must be making it, but no matter how hard she looked or how much power she poured into her light, all was still above her.

The sound grew louder still, taking on new dimensions as it suddenly seemed to come from every direction. A deep bass rattled the air, almost like some great beast breathing out from the top of the stairs.

Twilight realized she could make out words.

“Another pony Chosen to Our service,” it said. The voice was masculine and deep, rolling over her like thunder. “Come, servant. Fulfill your purpose.”

Twilight froze, waiting for the rumbling bass of the voice to pass. Soon the stairwell was silent once more, leaving only the tingling hairs on the back of her neck in the voice’s wake.

She looked to Midnight, eyes wide. What was that?

The thing we felt when we first entered this city, she said.

Something like me.





Rarity had never seen Leviathan Wakes before. She remembered Twilight's description of the floating city, of a sprawling mesh of boats and rafts all lashed together by rope and chain, a hundred crews hauled across the waves by ancient sea creatures known only as the Leviathans.

It had sounded majestic and breathtaking, like something out of a storybook, a vagrant city populated by dashing rogues and handsome villains, but Rarity found such imaginings more silly than appealing of late. No doubt it was a city like any other in the new Equestria, filled with ponies all out for themselves. It was difficult to tell from above; the sun had dipped below the horizon as their ship approached, and the clouds blocked much of what little light would have been supplied by star or moon. So when Rarity leaned over the railing to get her first impression of Leviathan Wakes, she did not find her breath stolen away by some fantastical vista.

At first she’d thought there’d been some kind of mistake. Even a baronland village had its own soft glow at night, cast out by candles and hearths burning behind closed shutters, but Leviathan Wakes was eerily dark, with only a few spots of light bobbing on the waves below where there no doubt should have been hundreds. The clouds parted briefly overhead, the starlight giving Rarity a quick glimpse of ship-homes left broken and abandoned in the dark, their hulls smashed and their chipped masts dipping into the water like oars as if to try and paddle for safety. The illumination lasted only a moment, and as the clouds once again closed up and swathed most of the city in darkness, Rarity couldn’t help but draw her cloak closer about her shoulders. If what the marooned airponies had told her was true, then Leviathan Wakes was well on its way to becoming a ghost town.

“Lady Rarity?”

Rarity jumped, glancing back to see Whitehorn approaching with a grim frown. “Ah, Whitehorn.”

He dipped into a quick bow. “The Captain is bringing us in now. She’s not very happy with you, you know.”

“Yes, I’d gathered as much.” Rarity pursed her lips, looking back down to the city. “Is it always like this?”

“No. Here, take this.”

Rarity arched a brow as he pulled a strange yellow tube out of his vest, about half the length of his foreleg and thin enough to fit comfortably into his hoof. A little square base stuck out of one end, though it looked too small for the thing to stand upright on its own. “What is it?”

“A flare launcher. You strike the base against the ground, like so, and it’ll shoot a bright light out the other end. We’ll see it, and then we’ll know to come get you.”

“We?” Rarity frowned, looking up to meet his eyes. “Do you not intend to accompany me?”

“My Lady, the Captain was about at her limit the moment you forced her to stop and aid that marooned ship,” Whitehorn said. “And now you have her landing here in the dark, with rumors of monsters infesting the place. I applaud your ability in finding and applying leverage to get what you want, but there’s no telling when she’ll decide she’d rather risk your punishment than your service.” He sat down, slipping the flare launcher into the satchel hanging at Rarity’s side and giving it a reassuring pat. “To be frank, Countess, I expect she would chart a path for Harvest the instant we stepped off her ship and never look back, and then we’d be just as trapped as everyone else in this city. One of us must stay here to ensure she doesn’t abandon us.”

“One of us, hmm?” Rarity snorted. “And so you decided it should be yourself?”

He met her gaze with a wry grin. “Rarity, I may not have known you long, but I know you would sooner jump off this ship and swim to the city than be trapped aboard while others get their hooves dirty.”

A moment passed as Rarity narrowed her eyes, feigning suspicion, but he saw right through her. At last she gave in, rolling her eyes with a small smirk. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I was wondering why you hadn’t tried convincing me against all this.”

He smiled back before breaking eye contact, looking down to the city approaching below. “You certainly wouldn’t listen if Celestia herself gave the order.”

The metal clatter of a hatch opening behind her caught Rarity’s ear, and her smile widened as she saw Pinkie Pie climb up onto the deck, grunting with the effort of dragging her wheels up the steep stairs. “Pinkie! Ready to go?”

Pinkie nodded, but didn’t return the smile. Her lips were set into an uncharacteristically focused line, and her bags were stuffed to the brim. A cupcake slipped out of one as she stepped closer, its bright frosting splattering against the tarnished metal of the deck with a sad plop.

“I’m ready,” she said, her voice flat.

Rarity’s smile faltered at the unexpected mood. “Are you okay, darling?”

“Don’t worry about me, Rarity,” Pinkie said, peering down over the rail with a distant gaze. Strangely, her mane was just as poofy as usual. “We’ll get everyone this time.”

Rarity wasn’t sure what to say to that. Pinkie had told her, yes, of all the ponies that she’d seen during the fall of Fellis Island, all the lives that she’d been forced to choose between. She’d never brought it up again after they left the sinking ruins, and Rarity had thought it unwise to remind the mare of such a painful memory. It’d been long enough now that Rarity had unthinkingly assumed that Pinkie must have come to terms with that day, but perhaps not.

Perhaps Rarity would be the same if she’d had Pinkie’s perspective. In a way she was thankful for her ignorance; it was much easier to feel good about the lives she’d saved that day when she had no way of knowing just how many she’d lost.

She was pulled from her reverie by more hoofsteps climbing onto the deck, accompanied by the curious snort of a bear. Her eyes widened as Fluttershy came into sight, followed shortly by Brownie weighed down with a pair of heavy saddlebags.

“Fluttershy?” Rarity blinked. “I would’ve thought you’d want to stay on the ship?”

“I appreciate it, Rarity,” Fluttershy said, stepping up to the rail. She frowned down at the city below with a quiet, thoughtful confidence. “But I’ll be fine.”

Rarity cocked her head, examining Fluttershy’s expression in silence. This was the new Fluttershy again, she realized. The one that had spent exhausting nights tending to wounded in a siege camp and dodging fire bombs and enduring Celestia-knew-what-else. The Fluttershy that made rowdy soldiers quiet down and stand in line with a sideways look. In a way she seemed more confident now, on the brink of sure danger, than Rarity could ever imagine seeing her.

The ship hovered lower, drifting close enough above the floating city that Rarity imagined a properly trained pony might be able to jump down without injuring herself. There wasn’t any kind of docking tower in view, and even the tallest of the raft-buildings was too short to safely pull up alongside. She swayed slightly as the ship came to a stop over a sort of courtyard, where a wide, open metal raft bobbed between its more built-up neighbors.

Rarity was just wondering how they were supposed to get down when one of the marooned airponies they’d saved approached, a ladder of metal and string on his back.

“You’re right mad, ma’am,” he said, bending down and securing one end of the ladder to the railing with a pair of quick knots. He grunted as he tossed the rest over the edge, the rungs clattering loudly against the hull, and stepped back as if afraid of falling overboard. “These’re dead ponies here, every one of ‘em.”

Rarity arched a brow at that. “So were you, until we saw you.”

“Aye, and I’m grateful, ma’am, but these ponies are sufferin’ from more than just a broken engine.” He shivered before holding out a small knife, hilt to her. “I don’t expect I’ll see you three again, but take this. Least I can do.”

Rarity frowned. “I wasn’t intending on saving these ponies through bloodshed, darling.”

“You misunderstand, ma’am,” he said. A nervous smile flickered over his muzzle before vanishing just as fast. “It ain’t for the terrors.”

Rarity cocked her head, confused by the grim tone of the stallion’s voice. He held her gaze, unspeaking, and after several seconds she finally understood what he meant. “Ah…” She grimaced, already forming the best way to turn down the macabre gift, when Fluttershy stepped in front of her.

“Thank you.” Fluttershy accepted the knife with a soft smile, tucking it into the small bag under her wing. “We appreciate it.”

The stallion nodded, apparently relieved, and turned away without bidding goodbye.

“Fluttershy, dear,” Rarity started quietly, “do we really need something like that?”

“I hope not,” Fluttershy said, still keeping that same, kind smile. “But it’s better to be prepared.”

Rarity could find no argument for that, and Pinkie was already hauling herself over the railing, clenching her jaw as she strained to climb down with only her forelegs to support her and her wheels. Fluttershy spread her wings and floated down over the edge, with Brownie snorting and clambering over the railing a moment later.

Rarity shook herself, hesitating only a moment before starting down the swaying ladder. The climb felt longer than it was, and with her eyes still adjusting to the dark it almost felt like descending down a sheer cliff face into an abyss.

But then her hooves hit the cold, damp metal, and the ship’s engines revved up as it pulled away, taking the ladder and the light with it. And, Rarity realized, the sound.

She’d spent most of her time in the new Equestria in cities, and the sound of airship engines was a constant in Heighton, Fellis, even Friesland. Rarity hadn’t realized how used she’d gotten to the ever-present droning of engines until that ship climbed into the night sky, the sound of its propellers fading until it was a barely audible hum, a small bead of light circling through the sky.

It was quiet.

The waves swelled beneath the metal raft they stood on, rocking it far more than the deck of any airship, the quiet splashing interspersed with irregular knocks and bangs as jetsam bounced about between the city’s floating foundations. Rarity’s ear twitched at a sudden wet slap, as if something had just jumped in—or out—of the water somewhere nearby, but nothing came of the sound.

There were no hoofsteps. No chatter. Rarity lit her horn, finding comfort in the soft tinkle of her magic.

A new noise scratched at the corner of her hearing, barely perceptible even as it sent a shiver down her spine. With a start she realized it was coming from beneath her, under the water, a low warbling that gradually grew louder and louder until it crescendoed in a shrill, keening wail. She walked up to the edge of the raft, peering down into the water as the song grew closer. An ethereal golden glow shimmered through the ocean, silhouetting a hundred dark, undulating shapes, some she recognized—Rarity vividly recalled the image of seaponies dragging refugees away during the collapse of Fellis—and others all the more chilling in their unfamiliarity.

The wailing sounded again—closer this time—as the light shifted, and Rarity gasped at the sight of a brilliant white star shooting beneath them. It twirled and danced through the water as it sang before diving deeper with a last, mournful croon. The dark shapes seemed to quicken in its wake, twisting in the water, and a hundred tiny circles of shimmering light twinkled into being, reflecting the starlight back at her.

For a moment, Rarity was enthralled by their beauty. Then, with a gasp, she realized that the ocean was staring back.

She opened her muzzle to shout a warning, but all that came out was a startled squeak. The shadows grew, their glowing eyes holding her in their unflinching gaze.

“Rarity!”

Pinkie pulled her back just as the first creature burst from the water with a shrill screech. Rarity caught only a glimpse of glowing eyes as she fell on her back with a shriek, adrenaline flooding her veins and bringing her senses into stark detail. She felt the sudden weight landing heavily upon the edge of the raft, tilting the wood beneath her with a nauseating lurch. She heard the screech piercing her ears, furious and hungry, as she rolled onto her belly and was hefted to her hooves by Fluttershy and Brownie. A thin gust of wind parted her mane, but she didn’t look back to see the claws slicing through the air behind her. A single second of panic stretched out into forever—

She acted on instinct, following Pinkie up a ramp of taut netting with thin metal sheets tied to it like a makeshift floor and onto the open deck of a long ship. She could barely hear Fluttershy repeating, “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” behind her over the rush of blood in her ears and the scraping of claws on metal, could barely think past the panic. There were uncounted predators swimming under her hooves, and she was their prey.

The ship lurched to one side as a snarling silhouette clambered onto the deck between her and Pinkie. Rarity just barely registered flashing teeth before Brownie rushed past her, shouldering the beast aside with a ferocious roar, and then it was behind her. She caught a glimpse of Pinkie’s tail disappearing over the edge of the ship and followed without thinking, landing on the deck of another, wider vessel with a heavy grunt.

They ran across the breadth of the deck and down a narrow tin ramp that rattled loudly underhoof, Rarity crying out when the water parted beneath her and she felt the wind of jaws snapping shut next to her leg.

“Don’t stop!” Pinkie called back, her wheels skidding behind her as she reached the end of the ramp. “Almost there!” A makeshift road of scrap metal bucked before them, built on a meandering line of floating barrels that weaved between the ships and rafts. Pinkie clattered effortlessly across it even as more and more snarling shapes burst from the water, sending out frothy waves that made the path jerk and kick like a living animal.

Rarity had no choice but to follow. She grit her teeth and thanked Celestia she had decided against an elaborate dress or shoes, digging her hooves in for purchase against the slippery path before kicking off. The howling of the monsters spurred her on, following Pinkie towards a dark, rigid shape at the end of the path.

“Rarity!” Pinkie glanced back, the focused frown on her face just visible past the salty water splashing between them

“What?!”

“Jump, now!”

Rarity jumped. Two sets of snapping jaws reared out of the water on either side, and a pair of monstrous fish slapped down onto the metal just beneath her, briefly dragging it down into the water with their weight before sliding off.

She slammed back against the wet metal with a choking gasp, struggling to keep her balance. She risked a glance back and saw Brownie lumbering along behind her, breath chuffing and jaws open to expose his deadly teeth as Fluttershy clung tight to his back. And behind them, a writhing mass of pale flesh and bloody fangs and wide eyes reflecting the starlight like tiny moonbeams.

“Pinkie!” Rarity called hoarsely. “Where are we going?!”

“Just in here!”

Ahead of them, the path split off and parted around a ship that dwarfed its neighbors, its hull scuffed and battered and broken in places with gaping wounds. Rarity didn’t see any way to get aboard—the hull rose up sharply out of the water, curving out over the path in a way that would be impossible to climb, and she saw no netting or ladders. She was just opening her mouth to ask how they’d board when the front of the ship opened up with a sharp thud, a heavy ramp crashing down before them.

“C’mon!” A stallion beckoned urgently from within, reared up with two hooves wrapped tight around a winch beside her. “Quick!”

Pinkie was already galloping up the ramp, and Rarity followed without hesitation. She collapsed to the side with a shuddering gasp, looking back to see Brownie leap up the ramp in two bounds with Fluttershy on his back. The monsters behind them let loose a bloodcurdling howl, showing no signs of slowing.

There was a shout from somewhere above, and Rarity saw the netting lying limp over the ramp just before it was pulled taut with a sharp twang. The beasts racing up the ramp were hauled bodily into the air with snarls of outrage. At the same time, the stallion attending the winch threw himself forward, pulling the ramp up via chains running along the ceiling. A pair of steel-eyed mares rushed forwards with harpoons, stabbing at those monsters that tried to tear through the net.

For a brief moment, Rarity finally got a good look at the creatures that had chased her through the town. Some looked like ponies, and others like huge fish, but each of them was twisted in form, their limbs ending with spearing claws and their mouths filled with oversized fangs.

Then there was another shout, and a trio of flickering lights fell upon the netting from above. They hit the mass of screeching flesh with the sound of shattering glass, and all at once the netting burst into flames.

Rarity flinched back from the wave of hot air, raising a hoof to protect her eyes from the sudden light. The monstrous screeching reached a pained crescendo as the ramp drew shut with a ponderous thud, and after several seconds of frantic scraping and beating against the hull, the creatures finally fell silent.

Rarity shuddered. Her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing, and she took a moment to just lay there, feeling herself over with a hoof and checking for missing parts. She looked to each of her friends, relieved to see them both alive and miraculously uninjured.

They’d made it.

“That,” a mare’s voice said, “was incredibly stupid.”

Rarity blinked, staggering into a sitting position and turning towards the voice.

The mare approached with her lips pursed and brow furrowed, her blue eyes swapping appraisingly from Rarity, to Pinkie, and finally Fluttershy. She had a white coat similar to Rarity’s, though with a healthy staining of salt, and a pale pink mane that she wore in a frayed ponytail over one shoulder. A bright-yellow, short-brimmed hat rested on her brow, tipped forward to shade her eyes.

Rarity took a deep breath to steady herself, shakily standing up and drawing the mare’s attention. “M-might I ask your name, dear?”

“Jester.” The mare cocked her head. “And you?”

Rarity licked her dry lips. Should she bother with her title here? No, she didn’t know much of Leviathan Wakes, but she suspected introducing herself as nobility would do little to inspire warmth here. “My name is Rarity. And these are my friends, Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.”

“Countess Rarity,” Jester corrected, leaning in slightly. She smiled at Rarity’s surprise. “Or would you prefer Auntie? You and Pinkie are quite popular among Fellis survivors, you know.” The smile turned to a smirk as she shook her head bemusedly. “I had the pleasure of making conversation with a stallion from Coltver last week. He fled to Fellis and spent most of the year begging in the camps there—until it fell, too. I suppose he got sick of flying islands, as he hitched a ride here and joined a fishing crew, just in time for the ocean to decide it didn’t like us anymore. Can you imagine?”

Rarity pursed her lips as Fluttershy spoke up. “You’ve heard about us.”

“Of course I have. Every airpony in the sky comes to my bar one day or another, and airponies are the lifeblood of Equestria. Though I don’t recognize you.” Jester frowned, narrowing her eyes at Fluttershy. “A pegasus with a pet bear should make rumors fly fast. New to the party?”

Pinkie stepped forwards. “We’re here to help.”

“Help?” Jester echoed skeptically. “Really? You three almost got yourself killed within a minute of landing. Which, again, was incredibly stupid, by the way.”

“You’ll have to forgive us, darling,” Rarity said through clenched teeth. The other mare’s dismissive attitude was beginning to get to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain diplomatic. “Perhaps we’ve got off on the wrong hoof. Let me—”

“No, let me,” Jester interrupted. Her tail flicking behind her as she stepped closer, right into Rarity’s face. “Four days ago, a swarm of deepfish fell upon my city, slaughtered one of the leviathans, and dragged half of the ponies living here under the waves. Within a day, every flight-worthy airship left with everyone quick and clever enough to get aboard, and every night those monsters return and lurk under our hooves in packs, ripping homes apart from the bottom-up to get to the ponies hiding inside. They hunt by sound and feel, you know? Deepfish can sense a disturbance in the water’s surface from beyond the horizon, and every single step in this forsaken place disturbs the water.”

She leaned in closer, giving Rarity no space to interject. “My old bar—my life—is a couple days adrift by now, and most likely settled on the seafloor with a few dozen of my patrons, ponies that I considered to be my friends. I’ve about come to terms with my death here. I’ve had a good run, and me and mine are satisfied with the idea of going down fighting and taking as many of these freaks with us as we can. But then what do we see?”

She raised a hoof and flicked it lightly against Rarity’s chest. “A full-functioning airship lands in the middle of town and drops off three idiots, engines on full blast to erase any doubt that the deepfish will find them. And then those three idiots make a beeline for my hide, forcing me to waste precious material to save them, and who is it but Auntie fucking Rarity, savior of Fellis, a mare that probably gets off every night to the idea of all the poor little ponies she saves wherever she goes, and now she wants to save me, too!”

Rarity opened her mouth, but Jester cut her off. “But how are you gonna save us, Auntie? That hauler you came in on can squeeze maybe fifty ponies, my guess, assuming it’s got an empty hold. There’re at least four times that many Wakers trapped in this floating grave, and then you have to feed them and find a place to dump them before you give yourself a new title as a reward. So which fifty ponies is it gonna be? Who gets to die in their homes, and who gets to spend the rest of their lives toiling in some smoggy factory workpit until they’re too worn out to take a full breath anymore? Cause I’d bet good bits that four out of five Wakers would rather die free than be hauled off to one of those torture chambers most ponies call a city.”

At last she fell silent, leaning back with a disdainful curl of her lip. Rarity spent a few seconds processing the other mare’s words, gathering her thoughts. “Are you quite finished?”

Jester shrugged. “More or less.”

“Well, then, your candor is appreciated, Miss Jester.” Rarity cleared her throat politely and straightened up. “You are correct that my vessel most likely cannot fit everyone necessary to evacuate the city, and correct that my companions and I came into this rather uneducated as to the nature of the threat. But it is not our intention to save a select few and leave the rest behind, nor to doom anypony to a life of toil.”

“We’re not leaving anypony behind this time,” Pinkie added forcefully. “Not again.”

Rarity nodded, not letting herself linger on the unspoken implication. Or we die trying. “And if what you say regarding ponies not wanting to leave is true, then it seems we have no choice but to save Leviathan Wakes itself, rather than just its denizens.”

“You’re mad,” Jester said with a dismissive snort. “And you’ve got a madmare’s dream. This city’s long gone, and if I’m lucky I’ll get to die with it.”

“Maybe we are,” Rarity said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “But have you anything to lose by accepting our aid?”

Jester arched a brow, a quiet thoughtfulness in her eyes. After several seconds she spoke, holding Rarity’s gaze. “And this madmare speaks for all three of you?”

“She does!”

“Mhm.”

She shook her head, her attitude shifting to bemusement. “Well, they say impossible dreams are our chief import here in Wakes, so I’ll humor you. Maybe we can die together, us madmares.” She turned away, beckoning with a jerk of her head. “Come.”

Rarity let out a sigh of relief, exchanging smiles with her friends before following Jester deeper into the ship. It was difficult to tell what purpose it might have served when it was first built, but it was obvious that it had been relegated to the task of floating home since then. The walls had been knocked out throughout the entire bottom deck to form a wide open but conspicuously empty living space, with blankets and rugs layered haphazardly over the floor to muffle the sound of hoofsteps. Jester led them up a ladder to the next deck, this one with distinct rooms lining a snaking central hall, and then up again, through a room where several hard-eyed ponies were eating out of small bowls around a lantern-lit table and cards. A few looked up as they passed, gazes lingering on Rarity or widening slightly as Brownie shuffled by, but none said anything.

Finally they reached the top. Salty ocean air tickled at Rarity’s nose as she climbed onto the deck and looked around. The ship had only one mast, towards the rear and much too small to be effective, a tattered flag of a ship’s wheel in front of a fool’s cap strung up at its peak. A small team of ponies sat by the bow next to a crate of glass bottles, fussing with some threadbare netting, but Jester led them in the other direction.

“I won this ship in a bet,” she explained casually as she walked up to the railing. “I’d been planning on selling it off, or maybe trading it for a favor, but then I barely escaped my bar with my life, so now this is where I hang my hats.”

“I see,” Rarity said neutrally.

Jester nodded, looking out over the surrounding city. From here Rarity could see the torn and mangled gaps where entire sections had been broken off and dragged into the ocean.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” she said. “There’s only one way you’re saving Wakes, and we’ve given it a few tries already.”

Pinkie stepped forwards intently, leaning in. “Tell us.”

“Yeah, yeah, relax,” Jester said, not bothering to hide her irritation. “The issue is the leviathans. They’re what moves us, and usually what keeps us safe, but whatever’s riled up the deepfish got them so pumped that they killed one in the initial attack. They backed off after, thank the waves, so we’ve got a chance of escaping this, but the one surviving leviathan isn’t strong enough to pull us when its sister is floating dead in the water. We’ve gotta cut the dead flesh free to lighten the load, and probably a good chunk of the city, too.”

“Oh, that poor creature,” Fluttershy said. “She must be in so much pain.”

Jester arched a brow, but ignored the comment. “The chains are in the water.” She pointed a hoof over the railing, and Rarity followed it to an almost castle-like structure on the far end of the city. “The deepfish calm down a bit during the day, and we’ve got a few of them cut, but there’s this other thing, like a demon out of Tartarus or something. It stays underwater at night, but once the sun’s up it attacks anypony that gets close to the water. Nothing we do seems to hurt it, and we’ve already lost ponies trying to cut the last chains.”

“So the deepfish keep you from cutting the chain at night, and this ‘demon’ keeps you away during the day?” Rarity asked.

Jester nodded. “That’s pretty much it.” She leaned back against the railing expectantly. “Of course, we’ve got nothing better to do, and Wakers aren’t the type of ponies to huddle up and wait to die. My crew here’s making another bid for the chains in the morning, all or nothing. You’re free to join us, assuming you don’t particularly value your lives.”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking between her friends. Truthfully, she was at a loss. She was most comfortable solving problems that, at least on some level, had their origin in disagreements among ponies, but she had no experience when it came to hordes of wild creatures.

“That ‘demon’ you mentioned,” Fluttershy said, brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Could you describe her, please?”

“Her?” Jester scoffed. “If you haven’t seen it, you’ve definitely heard it by now.”

A keening wail echoed from beneath them, high and mournful. Rarity stepped to the railing and looked down, spotting the same strange, glowing star from before twirling deep through the water, casting shimmering rays of pale light that silhouetted both the floating pathways of Leviathan Wakes and the lurking mass of deepfish that haunted it.

“She sounds sad,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“Sounds angry once it’s got its eyes on you,” Jester said, her eyes briefly losing focus. “It’s got a body of fire and burns hotter than a Heighton foundry. You can tell when it’s coming from the way the water sizzles and spits, but by then it’s too late to run. You just pray it goes for someone else when it surfaces.” She shuddered, shaking her head. “Even your bones fall to ashes, and the waves will wash you away before the next dawn.”

Fluttershy frowned. She joined Rarity at the railing, peering intently down into the water and watching the submerged star move. Her ears flicked as it resumed its mournful song.

Her eyes widened with a sharp gasp. “Philomena!”

Rarity cocked her head. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s Philomena!” Fluttershy stepped back and began to pace as she spoke, brow furrowed with concern. “Princess Celestia’s pet phoenix. Oh, I knew that song felt familiar!”

“Celestia?” Jester echoed.

“But Twilight saw Philomena at Fellis, didn’t she?” Pinkie asked. “She’s supposed to be… you know.”

“Philomena’s a phoenix, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said. Behind her, Brownie’s head swayed side to side as he watched her pace. “Whatever Twilight did, she must have survived and reformed, and now she’s attacking the ponies here. We need to talk to her!”

“What the hay are you going on about?” Jester asked. “You can’t talk to it anymore than you can talk to a tidal wave.”

“Well, violence hasn’t got you very far, has it?” Fluttershy snapped, rounding on her with sudden venom. “She’s probably just lost, or confused, and acting out the only way she knows how!”

“What do you know of it?” Jester countered, shooting to her hooves. “We’ve shot it, bombed it, speared it—the thing’s too fast and too tough! I can tell you it doesn’t care when we beg for our lives, as much good as it’s done us! If you want to help then help, but don’t mock us by talking at the thing!”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking up to the sky. A threadbare old sail was raised on the ship’s one mast, catching the stiff wind. Far above, she could see the flickering lights of the airship she’d come in on as it loitered, waiting for her signal. An idea came to her.

“You don’t have to kill her,” Rarity said, interrupting Fluttershy’s response. “You just need to keep her away from the chains while you cut them.”

“And how do you suggest we do that, exactly?” Jester asked.

“The sails.” Rarity lit her horn, outlining the sail above her in the soft blue glow of her magic. “This city is full of them, yes? I can gather them up, soak them in the water, and use them to try and smother Philomena’s fire while you all cut the chains.”

“I heard you took on six bounty hunters in a fabric shop with that magic. You’re saying you can do the same thing against this demon?” Jester frowned, eyeing the glowing sail thoughtfully. “But how would you lure it away from us?”

“Our ship!” Pinkie suggested, a hopeful smile coming over her. “If we fly it close to the water, we can lead Philomena away and keep her busy until the chains are cut!”

“Could work.” Jester let out a thoughtful hum as she tapped a hoof. “And whoever captains that craft, they’ll go along with it? Unless she’s a Waker, she’s got nothing to gain and everything to lose.”

Rarity faltered, pursing her lips. It was true that the Captain had been uncooperative and selfish every step of the way; Rarity had needed to force her hoof with the threat of economic destruction just to get her to stop and help one stranded ship! If she went aboard now talking of using her ship as bait for an angry phoenix, the mare was liable to throw her into the ocean and be done with it.

Pinkie let out a dejected sigh, her smile fading. “Probably not.”

For a moment all four mares fell silent. Rarity tapped a hoof against the hull as she tried to work out some solution to the problem, her gaze roaming across the darkened, abandoned city and idly counting sails. Philomena’s song drifted up from somewhere distant as sparkling rays of pale light shone up from behind a lopsided ship.

“How big is her crew?”

Rarity blinked, turning to Jester. “I beg your pardon?”

“Her crew,” Jester repeated, a slight grin pulling at her lips. “No airpony is soft, exactly, but a few seasons working a hauler can make a pony rusty. How many hooves has your captain got at her command?”

Pinkie answered without hesitation. “Eighteen. And one of them’s sick.”

Jester nodded, her grin widening. “Don’t worry about the captain, then. Her consent won’t be required.”

Rarity blanched. “Darling, are you suggesting that we steal the ship?”

“Are you suggesting we don’t?” Jester countered. “My home’s at stake here, Countess. I was willing to die and be done with it when I got up this morning, but you’ve shown up and offered us a fighting chance at actually making it here. You think I’ll back down over something as insignificant as some selfish, far-off merchant’s property rights?” She shook her head, jabbing a hoof up to the flag hanging above them—a ship’s wheel in front of a fool’s cap. “There’s no law in Leviathan Wakes, and that’s just how we like it here. Bits, wits, and nothing else. You say you want to help? You want to save every wretched life on this oversized flotsam? We’re gonna need a ship to do it, and you’ve got the only flight-worthy one around.”

“It wouldn’t be proper!” Rarity insisted, shaking her head. “You can’t ask me to help you steal an innocent mare’s ship!”

Jester snorted. “A mare your age, and you still believe in innocence? And in a merchant captain’s soul, no less? You take what you can get in this world, and I see a chance to save my city in reach.” She took a step closer, straightening up as the mirth left her eyes. “Whether you help or not is up to you, but I’d wager that ship’s gonna come and get you eventually. Or maybe you have some signal on you to call them down? I’m willing to work without your cooperation if I have to, so what’s it gonna be? Do you want to be part of the greater good, or the acceptable losses?”

Rarity held Jester’s gaze in silence, weighing her words. Could she really bring herself to be part of this? To take an honest pony’s most precious possession away from them in the name of some greater good?

Her gut told her to say no, to light her horn and use the sail behind her to apprehend Jester, to somehow fend off the rest of the Wakers until the ship could come down to rescue them. She could do her best to convince the Captain to freely give her aid and hope that Jester wouldn’t harbor any hard feelings after the rejection. But no, Friesland had taught her that she couldn’t put faith in the generosity of her fellow pony. The Captain would turn her down at best or maroon her at worst. The ponies of Leviathan Wakes would be doomed, with her and her friends most likely accompanying them.

Backing down and fleeing wasn’t an option either, assuming she could escape. She would be haunted for the rest of her life with the knowledge that she could’ve done something to save these ponies. And she could feel Pinkie’s eyes boring into the side of her head, willing her to accept the proposal. “We’re not leaving anypony behind this time. Not again.” Rarity knew how hard Pinkie had taken their inability to save all the suffering ponies of Fellis. Who knew if she’d be able to take another, even more disastrous failure. Rarity couldn’t bear to put her friend through such torture.

On her other side, Fluttershy continued pacing. The usually timid pegasus had been startlingly confident in coming here, and hadn’t backed down from her insistence in approaching Philomena with kindness, but that could only happen if they went with Jester’s plan. If they left now, then there was no telling when or where they might find Philomena again, and Rarity knew Fluttershy was desperate to help ease the phoenix’s pain.

She could perhaps say no and force Jester’s hoof, make a point of going with the plan but only against her will. But no, such a thing would be foalish and immature. A lady owns her decisions.

There was only one answer, really. The Captain would be unwilling to give what was needed to save all these lives, but Rarity would be generous on her behalf. Perhaps they could even give the ship back afterwards, and a great good could be achieved with no lasting harm.

Hadn’t she done something like this before, anyway? What had she done in Friesland, if not steal Governor Rhea’s city from her in the name of saving lives?

“Very well.” Rarity sighed, glancing to each of her friends and receiving reassuring nods. Her horn glowed as she reached into her bags and retrieved the flare launcher, holding it towards Jester. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”





The stars twinkled brightly overhead as Ana stepped out onto the deck of the Dragonscale, relieved to have made it outside without any further interference from the garrisoning marines. The way she was shaking, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle a violent confrontation.

Gava appeared at her side a moment later, wings already flaring for flight. She’d been coldly silent during the walk, avoiding Ana’s sideways glances throughout.

Gava took to the sky without a word, and Ana’s gut squirmed as she followed. What had she been thinking, lying to her sister like that? All over a pony she’d never met?

Her unease grew as she glided in Gava’s wake, unable to enjoy the sensation of flight as she normally did. They drifted down, under the hanging urban sprawl of Harvest’s belly, the stars above giving way to scattered pockets of lantern light and flickering windows.

A small circular platform jutted out near the edge, accessible only by a narrow winding staircase that disappeared into the island above. Ana idly wondered as to its purpose as she and Gava alighted on the metal. A fishing spot? A small personal pier? Or maybe some forgotten error of architecture, too insignificant to be worth demolishing.

Gava kept her back to Ana, her tail lashing behind her. After several seconds, she spoke. “You lied to me.”

Ana said nothing at first. What could she say? Then she realized Gava was waiting for a response. She licked her lips, but her voice still came out hoarse. “I did.”

“Why?”

Why? Such a simple question, wrapped up all neat and tidy in one word, and Ana couldn’t answer it. As children, their father had imposed few rules upon them, but she remembered them all clearly. Share everything, even your struggles. Support each other in all endeavors. Respect your sister’s privacy, but never lie to her. 

She pursed her lips, thinking back to the moment when she’d balanced on the knife’s edge between truth and lie and had slid without thought into the latter. She’d been scared, but not for herself. She once might have looked away and forced herself to forget, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it this time.

Not after she’d seen another mare so willing to give all she had in the name of doing the right thing.

“I did it to protect the kid.”

“Protect her? A pony?” Gava seemed confused. “From me?”

Ana clenched her jaw. Did she really have to spell this out? “You know what you’re like, Gava. You might’ve killed her.”

“And?” Gava finally turned around, rolling her eyes. “It’s a pony filly. What difference does it make to us if she grows up and becomes a pony mare? They’re all the same, Ana. You know they’re all the same.”

“But what if they’re not?” Ana paused, gathering her thoughts before pressing on. “How can you know? We treat every pony we meet like monsters and they’re just returning the favor! So—”

“So what?” Gava snapped, tail lashing. “We’re supposed to let them walk all over us?”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m saying! I—ugh, why is this so hard?” Ana sat down and took a deep breath. “Could we just try not treating everyone we meet like they’re beneath us? Just see what happens?”

Gava scoffed. “Now I know you’re just messing with me. You’ve seen how they look at us. What about that old couple we passed when we boarded that ship?”

“They didn’t do anything to us, sis.” Ana shook her head. “They were just afraid!”

“And what about those marines that caught us in the hall?” Gava began to pace, glaring daggers at the horizon. “They were just itching to pull weapons the moment they saw us. We could’ve been a pair of lost tourists and I bet they’d cut us down like dogs just for getting our room wrong!”

“They were just doing their jobs!” Ana countered. “Look at us! We’re obviously not tourists, and for all we know they were just trying to arrest us or something, not kill us!”

“So we’re supposed to wait and see?” Gava turned and met Ana’s eyes. “You want me to let ponies threaten you, let them do whatever they want to you, just in case they don’t really mean it? Not happening.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying, Ana? Because I don’t get it!”

“I just—can you just trust me on this?” Ana stepped in front of her sister and placed a hoof gently against her chest, stopping her pacing. “You trust me to know stuff, right? That’s when we’re best, when I can scout ahead and see things and make plans, and you follow up. Right?”

Gava frowned. “This isn’t a job, Ana. I’m not gonna let you throw your life away because you’re afraid to kill a pony that holds a blade to your throat.”

“No! That’s not what I’m talking about!” Ana leaned in, speaking slowly. “I’m just saying, maybe don’t be so aggressive. Don’t glare and snap at ponies just for being ponies. You can kill someone that threatens us, sure, but not innocent foals! Not just because you feel like it.”

Gava didn’t say anything for a moment. She looked between each of Ana’s eyes, brow furrowing in thought. “Where is this coming from?”

Ana blinked. “Huh?”

“Why are you like this suddenly?” Gava continued. “You’ve seen me kill foals before. We’ve dangled dock workers off piers to get info out of them and then dropped them afterward anyway. You delivered a pregnant mare in chains to some rich old asshole and left without looking back. We bombed a fucking city together, sis.” She sighed, grabbing Ana’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “Me and you against the world. That’s how it is, how it’s always been. I feel like someone stole you away from me one night and I’m talking to an imposter. What happened?” She paused, beak hanging open, before adding quietly. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Ana stiffened, looking away and pursing her lips. What could she say? The ponies I was supposed to hunt got in my head and screwed me up and now I can’t focus on anything I do. No, that would only upset Gava more. She put on a smile as she reached up and squeezed her sister’s talon in return. “I’m still your sister, Gava. I’ve just been doing some thinking lately is all. We can still be fearsome, we can still be strong, but we could have friends, too.”

Gava nodded. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “So this has nothing to do with that dress you’ve been hiding from me?”

Ana’s blood went cold. “Dress?”

“I know you think I’m stupid, Ana, but I’m not blind.” Gava slapped Ana’s hoof away, stepping back. “You put it right under Dad. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You think I can’t tell when you’re hiding things from me after all these years?”

“You—” Ana hesitated. You weren’t supposed to notice. “It’s a valuable dress.”

“Then why haven’t you sold it?”

Ana opened her mouth, expecting a smooth excuse to form in her head, but nothing came.

“Where did you even get it?” Gava demanded. “Why is it so important to you? And why do you feel you have to hide it from me?”

Ana sighed. More lies weren’t going to get her anywhere, and her sister deserved better. “Rarity made it for me.”

“What?” Gava cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “Did you commission it to get close to her or something?”

Ana shook her head. “She gave it to me.”

For a moment the two fell silent. Gava leaned in ever so slightly as if trying to see something through a thick fog, brow furrowing. “You mean all this shit is over some ugly fucking dress?”

“It’s not ugly!”

Ana’s retort echoed through the air, bouncing off the chiseled architecture of Harvest’s underbelly. Gava flinched back, her eyes shooting wide open, and Ana stepped forwards, pushing her sister back with the ferocity in her voice.

“It’s a beautiful dress! She made it just for me, gave it to me without asking for anything in return! Nobody’s ever done that for me before, and I thanked her with lies and deceit!”

She realized that she was crying, though she wasn’t sure why. Her chest ached and her throat burned, but she couldn’t hold the words in.

“Don’t you get it? I didn’t know ponies could be like that, I thought they would all treat us like monsters, but I was wrong! I was wrong, and that means all those ponies I’ve hurt—that we’ve hurt—maybe they didn’t deserve any of it! Maybe I really am a monster! And I’m trying to do better! I want to do better because the one time I found a kind pony, a pony that looked at me like a person instead of some demon, I betrayed her and I made her hate me!”

She sucked in deep breaths of air, body shaking, struggling to hold her tears back. If only she could make Gava understand, they could be better together, and maybe the next time they crossed paths with Rarity, Ana could try on that dress for her, and the generous, beautiful unicorn that poisoned her mind would smile at her like she used to.

“Why does it matter?”

Ana blinked, frowning up at Gava through the tears. “W-what?”

“Why do you care so much what she thinks about you?” Gava asked, her beak set in a pleading grimace. “I’m right here in front of you, telling you how this makes me feel. Doesn’t that matter? Why are you choosing her over me?”

“Ugh! I’m not choosing her over you! I just—I—let me think, okay?” Ana closed her eyes, running a hoof through her mane. “I just need to think, put this in a way you can understand.”

“I understand just fine, Ana!” Gava snapped, her talons scraping across the thin metal platform. “But it’s like you’ve forgotten everything we’ve been through and done together! I’m just trying to protect you, but suddenly you want to put the feelings of some pony you met last month over your own sister!”

“No! You don’t get it!” Ana stomped her hooves and shook her head with an exasperated growl. “Why don’t you fucking get it, you stupid bird?”

“What did you just call me?”

Ana froze, looking up with wide eyes. “Wait—”

“So I’m stupid now?!” Gava shouted, shoving Ana back hard enough her legs buckled. “You wanna try shorter sentences, or maybe draw me a picture? Do I make your life hard by being as dumb as I am?”

Ana knew she should apologize. As much as she liked to tease Gava, she knew the griffon was insecure about her over-reliance on brawn. She should have registered the wetness in her sister’s reddened eyes. But the shove had caught her by surprise, and in her moment of disorientation, she snapped.

“You know what? You do!” she snarled, jumping up and hovering to glare down at Gava as she jabbed a hoof into her chest. “Yes, by Luna, you do! I left you alone for barely a week and you went and bit the horn off the most popular barkeep in Equestria, and now half the ponies in the sky hate us! And for what? All that and you didn’t even catch the ponies you were looking for!”

“Oh, like you did such a great job?” Gava bellowed, sticking her beak into Ana’s face, her fierce eyes shimmering with tears. “The ponies you followed could barely handle a little gang of bandits! I could’ve captured them with one talon tied behind my back, but you were too busy waiting and planning to get anything done without me, because you’re a coward!”

“Don’t you try and blame that fuckup on me, Gava! If you’d tried thinking for one second before you threw away the element of surprise then we could’ve gotten all six Gifted together, like Dad always told us to!”

“He’s not even your real Dad!”

Gava’s screech hung in the air as both sisters caught their breath. Slowly, Ana drifted back to the floor, her jaw trembling and her ears drooping.

Her quiet voice broke the silence. “Y-you’re not supposed to say that.”

“Not used to the truth?” Gava jeered with a shaky grin, jabbing a talon into Ana’s chest. “He’s not your real Dad. You’re not my real sister! You’re just some gutter rat he found in a hole and took pity on!”

Ana’s chest tightened as she looked away. “You d-don’t mean that.”

“Yes I fucking do,” Gava growled. She turned away sharply, flaring her wings with a tense shudder. She paused, beak hanging open as if she was going to say something further, then jerked her head away and leapt into the open air, pumping her wings without looking back.

Ana’s legs dropped out from under her. She felt like a filly again, a little lost foal freshly plucked from the street and trying to find her place in a kind old griffon’s family. She’d been so happy to have a family. To have a name. A sister.

For the first time in decades, Ana remembered how it felt to be truly alone.

She cried just like she used to, all those years ago.
> XXVIII: Of Crystal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight and Midnight climbed in silence, horns aglow.

They didn’t need to say anything to each other. Midnight, alert, suspicious, and expecting confrontation, had erected a sturdy arcane shield around them as soon as they started up the spiraling crystal stairs. Twilight was curious but cautious, drawn onwards by the notion of another pony like herself to talk to.

Twilight ascended the steps at a brisk pace, reviewing the possibilities in her head. According to the crystal ponies, the Shaper had been around before the floods, centuries ago. If that was the same Shaper that had just spoken to her—as opposed to a descendant or successor—then she could be mere moments away from facing a being that witnessed the fate of Equestria.

The list of creatures that could live such lengths was short. Alicorns were immortal, but surely the indisputably masculine voice ruled out the possibility. Discord had lived a thousand years at least, but Twilight could never forget the heartless laughter in that monster’s voice, and it wasn’t him. Perhaps a dragon? It would make some sense; there were several cases of ancient pony societies forming around the worship of dragons styling themselves as gods, but dragons weren’t known for their powers of enchantment or architectural talents. Why would a dragon lock himself away in a crystal tower filled with strange magic for hundreds of years, hidden from the ponies he’d claimed as his followers? And besides, she hadn’t seen any draconic imagery within the village above.

And what of Cadance? Her trail led straight to the crystal ponies and their mysterious empire, but the only sign of her passage was one crystal bust with a feminine head and a long, slender horn.

To Twilight’s surprise, the stairs came to an end after only a few minutes of walking. She climbed up onto the landing, the echo of her hooves hinting at distant, unseen walls.

She was surrounded by darkness, a black so thick it was as if the world ended only a few steps beyond the lavender glow of her shield. Her own breathing filled her ears, interspersed with the distant, muffled sounds of grinding crystal and settling architecture.

Twilight’s shield fizzled out.

She gasped, wincing from a sudden sharp pain at the base of her horn. She opened her eyes to find the darkness had closed in, wrapping around her coat so thick she couldn’t see her own muzzle.

She froze, heart pounding in her chest. A breath of cold air brushed against her leg and she cringed back, straining her ears.

The strange voice returned, echoing around her.

“Fret not, Chosen, for even those blessed by Our touch are blind within the Spire. Close your eyes. Take guidance by Our voice.”

Midnight! Twilight called, spreading her stance. Her hooftip scraped against a rock, making her stumble. She tried to call on her magic and send out a quick ping to get her bearings, but the spell never returned. What’s happening?!

It is the same magic that pushed against us during our descent. Midnight’s eyes appeared in the darkness, narrowed and alert. We are deep in the monster’s lair, little flower.

Slowly, Twilight turned towards the Shaper’s voice, sliding her hooves over the ground out of fear of tripping over some unseen debris. A light appeared before her, shimmering gold, and she crept towards it with bated breath.

It was impossible to gauge the distance. What she’d taken for a lantern grew to be a brazier, or perhaps a window, and then a bonfire. When she finally came close enough to see her hooves below her she saw its true nature: a group of jagged cracks spiderwebbing across the crystal floor from a crater, nearly as big as she was and radiating a warm golden light that streamed up from below. She lifted a hoof up to the glow, eyes widening at the gentle warmth that played across her coat.

Sunlight.

Celestia did this.

A mighty blast, to have pierced the crystal so deeply, Midnight said. She did not hold back against this enemy.

Ametrine’s legend said the Sun fought the Shaper in the Spire.

And yet the Shaper is still here. We must be ready to finish what she started.

Twilight pursed her lips as she edged around the strange crater, trying to use its light to see more of the space around her. The Shaper’s echo was already barely audible, and with no landmarks, not even a wall to follow, she couldn’t tell if she’d gotten turned around. On a hunch she closed her eyes and was rewarded by a faint tug at the back of her skull, pulling insistently in one direction.

Just like when we found Luna, she thought, opening her eyes.

When she lured us to her, yes.

The darkness resumed just a few steps from the crater, but she could just make out the light reflecting against a jagged shape further away, like a broken blade sticking out of the ground. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she crept towards it, not stopping even when she left the sunlight behind and was left in complete blackness once again.

After agonizing seconds, she flinched as she bumped into something smooth and cold. She reached out and felt out its shape with her hoof. It was big, too wide for her to wrap her legs around and too tall for her to reach the top, with hard edges that threatened to cut into her frog. She let out a frustrated sigh, calling on her magic to try another ping.

A pale blue light flickered up in front of her. She stiffened, immediately dropping her magic, and was plunged into darkness once more.

What was that?

Whatever it was, I’d rather be able to see it.

Midnight channeled their magic, and the light returned. Blinking, Twilight realized she was hunched down in front of a huge, jagged spike of crystal, driven into the floor at an odd angle. It glowed pale blue whenever she lit her horn, falling dark once more as soon as she stopped.

It’s catching our magic, Twilight realized. Like an enchanted lantern.

This is no lantern. The crystal’s glow returned as they channeled magic again, and Twilight saw the deadly point at its crest. This is a weapon.

Twilight shivered, huddling close to the light. She spotted two more golden glows, one high and at an angle as though on a wall, and the other down on the floor. She made for the closer one, hesitating as the crystal behind her dimmed with every step.

Progress was slow, but her confidence grew with every light source she found. She moved from crater to crater when possible, using the crystal spikes to bridge the gap when she couldn’t trace a path directly between the craters of Celestia’s magic. Occasionally she would stop and try another ping, almost out of reflex, but the response was always the same: no return, and a slight pulse of pain at the base of her horn.

Gradually she built a mental image of the space around her, using the scattered light sources as reference points. She was moving down a wide hall with a high ceiling. Large chunks of debris littered the path in isolated clumps, visible only by their silhouette as Twilight crawled from light to light.

Something appeared in the corner of her vision. Twilight froze, head snapping around to lock onto the potential threat, but could see nothing in the dark.

She waited, listening. Nothing but the faint groaning of distant crystal reached her ears.

After several seconds she looked away, only to immediately see the thing again in the same spot, just as she began to move. She jumped, angling her whole body towards it, the hairs standing tall on the back of her neck.

Nothing. Just more darkness.

She moved her head side to side, trying to replicate the effect, and then—there. A shadow. She closed and opened her eyes, trying to discern its shape, but it melted out of sight every time she looked straight at it. She took a step closer, turning her head to catch it in her peripheral vision again.

The hall was pitch-black here, as lightless as the ruins of Canterlot before she gained her mutated vision, yet there was something even darker before her. Something that cast a shadow despite being untouched by light.

She fixed her gaze on it, carefully strafing around to place it between her and the nearest glowing crater. The light seemed to curve around it, silhouetting a tall, jagged shape.

Another crystal spear, Midnight said. But this must have been made by a different caster from the others.

The Shaper’s dual aspects. Twilight nodded. Two different ponies.

And two different enemies. Midnight’s floating eyes narrowed, looking around. Yet only one has spoken to us. Whichever we face first, we must destroy them utterly, before the other can join battle.

But how? I’m blind here. She walked sideways until the crater’s light shone clearly again, walking into its radius and searching for the next light source.

Blind, yes, but not helpless. And not alone. We can overcome it.

Midnight began to channel magic, and after some hesitation Twilight joined her, clenching her jaw as she strained to overcome the arcane resistance hanging in the air. A familiar pain blossomed in her horn, but instead of backing down, she embraced it, using it as an anchor. A weak light flickered at the tip of her horn, and she groaned as the pain sharpened, body tensing until Midnight took more of it onto herself.

No. I can take it. Twilight grit her teeth, taking the pain back. A thousand needles drove into her skull, another being added with every second, but she refused to back down. Bloody tears welled in her eyes and her hooves shook, but the thought of coming so far and failing now was more sickening than any physical agony.

It felt like breaking through a wall; at once the pain faded, reduced to an insistent but manageable throbbing. She gasped as her horn burst into light, flaring like a star in the darkness.

You see? Midnight draped herself over Twilight’s back. Unstoppable.

Panting, Twilight focused the glow into a spotlight. On the ocean floor, it would’ve penetrated a hundred meters. Yet here it bought her only a few steps, and even then the light seemed to shudder and waver, as if the darkness was fighting back.

Traversing the hall was far easier now that she had her own light, even if it came at the cost of a pounding headache. She cast the beam around her and saw the walls for the first time. Colorful crystal mosaics adorned them, depicting cracked images of smiling ponies dressed in gold and silk.

She took two steps past the glow of the crater behind her, and a pair of eyes reflected her light back at her.

Twilight yelped, hastily summoning a small shield around herself. The spike of pain that followed brought her to her knees, the shield sparking out of existence an instant later.

Jumping at corpses again? Midnight teased. Surely we’re past that by now, little flower.

Twilight blinked, straightening up. The eyes were not eyes, but a pair of pitch-dark gemstones set into the skull of a desiccated corpse. Stepping closer she saw the sparkling jewelry and bleached bone trinkets wrapped around its limbs, though its coat was dull and patchy, far from the twinkling glow of a living crystal pony. Its ribs had collapsed and its face had rotted entirely into expressionless bone, but one of its hind legs was encased in a solid block of inky black crystal that greedily swallowed up her light, little tendrils stretching up the corpse’s thigh like questing tentacles.

I hate this place, Twilight said, frowning down at the body. It feels like I’m in Canterlot again.

I suspect we’re in far more danger here than we ever were in Canterlot.

Twilight nodded, looking up and scanning her surroundings.

The edge of her light fell on a limp hoof. She inched forward, pulling another corpse out of the darkness, and a few steps past it, another.

The previous Chosen. She grimaced, backing up against a wall. We’ve been walking between them all this time.

Such fanfare over the title, only to be left forgotten and decayed in the corners of an old ruin. Midnight let out a dark chuckle as she brushed a hoof down the nearest corpse’s back. How would the crystal ponies react, I wonder, if they knew the fate of those they sent down here?

We can’t assume all Chosen end up like this, Twilight said. Dozens of them must’ve come here before us. Some of them may have survived.

“Your eyes are not closed, Chosen.” The Shaper’s voice thundered around her. “Did your elders not teach you to respect Our will?”

Twilight’s blood went cold. He can see us.

But why did he not chide us until now? Midnight asked, turning their head about with narrowed eyes. His eyes must not be everywhere.

They gazed around, shining their light on tattered old tapestries and colored mosaics—and the crystal pony standing in silence just a few steps away.

Twilight cocked her head, unsure if he was alive or just a strangely posed corpse, but after a few seconds he mirrored the motion with a twitchy jerk. She jumped, conjuring a small circular shield in front of her and lowering her stance. It wouldn’t take as much punishment and couldn’t cover as much as a proper dome, but it was far less taxing on her limited reserves.

The crystal pony made no effort to close the distance, continuing to quietly watch. His body was marred by grotesque, crystalline growths surrounded by blotchy patches of black fur, and a pair of pitch-black gemstones set into his face where his eyes should be, outlined by a wispy, purple smoke that curled out from behind them and wafted away despite the complete lack of wind.

She cleared her throat. “Stay back! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Do not fear your fellow servant, Chosen.” The Shaper seemed amused by her surprise. “He is closer to Us than any of his generation, and soon you will stand at his side.”

Twilight shuddered, looking away from the crystal pony’s soulless gemstone eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing to these ponies?”

The Shaper didn’t answer at first, leaving Twilight’s voice to bounce off the walls around her. When he did respond, he did it with a deep, rumbling growl that made her bones vibrate.

“You dare question Us, Chosen?” The shadows pulsed around her, and Twilight’s ears flicked at the sound of scraping crystal from every direction. “Your service is no longer required. We shall peel what We wish from your corpse.”

The darkness closed in, wrapping tight around her like a python and squeezing with enough force to make her flinch in pain. Loud ringing filled her ears as the pain sharpened, joined an instant later by the sound of her pounding heart and strained breath. For a brief moment she felt like she were drowning, her limbs held taut with fleshy cords and ice cold ichor creeping over her muzzle, rushing into her lungs to drag her down into a terrifying, final slumber.

Calm, Twilight. Midnight leaned against her side, replacing the chill with the tingling warmth of her presence. I have you.

Twilight sucked in a deep breath as the pressure on her head abated, and she staggered back to her hooves with a surge of strength. Something sharp sliced across her cheek before shattering against the wall behind her, and a second later she cried out as a second projectile pierced her shoulder. She grit her teeth, calling her magic back to her and pushing the shadows back far enough to reveal a trio of crystal ponies spread out around her, maws open grotesquely wide as they vomited shards of crystal.

Again she used the pain as a focus, firing small bolts of magic to intercept the attacks. The crystal ponies began to close, threatening to overwhelm her, and she risked firing a bolt of energy in retaliation. The nearest pony crumpled with the sound of breaking glass, but her split focus let another shard slip past her defenses, opening a gash across her leg.

Her tail bunched up against the wall behind her as yet another crystal pony joined the assault. There’s too many! I don’t have enough magic to protect myself and fight them at the same time!

Brute force is not our only weapon, Midnight said. Our will is as dangerous as any spell.

Right! Twilight nodded. If they’re corrupted like seaponies, then we should be able to control them, too!

Midnight stepped in front of her, deflecting a shard of crystal with a sweep of her horn. She cast an imperious gaze over their attackers, and something dark and twisted reared up in Twilight’s gut as her lips parted.

“Begone, creatures, and be still!”

The crystal ponies cocked their heads, their attacks coming to a stop. After a moment of silence they wrenched their mouths shut with the sound of scraping bone, but instead of leaving they stood in place, staring blankly at Midnight.

“Pitiful god!” she crowed, spreading her stance. “Even your own thralls recognize our supremacy!”

Twilight froze. Midnight!

What? We’ve defeated him!

That doesn’t mean we want to start another fight!

It doesn’t?

The arcane pressure slackened, but only for a moment. The crystal ponies leaned in as one, like puppets being controlled by a single string. The Shaper’s voice rumbled around her with startling quiet, tinged with curiosity. “You are not Chosen.” A pause. “Why are you here, little pony?”

Twilight’s ears swiveled as she edged past the watching thralls, following the source of his voice. She spoke hesitantly, glancing back as the crystal ponies began to follow her. “I’m looking for something.”

The Shaper’s hum vibrated through the crystal with enough force to make her hooves tingle. “And yet you dominate Our Chosen and violate Our will within Our domain. These are not the actions of a mere seeker.”

“Your will will not keep us from defending ourselves, petty god,” Midnight said with unabashed disdain. “We will walk where we please!”

“You speak with two voices,” the Shaper said, ignoring Midnight’s insulting tone. “It has been a long time since We met a pair such as you.”

Twilight’s pulse quickened. She slowed her pace as the voice led her to an open door, and past it a wide spiral staircase. Crystal blades—both pale blue and murky black—embedded in the walls and obstructed the path, forcing her to carefully squeeze past lest she gut herself on their edges. “How long?”

“Uncounted centuries.” He sounded wistful. Almost regretful. “The years have drifted since she left Us.”

She? Twilight thought.

Perhaps he refers to Cadance, Midnight offered, looking down from a perch atop one of the deadly blades. We are following her trail, are we not?

But it sounds like he misses her. Twilight grunted as she bent down to crawl under a pale blue crystal blade, wincing at the shards that poked at her belly. Cadance would never work with a monster like this.

Wasn’t Cadance adept at crystal magic?

Twilight paused. A moment later she shook her head, standing and dusting herself off. I know what you’re implying, but that wouldn’t make sense. Even if the Shaper was strong enough to defeat Celestia, there’s no way he could beat her and Cadance working together.

No, Midnight admitted. Perhaps not.

Twilight reached the top of the stairs, drawing up short when she saw four more crystal ponies waiting patiently ahead of her. She gave them a wide berth, following the hall before her and ignoring the scraping sounds of their deformed hooves in her wake. She passed huge crystalline formations that shimmered pearly blue or radiated impenetrable darkness, levitated pieces of rubble to use as bridges across deep fissures that heated her coat with their golden glow, and finally came to a stop before a vast doorway. It yawned before her, both massive panels lying in shattered heaps upon the floor.

Beyond the door were yet more waiting thralls and marks of battle, scattered about with the wild abandon of a foal’s discarded toys. The walls peeled away as she walked forwards, ears perked and listening for Shaper’s next words.

When none came, she spoke. “Where are you?”

“Right here, little pony.”

The shadows twisted in on themselves, darkening into tall, bladed spires that glowed a faint red and illuminated the walls of the wide, round chamber she’d entered. Crystal mosaics on the wings depicted images of the Spire seen from the outside, its normally gleaming walls taking on the appearance of burnt flesh in the strange lighting; a sleek heart made of hard edges, one of the smoldering blades placed like a skewer in front of it; a dark-coated unicorn adorned with a silver crown and billowing red cape, the crystal of his eyes catching the dim light like smoldering embers; a stylized snowflake on a royal purple background that appeared ashen grey in the dark. Chunks of the structure had been torn from the roof, floor, and walls, joined by the regal faces of broken statues, and a once-great throne at the back of the room was reduced to scattered rubble, spilling over the dais beneath it.

Dead bodies littered the floor, crystal ponies with limbs turned from flesh and eyes smoldering with dark magics lying still next to equally still thralls that followed her every motion with robotic stiffness. There were a hundred at least, each one lovingly adorned with the last gifts of their families and lovers, each utterly immobile. Some of the bodies were little more than skeletons. Some of the thralls were all but completely encased in crystal.

And in the center of it all, in a space conspicuously clear of the detritus that clogged the rest of the chamber, was a tall, masculine silhouette, hunched over as if in fear. As Twilight stepped closer, the shimmering figure revealed itself not to be another crystal pony, but a unicorn, completely encased in unyielding black crystal, his horn curved back like a wicked blade. Through his murky prison, Twilight found her gaze locked with his; red eyes that peered back at her, unmoving, wide and afraid. A dark purple smoke coiled from the corners of his eyes in lazy spirals, phasing through the crystal encasement before dissipating in an ethereal wind.

“Welcome to Our empire, Equestrian.” The Shaper’s voice thrummed from the frozen stallion, bouncing off the walls and redoubling back on itself. “We had not expected to see another of your kind ever again.”





Leviathan Wakes had fallen silent once more.

It was still the dead of night, and Philomena seemed to have drifted deeper underwater, too deep for her song to reach the surface. The waves washed against the sides of the ship as Jester and her crew assembled on the deck.

Rarity had watched it all with growing unease. The Wakers were rough ponies, hardened by the skybound lives they’d lived before settling on the floating city and hardened again with their lawless existence on the surface of an ocean that, as far as the rest of Equestria was concerned, was eminently lethal. They fastened studded shoes to their hooves, blades to their wings, and sharp caps to their horns. They deployed miniature ballistae and tied rope to the butts of barbed harpoons, coiled weighted nets on their backs, and one mare sat in a corner loading guns with wide, flared barrels, mounting the weapons to her crewmates’ flanks and leaving them standing with trigger strings held in their lips.

All this—ponies preparing to commit violence on others—caused by her presence. Prepared with her blessing.

“You gonna throw up, Countess?” Jester asked, stepping away from a crowd of whispering ponies and sitting beside her. “You’ve been sitting there looking green since we talked.”

Rarity took a deep breath. “I strongly disapprove of violence.”

Jester chuckled, clapping her on the back. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over quick. Chances are those merchants will piss themselves and surrender the instant they realize what’s happening. We’ll be quick, and there won’t be any needless bloodshed.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “And if they don’t?”

Jester let out a thoughtful hum. “Don’t blame yourself for the deaths of fools, eh? If a pony’s too dumb to surrender with a blade to the throat, that’s on them.” She stood with a bemused shake of her head. “Be quick when the ship comes down. This flare is gonna draw attention from below as well as above.”

She walked away, joining a small circle of other Wakers. Rarity sighed, closing her eyes. She’d already made her decision; there was no point in agonizing further.

The clatter of wheels and a bear’s chuff drew Rarity’s attention. She put on a thin smile when she saw her friends approaching.

“This is the right thing, Rarity,” Pinkie said with a meaningful nod. “This is how we save them all.”

“And who will save the ponies on that merchant ship?” Rarity countered dryly.

“We will,” Fluttershy said, and Brownie bobbed his head in agreement beside her. She offered a small, comforting smile. “Just be yourself. The rest will come naturally.”

How strange that I be the one fussing over my decisions while Fluttershy tries to calm me. She couldn’t help but inwardly snicker at the reversal. She was almost certain she’d given the pegasus the exact same advice multiple times in the past, when all they’d had to worry over were sick woodland creatures or unruly customers.

Rarity had only a moment to reflect on it, however. In the corner of her eye she spotted the Wakers clearing the center of the deck as Jester brandished the flare launcher in a hoof, her eyes fixed on the shadow of the airship lingering above. In one smooth motion she brought the launcher down, smacking its base against the deck with a solid thunk.

Rarity flinched away from the sudden burst of light, painfully bright after so long in the dark. When she looked back, the flare was already soaring into the sky, sputtering loudly, a harsh red star that flickered and flared as it climbed ever higher on a trail of pale white sparks. The ship above reacted immediately, its propellers shifting and angling the hull in their direction.

A second later, Philomena’s cry echoed up from beneath them.

A murmur passed over the deck, ponies glancing between themselves with visible unease, the flare casting long, hard shadows across their faces. Something splashed in the water out of sight, hidden by the bulk of the hull. Rarity’s pulse quickened as she joined the Wakers in anxiously watching the ship above float steadily closer. Something thudded against the hull, rocking it ever so slightly. The ponies standing near the edge stepped towards the center, eyeing the railing.

“Steady,” Jester hissed, eyeing their target. The thrum of the engines turned to a roar, and the gentle slosh of the waves grew into frothy churning as the propellers buffeted them, causing the nearest parts of the city to sway side to side.

A light appeared as a pony poked his head over the railing, a lantern held in his hoof. “Countess?”

“Now! Go!”

The twang of drawn strings and taut coils filled the air as a half-dozen harpoons flew true, digging into the ship’s thin metal hull with loud cracks. The Wakers didn’t cry out in victory or roar a challenge; they moved with silence, clambering up the ropes with grunts and huffs of exertions barely audible under the din of the engines. At the same time, the deck beneath them jerked to the side, and Rarity yelped at the sudden vibration of impact that traveled up her hooves, joined by the heart-stopping sound of shattering wood.

Pinkie let out a sharp gasp, shoving Rarity and Fluttershy into motion. “Go! Climb!”

Rarity didn’t need to be told twice. She ran to the nearest harpoon gun, sparing only a brief glance for the stallion winding up its winch before wrapping her hooves tight around it and hauling herself up. It was far harder than climbing a proper ladder or net, and a distant part of her complained about the way the rough material chafed against the frogs of her hooves, but she paid it no heed, driven on by instinct.

A shout of alarm sounded from above as some of the Wakers began to jump from their ropes, landing heavily against the merchant ship’s sides and hauling themselves up by the hanging netting. From below, a cry of panic was met with a guttural roar. Rarity stole a glance down, eyes widening as she saw a creature squirming up out of a hole torn in the deck. It lunged for a stallion running for a rope, only to draw up short with a strangely comical squawk as Pinkie ran behind it with a giggle, crushing its tail under her wheels.

Rarity couldn’t watch. She trusted Pinkie to keep herself safe, and so she decided to focus on the same for now. She clenched her jaw and climbed higher.

The first Wakers hauled themselves onto the merchant ship’s deck with loud, angry shouts, followed by a booming gunshot that made Rarity flinch. She steeled herself and pushed, forcing herself over the railing with a slight wheeze before finally rolling onto the deck.

One mare marched up and down the deck barking commands, smoke curling from the gun at her side, but to Rarity’s relief it seemed nobody had been shot. The few members of the merchant crew on the deck were already cowering, stealing frightened glances around as they were herded towards the bow. A group of Wakers kicked down the door to the lower decks and stormed through, the dulled sound of their threats traveling around the ship beneath her, and soon more crew members were shoved up from below-deck and brought to join their comrades.

Rarity stood to one side, reluctant to get in the way, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Whitehorn brought up onto the deck, his muzzle set into a grimace as he was pointed towards the growing group of hostages. His gaze met Rarity’s and went wide; she offered a sheepish smile.

It was all over startlingly fast. Within a minute the merchant crew had been rounded up and placed under careful watch towards the bow of the ship, a pair of Wakers already well through the process of tying them up. Fluttershy was seated next to one merchant pony nursing a bleeding face, but Rarity’s blood went cold as she scanned the deck and realized that Pinkie was nowhere to be seen.

There was a scrabbling of hooves against metal, and a pair of exhausted Wakers pulled themselves over the railing, bruised but wearing shaky, manic grins. Full seconds later, Pinkie followed, a small, content smile on her face, and collapsed on the deck.

“Pinkie!” Rarity rushed up to her friend’s side, grimacing as she realized that one of her wheels was little more than a shattered piece of spinning scrap. “Are you okay, darling?”

“I’m great, Rarity,” Pinkie said with a tired giggle. She reached up with a hoof and booped it against Rarity’s nose. “Just had to—phew—make sure we got everybody.”

“Cut the ropes!” Jester’s voice rang out over the ship, ponies already rushing to comply. “Let’s get some distance before the deepfish learn to fly!” She nodded approvingly before making for Rarity, lowering her voice to say a few words in passing. “Countess, the Captain’s asking for you.” She smirked, already moving past and barking new orders.

Rarity sighed, turning back to Pinkie. “Are you sure? Do you need anything?”

“Nope!” Pinkie grinned back up at her. “I’m just gonna lie here for a bit.”

Rarity nodded, reluctantly stepping away from her friend. As concerned as she was, she didn’t want to interfere with Pinkie’s mood. It was so rare to see her smile like that anymore.

She dodged around the commotion on the deck, making for the bow. It was easy enough to spot the Captain—she was in the front row, leaned against a railing, her cape torn and her eyes narrowed in a hateful glare. Beside her, Whitehorn sat with an oddly calm expression, more curious than anything else.

“Captain.” Rarity dipped her head. “You asked for me?”

“Countess.” The Captain drew her head back and spat at Rarity’s hooves. “Care to tell me which pit in Tartarus you crawled out of, or will I have to ask myself once I arrive later today?”

Rarity grimaced. “I understand you’re upset with me, but—”

“But nothing, mare!” the Captain snapped. “First you blackmail me into docking with a dead city, leaving your lackey behind to watch me like some unruly foal, and then when I come back down to fetch you you’ve gone and recruited a bunch of Celestia-damned pirates to steal my ship!”

Rarity couldn’t help but shy away from the accusations. Every word was true, and although she’d known going into this that what she was doing was wrong, it was different having to face the mare she’d made a victim and hear it all spelled out. “And I’m sorry for that, really, but—”

“Sorry?!” The Captain let out a sharp laugh. “Ha! Some pirate you are! Don’t have the stones to look a mare in the eye after you steal her ship from under her hooves?”

Rarity inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. I deserve this. Still, she couldn’t keep some of the edge out of her voice. “Did you have anything you actually wished to speak about, darling, or did you just want to yell at me?”

“Don’t you darling me you pompous whore! You’re just a treacherous blowhard, not a—hrk!”

Rarity flinched as an ironshod hoof smacked into the side of the Captain’s head, knocking her out cold. Her eyes followed the offending hoof to Jester, who just rolled her eyes before walking off and tossing a few playful words over her shoulder. “She’s right, y’know. No stones at all.”

“Oh, goodness.” Rarity looked to Whitehorn, who was still eyeing her with that same appraising expression. “I imagine you must think terribly of me.”

He cocked his head, tone strangely conversational. “Perhaps you could explain your motives?”

“Yes, of course.” Rarity sat down, straightening up and bracing herself for the worst. “It’s all quite involved, really, but the core of it is that we need an airship to save the city, and the plan is somewhat touch-and-go. I was concerned that the good Captain would be so reluctant as to risk her vessel directly after all the effort it took just to get her here, and so—”

“So you decided to hijack it instead,” Whitehorn finished. He nodded, pulling the corners of his lips up into a wry smile. “Very bold, Countess.”

“You—aren’t you upset?” Rarity hesitated, wondering for a moment if he’d misheard her. “Whitehorn, I’ve played a key part in the theft of an innocent mare’s ship!”

His smile widened into an earnest grin. “But you did it for a good cause, no?”

“Well, yes, but—” Rarity stomped a hoof, her confusion shifting to frustration. “You should be mad at me! Livid! What I’ve done, I—I’ve just—”

“You’re just doing what you think is right for everyone.” Whitehorn nodded, closing his eyes with a bemused shake of his head. “What was it Pinkie kept saying? ‘Everyone, this time?’” He opened his eyes, gazing into hers with a quiet confidence that sent a chill down her spine. “There’s no shame in this, Rarity. You should take pride in it, even. Ponies like us—those who so yearn to help their fellow Equestrian, and yet can bear the pain of hurting one to aid the many—are vanishingly rare today. And we’re needed now more than ever.”

Rarity felt like she should look away, but found herself held in place by the intensity of his gaze. “You’re not upset?”

“No! Celestia, no, Rarity.” He actually laughed, and it occurred to Rarity that she’d never heard him make such a sincere sound since they’d met. “I’m proud of you! I know it was hard, but I know you made the right decision. And I’m here for you, just as you’ve always been for me. Together, we can change Equestria for the better. We will change it for the better.”

“Oh. Well, ah.” Rarity wasn’t sure how to respond. That look in his eye—he should be upset. She wanted him to be upset. He was supposed to be a noble pony like herself, striving to protect each and every victim from the cruelties that had become commonplace in Equestria. She had made her terrible decision to save Leviathan Wakes, tempered her reluctance with an icy determination to do what must be done. She wanted to be shouted at, to be chided and lectured and fixed with disappointed glares. She wanted to be told that though her decision could be understood, she should never do such a thing again.

“I—I’ll see about getting you untied.” She stood up abruptly, spinning on her hooves and trotting away.

She’d grown to trust Whitehorn like a lighthouse guiding her through the murky fogs of the new age. Yet now she saw cliffs approaching, hard and merciless, and he told her to keep going.

Somehow that was more frightening than being alone in the dark.





The room was silent; the air was thick with unspoken questions.

Twilight’s mind raced as she stood before the stallion frozen in crystal. She had come here seeking answers, and yet every step deeper into the Spire reminded of her of just how dangerous the Shaper really was. Her eyes wandered, lingering on one of the partially crystallized corpses scattered around the floor.

And she thought of Princess Luna, sound asleep at the bottom of the ocean, surrounded by bodies in a very similar chamber.

“All these ponies,” she breathed. “You lie to them. They come down here thinking they get to serve their creator, and you kill them.”

“You would do well to watch what you imply, Equestrian.” The Shaper’s deep voice made the very air buzz in Twilight’s ears. “Do you see marks of violence? Our Chosen serve Us to the end, as they are wont, but We do not bring undue harm upon them! They fade with smiles on their lips, honored to take their final rest by Our side, and on the day of Our reemergence their names shall be sung by their descendants, as We carry each one in Our mind.”

Reemergence?

He is trapped here, then, Midnight mused. But by whom, and for what cause?

Celestia must have done it. Twilight pursed her lips, subtly probing out with her arcane senses and checking for hidden traps or curses. This must be the creature that destroyed the world!

Perhaps. But surely if the floods were cast by his horn, he would have stopped them before they reached his own lands?

Twilight’s thoughts stumbled to a halt. She had no response.

Midnight’s voice echoed off the walls, imperious and haughty. “The ponies above claim you to be a god, and yet you do little more than play puppet with crystal and corpses. Who are you, truly?”

The shadows darkened, swallowing up the dull light of the crystal blades around the room and leaving only the dim glow of Shaper’s smoldering red eyes. She stiffened, expecting anger, but his response instead came laced with pride.

“We are Shaper! We gathered the disparate tribes of the Frozen North and carved them into a Crystal Empire! We pierced the veil of magics hidden in the darkest corners of the deepest caves and created artefacts to rival the might of alicorns! We bend flesh and soul to Our will as a master smith bends the hardest steel!” As he spoke, the shadows twisted around her, bright flashes of color briefly outlining dark silhouettes. Twilight saw a great tower in a wide valley between mountains, a twelve-edged heart suspended between two narrow columns, and a crowned stallion with a curved horn, cape billowing out behind him. “We are more worthy of the title of god than your petty Princesses, Equestrian, for We were not granted power by birth, but by the blood of Our body and the cut of Our mind!”

He kept going, his voice lowering into a bitter growl as the shadows slithered back towards the walls once more. “You speak to Us now as a shadow of Our power, but Our return is inevitable. We have clashed with your Princesses twice before, but their victories are ephemeral distractions in the unending story of Our Crystal Empire. And when We return next, there will be no divinities to stop Us, for even an alicorn mind cannot resist Our magic.”

Her ears perked up at his last words. She looked down, breathing out a quiet, trembling accusation. “So you admit it?”

“Speak clearly, Equestrian,” Shaper rumbled. “What is there for Us to admit?”

“That you’re the one behind all this pain? All this suffering? That you’re the one who destroyed Equestria, who flooded my home?” Her voice grew stronger as hot anger stirred in her breast, overcoming her caution. She called on her magic, clinging to the pain caused by the Spire’s arcane resistance and throwing it into the hungry fire of her fury, spurring it on.

“You’re the one that caused all this! Who killed my family! Who twisted my body!” Bloody tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, tracing the dark red stains left in her fur. The air began to hum with magic, the light of her horn driving the shadows back like a predator fleeing from flame. Finally Twilight looked up and fixed Shaper’s frozen form with a sharp glare, throwing her words at him like weapons. “I’m ending it! I may not have been here when Equestria needed me most, but I’m here now, and we’re going to kill you!”

She screamed as she unleashed her power in a lance of brilliant light that made stars pop in her eyes and the crystal shudder in sympathy underhoof, the blast cutting through the air with a shriek as if it, too, mourned for what was lost. The pain at the base of her horn grew sharper still, but it was nothing compared to the agony twisting her heart, and she embraced both sensations, pushing them too into the attack. Finally her enemy was before her, goading and proud, and in that moment all the doubts that had plagued her past actions melted away, replaced by a singular burning certainty—this was the monster that had destroyed her world, and she would end it before it hurt anyone else.

Finally her magic faded, her voice hoarse and her head pounding. The shriek of her spell echoed into the distance, replaced by a loud, discordant chime. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, wiping her tears away.

Where she’d hoped to see a stallion crumbled to rubble there was instead a solid block of inky black crystal, vibrating hard enough the very shadows around it seemed to buzz. The shaking grew stronger, and then with an ear-splitting snap the crystal shattered. Twilight erected a flat shield with a hiss of pain, the flying shards slamming against it hard enough to make her wince.

The Shaper stood untouched in the center of the room, ethereal smoke pouring thick through the crystal shell around his frozen eyes.

“Fool!” His voice boomed, driving her a step back. “We are not a destroyer, but a builder, a Shaper! If you wish to exact vengeance for your suffering, then stand by Our side, for we share a common enemy!”

“Hah!” Twilight spat, chest heaving as she called on more magic. She felt out with her magic, lifting the pieces of the broken statues scattered unseen against the walls, body trembling with exertion. “And who might that be?”

“Your Equestrian Princess, Celestia.”

Twilight’s anger faltered, but only a moment. She cried out as she hurled the rubble across the room. Marble legs, heads, horns, and wings that had rested dormant for centuries crumbled to dust as spikes of dark crystal darted out from the shadows, filling the air with glittering shrapnel. “You’re lying! Why should I believe you?!”

“What cause have We to lie, whelp?” Shaper countered, shouting her down with enough thunder to make her bones shudder. “We are king! We are Shaper! It was Celestia who sent her agents into Our empire to attempt to usurp Our throne, and it was Celestia who came alone from her dying nation, mind befuddled by magic she could never understand, and sought to destroy Us for sins We did not commit! It was Celestia who tore my creation apart with the power of the sun! It was Celestia who cast the spell that flooded the world!”

“No!”

The shadows shivered and danced, squeezing against her little circle of light as images and sounds flashed unbidden through Twilight’s mind. She saw crystal ponies wearing silks and gold running through streets paved with gemstones, overrun by shrieking beams of angry sunlight that left only ashes behind. A hall within the Spire trembling as its walls exploded with hot energy, scattered pieces falling to the polished floors in the wake of an alicorn that glowed with blinding light. Three colored gems—red, blue, and green—cracked, shuddered, and broke, and dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

“It’s impossible! S-she wouldn’t!”

All that pain and death—millions of ponies swept away by raging waters, smashed to pieces against their own homes, starved in what few shelters weren’t crushed by the waves—Celestia wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that. She thought of Stalliongrad—dead limbs picked clean of flesh swaying from the windows of the high-rises like macabre flowers—Canterlot—old homes and businesses once vibrant with color and life, buried under heaps of rubble and haunted only by bloodthirsty, mutated changelings—and Ponyville—skulls popping underhoof, almost every building washed away but for her own home, where a team of researchers had watched the world drown around them.

Everywhere she’d been, Twilight saw the lingering shadow of suffering. She had imagined it all to be caused by some great evil, by some villain that she and her friends could’ve defeated if only she’d been there. To think that Celestia herself could’ve caused it, the mare who had been like a mother to her and every other Equestrian—

Steady, little flower! Midnight hissed in the back of her mind, and the terrible images faded away. Confidence filtered through their mental connection, steeling Twilight’s mind, and she looked up to see Midnight standing over her, pushing the darkness back with her horn’s glow. Do not give in to lies so easily! Hold onto your faith; we cannot defeat this enemy within his lair, but we will need it later when we confront him once more.

Twilight nodded, staggering back to her hooves. She fixed Shaper with a teary glare, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“So Our word is not sufficient. To be expected for one of Celestia’s faithful.” Shaper spoke slowly, his voice dripping disdain. “If you will not accept Our truth, there is little proof We can offer, but perhaps you can find another truth elsewhere.”

Twilight set her lips into a thin frown. She was exhausted, her fury having burnt down leaving only embers behind. She knew what waited for her in the Spire now, but she needed to retreat and reassess the situation. For now, though, she would keep him talking. “What do you mean?”

“You are not the first Equestrian to walk these halls. Another came before you, also a follower of Celestia, though she did not have the luxury of ignoring truth when it confronted her. She is here no longer, but she has left something of herself behind, locked within Our own castle by magic We cannot bypass.” His voice grew bitter as he spoke. “We can guide you to her secrets, and perhaps you will fare better. Though you may find it difficult to reject truths offered by one of your own.”

Twilight hesitated, considering the offer. “That sounds like a trap.”

“A trap?” Shaper laughed with open disdain. The shadows flickered around her, and Twilight stiffened as she caught a glimpse of a wall of disfigured crystal ponies surrounding her, thin tendrils of dark smoke curling from their gemstone eyes. “If We have set any trap, Equestrian, then surely you have already sprung it.”

He’s bluffing. Midnight appeared beside her, lips curled back in scorn. Even if we cannot harm him, we have proven we can defend ourselves.

Right. We can humor him. She offered a tired, sideways smile. If it’s a trap, we can handle it together.

“Fine,” she said out loud. “Show us.”

The shadows danced around the room, drawing in close before forming a narrow path back the way she’d come. Shaper said nothing, but he didn’t have to. Twilight turned and followed the path with a weary sigh.

She couldn’t see the walls like this, but the crystalline shards and glowing holes helped her stay oriented. The path took her back down the hall towards the circular stairs, but turned to one side instead of descending. The scraping of crystal around her hinted at the possessed Chosen watching in silence, but she didn’t challenge them.

Her hooves moved on autopilot, her mind focused instead on comparing what she’d learned with what she knew. Based on the crystal ponies’ legend she knew that Celestia had come here, fought Shaper, and the floods happened right before she left. It was possible that the legend was based on lies and it had almost certainly been twisted by the passage of time, but she felt it likely that those three parts, at least, were fact. No matter what Shaper may have told them, the crystal ponies ancestors had lived through the event themselves.

Something had happened between Shaper and Celestia that caused the flooding of the world. She couldn't believe that Celestia would do it on purpose, and Shaper was adamant it hadn't been him. But he had to be lying.

Is he?

What? Twilight paused, brow furrowing. Of course he’s lying. It must have been one of them.

This castle is ancient. You saw the stained glass; this place is as old, if not older, than Canterlot itself. Who knows what powerful magics or artefacts lay dormant within these walls? Midnight paused, thinking. Maybe it was an accident? 

The thought left Twilight frozen. What if that was it? What if, in her effort to stop Shaper, Celestia had destroyed a powerful relic, or cast some spell or curse that went haywire, and accidentally caused the end of the world?

Or a different answer, Midnight continued. Perhaps Shaper tried to do something worse, something even more destructive, and Celestia flooded the world to save it? Again she paused, letting her words sink in. We are working with little information, Twilight. We cannot afford speculation over this matter.

Twilight nodded slowly. The idea that Celestia would ever do something so awful felt wrong, but acts of necessity were something Twilight had become very familiar with. How would her old self feel upon hearing all the things she'd done?

Disgusted. Repulsed. Perhaps violent. But Twilight knew she'd made the right decisions, even when the right decision was only a matter of choosing the lesser of possible evils.

The shadowed path came to an abrupt stop, turning sharply to one side and ending in a sturdy door of plain crystal. Twilight walked up and tried the knob with her magic, wincing as she received a jolt of arcane feedback as a reward. It was sealed closed, as Shaper told her.

Enchanted locks were problematic. Like any persistent magic without a caster to defend it, destroying the spell could be easily achieved via the application of force. Thus a well-made magic lock was designed not to be indestructible, but to ensure whatever it protected would remain so if unwanted visitors tried to tamper with it. A cursory inspection confirmed her theory; dispelling the lock would likely fuse the door into the wall, keeping the room’s contents secure.

Twilight cocked her head. Shaper couldn’t get past this? She’d been bypassing locked doors ever since she’d learned that libraries had a forbidden section, much to the chagrin of her caretakers. It hadn’t taken long for Celestia to give her a pass permitting her access to the entirety of the Royal Archives, which had saved her a great deal of physical strain as a filly.

A sad smile came over her as she lingered on the memories, but only for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, drawing on her magic. The Spire’s resistance made it difficult, of course, but there was no spell she was more adept with than teleportation, and she had only a short distance to go. She focused on her breathing, brow furrowing as a pulsing pain formed at the back of her skull. Midnight lent silent aid as well, tinting their magic with a ruddy hue.

The spell snapped into shape. All at once Twilight’s shield fizzled out, and bright lavender light flared around her. There was the familiar crackle of magic, and when she opened her eyes, she was through.

She poured power into her horn, brightening its glow until, to her surprise, it reached all four corners of the room. It was relatively small, though with a high vaulted ceiling that her light still couldn’t reach. Crystal tables weighed down with empty flasks occupied the center, and a chalkboard set into one wall was covered with a hazy smattering of chalk that might have once been busy lines of equations. The opposite wall was taken up by dozens of little box-shaped drawers, though the labels had long since faded.

At the very center of the room, right before the door, the flasks had been set aside to leave a space conspicuously clear. A cylindrical glass vessel in the middle contained a thin sliver of pale blue crystal, casting soft light over a notebook and three small crystal chests, each just too big to comfortably fit into a hoof.

It’s a lab. A tentative smile flickered on Twilight’s face as she stepped forwards. Someone was doing research here.

And an Equestrian, if Shaper is to be trusted. Midnight narrowed her eyes. A very well-organized Equestrian.

Twilight reached out and pulled the little chests closer. She immediately staggered back as she opened the first, briefly overwhelmed by the unexpected surge of magic energy inside, but recovered quickly. Peering inside, she saw mismatched shards of deep blue crystal, each individual piece glittering like the ocean on a starry night.

She was ready when she opened the next chest, and so was less surprised when it radiated just as much power as the first. This one also held shattered crystal, though the pieces were a verdant green that seemed to writhe with life everytime she moved her head.

The last chest was odd in that the broken crystal inside appeared more angular, with no round edges. It was an angry red, gently pulsing like a beating heart.

Powerful artefacts, even broken. Midnight said. Perhaps these are the creations Shaper boasted of?

Maybe. But why would they be locked away in here if he’s the one that made them?

Finally her attention fell on the notebook. She pulled it closer, a burst of excitement flaring in her breast when she felt the preservation magics wrapped around the pages. Whoever had left this here had expected it to be left alone for a long time, and put great effort into ensuring that its contents would be legible once it was found.

Twilight opened the cover with bated breath. Her eyes took in the words on the first page, written in a playful but precise script that made her heart race with recognition.

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake...”
> XXIX: Of Tribute
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake.”

Cadance.

Twilight’s chest tightened as she read the line over again. She could hear her old foalsitter’s voice in her mind, see the enthusiastic smile that always accompanied the foalish greeting. Even deep in the crystal caverns under Canterlot, Cadance had been able to smile.

“I’ve thought about you almost every day since I left Canterlot, Twilight, but it still feels strange to write those words. I admit I’m out of practice. I’ve had little time or opportunity for pen pals with all that’s happened, and truthfully I have little reason to believe you’ll ever read this, but I know I must leave something of myself here before I move on. I cannot bear the thought that you or anypony else I love might by some miracle find this place, hear of my being here, and be left with only stories from the crystal ponies and a cold trail.

“There is a catharsis, as well, writing it out. I can at least imagine you reading this, even if you never do.

“I don’t know how much you know, so I can only start from when we last saw each other, at the wedding. It feels like a lifetime ago. In some ways it truly is.”

Twilight’s hooves were shaking. Was this finally it? A written account of the end of Equestria, from someone who lived through it all? She took a deep breath and continued down the page.

“I still don’t really know how the changelings infiltrated Canterlot. Shiny had been warned, but I think that was a decoy to draw attention away from the interior. It all happened so fast, and if Luna hadn’t appeared to help us escape from Chrysalis and her drones, I fear that Equestria may have died that very day. I told them that we couldn’t leave you. You had risked so much to save me, but I was helpless to return the favor. There’s so many things we might have done different, and I’ll never know if any of them would’ve changed anything. Celestia ordered the evacuation with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t remember many details, and never had the time to ask for them afterwards. She cast a spell I didn’t think was possible, encasing the city in stone, and then burned an escape path through the mountain. Luna stayed back to help the Guard hold the entrance, and we were able to get most of the city evacuated. I didn’t see Shiny for a week after that.

“If by some miracle you ever get to read this letter, I imagine you must be shocked to see what’s become of our world. It breaks my heart to write that, despite living through it all from the very beginning and spending a century poring over every memory, I still know so little.”

A century? Twilight paused, rereading the line. So she survived!

But then why isn’t she here?

The smile that had crept onto Twilight’s face faltered. She shook her head, reading on.

“My earliest memory of it was in Fillydelphia. We were organizing a food drive for the refugees, and of course tensions were high. We’d been expecting some stress, but—”

Twilight frowned. Most of the paragraph had been scratched out. Splotchy water stains were soaked into the page around it, preserved alongside the ink by the magic.

“Fights broke out, and some of them went beyond words. By the time we realized what was really happening, it was already too late.

“At first I thought I was the only one suffering. It lurked in the back of my mind and pushed me toward dark thoughts, tried to get me to manipulate those around me and call attention to myself, to steal lovers from others or even kill those that spurned me. Then I began to see it in those I loved, as well. Shiny drove his troops harder and became distant at home, and Luna retreated into herself, speaking barely a sentence on any given day. We didn't even realize she had disappeared until days later, when every thestral in the Night Guard vanished overnight.

“Shiny never forgot about you, Twilight. None of us did. When he told me he was going back to Canterlot to find you, I wanted to stop him. But I saw that look in his eyes. He would’ve stayed if I’d asked, but the guilt would destroy him. I wanted to go with him, but there were millions of others that needed me, too. I suppose he was always more of a brother than a husband, and I was always more of a princess than a wife.

“I'm convinced I killed him when I let him walk out those doors, but perhaps it was better that way. I'm glad I can remember him as a brother going to save his sister instead of the thing he was being twisted into.”

Twilight sniffled, one hoof reaching over to clutch at the saddlebag that still bore her brother’s crest, and the old journal within. It was difficult to imagine him as some cold-faced commander instead of the warm, friendly sibling she remembered.

He had a good death, Midnight said.

She nodded. And he was himself at the end. She took a deep breath and continued reading.

“For some reason I thought Celestia was above the corruption. I saw her more as part of Equestria than in it, and whether from optimism or denial, I refused to acknowledge that she was falling victim to it as well. In hindsight I should’ve seen the signs. She was distracted and bitter when she sent me here, to the Frozen North. She said we might find some way to stop the corruption in the ice, something to save us, but she wouldn’t tell me exactly what. I think it was her corruption holding her back, but instead of pressing harder I gave her space. I thought perhaps she needed to be alone.”

Twilight pursed her lips, blinking damp redness out of her eyes as her voice broke. “That’s not what she needed.”

How would you know such a thing?

“Because I remember what it was like.” Twilight looked up, meeting Midnight’s impassive gaze. “I felt so alone, Midnight. I pushed my friends away because I didn’t want them to suffer the same pain I was, but Celestia—she was surrounded by ponies going through the same thing! They could’ve carried it together!”

Will you ever accept that it wasn’t your fault, little flower? Midnight shook her head slowly, her lips curved down into a soft frown as her voice echoed in Twilight’s head. Celestia was alone, yes, but she herself sent Cadance away, perhaps for the same reason you kept your own friends at a distance. She would’ve done the same thing to you.

“No. We were different. If I’d just been there—” Twilight choked back a sob. “We could’ve beaten this together! Or l-lost together.” She sighed, looking back down to the letter. “I wouldn’t have to be alone.”

For a long moment Midnight said nothing. Twilight’s eyes scanned the page without seeing.

Do you feel alone now?

Twilight risked a glance up. Midnight held her gaze, clenching her jaw.

“I—that wasn’t fair of me to say.” She bit her lip, wiping her tears away and clearing her throat. “I’m glad you’re here.”

But you would be happier if I wasn’t, Midnight said matter-of-factly. I hurt our friends and twisted our body, and you wish I’d never existed.

Twilight opened her mouth to offer a response, but no words came out. Midnight would know if she lied; there was no point in denying the accusations. After a few seconds of hesitation she found her voice. “But you’ve done good things, too. If you weren’t there to help me then Rainbow would’ve been captured by Gava, or Philomena might’ve killed me and my friends, and who knows what might have happened on Altalusia?” Her confidence grew as she spoke, lending strength to her voice. “You helped me save Spike, helped me cross the ocean, helped me survive and get to where we are now! I couldn’t have done any of this alone.”

Yes, I’ve helped you overcome obstacles created by my own presence. You were unable to save our friends alone because you feared what I was doing to you, and they would have been able to help you get here if you hadn’t isolated yourself from fear of what I’d do to them. She looked away, narrowing her bloodshot eyes. Was my assistance worth the cost of your suffering?

Again Twilight found herself at a loss, but she recovered quicker this time. She let Cadance’s journal fall to the table. “You’re reminding me of myself, back in Canterlot. What happened to the pony that was always whispering in my ear to hurry up, reminding me of what we needed to do when I faltered, chastising me for wasting time and energy on emotions? She wouldn’t let these doubts get in her way when we’re exactly where we need to be.” She offered an encouraging smile as Midnight’s eyes narrowed. “But she is, so maybe I can help.”

She took a deep breath, straightening and looking intently into Midnight’s eyes, speaking through their mental connection and focusing on the meaning behind every word. I didn’t ask to meet you, but I don’t regret it. We didn’t understand each other at first, but you’ve helped me overcome barriers I didn’t know I had and been at my side every step of the way. You forced me to fight to protect my friends when I was too afraid to do it myself, and kept me going when I was at my lowest. But more important than what you’ve done for me, I’m glad for how I’ve been able to help you. You’ve learned so much about friendship, about life, about yourself.

And even if we’d failed at everything we tried to do together, I would still be glad that I could help you become the pony you are now, because you’re my friend.

She paused to let her words sink in before walking back to the table and sitting down in front of Cadance’s journal. Now let’s get back to saving Equestria, alright?

Midnight was silent for several seconds, and for a brief moment Twilight thought she might have gone too far. But then her dark passenger let out an amused snort, walking up to her side and leaning against her.

Yes, let’s get back to it.

Twilight smiled as the strange, tingling warmth of Midnight’s presence buzzed over her fur. She took a deep breath and focused back on reading.

“I could never have imagined what awaited me here. My party roamed the tundra for days, searching for anything that could be of use, and just as I was readying myself to return empty-hooved, I saw the answer. It appeared in a great flash of light, surrounded by a dome of powerful magic. At first I was convinced it was another illusion created by my corruption, but my companions saw it as well, and as we approached I became less sure.

“I wish you could see it, Twilight. An entire city made of crystal that seemed to glow like a second sun. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and my corruption seemed to quiet as I walked through its streets. For the first time I believed there might really be a cure.

“I talked to the ponies that lived in it, but they could tell me nothing. There was some malediction hanging over them, clouding their minds. Just after sending my first report to Celestia, I learned its source.

“His name is King Sombra, and if you’re reading this you’ve likely encountered him already. I can’t even guess how long he’s been alone now, and he may not be the same pony I learned to work with, as allies if not friends. He may seem cruel, but he cares deeply about the crystal ponies in his own way. Please don’t fight him. Nothing is more important than destroying this awful sickness, and Sombra has helped me come closer than anyone else.”

Sombra? We have yet to meet a Sombra.

Twilight shook her head with a thoughtful frown. Cadance must have written this letter centuries ago. Anything could have happened to him.

Shaper claims he was there when the floods were called, Midnight mused. Perhaps they are one and the same.

Maybe she’ll explain more later, Twilight suggested.

“I didn’t even realize he was a pony, at first. The way the crystal ponies described him he seemed more like a mindless monster, and I treated him as one. I underestimated him, and he exploited that to turn many of the crystal ponies to his side. By the time I understood I was dealing with an intelligent enemy, the Crystal Empire had fallen into civil war. I wrote to Celestia for help, thinking I could stall until she arrived.

“To save the lives of the crystal ponies and my own entourage, I lured him into the Crystal Spire and cast a spell to seal him inside, but he was far stronger still than I’d anticipated. He could sense me everywhere I went, and used magic foreign to me. I don’t know how long he chased me, but several times I felt the shadow of death fall on me. When Celestia finally arrived, I cried tears of joy.

“But there was something wrong with her. She told me she’d come to destroy the Crystal Empire and save Equestria, and she wore three amulets I had never seen before, though their power was obvious to me. She wasn’t thinking straight, Twilight. I couldn’t let her kill all those innocent ponies. 

“She accused me of abandoning her, of betraying her, of luring her north into some kind of trap, and when she struck me it was Sombra that offered to help me subdue her. As much as it broke my heart, I accepted.

“Those three days were among the most terrible of my life, and I have been through so many terrible things. Seeing her truly apply her power to violence is both horrifying and awe-inspiring, like fighting the sun itself. Just as I thought she was going to kill me, Sombra caught her with a magic that I still don’t fully understand. She stopped fighting, but the expression that came over her then has haunted me ever since.

“It was then that she cast the spell that flooded the world.”

Twilight froze halfway down the page. Her eyes passed over the same sentence several times, mind blank.

“It’s true,” she whispered. “She… she really did it.”

She paused, waiting for the wave of despair and confusion to crash upon her, but it didn’t come. There was just the same tightness in her chest that had waxed and waned with each paragraph, and the nervous, jittery beat of her heart.

Twilight?

Twilight licked her lips. “I need to know why.”

“There was nothing I could do to stop her. I didn’t even realize what she’d done at the time. She held me in place with her magic and tore the amulets from her body. She poured power into them until they shattered, and I felt the leylines of the world snap, like someone pulling my horn straight out of my skull. When my vision stopped spinning and the pain finally faded, I saw her standing over Sombra completely frozen in crystal, his face twisted with a terror I didn’t think it possible for him to feel.

“She left without a word, but I caught a glimpse of the smile on her lips. She almost looked like she used to, but for the blood dripping from her eyes. I thought perhaps she’d found some other, less drastic solution to the corruption. Then the rains started.”

“What?” Twilight bit her lip, skimming ahead. “What about Celestia? Is that it?”

Steady, Twilight.

“I need to know why she did it.” Twilight’s hooves began to shake. “Cadance was right there, she must have some idea!”

Focus on the words. Midnight’s calming voice settled over Twilight like a warm blanket. Read.

“The rain came down in angry, violent sheets, hard enough to knock down a weaker pony, but the Crystal Empire is high in the mountains, where I thought it was safe from flooding, and I ordered my party to prepare for the trip back to Equestria. I wanted to find Celestia, ask her what she’d done, and do what I could to help. The rain made travel difficult and hazardous, and it took us much longer than previously to reach the foothills, but perhaps that was for the best. By the time we crested the southernmost ridge, most of Equestria was already underwater, and the rain was still coming.

“There was nothing we could do but flee back to the Crystal Empire, racing to outpace the floods. We helped evacuate the crystal ponies and gather them high in the Spire, sealing every entrance. Truthfully I thought the rains would never stop. I put on a brave face, but I had already given up hope by the time the sun came out again.

“It almost didn’t matter. We had no way to feed ourselves, nowhere to go, and nopony to reach to for help. My corruption was stronger than ever before, and I truly considered flying away and never looking back, if only so that the ponies I left behind could die with some semblance of peace. All would’ve been lost, if not for Sombra.

“Somehow he’s alive inside that crystal, and he can speak and even cast his strange magic from within it. He calls himself Shaper now, though he angers when I ask why. He has tried many times, through both trickery and diplomacy, for my help in freeing him from his crystal prison, but I believe it’s best that he remains that way. He may be willing to help when the survival of ‘his empire’ is at stake, but I fear he wouldn’t hesitate to terrorize the crystal ponies again if he were free to do as he wished.”

Sombra is Shaper.

But that means—Twilight’s brow furrowed as she skimmed over what she’d already read. The spell that Cadance mentioned! He must’ve done something to Celestia to get her to destroy Equestria. She nodded, encouraged by the idea. It’s not her fault. He tricked her!

Surely by now we understand that good and evil cannot be so easily separated, Midnight cautioned. We must get both sides of the story.

Don’t worry, we will, Twilight said darkly. I’ll need him to explain what he did so I can reverse it.

She continued reading, ignoring Midnight’s silent exasperation.

“It’s because of him that we survived. He showed me the hiding place of a powerful artefact, the Crystal Heart, and taught me how to use it to inspire the crystal ponies and manipulate the crystal of the Spire to build at its peak, above the ice. He helped me build a pair of arcane airships and taught the crystal ponies to hunt, to use the bodies of the monsters that roamed the ice for food and tools.

“After so long I thought that perhaps he’d reformed, or maybe I had misunderstood him, and I let my guard down. Don’t make the same mistake, Twilight. You cannot trust him to act except to serve his own interests, and he is old and clever. I was forced to shatter the Crystal Heart before he could turn it to a darker purpose.

“Our partnership has grown bitter since then. At great expense to myself I have sealed him below the ice, though he sometimes tricks corrupted ponies into sneaking below to join him through some manipulation I cannot sense. I have come to love the crystal ponies almost like my own children, and have spent over a century watching them prosper in their own way. It is clear to me now that I am no longer needed here.

“Alongside these letters I have left the results of my studies on the three gems I found broken after my battle with Celestia. Even after thousands of hours of study I know little, but I believe they’re the remains of some ancient amulets known only to Celestia. I’ve also left a shard of the Crystal Heart. Although its magic is far diminished compared to the whole, I have found the shards invaluable in suppressing my corruption, and so have left one here as a potential aid for you, or anypony else who finds this place. Please don’t hesitate to use it. The relief is temporary, but far better than the alternative.”

Twilight looked up to the cylindrical vessel in the middle of the alchemical table, examining the crystal shard within. Carefully she reached out with her magic, opening the little door on top.

She felt Midnight tense as the shard’s light brightened. I don’t like it.

Twilight snapped the door shut. Does it hurt?

No. Midnight spoke the word in a low growl, letting it sink in before continuing in a more normal voice. It does not hurt me by presence alone. But it discomforts.

Twilight nodded. It could be useful.

It could be, Midnight agreed. We should take it when we leave, within its container. Along with the amulets.

Twilight turned to the three little chests she’d set aside while reading. She’d left them open, allowing each of the shattered gemstones to give off small colored glows as they cast out their powerful auras. It was strange to think that such little things could be responsible for destroying her world, even with an alicorn behind them. How could such powerful artefacts exist when even a princess like Cadance didn’t recognize them?

She shook her head, filing the question away for later. The letter’s last paragraphs were still to be read.

“I’m not sure what I’ll be looking for when I leave the crystal ponies behind, but I cannot stay here forever. The crystal ponies don’t need me anymore, and the memories formed here haunt me to this day. If you’re reading this, don’t fear for me. I have lived through the end of the world and faced the mare who wrought its destruction. Perhaps I’ll return here someday. I’d quite like to find a letter waiting for me, if so.

“One more thing, Twilight. I know you may be curious about the letters I’ve written to others, and you may read them if you wish, but please don’t touch the one for your brother. Not even if he says you can.

“I love you, Twilight. Please don’t blame yourself for anything. Unlike us, you never had the chance to stop it.”

There was a small space left at the bottom of the page, with only a single, curvy heart drawn on the side. Twilight pulled a pen out of Shining’s saddlebag, her lips curving into a sad smile.

What are you doing?

You’ll think I’m silly.

That’s never stopped you before.

It’s just something Cadance and I used to do, when we wrote each other. Twilight could feel her other half’s curiosity as she clicked the pen, setting it to the paper next to the heart with a deep breath. We always started our letters the same way, and signed them once we finished reading.

The pen glided across the paper with an easy familiarity.

“Clap your hooves and do a little shake.”

She set the pen aside, leaning back and blowing gently on the fresh ink. Now the letter’s complete.

Midnight snorted, but Twilight ignored the obvious disdain. Instead she turned the page—taking care not to smudge her ink before it dried—and began to flip through the rest of the journal. Several pages at the front were dedicated to letters Cadance had written to various ponies. Some names she recognized, such as Princess Luna, Princess Celestia, and Shining Armor. Others were foreign to her, though a couple shorter letters looked to be addressed to crystal ponies.

Past the letters, the journal was filled with extensive notes on the three amulets, listing what magic properties Cadance had discovered and theorizing far beyond them. The blue and green gems appeared to have unique magic signatures unlike anything else Cadance had seen. The red gem, however, had an aura that resonated with both of the others simultaneously.

Twilight carefully shut the journal, resting a hoof over its cover. We should leave this here for now, along with the crystals. Cadance hid these here for a reason, and we can’t risk Shaper getting hold of them.

Agreed. Midnight drew Twilight’s gaze towards the door, where she was waiting expectantly. Are you ready to confront him once more?

Twilight nodded. Cadance’s letter had given many answers, but it also raised questions that burned hotter than ever before. Why would Celestia ever do something so unimaginably destructive? The question loitered in her mind like a vulture circling a dying animal, impossible to ignore, and Shaper was the best lead she had for an answer.

She turned and walked to the door, calling on her magic. The Spire’s resistance felt weaker here, so it only took her a few seconds of focus and a brief headache to cast her teleportation.

She popped back into existence out in the hall, swathed in darkness, and immediately erected an arcane shield. She caught a brief glimpse of a crystal pony stepping back, retreating into the shadows, and then all was still.

“You return empty-hooved, Equestrian.” Shaper’s voice echoed around her. “Did you find the truth you seek?”

Twilight grimaced, retracing her steps back towards his chamber. The path of shadows that had led her to Cadance’s lab had vanished, but it was simple enough to navigate via the glowing crystals and craters that dotted the hall.

“I found more questions,” she said as she stepped over a deep crack that ran the width of the hall, the sunlight shimmering from it warming her belly. “Who is King Sombra? What did he do to Celestia?”

“Sombra is no king!” Shaper hissed with undisguised scorn. “He is a traitor and a coward, undeserving of the title he claims!”

“A traitor?” Twilight asked, stepping around a tall crystal shard pulsing a pale blue. She paused, scanning the darkness for another landmark. “Why did he betray you?”

“Because he is weak!” Shaper’s bitter anger shook the crystal underhoof and jarred her bones with every syllable. “He fears Our power and hides from his fate like a dog hides from thunder, trapping Us in this crystal prison! But We will escape one day, and We will finish what was started, and the title of king will rightly fall to Us!”

Cadance said that Celestia put him in crystal, though. That doesn’t line up.

Cadance did not witness the act herself. She could be wrong. Midnight’s brow furrowed as they passed the stairs they’d previously ascended, turning down the long hall that led to Shaper’s chamber. “You call him weak, yet you yourself were defeated by him. Is he truly hiding, or has he simply forgotten you as an enemy long ago vanquished?”

The air buzzed with energy as they entered the shattered and tainted throne room. Shaper’s frozen form remained fixed in the center, surrounded by his watching thralls, whose eyes flared and flickered in time with his voice. “He cannot forget Us! He has not defeated Us! In the moment of Our triumph, as We were to fulfill Our purpose, he locked Us in craven crystal, and We have sought to escape him for centuries since!”

Twilight frowned, stepping closer to Shaper’s crystalline form. He sounded so angry, both confident in his eventual victory and furious at every second between it and him, and yet his eyes showed nothing but fear. He stood within the crystal with the posture of a pony flinching back, cowed by a terrible threat, but spoke like a king commanding fearful servants.

It didn’t match.

Midnight gasped. He’s like us.

What? Twilight glanced her way. How do you know?

“What is your purpose?” Midnight asked, stepping forwards. “Why did he stop you?”

“We were created to dominate!” Shaper thundered, the smoke rippling from his eyes. “To conquer! To crush any who opposed Us! To build an empire that the sun would never set on and an army that would span the horizon!” He paused for a moment, the anger in his voice chilling to a quiet bitterness. “That is what he made Us for. And as the power to conquer all came into Our hooves, he feared Us.”

Midnight seemed fixated on his eyes. She went closer still, just a breath away from his frozen face. “He created you? Intentionally? He wanted you?”

“Yes!” Shaper spat. “Two perfect rivals, two minds pushing each other ever further as they yearn for the same goal. Power through adversity!”

“Until you won,” Midnight continued. “And he couldn’t stand the thought of defeat, and froze himself in stasis to rob you of victory.”

“As it has been for centuries.” The flickering eyes of the thralls surrounding them dimmed, swathing the room in deep shadow once more. “And will be, until We find the power to break free.”

“Wait.” Twilight’s brow furrowed in thought. The thralls turned their eyes on her as one. “You said he made you. You didn’t infect him from outside?”

Shaper scoffed. “Of course not. We are King, not thralls to be commanded in battle.”

“You were the first.” Twilight blinked in realization. “You’re not a victim of the corruption. You’re the source!”

“We are no mere source, but its creator!” Shaper countered. “It was Us that discovered the magic to spread Our essence, to use that essence to control the bodies of weaker minds! We created an army that obeys every order, that grows with every conquest!”

“But they don’t obey every order, do they? It’s not so simple.” Twilight furrowed her brow as she turned away, scattered ideas connecting into a greater whole. “The mechanism is clumsy, based on force of will alone. Any wyrd can dominate any other with enough mental fortitude. That’s why I can control the others, because I’m strong.” She paused, looking up to where Midnight watched with an impassive gaze. “Because we’re strong.” Another pause, and then she turned back to Shaper’s crystal coffin, seeing the terrified pony trapped inside in a new light. “But you weren’t strong enough, were you?”

Shaper didn’t answer.

Twilight clenched her jaw, staring into his unseeing eyes as a new, shaky anger welled in her breast. Midnight would call this pony a monster, in her way. Not a creature to be reasoned with and questioned, but one to be purged, to be snuffed out without mercy. As the pieces came together, Twilight found herself agreeing, but she fought to keep the rage out of her voice as she continued. She was so close to the answer. “You’re not to blame for Equestria’s destruction. There’s something I’m missing.”

Shaper let out a bitter laugh. “You are a clever little pony, aren’t you? Ah, what an honor it would be to claim such a victory—but you’re correct. The glory is not Ours.”

“You said you’d fought the Princesses twice.” Twilight looked to the images burned in stained glass around the room, narrowing her eyes. “If the second time was just before the floods, and Cadance or I had never heard of you before, the first time must have been long, long ago. She beat you then, wiped you from history. Somehow the corruption found its way to Equestria during my lifetime, without your influence, but Celestia knew you created it.” Her gaze drifted, taking in the deep cracks in the crystal that glowed with warm sunlight, the protrusions of inky black and shimmering blue. “She sent Cadance to find you, and then came to confront you herself.”

“A desperate gambit,” Shaper said. “She thought that by defeating Us, Our creation would die.”

“But she did defeat you, didn’t she?” Twilight turned back to face Shaper with a vindictive flick of her tail. “Otherwise you’d be free.”

“So she did,” Shaper hissed. “Woe unto all that would threaten Celestia’s beloved little ponies, for she is the Unconquered Sun! But We found Our own victory, even in Our fall.” His voice took on a sinister mirth to it as the shadows lengthened, the thralls leaning in from every direction. “For there was a seed of Our essence tainting her divine soul, whispering and biting and straining for control throughout it all. And on the third day of battle, as We lay crippled in a crater that burned with the fury of your sun, she stood over Us and allowed us a chance to surrender.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “She was corrupted too? Before she confronted you?  But then the source of the outbreak—”

Shaper laughed again, this time mocking and loud, the sound bouncing back off the surrounding rubble into a cacophonous echo. “Yes! Even in victory, she opened the path to her own defeat. We know not how Our magic infected her, nor how it spread across your precious Equestria! But in her moment of hesitation We reached into her mind and roused the darkness inside her, giving it the strength and purpose she had so diligently kept from its hunger!” Even with his face frozen in crystal, Twilight could hear the scornful sneer in his words. “We watched as Celestia succumbed to that darkness. We watched as she struggled to keep it back!”

Twilight’s legs were shaking. She took a deep breath and spat back a response with as much venom as she could muster. “That was your mistake, wasn’t it? You thought you’d be able to control her with her darkness unleashed, but she was too strong. Even with every advantage, you were still no match for her!”

The shadows drew back. Shaper’s voice was quiet. Thoughtful. “Pride has always been, perhaps, Our greatest weakness.” He paused, his confession echoing off the surrounding rubble. “Even in the throes of Our darkness, her will was too strong. We commanded her to bend the knee, to bow and recognize a new Equestrian King, but she resisted. She fought back. We could feel even Our own will beginning to wane under her terrible presence.”

Twilight waited as seconds ticked by in silence, but he didn’t continue. “And then? What happened?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet, clever Equestrian? That’s when she cast the spell that flooded the world. That’s when she shattered the ancient artefacts she used to amplify her power and channeled their escaping magic through herself. Better that her kingdom fall by her own will, than fall to one such as Us.”

Twilight’s breath hitched. “Celestia. That’s when she—”

“Yes. That is when Celestia ended the world.”





An hour after Rarity became a pirate, the racing of her heart had slowed to a tenuous calm.

There was an unmistakable tension hanging over the ship. Ponies trotted across the deck in twos and threes, striding with purpose and exchanging quick, pointed words. Lanterns swung from posts spaced evenly about, providing a dim light to work by as they assembled tools and cleaned guns. To the east, the first rays of dawn could be seen creeping up past the horizon.

They were hovering low over Leviathan Wakes, drifting with the throttle spun down enough that the slow whooshing of the propeller blades slicing through the air could be heard over the sputtering growl of the engine. They passed an old ship beneath them, and Rarity grunted as she reached out with her magic, tearing the canvas sail from its place and folding it neatly as she floated it up onto the deck and stacked it next to her atop the pile she’d been collecting. The bid to save the city was to take place at dawn, when the deepfish would be shying away from the sunlight and Philomena would hopefully still be inactive, and she had to grab as many sails as she could before then. They’d fly out over the open water soon to give her a chance to soak them, and then it would be time for action.

She glanced around her at the rough-faced Wakers making their own preparations. They’d be jumping back down into the floating city to try and cut the huge chains that tied it to the dead leviathan, risking their lives in a far more visceral manner than she could imagine, and yet they seemed so calm. She’d be up here, far from the worst danger, and she felt like she was going to vomit.

“Countess?”

Rarity jumped, dropping the sail she’d been levitating into a crumpled heap on top of her pile. She turned with a startled titter, spotting the mare that had approached her. “Ah, Miss Jester.”

“You can just call me Jester, you know,” she said, sitting and leaning against the railing. She looked over the assembled sails with a thoughtful gaze, working her jaw side to side. “Y’know, you’re alright, for a Gifted.”

Rarity frowned as she straightened up her pile. A gust of wind blew past, tugging at her mane. “Presumably I’m to take that as a compliment?”

“You can take it how you like,” Jester said. “I’ve dealt with dozens of Gifted in my life. Maybe even a hundred. The best ones drift in and out, pay their tab, and keep to themselves. Most of them expect some kind of special treatment, and think they can stronghoof me into giving it otherwise. Never have I met one that had some genuine interest in helping others.”

“You sound like you’re getting to a point,” Rarity said.

Jester grinned. “So I am. How do you know Whitehorn?”

Rarity paused. She turned fully to face Jester. “He’s a trusted friend. Why?”

“Trusted, eh?” Jester arched a brow. “From what I’ve heard—assuming it’s not all just the wishful chatter of boozed up airponies—you were frozen in some ruin until a couple months ago. Is that right?”

Rarity pursed her lips. “It is.”

“So you’ve only known Whitehorn for a couple months, tops. Is it really that easy to get your trust, Countess? Because if so, I might have an island to sell you.”

“What would you know?” Rarity snapped, glaring at the other mare. “Whitehorn is a noble soul who only wants to help ponies! We share the same goals!”

“I know more than you’d think,” Jester said conversationally. “I know, for example, that the bounty hunters Gava and Anatami were after your head before you got hitched to that kid in Altalusia.” She paused, her hoof brushing against the brim of her hat as her gaze briefly unfocused, then continued. “But now they seem busy elsewhere. They bombed Friesland while you and Whitehorn were in the city, and Duchess Nettlekiss was blamed for the bombing despite it making no sense for her to do as much. And—” she leaned in, cocking her head “—a thestral was seen in the Duchess’s castle, just a few days before the city surrendered.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. She didn’t trust this mare in the slightest. “How could you possibly know all that?”

Jester shrugged. “Airponies talk when I put a drink in their hooves, and they all pass through my bar eventually. Or they did, at least.” She sighed, glancing down into the dark ocean. “And this ship is full of airponies fresh from Altalusia. There are rumors.”

“Is that all you have then, darling? Rumors?”

“Rumors are a start.” Jester fixed her with a hard stare. “I’ve had my hoof on the pulse of Equestria for over a decade now, and I can tell you this: Whitehorn isn’t to be trusted. He moves through high society like a snake through the weeds, thinking he’s invisible, but he still leaves a trail in the dirt that can be seen if you know where to look. Wherever he goes, fortunes shift. He aligns himself with ponies that further his purpose while disaster befalls those that obstruct it, but nobody pays mind to the unassuming journalist scribbling away in the shadows. It’s just another petty war, they say, another arranged marriage. The world bends around him while he never raises a hoof. He’s trouble, Countess, but of course you’re so close you can’t see it.”

Rarity huffed, but didn’t answer right away. Why should she listen to the ramblings of a lawless pirate, who herself openly admitted to caring only for her own interests even when it hurt another? Jester must be trying to manipulate her somehow, to turn her against the kindest pony she’d met in the post-apocalypse to further some cause she couldn’t see.

But there was that doubt creeping into her mind. She thought back to the trial where she’d nearly been sentenced to death; the judge had said something about the paper being warm, but Whitehorn had steamrolled past her, ignoring the implied accusation. Even at the time, Rarity had had suspicions, hadn’t she? Why would Nettlekiss bomb her own ally? How would Whitehorn be able to steal such an incriminating letter from two deadly mercenaries like Gava and Ana? Everything had played out exactly how Whitehorn wanted it, the riot, the siege, the unification of the island under his ally, Duke Titus.

No, she was jumping at shadows, surely. Whitehorn had been with her since the start, he’d shared his lofty dream of a harmonious Equestria with her, and she’d heard the passion in his voice herself.

She shook her head to clear her mind, only then realizing that Jester had been watching her in silence the whole time. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Jester,” she said, meaningfully looking out over the railing and grabbing another sail in her magic. “But I’ll judge the character of my companions myself.”

Jester sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Countess. If I were you, I’d look around when the sun comes up and see who’s risking their life, and who’s sitting back in safety.”

She walked away, leaving Rarity alone with her thoughts. Her eyes unfocused for a moment as old memories drifted up, but she set her jaw and dismissed them. She needed to focus on the matter at hoof for now.

Later, though. She’d confront Whitehorn herself.





The chamber was silent for a long time.

Twilight sat on her haunches in the middle of the scarred throne room, her gaze unfocused and her lips set into a small frown. The lavender glow of her shield cast a sickly pallor over the ring of thralls that huddled around it, watching. Midnight stood by her side, saying nothing.

There was nothing to say. She took a deep breath, running through the facts in her head yet again. She’d done it perhaps a dozen times already, and by now the complex clues and reasoning had melted together into a runny stream of emotion. Denial, anger, and sadness lashed out against a cold web of acceptance drawing itself ever tighter around her heart.

Celestia ended the world. It felt right, in the most nauseating way. Like marking off the final answer on a test she’d studied for since she woke up in this cursed future. But now she was standing by her desk in an empty classroom, holding a test with no teacher to grade it.

It’s not the final answer. Midnight was leaning against her side, lending the warm, tingling sensation of her ethereal presence.

Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting Midnight’s words trickle through her. They carried deeper meanings—determination, stubbornness, a mare climbing an endless staircase never knowing when she’d reach the top, but certain that she must reach it. They had followed this mystery to a terrible place, but the road kept going, and it had to be walked, because they were the only ones that could do it.

Had anything really changed? After all, the world still needed saving.

She opened her eyes and looked up. Her voice didn’t waver when she spoke, and for a moment she wondered if it was even her talking. “How do we fix it?”

“Fix it?” Shaper echoed.

“Your corruption,” she continued. “There has to be a way to remove it.”

Shaper snorted. “Do you think We would reveal such a thing, if it existed?”

“That’s the whole reason we came here!” Twilight stomped a hoof against the crystal with a sharp crack. “And we’re not leaving until you tell us!”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Shaper asked. “We have lingered in this place for centuries alone, Equestrian. How long until your mortal body withers and fades?” He paused to let his words sink in before continuing in a bemused, almost playful tone. “What tribute do you have to offer the King?”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You desire something from Us, yes? You stomp and shout in Our regal court and demand service, but you are not of Our Crystal Empire.” He let out a haughty chuckle that made Twilight’s nostrils flare. “What do you bring to trade, petitioner?”

Twilight pursed her lips, glancing to Midnight. Any ideas?

We already know what he desires, don’t we? Midnight gestured with a jerk of her head. Offer to free the petty “king.”

That’s a big risk, Midnight.

We stand here alone in his sanctum, and he is unable to harm us, Midnight said, casting her glare out over the surrounding thralls. He has tried to invade Equestria twice before, and failed twice before, and if we free him from his crystal shell, it will only be so we can strike a mortal blow and end his nuisance once and for all. Make the offer.

Twilight couldn’t help but smirk at her other half’s confidence. She straightened up, looking into Shaper’s frozen eyes. “We can free you, in exchange for your knowledge.”

“Free me?” She wasn’t expecting him to answer her with a lon laugh. “Do you know why We summon the crystal ponies to Us, Equestrian?”

Twilight looked around, inspecting the thralls slowly swaying in place around her. “I’d assumed they’re soldiers.”

“They are soldiers, yes, but something more as well.” As one, the thralls turned their heads to look at Shaper’s crystal form. “Each one carries a seed of Our essence inside them; in your small-minded view you call it corruption.” He spat the word out with a layered mix of bemusement and disgust. “And as that seed feeds on their souls and grows in strength, We may sip from it, nurturing Our own power. 

“Each pony provides pitifully little, but We have collected many, and in time, We will have enough strength to shatter this crystal prison, consume Sombra’s mind—as is Our right!—and continue to shape Our Crystal Empire as We have since millenia past. Your offer of freedom is worth precious little to Us, then, as be it another hundred years or a thousand, it is already inevitable.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. He’s been feeding off them all this time?

And if what he claims is true, then perhaps he is more a threat to Equestria than we thought, Midnight said, glaring at the surrounding thralls. We should kill his servants now. They are mere flesh, and he would be unable to stop us.

Twilight pursed her lips. She couldn’t argue with Midnight’s logic; left unchecked, Shaper would inevitably break free, stronger than ever before, and most likely set out to invade an Equestria that was practically already on its knees. The smart thing to do would be to slaughter the dozens of ponies he’d trapped in the Spire and stop the crystal ponies from sending any others down.

She singled out one thrall in particular, a mare with a pastel green coat still visible between the black crystal growing in clumps from her body. Her forelegs were wreathed in old bracelets of bone and colorful crystal, trinkets carved lovingly by ponies that thought they were sending her towards a glorious purpose. Her eyes had been replaced by black pits that burned with an arcane fire. Was there anything left of that mare remaining in the husk of her body?

She thought of a giant Spike scrabbling against the ancient stone of Canterlot, letting out a thunderous, keening whine as she walked away from him.

You’re right. She shook her head, looking away from the damned mare. If it comes to it… we’ll do it. But only as a last resort. We’ll play along for now. I have an idea.

“What if I could give you someone powerful? A corrupted host far stronger than all these crystal ponies put together, for you to feed on?”

Midnight stiffened, her previously unwavering gaze snapping to the back of Twilight’s head.

Shaper let out a deep hum. “The process would not end how you wish it, Equestrian. The seed sinks into the very soul of the host, irreversibly so. Perhaps caught early enough, a pony may walk away whole of mind, but at your stage? It would destroy you as surely as draining every drop of blood.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Twilight said coldly. “Don’t you ever suggest that again.”

Twilight? Midnight’s voice was unusually quiet, and Twilight could feel the conflicting waves of confusion and relief coming from her.

Don’t worry, Twilight said, shooting her a reassuring glance. I would never ask for that. A moment later she realized the true gravity of what she’d just said, but she shook her head and brushed it aside. They could discuss it later.

“Speak clearly then, Equestrian!” Shaper shot back, raising his tone to match hers. “What tribute can you offer?”

“An Equestrian Princess,” Twilight said. “I can bring you Princess Luna. She’s been in a deep sleep since the floods, but her wyrd’s been awake the whole time, hunting and feeding! You could absorb its power into yourself, and once you do that, I’ll help free you. All I ask is that you teach me more about the corruption.”

Careful, little flower, Midnight warned. If we feed one monster to another, we may not be able to stop what we create.

I’m not afraid of that. Twilight glanced towards her with a small smile. We need to wake up Luna. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

After a moment, Midnight returned the smile. Yes. Together.

“You think you are clever. That you can use me to your own ends?” He paused, his deep voice rumbling out over the room, then let out a long hum. “We may use each other, then. Bring me the Moon Princess. If We are satisfied with your offering, We will teach you to harness your potential.”

He will try to betray us.

And we’ll try to betray him. But two minds are better than one.

“It’s a deal,” Twilight said, turning away. The thralls parted before her with the scraping of crystal. “I’ll be back. Make sure you’re ready for me.”

She walked between the sightless, flickering eyes with purpose, Midnight matching her step for step at her side.
> XXX: Of Revelations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk out of Shaper’s domain was quiet.

His thralls escorted Twilight and Midnight to the winding stairwell at the bottom of the Spire, their eyes like dim, flickering lanterns as they moved between the scars of the ancient battle that had ended the world. Neither mare said anything, but Twilight could feel her dark passenger deep in thought. Her own thoughts felt sluggish and distant, trickling over her like water from a frozen stream. Her hooves moved of their own accord as she descended the dark, winding crystal stairs to the enchanted door of black wood, where the ebony gem affixed at its peak stared back at her impassively.

It didn’t confront her with nightmares and visions this time; it swung open silently as she approached, and clicked shut behind her with a quiet thud that echoed with a heavy finality. Twilight leaned back against it and looked out at the smothering darkness that waited just a few steps away from her flickering horn.

There was a moment, between breaths, where she felt the true terrifying weight of everything. The irreversible corruption of her own soul, the faith of her friends depending on her to make things right, Celestia’s ultimate failure, and the deal she had struck with the malevolent entity that no doubt would betray her as soon as it could. Her chest tightened as she imagined herself delivering Luna to Shaper’s throne room, watching as he ate her corruption, broke free, and then went on to consume Midnight. She saw an image of mutated crystal ponies turning on her friends, dragging them out of their rooms as they slept and enslaving them with the same dark magic that had brought Equestria to its knees. It all bore down on her at once with a dread so deep she felt the breath catch in her throat.

Then she breathed out, stood up, and started up the smooth crystal steps at a determined trot. The weight was gone, replaced with a purposeful energy.

We need a plan. She kept her eyes forward, but Midnight always lingered at the edge of her vision, appearing behind every curve. We can’t trust Shaper, and we need to be ready for him to betray us.

You were very upset when he misunderstood you.

Huh?

When he thought you were offering me to trade. You were upset. There was a deliberateness to the way she spoke.

Oh. Well, I was upset. Twilight shook her head as she tried to recover her train of thought. We know that Shaper can’t hurt us, at least when we’re well rested, but he might be able to after feeding on Luna. Maybe we could use the crystal shard Cadance left us to weaken him? But he’d be able to feel it, surely, and he’d know we were planning something.

Midnight didn’t respond for several seconds. I found it interesting that Shaper was created by his host. Intentionally.

Twilight’s brow furrowed. Yes, I suppose. I can’t imagine why he’d put himself through that. She let out a thoughtful hum, watching her reflection in the crystal as she walked. It was hard to see the bags under her eyes when they were framed with old bloodstains. Do you think there’s a fundamental difference between Shaper and other wyrds? We know that Celestia was nearly able to dominate him, so perhaps anyone strong enough could? And there seems to be other facets to his magic as well. Could we learn those ourselves?

You can’t imagine it? Midnight appeared on the steps in front of her, head cocked. Yet the threat of losing me angered you.

Twilight drew up short, looking up and meeting Midnight’s eyes. They were wide and curious. Nervous.

What are you talking about?

Shaper implied he would destroy me, Midnight said. Her lips moved as she spoke, but in a poor and ill-timed imitation of speech. And you were angry. You told him to never bring it up again.

Of course I did. Twilight walked through her with only a slight stumble, quickly returning to her brisk pace. But right now we need to—

Midnight was in front of her again. “What are we, Twilight?”

Twilight frowned, finally coming to a stop. The question took her off guard, and she answered almost without thinking, reluctant to let go of her previous thoughts. “Well, we’re friends, right? That’s how I like to think of us, at least.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Midnight huffed and began to circle her, walking first over empty air on one side, then through the reflective surface of the crystal on the other.

Twilight followed Midnight with her head for a moment before starting back up the steps. “There’s a lot on my mind right now. Can you be clearer?”

Midnight let out a low growl, hunching her shoulders and lowering her head, but didn’t stop her ghostly pacing. They climbed in silence for several seconds, the tangible buzz of consternation coming from Midnight’s mind making it difficult for Twilight to focus. Just as Twilight began to put the odd questions behind her—reasoning that Midnight would try again whenever she was ready—her thoughts were interrupted again.

“What do I mean to you?”

That was an easy one. Twilight offered a sincere smile, answering without breaking stride. “I just told you, Midnight. You’re my friend.”

“Rainbow Dash is your friend,” Midnight pressed. “Is that the same as what we are?”

Twilight’s smile widened. “Of course.”

“But it’s not the same!” Midnight appeared in front of her, appearing to slide backwards up the stairs without moving her legs. “Not even close!”

“A friend is a friend, Midnight,” Twilight said patiently.

“No matter what?” Midnight stayed squarely in the center of Twilight’s vision, forcing her to try and lean around her to see the stairs. “You forged your bond with Rainbow Dash when you faced the Nightmare together, but you only knew me when I had to fight you for control of our body! You’ve known her for a year, but we’ve been together only a month! And every time you grew frustrated or upset with her foalishness you would retreat to your home to rest, but you can’t do that with me, can you? We’re trapped together, ceaselessly!”

Twilight slowed to a stop, looking to Midnight with a cock of her head. “Midnight? Have you been studying my friendships?”

“That doesn’t matter!” Midnight snapped. “How can these partnerships be the same when so much is different between them?”

“Okay, so they aren’t exactly the same,” Twilight admitted. She paused, measuring her words carefully. “But just because every friendship is unique doesn’t mean any one is less or more important! Both of you are still my friends.”

Midnight stared back at her, her fanged, bloody mouth hanging open for several seconds. “What about best friends?”

Twilight blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Some friends are greater than others, are they not? You call many ponies friends, but it is only your five closest that you think of as best friends.” Midnight leaned in. “You say your friendship with Rainbow Dash is alike to your friendship with me. So are we best friends?”

“We are… very good friends,” Twilight said uncertainly. She resumed trotting up the stairs, stumbling only slightly as she walked through Midnight. “We don’t have time for me to explain this fully. We still haven’t come up with a plan for Shaper.”

“Shaper is a rat bound to the bottom of a pit,” Midnight said dismissively. “He isn’t going anywhere.”

“But these questions are, apparently?” Twilight asked drily, shooting an exasperated look at Midnight. “Aren’t you always saying we need to focus on what matters?”

“This does matter!” Midnight snapped.

“Does it?” Twilight demanded, quickening her pace. “Does it matter more than keeping Shaper contained? More than waking up Luna and curing the corruption?”

“It’s more important to me!”

Twilight let out a guttural groan. “We’re friends, Midnight! I’m closer to you everyday than I’ve ever been to another pony in my entire life! Isn’t that enough?!”

“No! I need to know what we are!” Midnight stomped an ethereal hoof, causing one of Twilight’s hooves to slam down against the crystal in sympathy. “I must know where we stand! Tell me!”

Twilight planted her hooves and jerked to a stop, turning back with half a mind to start running down—anything to find some peace—but Midnight was right behind her. “What do you want? What exactly do you want me to do?!”

“Answer the question!” Midnight shouted.

Twilight sucked in a deep breath, pouring all her stress and anxiety into her response. “I don’t know the answer!”

Her chest heaved as she stared down at Midnight, who stared back at her with her jaw hanging half-open. She counted to ten as she waited, eyes wide, leaning in in expectation of some other unanswerable question to be piled on top of everything else she had to deal with, but none came.

She turned sharply, starting back up the stairs, and was relieved when Midnight opted to hover next to her instead of blocking the path. Twilight wasn’t sure how long they spent in silence. She kept trying to focus on Shaper, on Luna—on anything—but her thoughts slipped away half-formed, dissolving into the fretful buzz occupying her mind and the fluttering nerves in her chest.

Finally Midnight spoke, her voice quiet and plaintive. “You can find out.”

“No, I can’t.” Twilight kept her eyes forward.

“Why not?”

Twilight closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. The crystal steps were perfectly spaced apart, and her hooves moved on their own as she struggled to keep her voice steady. “I know you’re inexperienced with this kind of thing, Midnight, but some questions have answers that can’t be found through careful study. Think of all the things you’ve learned since Canterlot. Not about the past or the world, but about yourself.” She opened her eyes again, trying to keep her voice steady. “Those weren’t simple questions either, were they?”

There was another long silence. “But I found the answers.”

“Yes, you did!” Twilight snapped. “Over weeks, with days of uneventful travel where you did nothing but sit in my head and poke fun at me and insult everything in sight! You didn’t have me constantly demanding explanations of your nature while we were fighting the crystal spiders, did you?” She huffed, reining herself in again. “Everyone is depending on me, Midnight. All my friends are out there thinking, ‘Twilight will fix it,’ ‘Twilight will know what to do.’ Even I’m thinking it!” She threw her head back with a bitter laugh. “You don’t feel it, the stress, the expectations, the weight. You have your simple little world of monsters and friends and your insane confidence that you’ll always win, but I don't!”

“That’s not—” Midnight interrupted herself with a frustrated snarl. “You know our nature! You expect me to just not question it?”

Twilight worked her jaw side to side. “Question what?”

“Am I here forever? Do I have a place here?” Midnight hesitated, her next words coming out in a rush. “Do you want me?”

Twilight stopped. She turned to face Midnight fully, her anger fading. “Those are—” she grimaced, ears drooping “—really complicated questions.”

Midnight’s bloodshot eyes flicked back and forth. “But you can answer them.”

Twilight shook her head. “I can’t do that right now.”

“Then when?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will you know?”

“I don’t know that either!”

“But why not?”

“I just don’t!” Twilight snapped, her anger coming back in a sudden rush. “Why can’t you just drop this?”

“Because I need to know!” Midnight brought her hooves up to grab Twilight’s cheeks, the ethereal touch brushing over her face with a warm numbness. “I need to know right now!”

“Why right now?!” Twilight stepped back, out of reach. “You didn’t need to know yesterday, or any day before that! Why is it so important to you to get this answer right now?!”

“Because I don’t understand us anymore!” Midnight cried, and her voice echoed in Twilight’s mind with enough force to make her wince. “What are we?! I used to know! I was feared, hated, unwanted, but I was the only thing that could save you from your own feeble doubts! I had accepted that place! I was ready to face the moment that one of us would succumb to the other!” She turned away with a flick of her tail, stomping into the crystal wall and replacing Twilight’s reflection. “But then you came to accept me! You try to teach me! You defend me! When you’re offered a chance to be rid of me, you answer not with relief, but with fury!”

She turned back, fixing Twilight with a wide-eyed glare. “Shaper was the first of my kind, created by Sombra millenia ago to fill a purpose, and even now they seek to destroy one another! What happens if we stop fighting? What—are—we?!”

Twilight shook her head, looking up and spotting the top of the stairs. A slab of smooth black crystal seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, and she could just make out the faint outline of arcane runes engraved into its surface. “None of that matters, Midnight.” She took a step forward. “We have a job to do.”

A wave of emotion struck Twilight, filling her chest with a sudden intense pain that brought her to her knees. She gasped, straightening up, and actually looked at Midnight.

Her hair was a mess, hanging down and framing her face in frayed, bloody ropes. The red stains that ran down her cheeks were glistening with fresh tears, and her fanged teeth were clenched tight enough to make her jaw shudder with every breath. Her nostrils flared and she raised a hoof as if to run or charge, then set it back down a moment later, opening her mouth only to let out a wordless growl.

“I’m sorry.” Twilight pushed herself back to her hooves, struggling to form words past the tangled waves of emotion spilling out over her connection to Midnight. “It does matter.”

Midnight squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head and turning away.

“I’ll make you a promise, okay?” Twilight licked her lips, rushing forward to pull Midnight into a hug. She felt her own hooves wrap around her shoulders, her own chest heaving with strained breath. “I can’t answer your questions right now, not with so much else on my mind. But if you can help me figure out how to deal with Shaper together, the very first moment we get to relax, we’ll sit down and find the answers. You and me. Promise?”

Midnight didn’t respond, but she didn’t break the hug. A strong shudder passed through Twilight’s body.

“Please?” Twilight’s brow furrowed, and after a moment of silence, she tried a different approach. “I can’t face Shaper on my own.”

Midnight vanished. Twilight’s hooves fell to the ground and she turned in place, searching, but she saw only plain crystal and empty shadow. The stress and pain that had brought her to her knees faded as quickly as it appeared, and for a moment, she couldn’t feel Midnight’s presence at all, and she was afraid.

When she completed the circle, she saw Midnight standing at the top of the steps. Her mane was pulled back into place and the bloodstains on her cheeks were dark and dry. The crystal rumbled as a door opened above her, letting in a flurry of snow and the warm red flickers of firelight.

You’re right. You could never face Shaper on your own. Midnight looked down with a haughty glare. There was a moment where the mask cracked, giving Twilight a glimpse of something softer underneath, and then Midnight turned away, jerking her head towards the open doorway. You need me, little flower.

Twilight blinked, taking a wary step forward. Midnight remained still, flicking her tail in the same impatient display Twilight had seen a hundred times before.

She let out a breath of relief, a small smile tugging at her lips as she passed Midnight and came out onto the windswept peak of the tower she’d begun her descent from. The crystal ponies were gone and the fur curtains were drawn back, revealing the glow of the approaching dawn to the east. The door slid shut behind her with the grinding of crystal on crystal, and Twilight saw Midnight looking out over the icy lake surrounding the city with an imperious frown.

Yes, she said, her smile widening. I really do.





Rainbow Dash let out a loud belch, frowning at the surreal aftertaste of blood soup that followed. It felt like she’d been nursing the same bowl for hours, taking little sips between rounds of storytelling and dancing. The crystal ponies seemed amused at her struggle; they kept proposing toasts, leaving her surrounded by smirking hunters that would watch her from the corners of their eyes as they downed the drink from hefty crystal goblets, and she’d grin back, push down the steadily increasing queasiness in her gut, and then take a little sip.

Not that she wasn’t up to the challenge! She’d made a bet with Star Trails that she’d be able to finish a full bowl before dawn, and she wasn’t going to back down.

The warmhall had been eerily silent after Twilight said her goodbyes and followed Ametrine out into the icy cold night. Every pony stood still with their eyes raised toward the ceiling, where old yak hides stretched out across bone struts served as a macabre canvas for drawings of great hunts and heroes from their past. Even the foals took part, though they couldn’t resist the urge to twitch their hooves or bump playfully into their friends with poorly concealed grins. Rainbow, Applejack, and Star Trails were left exchanging awkward looks among themselves, each unwilling to break the silence.

Finally, the sound of crystal grinding against crystal announced Ametrine’s return, and she gave a solemn nod as she smiled down over the gathered ponies. The cheers and stomping that answered her were enough to make Rainbow’s teeth chatter.

The hours passed quickly after that as the mares bounced from circle to circle, each one draping new trinkets and jewelries over their shoulders, shoving new meals into their hooves—a few of which were even vegetarian—and continuing to welcome them profusely to their little village. Calloused hunters asked after Rainbow’s and Applejack’s scars and told the stories of how they’d earned their own markings, wide-eyed foals asked endless questions about the warmer world to the south—completely unphased whenever Rainbow had to shrug and explain that she really had no clue as to how their airship worked, or how the islands floated, or why chickens laid eggs—and at one point Rainbow lost track of Star Trails only to find her an hour later, deeply engrossed in a conversation with an old mare about the stars and comparing the constellations used by the crystal ponies and the Equestrians for navigation.

But there was still that little jittery anxiety lingering in Rainbow’s wings. She couldn’t ignore it no matter how many stories she told or jokes she heard or glittering crystals were woven into her mane. Every now and then she’d have a moment to herself and she’d turn, hoping to see Twilight approaching with a bowl of soup, a fanged smile and a story about how she’d found the thing they needed to save Equestria. How long would it take her to return, she wondered? How long before she should go down after her?

Rainbow hated waiting.

Finally the celebration began to wind down. Tired foals were picked up or guided back to the little tents where they slept in circles around burning braziers while adults scrubbed at dishes with little hoof-sized balls of coarse yak fur. Many of the elders had dozed off in their seats around the glowing crystal pipes that hummed quietly in the center of the room, though some stayed up and continued to reminisce, ensuring no drink went to waste. Rainbow stood off to the side with Applejack and Star Trails near the big crystal doors that led back outside.

“This place is amazing!” Trails grinned like a filly in a candy store as she looked out over the chamber. “You know, I’ve read stories about little holdouts like this, islands that remained isolated for centuries longer than the others and developed their own unique cultures. I never thought I’d get to discover one myself!”

“Yeah, it sure is somethin’.” Applejack shook her head, a wistful look in her eye. “Reckon this is what Twilight felt like when she stumbled on my family reunion.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Rainbow asked, glancing up to the smaller door, set halfway up into the far side of the chamber, that Twilight had been led through.

“Try and relax, RD.” Applejack draped a comforting leg over her shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug. “Y’all’ve been strung up like a cat in a henhouse all night. Who knows when we’ll get a chance like this again, ya hear?”

Rainbow rolled her eye, but leaned into the hug. “It’d be better if we were all together.” She pursed her lips, looking towards Trails. “How long do you think Sabre’ll wait?”

Trails cocked her head. “What do you mean? She may have issues with you two, but I know she wouldn’t leave me here.”

“No, I mean, what if Twilight doesn’t show up for a week? Or a month?” Rainbow said. “How long until Sabre decides she’s wasting her time and tries to sell Luna off again?”

“Oh.” Trails grimaced, looking away and scratching at the floor. “I dunno, Dash. Sabre’s under a lot of pressure right now. She’s probably just as nervous as you are, y’know, even if she doesn’t show it.” She blinked, ears perking up. “Though it looks like we won’t have to wait.”

Rainbow followed her gaze, letting out a small gasp as she spotted Twilight standing on the balcony Ametrine had used to tell the first story of the feast. She had stepped back from the ledge, far enough that the crystal ponies, who had all either retired to their tents or were gathered towards the middle of the room, couldn’t see her.

Twilight met Rainbow’s gaze for a brief moment, her expression distant and pensive. It was a face Rainbow recognized well, the same one that the studious unicorn often wore when she was dragged away from whatever project she’d spent three days straight on and forced to attend some activity with her friends. It took concentrated effort to snap her out of that daze, and usually even then she’d only offer up a quick smile and token response, maybe a minute of conversation, before withdrawing back into her reverie.

Twilight offered a small smile. Her horn glowed, and she vanished with a quiet pop.

“Wait!” Rainbow said, too late. She flared her wings, ignoring the curious looks from the crystal ponies, and turned to Applejack. “Where’d she go?”

“Hay if I’d know, RD,” Applejack said, brow furrowing under her hat. “Maybe she’s concerned about disturbin’ the crystal ponies by showin’ back up? I kinda figured they thought she was goin’ on a one-way trip.”

“Maybe she went back to the Argo?” Trails suggested. “That would be a logical place to meet us, right?”

“Yeah! Good idea!” Rainbow jumped into the air, shoving one of the heavy crystal doors open with a grunt of effort and a few powerful wingbeats. A thin flurry of snow filtered inside, carrying the pale blue light of dawn. “I’ll go find her!”

“Whoa, RD, hold up!”

Rainbow was already out into the open air. She grinned as the cold wind nipped at her cheeks, pumping her wings and putting on speed as she angled herself toward the silhouette of the Argo. It was loitering a respectful—or perhaps cautious—distance to the east, appearing to float just above the sun as it crested the horizon and highlighted the icy landscape with meandering rivers of silver. Her pulse quickened from the sudden activity, the familiar burn of her muscles driving her on.

It took her barely thirty seconds to reach the ship, zipping up underneath it and landing lightly on top of the docked submarine. The wind tugged at her mane as she spun the wheel on the hatch and jumped inside, pulling it shut inside her and letting out a shivering breath as a last breeze of cold air swirled around her hooves.

“Twilight?” Rainbow looked up and down the hall before trotting towards the cargo hold, the floor’s metal plating rattling underhoof. She raised her voice, trying again. “Twi, you here?”

The heavy doors to the cargo hold parted before her with a hiss of steam, and Rainbow jumped inside with wings twitching, ready to fly a circuit of the hold if necessary to find her friend. There was no need, however; Twilight’s head was poking out past the curtain door of her room, watching as she approached.

“Hey, Rainbow,” she said, fangs showing with another smile. “I’m glad you came.” She held the curtain open, beckoning with a jerk of her head.

“You couldn’t have waited for me to catch up back there?” Rainbow asked, stepping into the little room. She saw Princess Luna asleep on Twilight’s bed, and an old bedroll neatly squared away on a corner of the floor currently occupied by Twilight’s weird crystal spider pet. It clicked its jaws in greeting. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry.” Twilight let the curtain fall and stepped over to her desk, horn coming to life. A few old books floated up off the tarnished tin surface and slipped into her saddlebags. Her mane seemed to glow as she plucked the jewelry the crystal ponies had given her out of her hair, setting them down in a pile along with several bracelets and necklaces. “We don’t know how the crystal ponies will react if they see us, and I didn’t want to take the risk.”

“Us?” Rainbow frowned, catching the way that Twilight stiffened briefly. “What’d you find out? Or do you want to wait for AJ first?”

Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t really think there’s time to explain it all. Not well enough, at least. But look, I think I’ve found a way to wake up Luna.” She turned to the sleeping alicorn, the lavender glow of her magic wrapping around her body. “But I have to do it myself. It’s too dangerous for you girls to go down there, almost even too dangerous for me.” She paused, pursing her lips, and looked away before saying in a quieter tone. “It shouldn’t take me long.”

“You’re leaving again?” Rainbow grabbed her shoulder, trying to catch her eye. “Twi, come on! At least tell me what you’re doing! How long will you be gone? What do we do if you don’t come back?”

Twilight looked over, meeting Rainbow’s eye for just an instant before turning away again. In that moment Rainbow saw through the calm, confident facade her friend was putting on. She seemed to sway briefly where she stood as if struggling to hold up some great weight, her eyes darting about, focused on distant, looming threats that only she could see.

She sucked in a shaky breath, closing her eyes, and when she opened them again the moment was gone.

“I’ll be back,” she said.

Her horn burst into light, and Rainbow drew her leg back with a yelp as a sudden burst of magic energy crackled against her hoof. Twilight was gone again, and this time she’d taken Luna with her.

“T-Twilight!” Rainbow called, looking around as loose papers fluttered in the wake of the teleportation. She grimaced as she turned in place, jaw clenching, that old feeling of helplessness rearing its ugly head once more.

She hated that feeling. She wished it were as easy to kill as a pony.

She trotted back out into the cargo hold, grinding her teeth and flicking her tail. She opened her mouth to call Twilight’s name again, then shut it with an angry growl. What was the point? Twilight wasn’t there anymore.

Rainbow stomped back through the cargo hold door, intending to fly back down to tell Applejack what had happened, only to draw up short as she turned a corner and came face to face with Sea Sabre.

“Rainbow Dash.” Sabre’s frown deepened ever so slightly. “I left Trails a radio for when the feast was done.”

“Sorry.” Rainbow stepped around her. “I was just leaving.”

“I heard you calling Twilight’s name,” Sabre said, stopping her in place. “Is she back?”

Rainbow considered her answer for a long moment. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head, pushing out a bitter, “No.”

She was glad that Sabre didn’t push the matter. Within a minute Rainbow had made her way back through the hatch, jumped down past the docked submarine into the open air, and settled into a steep glide down to the crystal tower.

Applejack and Star Trails were already standing outside when she landed on the outcropping of crystal that jutted out from the tower. They stood close together, near the wall, sharing the heat of their bodies and protected from the wind by the tower’s bulk.

“Did ya find her?” Applejack called, adjusting her hat with a hoof.

“I did. Not that it matters,” Rainbow growled darkly. She sat opposite Applejack and tossed her mane. “She took Luna and disappeared again!”

“Whoa, she took Luna?” Trails asked, looking between the two. “Where?”

“I dunno! Back into the Spire, I guess!” Rainbow spat. “She didn’t explain anything! She keeps talking about ‘we’ and ‘us’, but she wouldn’t tell me what she was doing!”

Applejack let out a quiet grunt. “Maybe she ain’t meanin’ the same ‘we’ y’all think she’s meanin’.”

There was a moment of silence. Rainbow’s brow furrowed, her frustration giving way to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s still got that thing in her head, don’t she? She’s even named it. What’d ya reckon the odds are that maybe it’s more in control than we think?” Applejack grimaced. “Heck, maybe it’s even taken control altogether and was only pretendin’ to be our Twi.”

“That—no. No!” Rainbow gave a forceful shake of her head. “There’s no way!”

“I mean,” Trails started slowly, “that changeling probably could’ve tricked us into thinking it was Sunfeather if we weren’t on guard already.”

Rainbow blinked, her mouth opening and closing twice before she could find her voice. “That was different! You said yourself you don’t really know Sunfeather, but Twilight’s my best friend! We would know if some changeling tried to replace her!”

“But we ain’t talkin’ about just a changeling,” Applejack said. “Truth is, sugar cube, we don’t even really know what we might be up against.”

A gust of wind blew past, stirring snow around their hooves and sending a shiver through Rainbow’s body. She didn’t know what to say. She’d been concerned before that Twilight might have been… different when they reunited, but once the moment had come all her fears had melted away. Twilight was a little different, maybe even a lot different, but she was still Twilight.

Right?

“Huh.” Trails stepped past her, head cocked as she focused on something behind her. “Is that…?”

Rainbow turned, following the unicorn’s gaze. A small dark spot was cresting the horizon, silhouetted by the sun. She raised a wing to shade her face as she squinted towards it, trying to gauge its shape.

“That looks like a ship,” Trails said. “Definitely a ship.”

“But what would a ship be doin’ all the way up here?” Applejack asked, coming up on Rainbow’s left.

They watched in confused silence for a moment as the shape grew bigger, widening out into a pair of smooth ships’ envelopes. A slender metal hull was suspended between them, pushed along by a trio of propellers placed in a triangle on the rear. A second ship began to crest the horizon behind it, but Rainbow was still focused on the first one, trying to identify the strange protrusion on its deck.

“This can’t be good,” Trails said. She raised a hoof to her ear, where a small radio headset was tucked away, half hidden by her mane. “Argo, Trails. Contact south, two ships, far.” Her horn glowed, brow furrowing in concentration, and then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, fuck!”

“What?” Rainbow asked, looking between the unicorn and the steadily approaching airships. “What’s wrong?”

“That thing has a gun on it!” Trails shouted. She tapped her radio again, rushing through her words. “Argo, evade, evade! Armed ships, south!”

Rainbow’s pulse quickened, her wings flaring up uncertainly at the sudden distress in Trails’ voice. There was a flash of light from the first airship, and she caught a brief burst of movement, barely perceptible but for the snow flurrying in front of it.

Seconds later, an explosion erupted above her. Rainbow yelped, throwing herself to the ground and covering her head as a wave of heat washed down over her back. Chunks of crystal rained down around her, bouncing with sharp cracks and pings that made her ears ring, and a distant roll of thunder rumbled through the air.

“Rainbow, AJ, get back inside!” Trails hauled Rainbow up off the ground with a grunt, turning to help Applejack up next.

Rainbow looked up, blinking in shock at the smoke curling around a huge crack in the side of the tower above her. Black scorch marks stained the crystal, small shards glittering in the dawning light as they spiraled down around her. “What’s happening?”

“Remember that bounty on our heads?” Trails quipped, pushing her into the motion. “I don’t know how they found us, but someone’s come to collect!”





The sun crested the horizon. Rarity’s chest felt tight.

The ship was silent, loitering low over the quietly rippling waters of Leviathan Wakes. Rarity was crouched near the prow, layers of folded canvas soaked in saltwater stacked neatly beside her. She felt like pacing, but she felt frozen in place.

Fluttershy and Brownie were lying on their bellies behind her, the bear’s chuffing breath tickling at her tail. A dozen Wakers shuffled over the ship’s sides, clambering down the netting cast over the railing. They dropped down onto the floating wood walkways of the oceanborne city with hesitant whispers, several laden down with heavy bolt cutters, hacksaws, and tarnished metal tanks connected to short hoses. Others carried spears, rifles, and bags of makeshift firebombs, fanning out to form a protective circle around their comrades.

Pinkie Pie rolled up behind her, leaning into her side in a quick hug. Her wheels, normally stirring a loud racket wherever they went, were unusually quiet. She had full saddlebags hanging from her flanks, colorful tongues of ribbon sticking out past the closed flaps.

“Be careful, darling,” Rarity whispered. “You know you can still stay on the ship with us.”

Pinkie answered her with a small, warm smile. “We’ll get them all this time, Rares. Boop.” Her hoof tapped against the tip of Rarity’s nose. She rolled backwards towards the railing before turning, hauling herself over the edge with a quick grunt and climbing down to join the Wakers waiting below.

The ship’s engines spun up, and the wind played with Rarity’s mane. It was dawn, and that meant Philomena would be waking up soon.

Philomena. Rarity had seen the phoenix up close only once, and most of that time the mythical bird had been on the verge of death. She’d had a single glimpse of her in her prime, freshly reforged from the ashes of her own funeral pyre, majestic and proud. She’d had a chance to hold her then, to pet and admire her. She could still distinctly remember the strange sensation of touching phoenix feathers; hot like beach sand on the summer solstice, yet soothing like a cold stream. It had filled her with awe, to touch a creature so ancient and powerful, that chirped as if she were enjoying some joke, flitted through the sky with the speed and elegance of the wind, but would slow and relax when ponies came close, as if taking care not to inadvertently hurt them.

Twilight had spoken of screaming lances of fire that could boil through solid stone. The Wakers spoke of the phoenix like a demon that left only ashes in its wake. And Rarity herself had seen the light of her passage through the water, heard her chilling wail.

And now here she was looking to draw that creature’s ire, and all she had to defend herself was wet canvas.

Maybe she really was crazy.

The ship drifted over the city with the sun to its back. Now that it was day, Rarity had a much clearer view of the shattered wreckage and faded bloodstains. There were no bodies, though eddies of dark red swirled through the water, swaying on the waves.

“Alright, ponies!” Jester walked the length of the ship, casting her gaze over the ponies left to crew it. Several were on the lower levels, Rarity knew, operating the engine or watching the merchant crew being held captive. The ones on the deck were spread out around the edges with harpoon guns and spears, with one stony-faced mare behind the trio of wheels used to steer. “I’m not the type for a speech, and there’s no time for that, besides! Let’s make some noise so those poor souls on the float can get those chains cut!”

The response was immediate. The Wakers each lifted a hoof and stomped, then again, raising a rumbling racket that soon solidified into a rhythmic, metallic ringing. Barrels of improvised explosives were set alight and then pushed over the railing, splashing down into the water before detonating with muffled thumps, throwing up great gouts of reddish, salty water that rained back down on Rarity. Spears and tools were beat against the railing like drumsticks, lending a jittery, higher-pitched rattle to the cacophony that made Rarity’s ears flatten against her head while the vibrations of the stomping traveled up her hooves. Even the airship itself joined in, its engine spinning up until its buzzing propellers sent frothy waves through the water just a few meters below.

A shrill, warbling wail cut through the noise. Rarity looked down over the railing and spotted the pale white star of Philomena soaring through the water, getting brighter every second.

“She’s coming!” Rarity called, shouting to be heard over the din. Her words were taken up and echoed by the Wakers, traveling the length of the ship as they continued their stomping. Jester barked a command to the helmsmare, and the ship hummed into motion, pushed through the sky by its heavy propellers.

There was a flash of light beneath them, and a spray of water that glittered in the dawn sun as a beacon of blinding white light floated up in front of the ship, rainbows bending and twisting in its glowing halo. Rarity flinched away from the painful brightness, stepping back, and an ethereal birdsong rang through the air with enough force to make her pin her ears down against her head in fright, trying to block it out.

“Fire! Fire!” The call bounced across the ship in a dozen different voices, followed by the staccato report of muskets and the stinging acrid scent of smoke. The birdsong shifted into a piercing screech, and Rarity fell backwards as a wave of heat passed over her, making her cry out in alarm.

The light flew over her with a singing wail. Rarity cracked an eye open and looked back just in time to see one of the Wakers drop her musket and scream before the star flew straight into her and then arced back into the open sky, leaving only ashes and burning clothes in its wake.

Rarity’s heart pounded, her breath coming in quick gasps. She thought back to another night, the last time she’d felt this prickling heat that made her mane blacken and dry, when Twilight had lost herself to her corruption and unleashed her magical assault upon Altalusia. She remembered running through that burning field of smoke, stepping over dark stains that had once been ponies, and for the first time truly realized just how much devastating power Philomena wielded. And unlike on Altalusia, where she’d been confident that Twilight was still there even in the grip of her anger, this time the shrieking magic creature in the sky had no care for her nor anyone on the ship; it would kill them all and leave nothing but ashes and a sinking wreck.

What in Celestia was she doing? What had she gotten herself into? Philomena banked through the sky like a deadly shooting star, now seemingly coming straight towards her.

“Rarity!” Fluttershy stepped in front of her, blocking out the deadly light. It bloomed around her flared wings, framing her in an almost divine glow. “Rarity, the sails!”

Rarity blinked. Fluttershy’s voice was so strong, with no stutter or hesitation. “W-what?”

“The sails!” she repeated, grabbing Rarity’s cheeks and leaning in. She spoke slowly and clearly, staring into her eyes. “We need you to use your magic! Now!”

Rarity frowned, briefly confused, then flinched as Philomena flashed across the deck a second time, a pair of ponies jumping to the side with panicked shouts as the stallion standing between them vanished in a flare of heat.

A rough hoof grabbed her shoulder, and Rarity’s head was tugged to the side. She found herself face-to-face with Jester, glaring down at her with a snarl framed in ash.

“Get on your fuckin’ hooves, mare!” she shouted, pulling Rarity up off the ground. She forcefully turned her towards the ship’s right, where the killing star was spinning gracefully through the sky and back towards them. “Do what you promised or I’ll shoot you myself!”

She finished the command with a sharp slap across Rarity’s cheek, the sting of pain finally breaking through her stupor. The memory of Altalusia was replaced with the present, with the ponies on the ship around her bravely firing their weapons at a demon they knew they had no chance of defeating. A demon they’d come to face once more, with the promise that she would use her magic to help them. A promise that she had been too busy watching in stunned shock to follow through on.

A crushing wave of guilt gripped Rarity. She shook herself, the world snapping back to focus. All she had was wet canvas and a seamstress’s magic to face an ancient phoenix corrupted into a monster, but she’d done impossible things before. 

The sweltering heat surrounding her was rebuffed from a cold determination from within as she pushed magic into her horn, pulling the first of the saltwater-soaked sails from her pile.

She ripped a strip of canvas free in her magic, tying it over her eyes as a makeshift blindfold. The thick fabric blocked out the terrifying images around her, but dimmed the glow of Philomena’s aura to the point that she could just make out the shape of the phoenix within, her wings spread wide as she sang a mournful song. Philomena leaned forward, beating her wings and coming in for another attack.

She was still a dozen meters away when Rarity clenched her jaw and threw the sail in her magic as far as she could. The heavy canvas wrapped around the phoenix with sputters and pops as the water soaked into the material was boiled away by the intense heat, but Philomena slowed only slightly, burning a hole through the fabric and continuing her charge.

A cry of dismay went up from the Wakers as they watched the phoenix barrel straight through the snare, but through her blindfold Rarity could see the slight dimming of Philomena’s aura, and a rush of hope swelled in her breast. She grabbed two more sails, grimacing at the difficulty of manipulating such large, heavy fabrics without the aid of her eyes, and wrapped them tight around Philomena, trying to push her away with her magic.

This time the phoenix actually staggered. A muffled, ethereal wail rang across the deck as her glow dimmed again, but Rarity could see a small ring of brighter light where the sails were already being burnt away, and she could hear the crackling of fire under the hissing steam. She grunted, grabbing two more sails, her legs shaking as a throbbing pain built at the base of her horn. Philomena was still fighting, her wings burning holes through the wrapping and sending powerful blasts of fiery hot air across the ship as she fought to close the distance.

The shouts and the heat faded into the background as Rarity poured all her focus into wrestling the phoenix to a stop. A wave of prickling numbness trickled up her legs and she clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. Could she manage a seventh sail? It was difficult to tell if her vision was tunneling or not with the blindfold on and Philomena in the center of her sight, blazing wings spread like a fiery cross wailing for her surrender. Another spot of light flared up as the phoenix’s head burnt through the thick fabrics, her burning crest casting licks of fire high into the sky.

“Philomena!” Fluttershy’s strong voice raised beside her, piercing the fog of her exhaustion. She felt the pegasus’s hooves on her shoulder, giving her something to lean on. “Stop this! We can help you!”

Philomena crowed an angry response, a wave of force slamming into the ship and sending it rocking dangerously towards the side. Rarity yelped as she fell back, hooves flailing blindly as shouts of alarm were raised across the deck, and smacked her head against the hard metal.

Her ears rang as the ship rocked and swayed beneath her, spawning a wave of nausea that left her momentarily dazed, curled up in a groaning ball. Finally she found the strength to roll back onto her hooves and blearily drag her blindfold off as she struggled to catch her breath.

The Wakers clung to railings and netting as metal crates slid across the canted deck, forcing them to leap out of the way to avoid devastating impact. Many dropped their weapons or scrambled to recover them, while others ran from pony to pony, helping them up and shouting commands. Fluttershy held tight to Brownie, who had dug his long claws into the floor next to Rarity to steady himself. Jester stood by the helmsmare, holding onto a railing with both forelegs. Her hat had fallen off in the chaos, revealing the ugly, jagged stump where a horn had once been, but Rarity had no time to dwell on the grisly sight as Philomena’s furious cry, closer than ever, broke her out of her daze.

Philomena was hovering over her, licks of angry fire bursting out from her spread wings. Her light had dimmed enough for Rarity to see her clearly now, the painfully bright flying star replaced with an image of twisted majesty. Only a few drooping feathers still clung to her charred skin, her brilliant red plumage replaced with ashen hide criss-crossed with wicked scars that seemed to pulse with a sinister energy. Her beak had grown out into a grotesquely sharp hook, the tip split into two fang-like blades, while her talons had fused together into a pair of misshapen cloven hooves. But Rarity’s gaze was drawn inexorably to the corrupted phoenix’s eyes, two pure red slits of light that seemed to droop with sadness even as thick tears of boiling blood dripped from them, splattering and hissing when they struck the deck.

Rarity’s heart pounded against her chest as she scrambled back, flinching with every wave of terrible heat that washed over her. Her mind froze up in animal terror, a wild, panicked drive to escape death with no notion of how to do so.

A rod of steel slammed into Philomena’s breast, sending the phoenix falling backwards with a piercing shriek. She fell to the deck, flames bursting up around her, and Rarity took the opportunity to look back.

“You or me, demon!” Jester snarled as she dropped her spent harpoon gun and accepted a replacement from an ashen-faced Waker. “Get the fuck out of my town!”

Philomena hissed, beating her wings and leaping back up as the burning deck cracked and withered where she’d fallen. Rarity’s horn tingled, the sweltering hot air suddenly rushing past her head towards Philomena as her light flared up.

She gasped, frantically scanning the deck, and spotted her neatly stacked pile of soaked sails splayed out in a disheveled heap against an askew crate. She reached out with her magic, grabbing the whole thing and throwing it towards Philomena with a cry of effort.

The heavy canvas fell on Philomena’s shoulders with an ear-splitting hiss of steam, followed by another frustrated, ethereal shriek. She began to fight, clawing and biting at the sails, but Rarity was climbing back to her hooves and pulling the canvas tight, wincing as pain sparked up her horn.

“Fluttershy!” she called. She had lost track of the pegasus in the chaos, and didn’t dare look away to search for her. “Help!”

“Hold her down!” Fluttershy ran past Rarity from behind, her chest stained red with blood and Brownie bounding along at her side. The young bear roared as it launched itself through the spreading flames on the deck, slamming into Philomena and wrestling her down. Philomena screeched, gouts of fire bursting through little rips and seams in the strained fabric.

“Get out of the way!” Jester shouted, her harpoon gun already lined up. Two other Wakers took positions beside her with their own weapons, while another trio balanced long spears against the deck, shuffling closer with the sharp tips brandished ahead of them. “This is our chance!”

“I can talk to her!” Fluttershy yelled back, spreading her wings and jumping onto Brownie’s back.

“You can’t talk down a demon, you suicidal idiot!” Jester clenched her jaw and sat on her haunches, lifting the harpoon gun to her eye. “If you won’t move, I’ll shoot straight through you!”

“No!” Rarity leapt into motion, knocking the barbed tip of the harpoon away just as Jester pulled the trigger. It soared off the edge of the deck as both mares fell in a tangled heap.

“Wh—you bitch!” Jester grunted, struggling against Rarity’s grip. “You’re gonna kill us all!”

Rarity grimaced, straining to keep her magical hold on Philomena while weathering Jester’s hooves beating at her sides. The other mare was much stronger, and Rarity desperately wanted to try to explain why they couldn’t just kill this thing that nearly every soul aboard saw as a murderous monster that deserved only destruction, but she was already at her limit. It was all she could do but cling and grimace, watching from the corner of her eye as Brownie and Fluttershy fought with Philomena. If she could just buy enough time for Fluttershy to get the phoenix to listen, then they might make it out of this yet.

Then Jester brought her head back and smacked it into Rarity’s brow, the jagged edge of her broken horn jarring against Rarity’s and shattering her hold on her magic.

Stars popped in Rarity’s vision and her ears rang. She fell back with a cry of pain, clutching at her horn while Jester shoved her off and straightened up. Rarity was left watching, helpless, as Jester and her ponies aimed harpoon guns and spears at Fluttershy’s back, intent on killing Philomena no matter the cost.

The crack of splitting wood echoed across the deck. Although the soaked canvas had done much to dim Philomena’s light, the heat she cast off had been burning through the wooden deck unopposed, and all at once a circle of charred wood around her collapsed inwards, both Fluttershy and Brownie disappearing into the depths of the ship with a shriek as smoke and steam swirled up around her.

“Fluttershy!” Rarity reached out with a hoof, struggling to stand. The pain in her horn had spread to the rest of her body as a persistent, pounding ache. The deck was warm against her belly, and her cheeks hurt from the fires, but she forced herself to stand on shaky hooves, grunting with effort. She needed more sails. Fluttershy needed her help!

“Fuck!” Jester took a cautious step forwards, aiming her harpoon gun at the plume of smoke swirling up out of the ship, and the deck exploded beneath her.

Philomena burst up into the open air, smoldering hot and deadly-sharp splinters flying in every direction. Rarity flinched, lifting a hoof to just in time to keep the smoking shrapnel from blinding her.

By the time she lowered her leg, half the ship was ablaze. Ponies lay still or groaning all around, clutching bleeding lacerations, while others raced to bring their weapons to bear, shouting challenges. Rarity scanned the deck breathlessly, searching for Fluttershy.

Philomena’s mournful song filled the air and Rarity’s horn began to tingle. There was a brief moment where the flames stilled, leaning inwards towards the phoenix, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

A beam of brilliant light shot from the phoenix’s beak, skewering the ship lengthwise. It was followed a second later by an explosion from the rear and a crackling pop reminiscent of fireworks. The deck rocked underhoof, sending Rarity tumbling sideways into the railing hard enough to crack it. Fresh pain bloomed across her body as shouts of alarm echoed up and down the ship.

“Engine’s out! Envelope’s ablaze!” Jester’s shout was the only one she could hear clearly, her voice hoarse and scratchy. “We’re going down! Abandon ship!”





Rainbow hugged the crystal wall beside her, wincing as another cannon shell zipped past the tower with a shrill whistle and a rush of snow. Applejack and Star Trails crouched to either side, all three mares watching the Argo draw nearer.

“We have to be quick,” Trails said. She kept her glowing horn pointed at the ship, eyes narrowed. “Sunfeather will only give us a few moments.”

The arched crystal doors swung open beside them. Brucite Beau rushed out, a group of fur-clothed hunters following with wide eyes. “What is this?” he asked, quickly spotting the two new silhouettes in the distance. “More Equestrians?”

“They ain’t with us,” Applejack said.

The lead ship fired, the shot tearing through the sky and cracking against the side of the tower. It spiraled away with a quavering whistle, crashing through the ice below and sending up a great splash of water.

The crystal ponies all flinched away from the impact, exchanging looks between themselves. Beau stepped forward, his warm face hardening into a grizzled scowl. “This is some kind of attack? On the Shaper’s domain?”

“You should stay inside.” Trails looked away from the Argo for a brief second, her voice firm. “Those shells are dangerous!”

Beau scoffed, shaking his head. “We will not hide like elders and foals! Hunters, come! We must defend our home!” He stomped a hoof and broke into a gallop towards the moored Crystal Heart, his hunters all following with proud warcries.

“Wait!” Applejack took a step after them. “That’s the exact opposite of what she said!”

“No time, Applejack!” Trails pointed towards the Argo. The airship slowed as it came near, the stubby wings on its side rotating and its smaller propellers spinning. Its rear swung around as it stilled in the air right in front of them, the big cargo door pulling down. Flintlock waved for them from within, one hoof on the cargo hold’s control panel.

“Let’s go!” Trails ran forwards. Rainbow exchanged a quick glance with Applejack before starting after her, pumping her wings for speed. Within seconds all three mares had leapt up into the belly of the ship, the cargo door whirring shut behind them as the deck lurched beneath them.

“Welcome back,” Flint said. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “Sabre’s in the control room.”

He broke into a trot, the three mares falling in behind him. “Who are those ponies?” Applejack asked. “More bounty hunters?”

“Doubt it.” Flint shook his head. “Bounty hunters don’t sink ships, they board ’em. Ain’t much profit in sinking a ship for anyone, really.”

Trails nodded. “If they’re shooting at us, it’s because they want us dead.”

“But who would want that?” Applejack asked. “Even Gava always wanted us alive.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rainbow said, a flicker of anger in her voice. “I’ll kill anypony that tries to hurt us.” She pretended not to see Applejack’s grimace.

The walk to the front of the ship passed quickly. The ticking of the hull was notably quicker than usual, often revving up in short bursts as the floor rocked beneath Rainbow’s hooves. She felt as if the ship itself was on edge, its mechanical pulse accelerating to match her own.

Hissing steam announced their arrival in the control room. Sunfeather stood in her usual place, her eyes narrowed and a slight sheen of sweat already on her brow as her hooves moved firmly over the controls. Sea Sabre had taken a spot just in front of her, almost touching the viewport with a spyglass raised to her eye.

“Those ships have Silverblood markings,” she said, lowering the glass and looking back towards them. She made eye contact with Rainbow for a brief moment before looking to Trails. “Get the book out. Tune us to their public band.”

“On it, boss.” Trails moved to a terminal off to one side, crouching down and pulling a hefty book out of a cupboard.

“They’ve stopped shooting,” Sunfeather said. “I’m keeping up evasive.”

“They know they can’t hit us yet.” Sabre turned back to the iron-banded glass of the viewport, narrowing her eyes. “But they overplayed their hoof opening fire right away. We’ll keep our distance.”

Rainbow took a step forward. “How did they—”

“Quiet!” Sabre snapped, glaring back at her over her shoulder. “You do not have permission to speak.”

Rainbow flinched, her ears drooping, but decided against challenging the other mare. She exchanged a look with Applejack, who shrugged back in response.

“It’s a good question, boss,” Trails said. “We’re not just in the middle of nowhere, we’re past the edge of it. How could anyone find us here?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Sabre said curtly. She marched up the stairs from the lower deck where the controls were located, frowning at the map table that occupied much of the upper deck. After a moment she reared up and grabbed a sheet of empty grid paper, dragging it over the charts of the ice sheets and northern Equestria they’d used to plot their path. “What matters is we have two armed ships closing with us. We need to handle that first.”

“Ma’am, I—”

“I told you to not speak, Rainbow Dash.” Sabre kept her focus on the paper as she placed three small coins down, one on its own and two opposite it, closer together. “If I require your opinion I will ask for it.”

“Sabre, she’s tryin’ to help,” Applejack said, taking a step closer to Rainbow’s side.

“Simmer down, Apples,” Flint chided, flicking her ear with his muzzle. “I’d rather not have t’ wrestle th’ both of ye out th’ door.”

Applejack stepped away from him with a wide-eyed frown, but Trails spoke before she could get any words out. “I’ve got the band, boss,” she said. “You want to hail them?”

“Give me the mic.” Sabre pushed off the nav table and put a hoof on Trails’s shoulder, pushing her gently aside. She grabbed a heavy microphone off the wall, flicking a switch with her other hoof. “Unknown airships, this is Argo. Identify yourselves.”

She flicked two more switches in quick succession, and static burst out of a trio of speakers set into the wall above her. Several seconds passed where nopony said anything. Rainbow glanced towards the viewport, watching as Sunfeather put the gleaming spires of the Crystal Empire between them and the other ships.

The speakers popped, emitting a tired stallion’s voice. “Argo, this is Hoplite. Kill your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

Sabre’s lips tightened. “Negative, Hoplite. This ship is under the protection of the Rich Consortium. Dock with the tower between us and we’ll send a party to negotiate on neutral ground.”

A new voice answered her, younger and energetic and filled with undisguised contempt. “We are not here to negotiate, mare. Your contract with Rich is void and I am here to claim your head. Surrender and most of your crew will be allowed to live. Resist and we will blow you out of the sky to let the ice beasts take you.”

Sabre frowned. Static buzzed from the speakers for several seconds. “Acknowledged.”

“Well,” Applejack said, “that fella’s sure got a chip on his shoulder.”

Sabre turned the radio off with a few quick motions of her hoof, then turned back to the watching ponies. “Anyone recognize that voice?”

“Whoever he is, he’s mad as Tartarus,” Flint grumbled.

“We can outrun them, can’t we?” Trails asked. “We won’t beat a gunship.”

“Not in the air, we won’t,” Sabre said. “We don’t know if they’re faster than us, but if they’ve found us here, they’ll find us wherever we run.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple. “And of course the fucking contract is gone. I’d hoped we’d have more time.”

“So we’re takin’ the fight to ‘em, right?” Flint asked.

“What? No way!” Trails protested, looking between him and Sabre. “Flint, they’ve got a cannon on that thing!”

“Flint is right,” Sabre said. She moved back to the map table, peering down at it with pursed lips. “More ships may be coming, or be waiting for us if we try to run. If we run or hide we play right into their hooves, but if we attack?” She nodded, tapping a hoof on the table. “Sunfeather, how close can you get us?”

Sunfeather glanced back. The Crystal Empire drifted across the viewport in front of her, reflecting shimmering rainbow light into the room. “How close do you need?”

“Boss?” Trails asked anxiously. “What are you planning?”

“Shock and awe.” Sabre looked to Flint. “Like we did in Maretime.”

“Maretime, eh?” Flint hummed, the corner of his lip pulling up into a smirk. “We don’t have a keg that big aboard, Sabre.”

Rainbow’s hooftips were shaking. She didn’t know what was worse: being made to sit back and do nothing as Twilight ventured the dark places of the world alone, or having to watch in silence while everyone else discussed what to do when they were threatened by bounty hunters trying to end their lives. Why did this keep happening to her? What did she do? Part of her wanted to rush out, grab her wingblades, and go fly after those ships herself. She could take them, couldn’t she? If Sunfeather could dodge their shots with the Argo, there was no way they’d be able to shoot her out of the sky.

She stiffened as Applejack placed a hoof on her shoulder. She looked over, and Applejack offered up a small smile, then a quiet shake of her head.

“Here’s the plan,” Sabre said, drawing Rainbow’s attention back. “Flint, Trails, and I will grab our gear and load up in the submarine. Sunfeather, you get us above one of those ships, as close as you can, and we’ll drop right on top of them. They’ll never see it coming.”

“Wait.” Trails shook her head, eyes wide. “You want to use the sub as some kind of boarding bomb? It’s not made for that kind of impact! What if we can’t recover it, or it needs repairs?”

“We ain’t salvage divers anymore, Traily,” Flint said gruffly. “And the sub’ll just get scrapped if we’re dead.”

Sabre looked to Applejack. “Applejack, you’ve gotten good with maintenance. You’ll stay here with Sunfeather for damage control, in case we’re hit.”

Applejack nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Rainbow straightened up as Sabre looked to her next. The other pegasus paused, looking her over and shaking her head. “You have no place in any plan of mine, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow blinked. “Sabre!” she snapped, flaring her wings. “I’m not gonna just sit back here and twiddle my hooves while you guys are fighting!”

“I know you won’t,” Sabre said sternly. “You’ll probably fly off and run wild no matter what I tell you, which is exactly why I’m not trusting the lives of my crew to your hotheaded impulses. But!” She raised a hoof, cutting off Rainbow’s next protest. “As much of a headache as you are to have under my command, you’d be a nightmare to have running rampant in my ship. So you do what you do best.” She jerked her head towards the viewport, where the two gunships were poking past the bulk of a crystal spire. “Run wild in their ship. We’ll follow once you have them distracted.”

“Y’all’re gonna send her in as a distraction?” Applejack asked indignantly. “She’ll be killed!”

“Maybe. But she is, and I cannot stress this enough, my lowest priority.” Sabre held Rainbow’s gaze as she walked around the map table and came to a stop in front of her. “It’s up to you, Rainbow. Stay here and defend the ship, or fly out and fight like you so obviously want to.” She jabbed a hoof into her chest, speaking her next words in a low growl. “Just stay away from my team.”

Rainbow glared back at her, but didn’t say anything. Sabre snorted, jerked her head at Trails and Flint, and walked past her. The hissing of the door opening announced her departure.

“Y’know,” Applejack said, glowering after her. “That mare’s really startin’ to get on my nerves.”

“Just now, huh?” Rainbow asked dryly. She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream. Even getting what she wanted felt like losing.

“Chin up, eh?” Flint said as he walked past her. “Meet us at the sub, Traily.”

Star Trails sighed. “This is insane,” she muttered as she started for the door. She paused by Rainbow and gave her a quick smile, pulling her radio headset out of her ear and holding it out. “Good luck, right? We’re doing this for the Princess.”

Rainbow found the will to return the smile, if a little stiffly, as she took the radio. “For the Princess.”

Applejack gave Rainbow a wan smile as Trails left. “Y’all should stay, at least until they start things off. Flyin’ out there on your own is suicide, distraction or not.”

“But she’s right, AJ.” Rainbow turned away with a shrug, sliding the radio into her ear. “This is what I wanted.”

She left before Applejack could respond, a small tinge of relief passing through her when she didn’t try to follow.

The Argo’s hull spun up around her as she glided down the hall towards the cargo hold and the ship lurched into motion. What did it matter if Sabre wanted to use her as a distraction to protect her own crew? Rainbow would show her. She’d throw herself into the fray kicking and screaming. She’d kill everyone on that ship herself if she had to. Maybe then Twilight would believe in her, or Sabre would trust her, or the rest of Equestria would finally get the message to leave her and her friends alone.

Strapping on her wingblades only took a few seconds. She went through the motions without thinking, flapping her wings and performing a few quick slashes in her cloudroom. Who was she mad at right now? The bounty hunters, her friends, or herself? The radio crackled in her ear.

“We’re loaded in the sub,” Sabre said. “Has Rainbow Dash left yet?”

“I haven’t seen her anywhere,” Sunfeather replied. “Applejack says she last saw her heading for cargo.”

“We aren’t waiting,” Sabre said. “Get us on top of that ship, Sunfeather. If Rainbow wants to sulk, let her.”

“Good copy,” Sunfeather said, the sound of the propellers growing louder as the ship began to nose up. “I’m pulling us out of the tower’s shadow and climbing.”

Rainbow’s lip curled back into a snarl. She wasn’t sulking! She turned around and lashed out with a shout, cutting a long gash in the wall of her room. Wispy cloudstuff trailed from her blade, water droplets clinging to the metal.

She gnashed her teeth and made for the door, but paused as her eye passed over the small chest tucked into the corner by her bed. It was ugly and crude, for Rainbow had never had much experience crafting with clouds, but it was hers.

She kicked it open, looking through its contents. A couple books she’d barely found time to read, cleaning supplies for her wingblades, a collection of wildly scattered bits stamped with markings from different islands—and a smooth orb of strange white stone engraved with the image of an open eye.

It was heavy for its size. She hefted it in a hoof and held it up to her face, pondering on the orb catching the light and sparkling with shimmering rainbow light.

“This will give you your vision back.” Twilight’s voice lingered in her head, hopeful and nervous. “In some ways it’ll even be an improvement from before.”

Rainbow’s other hoof came up and brushed over her eyepatch, pulling it back. She poked at her old wound with a grimace, cringing at the feeling. The eye carved into the stone was wide open and surrounded in arcane runes. It looked like it was in pain. It looked like it was angry. Everytime she looked at it she felt an echo of the moment where her own eye had been gouged out of her head with a sneering beak. She felt the fear and the shame, and it made her jaw clench and her ears flatten.

She would never be that mare again.

Bracing herself, Rainbow slid her eyepatch off, pulled her wound wide open, turned the stone eye away from her, and pressed it against her empty socket. Old pain flared up anew as tears welled in her eyes and her hooves shivered, but she wouldn’t back down. It was nothing compared to what she’d suffered before.

Rainbow screamed as the stone finally popped into place, a wave of nausea rushing through her and sending her falling onto her side with a choked sob. She could feel the magic sizzling inside her skull, burning at nerves she’d only felt once before. Her legs jerked and spasmed as she rolled onto her belly, bile surging up her throat. It wasn’t quite pain, but the intensity was almost unbearable. She gagged, vomiting her breakfast onto her floor.

It stopped all at once.

Rainbow panted, heart pounding. She blinked several times, feeling the strange sensation of the stone eye rolling around in her head. It moved with an odd, unnatural jerking that scraped at the back of her skull, irritating the scarred wound behind it.

A few seconds passed, and she realized she still couldn’t see. Nothing had changed. She’d put herself through pain for nothing. Again.

“Fuck!” Rainbow stomped her hooves as she stood on shaky legs, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She must have done something wrong! Of course it wasn’t as simple as just pushing it into her head and willing it to work! She pulled her patch back into place and cursed under her breath. What if she’d broken it somehow and wasted all of Twilight’s work? Why was she always so—

“They’re firing at us.” Sunfeather crackled into her ear, calm and focused. “Grab onto something.”

The ship suddenly jumped beneath her, the slow, steady spinning of the propellers that was always audible from the cargo hold growing to a loud, angry buzzing. Rainbow yelped as she tumbled backwards, bounced through the doorway, and spun into the open air with wisps of cloud sticking to her back.

Her wings snapped open to arrest her fall, only for the floor to rise up to meet her as the Argo nosed up and pulled into a steep climb. She gnashed her teeth and pumped her wings, slowing her fall just enough to land hard on all four hooves.

A hideous scraping sound rang through the hull an instant later. The walls rattled around her as the floor jerked to one side, a jet of steam bursting out of a pipe on the starboard wall. Rainbow staggered towards the cargo door controls, using her wings to balance as the floor rocked and swayed underhoof.

Sabre’s voice popped over the radio. “Sitrep?”

“Glancing blow,” Sunfeather responded, voice strained. “They got lucky. It won’t happen again until we’re closer.”

“Hey, whoa!” Trails said. “So it’s gonna happen again?!”

“Even a blind foal could hit an airship when it’s right on top of them,” Sunfeather shot back. “And that’s exactly where we’re going.”

“Any eyes on Rainbow Dash yet?” Sabre asked.

“Negative,” Sunfeather said. “Wait, cargo door’s opening.”

Rainbow clung to the door lever as she watched the big cargo door slowly clink open. Snow rushed into the gap and flurried around the room, carried on a shrieking wind that pulled at her feathers and sent loose sheets of paper flying out from Twilight’s room. Another sharp turn from the ship sent her smacking sideways into the wall, but she held firm, gauging the steadily widening space between the door and the hull with a narrowed eye.

Three seconds passed before she slammed the lever back into the closed position. The door froze with a mechanical clatter as gears shifted within its frame.

Rainbow pushed off the ground with a powerful flap of her wings, half flying, half crawling up the door face as it began to close again. Adrenaline rushed into her veins as she raced for the gap, every nagging worry forgotten in the brief rush of speed.

She tucked her wings in and shot out into the frigid cold, the thick door grinding shut behind her. She rolled back and spun, zipping between the twin propellers at the rear of the ship, along the underside of the envelope, and out past the nose into open air.

“I’ll be your distraction for you, Sabre!” Rainbow said. “Just don’t leave me hanging!”

“Watch yourself, Rainbow,” Sabre cautioned. “These are professionals.”

Rainbow’s grin widened as the crisp air pulling at her mane brought all her senses into stark clarity. Now there was nothing but snow and open sky between her and the ponies that would hurt her friends, and that was exactly how she liked it.

The two ships were arrayed side by side, floating over the ice lake with several dozen meters between them. Wispy white trails of snow and vapor curled off their frosted metal hulls, betraying their speed. They were similarly built, long and slender towards the front and bulging out at the rear, where a structure almost like a short castle tower jutted up towards the sky. Rigid envelopes were placed on each side with small wings lining their frame, twitching up and down in response to their pilots’ inputs. The smaller ship was open-decked, at least a dozen gunponies crouched behind thin metal panels spaced along the railing. The larger was closed off, a long metal barrel poking out from a vertical slit on its prow.

Fire belched from the cannon as she approached, the thunderous report echoing across the ice lake and off the surrounding mountains, and Rainbow turned to watch as the Argo’s propellers twisted and its wings angled, the rear fishtailing out to deftly avoid the shot. But the bullet exploded before it even hit, leaving behind a cloud of angry black smoke and peppering the ship’s hull with red-hot metal shards.

Rainbow cursed. She needed to shut that gun down, now.

She scanned the gunship, searching for an entry point. The tower was probably the ship’s control center, and it was ringed with wide windows that would’ve been easy to break through, but metal reinforcements were bolted haphazardly over the glass, leaving only a narrow band to see through. She frowned, orbiting the ship. I guess it would be too easy if the same trick worked twice.

Circling towards the front, she spotted the long barrel of the ship’s cannon jutting out from the hull. It clicked and whirred as it adjusted its angle, aiming at the zig-zagging Argo in the distance. A moment passed, then it fired, the thunderous rumble causing the air to shudder between Rainbow’s feathers as it recoiled deeper into the ship before slowly sliding back out.

Rainbow drifted closer, inspecting the point where the barrel met the hull. Rather than hard metal or glass, a ring of thick cloth protected the crew from the elements while giving the gun enough freedom to aim. She smirked as she angled herself away to get some distance. The gun crew would never see her coming.

She was a few hundred meters away when she pulled up into a big loop, beating her wings and fighting the thin air for altitude. She rolled as she reached the loop’s peak, extending one hoof in front of her and aiming her body for the gun mantlet like a bullet as she put on speed. She took in a deep breath of the crisp arctic air, furrowed her brow, and began to channel her magic.

The air gathered in front of her, focusing at the end of her outstretched leg in a little ball of high pressure. Wind tugged at her mane and roared in her ears, a swirling flurry of snow twisting around her body and fluttering in her wake. Her heart pounded and her wings ached, and the corner of her lip curled up into a cocky smile.

She’d show these ponies not to mess with Rainbow Dash.

The wind screamed in her ears as she ripped through the cloth mantlet, the pressure wave in front of her exploding into the gun compartment with an ear-splitting boom. Rainbow hurtled after it, planting her hooves and skidding across the floor as snow flurried in her wake.

She found herself in a cramped, busy room with rows of heavy shells stacked up against one wall. The center of the room was taken up by a long gun barrel mounted on sturdy rails and festooned with little mechanical attachments and trinkets, but Rainbow was more focused on the half-dozen ponies arrayed around it.

They gaped at her through a haze of gunsmoke. She flared her wings and crouched low, lips twitching up into a snarl. 

“Shit!” One mare lunged for a brass bell hanging from the ceiling, rattling the chain dangling beneath it and filling the room with a deafening alarm. “We’re being boarded!”

Rainbow rocketed across the room with one flap of her wings, grabbing the back of the mare’s head and smashing her face into the wall with a grotesque crunch. The mare jerked and went still, the bell stilling above her, but other bells had taken up the call elsewhere in the ship, the ringing accompanied by the sound of slamming doors and pounding hooves.

The rest of the gun crew barely had time to react before she jumped to the side, slicing a deep gash across one mare’s chest and sinking the sharp end of her blade into another mare’s throat. Blood splashed out against Rainbow’s gnashing teeth, warm and thick.

She caught movement on her left, and dodged a wild blow with a clean step backwards before dispatching the unbalanced attacker with a powerful slash that left his foreleg hanging on by a thin string of flesh. Her hind leg lashed out, crushing the throat of a pony rearing up behind her, and her other wing sent a third pony stumbling backwards with a powerful gust of wind. Rainbow threw herself into him with a furious shout, both of her blades arcing down into his gut.

Rainbow twisted in place, fixing the last surviving gunner with a one-eyed glare as the corpses of his five comrades fell to the floor. He whimpered, turning and running out into the hall. “Help!” he called. “She’s Gifted!”

Rainbow ran after him with a wordless scream. The fleeing stallion galloped past five more ponies rushing to answer the alarm, shotguns strapped to their sides and bladed helmets on their heads.

The lead pony had just enough time to bring her gun up before Rainbow closed the gap. She shoved the barrel aside with one wing, buckshot ricocheting off the wall behind her with a deafening bang as she raked a blade through the mare’s barrel and left her to die. The stallion next in line fired wildly, but Rainbow had already taken flight, twisting mid-air and scoring a deep cut across his back that made him cry out in shock.

A pegasus rose up to meet her, jumping high with a flap of his wings and lashing out with his own blades. She dodged him easily, hacking through his wing joints and letting him bleed out on the floor. The last two ponies in the little group went down without firing a shot, each one falling victim to vicious cuts that severed limbs and sent blood spraying across the walls in long spurts.

Rainbow’s hooves settled against the blood-slicked floor, her chest heaving and her eye wide. She glanced back to the dismembered corpses behind her, the blood painting the hall in intricate patterns, and her grin widened.

“The gun’s gone silent,” Sunfeather said over the radio. “Get ready to drop, I’m bringing us in.”

“Roger that,” Sabre answered. “Send us into the bridge and get clear.”

“Wait, the crystal ponies!” Trails interjected. “Look!”

Rainbow stiffened, running to the nearest porthole and peering outside. The Crystal Heart had cast off from its moorings and soared out to meet the foreign attackers, its crew brandishing long hunting spears and carrying thick shields of bone and hide on their backs. On the open-decked ship opposite them, a dozen bounty hunters were lined up behind the railing, their guns leveled on the crystal ponies.

“No!” Rainbow gasped as the invaders opened fire, the distant staccato pop of their guns carried by the stiff arctic wind. Several crystal ponies fell and scattered, until a larger figure—she recognized Beau from the way he stood—rallied them back into line. They slung the shields off their backs and planted them down like a makeshift wall, rearing up to throw spears back at the foreigners.

Rainbow snarled as she turned away and took flight, racing deeper into the ship. The crystal ponies stood no chance fighting guns with spears and hooves, but she couldn’t leave to help them yet. As much as it pained her to leave some of the warmest ponies she knew to be gunned down, she had to make sure the cannon on this ship was silenced permanently.

The alarm bells had gone silent now. She caught sight of a tail turning a corner and zipped after it, grinning when she saw a mare sprinting for a door where two others waited, urgently beckoning and calling. Their eyes widened as Rainbow came into view, their hissed commands turning into full-throated shouts.

“Come on!” one of them called. “Run faster!”

There was nothing Rainbow loved more than a good old-fashioned race. She burst down the hall in a flurry of wind, soaring over the running mare’s head and digging her blades into the two holding the door. They fell with shocked gurgles and whimpers, clutching their wounds as Rainbow turned to face the running mare with a manic, bloodstained grin.

“What’s wrong?” she said, panting with excitement. “I thought you came here to kill us, didn’t you? Chased us past the edge of the fucking map?” She flicked a wing out, splashing fresh blood onto the shivering mare. “Well? Here I am! Where’s your weapon? Fight me!”

The mare squeaked, stumbling over onto her back as Rainbow loomed over her. “P-please.” She held out a hoof, scrambling back across the floor. “I’m j-j-just a handymare! I cook and f-fix things! I’ve never h-h-hurt anyone!”

Rainbow blinked, brow furrowing. What? This was a bounty hunting ship, wasn’t it? Why else would they be here, so far north, talking about taking Sabre’s head if not to profit off some bounty?

She stepped back and took a better look at the cowering mare. She was a mauve-coated unicorn, lacking any cutie mark and with a belt of tools around her barrel. Her cheeks and hooves were marred with black stains and her mane was tied in a tight bun. A pair of cheap goggles were tucked above her horn, little more than two circles of dirty glass held together with string and wool. She had no weapon, not even anything as simple as metal shoes for kicking. She curled up into a little ball and sniffled, quietly begging for mercy.

“But…” Rainbow shook her head as a sudden headache came over her. Of course even a bounty hunting ship would have normal working ponies on it. Mechanics and engineers, cooks and carpenters. They’d be owned and passed about like everyone else, helpless against the whims of their employers. Did this mare even want to be here?

Had she already killed other ponies like this? Innocents?

“No.” Rainbow grimaced, stepping forward and jabbing a hoof into the mare’s chest. “Y-you joined this crew on purpose! You had to! You—they’re bounty hunters! You knew the risks!” She growled, glaring down at the mare. “You chased me here! All we want is to be left alone!”

“I d-don’t even know who you are!” the mare wailed. Her eyes darted side to side as she hyperventilated. “I can’t die here! G-go away!”

Pain blossomed in Rainbow’s chest. She grunted, staggering back and looking down to the screwdriver that had been jammed between her ribs.

The unicorn mare sobbed, letting go of the makeshift weapon and scrambling back. “I’m s-sorry! I just—I can’t—”

Rainbow’s wing flashed out, sinking into the mare’s heart. She leaned in with a shivering snarl, forcing her onto her back as she gaped back in shock.

“I hate you ponies,” Rainbow hissed. The fire in her breast flared up, burning away her doubts. “You’re all dead.”

The mare’s head fell back. She blinked up at the ceiling, mouthed something Rainbow couldn’t make out, and died.

Rainbow pulled her blade out with a grunt, staggering back and feeling at the screwdriver embedded in her chest. Tears budded in her eyes, and she growled and wiped them away. What was she crying for? She’d been hurt worse before.

She grabbed the screwdriver with both hooves, clenched her jaw, and pulled. It resisted her for a moment before popping free, drawing a pained groan and a trickle of blood. It splashed into the growing puddle of its owner’s blood, rolling to a stop.

Rainbow bit her lip as she raised a hoof to the wound, wincing at the pain of breathing. It didn’t seem to be bleeding so much. She could keep going. She had to keep going.

With a pained grunt she took flight once more, speeding through the door the mare had been running to reach. She could hear gunshots and shouting above her, dulled by the hull. An open door on her right led to a narrow square stairwell, and she jumped up the steps from landing to landing, wincing with each impact.

She came to a stop at a plain metal door and leaned an ear against it. She recognized the voice speaking from the radio conversation earlier, tired but strong and carrying a stern mettle.

“The Brasher has the natives handled, my lord,” he said. “Has the security team reported back yet?”

“No, sir,” a younger mare answered. “And the gun still isn’t shooting.”

“Get that ship out of the sky, captain!” This was the angry stallion, the one that had sneeringly offered to spare the Argo’s crew in exchange for Sabre’s head. “They’re coming straight at us!”

“Sea Sabre would never risk a ram,” the captain stated. “She values her ship and crew too highly, and she knows she’d come out the worse for it. I expect she’ll try to pass over us and flee south, but we’ll keep pace and shoot her down from behind.”

“What of the boarder?” the young stallion asked. “Where did she even come from?”

“She’s most likely dead already,” the captain answered. “One mare, even GIfted, can only do so much on her own.”

Rainbow grinned at that.

Turning and lifting her hind legs, Rainbow bucked the door half off its hinges before flying inside, wings flared and ready to fight. She found herself on the bridge, several ponies seated before walls of dials, levers, and chains. Long windows were set into each square wall, the glass bolted over by metal grating. Every head in the room swiveled to face her, but she kept her glare focused on the two stallions in the middle of the room, the captain and the younger stallion she took to be his employer.

“What the—” The younger stallion shook his head and stepped forward, his brow furrowing into a smoldering glare. “You.”

“Me!” Rainbow frowned, adding after a moment. “Uh, do I know you?”

“I know you,” he growled. “Rainbow Dash. Sea Sabre’s foundling from Old Canterlot. You killed my father.”

Rainbow blinked, looking over the stallion more closely. He was a unicorn, with a pale white coat and well-groomed mane of blue swept back and braided into his beard. He wore plain brown barding over his chest and a wool coat that hung down around his legs.

He also had a sheath slung to his side. It was thin, straight, and ran the length of his body, a foot long wooden hilt extending out past his shoulder.

Rainbow grunted, squaring her stance. “Your father deserved it.”

Silverblood’s son narrowed his eyes. “He was not a kind father, but he was the only one I had. And I intended him to die on my own terms.” He spat on the ground, shaking his head. “The shareholders bicker over my inheritance while his body’s still warm, and make only a token effort into avenging his death. I’m here to do my duty as a son before I go back to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

His horn glowed white, the magic aura wrapping around his sheath. A long blade slid out of it with a quiet rasp, longer than any Rainbow had seen before. Then, with a series of barely audible snaps, it split into four pieces, each one orbiting separately around his head.

“Surrender,” he said. “I’d rather have your execution be public.”

“As if!” Rainbow scoffed. “I could take every pony in this room on my own with one hoof tied to the other! I could—” She winced as a sudden pain in her chest cut off her breath, one leg instinctively grabbing at her still bleeding wound as she nearly fell over. There was a terrifying moment where she couldn’t breathe, and then it passed, leaving only a lingering pain behind. “Ugh.”

“You’re already wounded,” Silverblood’s son said, stepping closer. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Surrender and I’ll let your shipmates flee in peace. For now.”

The radio crackled in her ear, carrying Sunfeather’s voice. She said two words, as calm and relaxed as ever.

“Bombs away.”

One of the ponies manning the control terminals looked up towards the glass, his eyes shooting wide open. He pointed and fell back, struggling to form words. “Get down! They—!”

The fore wall imploded with the screech of twisting metal and the tinkle of shattering glass as the front half of a submarine burst into the room. The pointing stallion was crushed into red paste while two other ponies fell with cries of pain, sharp chunks of flying metal digging into their flesh. Rainbow lifted a wing to protect her face from the glass shards bouncing around the room, hissing as several pieces scratched at her legs and side.

The command room was in chaos. The ponies seated towards the front lay still or moaning, some caught under rubble or bleeding from deep cuts. Those at the back had abandoned their stations to take cover behind tables and terminals, reaching for scattered weapons or picking themselves up from where they dove for cover.

There was a brief moment of silence as the dust settled, every eye focused on the submarine sitting lopsided in the middle of the room. Three ponies stood inside, clearly visible through the rounded glass viewport. Star Trails wore her dive suit, but Sea Sabre and Flintlock had donned what looked to be old combat barding, their legs, chests, and necks protected by hard plates of metal.

A little metal trinket floated up next to Trails, glowing blue with her magic. A bright yellow cord dangled beneath it, snaking across the submarine floor and all around the viewing glass.

“Rainbow,” Trails said over the radio, “Put your head down a sec.”

The viewing glass exploded off the submarine with a deafening boom, flying across the length of the room and slamming against the far wall. Sabre and Flint followed it an instant later, the latter letting out a fearsome roar as he trained the shotgun mounted at his side on the nearest pony and peppered him with buckshot. Sabre closed into melee with a single winged leap, tackling her first victim and opening him from chin to hoof with a spinning cut from her blades. Trails jumped out of the submarine after them, her javelin whistling through the air and spearing the captain through the eye before he could even shout an order.

Silverblood’s son cursed, diving out of the way of a spray of lead from Flint and scrambling for a door opposite from where Rainbow stood. 

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Rainbow yelled, jumping into the air after him. She grimaced at a flare of pain in her chest as she beat her left wing, the limb going limp and forcing her to land awkwardly in the middle of the fighting. It felt like some invisible giant was pushing against her side, making her wince in pain every time she breathed in, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. She ducked a kick from a crewpony, forced him back with a wild swipe of her wingblade, and staggered after her target.

He made it to the door before her, throwing it shut behind him, but she just managed to lower her head and bull rush through it, bursting out into a stairwell descending back into the belly of the ship.

Again the pain spiked in her side, piercing and insistent. She hissed, leaning against the wall for support and half-running, half-sliding down the stairs.

“All crew to the bridge!” she heard him bellowing. “They’ve taken the bridge! Bar the doors!”

Damn. If she kept her breathing shallow, it didn’t hurt as much. Rainbow breathed out and pushed off the wall, jumping down the middle of the stairwell and landing on the bottom with a sloppy flutter of her wings.

“Stop!” She tried to spin and face the stallion as he reached the bottom floor, but rather than stop and fight her he barreled straight past her, shoving her aside and disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

“Get back here!” Rainbow caught herself on the wall with a grunt of pain. Sweet Celestia, why was it getting so hard to breathe?

“Dash, where’d ye run off to?” Flint’s growly voice crackled in her ear as she tried to catch her breath.

“Down the stairs,” she hissed. “Port side. Silverblood’s son—ngh!—got away! Can’t breathe!”

“Silverblood’s son is here?” Sabre asked. “That complicates things. Are you wounded?”

“It’s fine, I’m barely even bleeding,” Rainbow said. She glanced at the door, then with a frustrated groan started climbing up the stairs. “What about the crystal ponies?”

“They boarded the other ship before I lost visual,” Sunfeather answered her, her voice popping in and out with bursts of static. “Storm’s coming in. I’m climbing above it. Good luck.”

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open as Flint barged through, quickly spotting her and walking down to meet her. He was breathing hard, blood staining his armor and his hooves. “C’mon, I got ye.”

“I’m fine,” Rainbow insisted, trying to step past him and nearly falling as another sharp pain hit her.

He caught her with one outstretched hoof, practically dragging her up the steps. “Aye, yer fine. Tartarus, all that blood in yer feathers come from somepony else? C’mon, up, int’ th’ light.”

The command room was littered with bodies. Most were crumpled in bloody corners, grimacing in the pain of their last moments and clutching patches of mangled red flesh where Flint’s shotgun had struck them. Sabre’s trail was marked by a winding path of dismembered limbs and wide-eyed corpses, while the few lucky enough to die to Trails’ javelin looked almost serene, the clean punctures through their skulls hidden under bloody manes and hats. Tables had been upended or broken to pieces, many of the dials lining the walls were cracked, and a few exposed pipes were venting pressurized steam.

Flint shoved Rainbow down against a wall, bending down to inspect her wound. “Ach. That ain’t good.” He pressed lightly against her side, making her tense up in pain.

“Watch it!” she hissed. “Look, it’s barely even bleeding! I’ll walk it off!”

“It’s barely bleedin’ cause all th’ blood’s drippin’ out inside ye.” Flint’s jaw worked side to side as he stepped back, tapping a hoof on his chin. “I reckon yer lung’s pierced. Havin’ trouble breathin’, ye said?”

Rainbow briefly considered trying to stand again, but then decided it wasn’t worth the pain. “When did you become a doctor, huh?”

“He’s no doctor, but he’s seen enough casualties to recognize a collapsed lung.” Sabre approached with a stern frown, flicking blood off her wings. “You need medical attention.”

A thrill of fear crept up Rainbow’s spine. She pursed her lips, determined not to show it. “Well let’s get back to the Argo, then. We won, right? So what if—ngh—one stallion got away, he’s got no crew left!”

Sabre and Flint exchanged a glance. “I count nine dead here,” Sabre said, looking back to Rainbow. “How many did you get?”

“Uh, I’m n-not sure.” Rainbow huffed, trying to remember. It had all happened so fast, and she’d done it all on instinct. She could barely recall anything but the splash of warm blood on her face and the adrenaline-spiked thrill of battle. “Ten, maybe? I think.”

“Yeah, this isn’t a twenty-pony ship,” Trails said. She leaned out into the stairwell next to her, peering down. “There could be ten, twenty, maybe even thirty others out there.”

Sabre nodded. “We need to move before we lose initiative. There’s only two doors out of the control tower, and if they can set up watching both of them, it’ll be impossible to push out.”

“R-right. Cool.” Rainbow grabbed an overturned table, struggling up to her hooves with a pained groan. “I can fight. Let’s go.”

“Ye need t’ relax and hold that hole shut,” Flint said, pushing her back down. He looked around the room, scanning the debris scattered over the floor. “Have they got any tape in here? Some tape’d do wonders.”

“I can stay and watch Rainbow,” Trails said, coming back into the room. “Luna knows I’m not a real fighter anyways.”

Sabre shook her head. “Negative. If we’re all getting out of this alive, we need to stick together.”

Rainbow looked up at her in confusion. A moment of silence passed before Trails said, “But… she’s helpless. Anyone could come up here and finish her off while we’re gone!”

“No they couldn’t!” Rainbow hissed, voice shaky. “I’m fine!”

“Rainbow isn’t my concern!” Sabre snapped. “You two are. All this is her fault, remember? And I’m not losing another pony to this Celestia-damned job!”

“Sabre,” Flint said quietly. “Ye wanna just leave ‘er?”

“Have you got a problem with that, soldier?” Sabre rounded on him with a stomp of her hoof. “I am giving you an order.”

Flint closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He held it for a long moment before looking down at Sabre and answering her. “She’s Jackie’s friend, Sabre. And she’s my friend, too. Ye know I can’t leave ’er.”

“If we don’t get moving soon, we’re all dead, you understand that?” Sabre stepped closer, arching her neck back to keep her glare focused on him. “Those villagers out there might buy us a bit of time, but as soon as the other ship gets here, we’ll be outnumbered over five-to-one with no reinforcements and no exit strategy. The Argo can’t pick us up and the only other pony that could possibly help us is off talking to herself on the bottom of the damn ocean! We’ll be fucked, Flint!”

Flint just shrugged. “I ain’t scared t’ die, Sabre.”

Rainbow looked back and forth between them as they argued, wincing with every breath. “Twilight will come for us. I’m sure of it! She’d never let us down!”

A sudden squeal from the front of the room cut off Sabre’s response. All eyes turned to a brass tube jutting up out of the floor and partially knocked askew by the submarine’s bulk, its end opening up into a wide horn.

“Crew of the Argo, this is Prince Argent.” The speaker shivered slightly as the stallion’s voice sounded from it. “We have you boxed in. The deal to surrender is still on the table, but if you refuse to stand down before our reinforcements arrive, you will be slaughtered where you stand.” He paused, giving his words time to sink in. “Your attack was bold and impressive, but you are far beyond a hope of victory. The goddesses themselves can’t save you now.”

“As if a goddess has ever saved anyone,” Sabre muttered, shaking her head. She looked to Rainbow, then Trails, and finally Flint.

“Boss?” Trails asked tentatively. “What’s the plan?”

Several seconds passed, the only sound the growing howling of the wind outside. Finally Sabre closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “You two can still get out. He’ll only want me and Rainbow.”

“Whoa, what?” Trails shook her head. “That’s crazy!”

“Sabre,” Flint started.

“He’s right!” Sabre growled. She began to pace, wings half-outstretched. “He’s got us cornered. There’s no reason we all have to die.” She walked up to the submarine’s scratched hull and leaned against it with a tired sigh. “Everypony dies eventually. I don’t fear it either.”

“We can’t just give up!” Rainbow shouted, trying to stand and falling back with a strained hiss. Every breath in made the pain in her side worse, but she couldn’t keep silent. “Twilight needs us! The Princess needs us! We still have a chance!”

“There is no chance,” Sabre said firmly, not looking back. “This was the best plan I had and it failed, and we can’t fight our way out. We’re done.” She added in a quieter voice. “There’s never any point to valiant last stands.” She reached for the brass horn, but Flint stepped in her way, pushing her back with his bulk.

“Flint, step aside,” she ordered. “You know I’m right.”

“Aye, yer right,” he said quietly. “But there ain’t no rush, is there? We got a few moments still.” He shrugged, laying a hoof on her shoulder. “I won’t stop ye from doin’ what needs t’ be done, but only when it needs t’ be done. ’Til then, we hold out.” He looked out the shattered window, watching the sunlight filter through the snow flurries. “Maybe Rainbow is right. ’Light could still come fer us.”

He turned and walked to a corner without looking back, training his gun on a door.

Rainbow looked from pony to pony with increasing desperation, clutching at her wound. Trails seemed to be at a loss, and Sabre was focused on something only she could see. Flint watched his door with a grim frown, still as a statue. Was this all her fault? If she hadn’t been wounded then she could’ve caught Prince Argent, or they could’ve kept moving together as soon as they cleared the command room.

And if she hadn’t gone back and killed Silverblood, none of this would even be happening.

Rainbow leaned back against the wall, muttered a prayer to Celestia, and watched the sun creep higher in the sky.





Ana lay on her back and watched the airships drift over her.

She was on the roof of some warehouse or other, letting the rising sun warm her belly. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, and she didn’t particularly care to guess.

She was empty inside. Dead. It was a familiar feeling, though not one she’d experienced for many years. A stony hardness that came after the tears dried up, that could give a frightened filly the courage to steal from a stall owner when she’d have her wings clipped or an ear cut off if she was caught. She’d learned to smile and lie and steal and fight with that feeling simmering in her gut. It’d raised her just as much as her father, and she found it almost comforting to lose herself in it again.

“He’s not even your real Dad!”

Ana played the moment over in her head again and again. It hurt her every time, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t do anything else.

She should’ve killed Rarity the instant she’d caught her alone. It wouldn’t have been hard. The mare was a foalish, trusting idiot. She could’ve killed her and moved on with her life barely breaking stride, killing and stealing and laughing at the hateful world with her sister by her side.

Did she even have a sister anymore? Maybe that was where she’d gone wrong. Her mind drifted back to that moment decades ago, when the griffon she would come to call her father invited her aboard his ship. She could’ve said no, couldn’t she? Life on the street was hard, but she had grown comfortable in it. She knew her place there.

“Who am I?” she asked the sky. Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. She missed the stars.

Ana closed her eyes, breathing in slow, rhythmic sighs. It was the struggle that was hurting her, the urge to live a new life without abandoning what precious little she’d gained from the old one. She could be a thief or a savior, a killer or a protector, but she couldn’t be both. Every time she tried to do something right, to act in any interest other than her own, she felt the cloying grasp of the thief pulling her back. She felt it in the deals she made, in the ponies she killed, in the callous actions and thoughtless words of her sister.

But what would happen to her if she kept going? What could she do if she refused to steal, to lie, to cheat, to kill? Her entire life, as far back as she remembered, revolved around such acts. It was all she knew, and the thought of waking up and going even just a single day without those things terrified her. She tried to imagine herself volunteering in a clinic, smiling her fanged smile at wounded ponies and reassuring them with kind words while they cringed back from her slitted eyes. It was laughable. Pitiful.

Could she really survive like that?

Could she live with herself if she went back to her old life? There would always be that doubt in the back of her head now, that shame, that knowledge that there was a mare out there who had truly given her a chance. She’d have to live knowing she’d seen an opportunity to change and consciously turned it down. As hideous a pony as she may have been before, surely to carry on in such a way now that she knew there was another option could make her nothing short of evil.

Ana had never wanted to be evil. She’d always blamed the world around her for her actions, and she just couldn’t do that anymore.

But what could she do? There were no doubt countless bounties on her head, shadows of her past that would never let her go as long as she lived. She needed a contract just to live, and no employer worth working for would hire her to live an honest and charitable life.

But then Rarity had never concerned herself with her own survival, had she? She had always done what she felt was right, even when it put her through terrible pain. Even when it was the dumbest, most self-defeating decision she could possibly make, Rarity made it without hesitation.

Damn that mare. Ana could never live up to that.

Maybe she could try.

She thought back to the Lunar Cathedral that towered over Friesland’s central square, to the statue of Princess Luna that frowned upon all who came to pray for guidance.

Rarity had known the Princess almost personally. Surely if Ana tried to follow in the kinder mare’s hoofsteps, the Princess would approve. Ana had never been a religious mare, but in that moment she found herself praying.

“Princess,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Help me be strong. Help me be like her.” She felt like an idiot. She shivered, a few more tears tracing a path down her cheeks. “I want to do it, Princess, I just—I can’t do it alone. Please, if you’re out there, s-send me a sign. Show me you’re with me.”

She opened her eyes, wiping the wetness from her cheeks with a hoof, and slowly clambered to her hooves. She looked around, a small tendril of hope fluttering in her breast. A sign. Any sign. Even just the smallest little thing, something she could at least pretend was a sign from Luna and use as inspiration. It was so foalishly stupid, but she needed something.

Motion on the horizon caught her eye. She turned, watching as a pale white orb began to creep up into the sky. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, trying to identify it. It slid steadily higher, so slowly that at any given moment it didn’t even look like it was moving, inexorably climbing towards the sun.

Ana gasped, her legs dropping out from under her. There was no way. It was impossible.

The moon ground to a stop in front of the sun, a perfectly round circle of black ringed with a halo of shimmering sunlight, and cast Harvest into shadow.
> XXXI: Of Resurrections
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight’s heart pounded in her chest as she navigated the dark halls of the Spire.

She remembered the path to Shaper’s chamber well. Her hooves moved as if on their own, between warm glowing crater and chilling black crystal, ceaselessly drawing her closer to what felt very much like a final confrontation.

Shaper. The source of the corruption that brought Equestria to its knees and led directly to the deaths of millions of innocents. And there she was, trotting straight into his lair while cursed crystal ponies scraped through the shadows and leered after her, bringing him exactly what he needed to break free.

Twilight glanced to her side, where Princess Luna floated in a gently tinkling aura of red-tinted lavender. The alicorn was still curled up tight, chest swelling with every peaceful breath and ugly red tears stained into her cheeks. It was strange to see such a majestic figure, adorned with the regalia of her position, with her nose tucked under her tail like a napping foal. Helpless.

Twilight turned her gaze forwards again and tried not to think about the very distinct possibility that she was about to cause a second apocalypse.

This is not the time for doubts, little flower. Midnight walked close beside her, opposite Luna. The decision is made. Now we act.

But what if we made the wrong decision? Twilight bit her lip as she ducked under a protrusion of sharp black crystal and started up a narrow, winding stairwell.

Midnight snorted. Then we make it with confidence.

Twilight grimaced. The idea of making the wrong decision was nauseating enough on its own, but doubling down on it without even questioning an alternative made her stomach churn. She felt like she was taking a final exam consisting of a single, long, multi-stage question. If she got the first part wrong, then everything that followed would fall apart as well.

We have our plan, Midnight said assuringly. Do not second guess yourself.

Twilight took a deep breath. The oppressive aura of the Spire pushed against her shield and made her horn throb as they walked down the final hallway.

She could hear Shaper’s thralls watching her as she crossed the threshold. They shuffled around in the unnatural darkness, crystal bodies scraping against crystal floor, but she kept her gaze focused forwards, on Shaper’s frozen form occupying the center of the chamber.

“You were not lying.” Shaper sounded intrigued, perhaps even surprised. The thralls began to edge forwards, their dead gemstone eyes focused on Luna like twinkling stars bobbing in the periphery of Twilight’s vision. “We can feel the seed inside her. It is—” he paused for a moment before releasing a deep sigh “—tantalizing.”

“We have done as you requested,” Midnight said, her voice imposing and stern. “Fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“And We are to work Our most valued magic while you clutch your Princess within your shield like a precious foal?” Shaper asked. “Set her down.”

Twilight hesitated, glancing to Midnight. “How can we be sure you won’t try something?”

“You doubt the word of the King?” The shadows flickered and stretched around them, Shaper’s voice rumbling with anger. “Set her down, or there shall be no exchange!”

“We do no such thing while our only guarantee is the promise of a thousand-year-old pretender!” Midnight spat. She glanced at the watching thralls, who were creeping closer with an eerie slowness, leaning intently forwards. “Dismiss your servants! They are no longer necessary.”

“You fear you cannot fend off those mindless thralls?” Shaper mocked. There was a long moment where he said nothing, his voice bouncing off the cavernous crystal walls before fading into a quiet buzz.

What if he says no? Twilight pursed her lips, trying to get a count on the horde of crystal ponies surrounding them, but only the very closest were visible in the darkness.

He will not, Midnight said confidently. A starving dog will do anything for a mouthful of meat.

Did you just refer to Princess Luna as meat?

“Very well!” Shaper snapped. By some imperceptible signal the crystal ponies shuffled into motion, their dozens of hooves scraping against the floor in a deafening cacophony. The seconds dragged on into minutes, Twilight quietly counting the silhouettes gliding past. There were so many, and she was acutely aware that the ones she saw were just a fraction of the total.

She was just passing fifty when the last one stumbled past her. Twilight followed it with her gaze as it stepped over the huge fallen doors and out of the chamber before vanishing into the darkness.

“That should be sufficient.” The annoyance in Shaper’s voice was sharp enough to cut steel. “Now present the Princess to Us! There is no more cause to stall.”

Taking a deep breath, Twilight floated Luna forwards, past the protective glow of her shield, and set her onto the chipped crystal floor.

Immediately the shadows rushed in, appearing to leap off of the ground and split into tendrils of wispy, viscous smoke. They moved with uncanny speed, pouncing onto Luna’s sleeping form and slithering across her body before Twilight could react.

“What are you doing?!” Twilight demanded.

“This is unexpected.” Shaper spoke quietly, an intrigued confusion tinting his voice. “We feel her darkness, but it does not respond to Us. As if it is… asleep.” The dark tendrils dissipated just as quickly, the surrounding shadows going still once more. “Explain where you found this specimen.”

“We found her in the Everfree Forest,” Twilight said. “We think she put herself into a coma to stop the corruption from developing, but it was still active when we found her.”

“We defeated it in combat,” Midnight added triumphantly. “Perhaps it is still wounded from our battle.”

“No,” Shaper said curtly. “It’s not merely diminished, but utterly unresponsive. We cannot feed on this darkness.”

“What? That’s not possible.” Twilight shook her head, brow furrowing. “It nearly killed us! If we hadn’t locked it in—”

Oh.

What?

The reason it feels like it’s asleep to him is because it is asleep. Twilight grimaced, a nervous knot forming in her gut. We never beat it, Midnight. Luna locked herself in a dream where it couldn’t get to her, but then we led it straight into that dream, and it’s been stuck there ever since! She plopped back onto her haunches, mind racing. And for all we know it’s been corrupting her in there all this time, because we let it into the one place Luna did so much to keep it out of! Oh, no! What if I ruined everything?

Then we will fix it. There is no point fussing over a mistake before we’re certain it occurred. Midnight’s calm voice washed over her like a soothing wave. If we led it into Luna’s sanctum, then surely we can lure it back out?

Maybe? I don’t know! For all we know there isn’t even any of Luna left, or it may not be interested in chasing us! And we can’t just go dreamwalking in the middle of Shaper’s territory! He could do anything to us while we’re vulnerable!

He would not jeopardize a prize as precious as this. If he needs us to extract her darkness, then we’ll be safe.

“What is it?” Shaper inquired.

Nodding to herself, Twilight stood and faced him once more. “We think we know how to bring her corruption out for you to access. But we’ll have to enter her dreams to do so.”

Shaper hummed thoughtfully. “If this is a trick, We will ensure you regret it.”

“No trick,” Twilight said firmly.

“And we trust you will not attempt to harm us in our sleep,” Midnight added. “Without us, you will never obtain Luna’s darkness.”

Shaper chortled, the sound making the crystal vibrate under Twilight’s hooves. “Such a wary mind! Fret not, Equestrian. As long as We have need of you, you are safe within Our halls.”

This isn’t exactly how I’d imagined things going, Twilight said, gently pulling Luna back into the protection of her shield and lying down beside her.

You cannot predict all outcomes, little flower. Luckily, you have me. Midnight smirked down at her, then looked to the glowing lavender shield surrounding them. The shield will remain for a time while we sleep. But not long, and we may not be able to wake immediately if the petty king tries something.

Time moves faster in dreams. She rested her head on Luna’s side, listening to the gentle sound of the Princess’s breathing as her chest rose and fell. And fights with fearsome monsters are usually over pretty quick anyway.

All fights are over quickly when we are involved.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile at her other half’s confidence as she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She held it for five seconds, pushing the many concerns of the waking world aside before slowly exhaling.

Like last time, when Luna’s wyrd had pulled her unawares into the realm of dreams, the transition was barely perceptible. It was like watching the clouds shift as she floated down a gentle stream, the water tickling at her ears and tugging on her mane. If she wasn’t paying attention she might miss the moment where the current pulled her from one path onto another. But with the right training, she could feel the sensation of sinking into slumber, and even influence where the undertow took her.

An icy gust blasted across her muzzle. Blinking her eyes open in shock, she found herself surrounded by a thick sheet of whirling white.

The snow crunched against her hooves as she stood, the howling gale buffeting her, first one way, then another. She could see barely a few steps in front of her. The cold pierced her coat and wormed its way into her bones. She turned a circle in search of guidance and spotted Midnight crouched warily beside her, her lips pulled back into an irritated snarl.

“This is not like last time!” she hissed, tail flicking behind her.

“Dreams usually aren’t!” Twilight shouted over the wind as she trudged forward, squinting against the flurry.

“Where are you going?” Midnight called, slogging after her.

“Wherever my hooves take me!”

The wind shifted, nearly knocking Twilight off balance, and with a huff of annoyance she summoned a weather circle around her, a faint lavender sparkle that was discernible only because of the way the wind and snow parted and weaved around it.

“Why didn’t you start with that?” Midnight grumbled beside her.

Twilight ignored the comment, scanning side to side as they walked. What little she could see of the landscape was plain and rocky, a thick blanket of snow draped around scattered stones with only the naked trunks of dead trees to break the monotony. Where was this place? Where was Luna’s wyrd? And where was Luna herself?

“Look. Up ahead.”

An indistinct shadow took shape before them. At first it almost appeared to be the silhouette of a pony, with a bobbing horn and muzzle just discernible at one end, but she couldn’t make out a body or legs. The snow seemed to twinkle around it, little motes swirling and dancing as they followed the shape. Then the shadow shifted, and Twilight realized it wasn’t a pony—it was two ponies, one much smaller than the other.

Twilight quickened her pace, the freezing air searing her lungs. She guessed she was about ten paces away from the strange ponies when the wind suddenly stilled for a brief moment, the whirling snow drifts fluttering down to the earth, and she found herself looking into the curious blue gaze of Princess Luna.

She stumbled to a stop, opening her mouth to call out some hasty greeting, only to realize that it wasn’t the Princess Luna she knew. This Luna was small, about the size of one of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and instead of an ethereal mane of stars there were plain locks of pale blue framing her foalish face. Even her cutie mark was absent, with only a smattering of black fur on her rear in its place.

Next to the filly princess walked a young Princess Celestia. Again, the flowing mane which Twilight had always associated with alicornhood was gone, now a common pink that matched her eyes. Without her cutie mark, her white coat almost vanished into the snow, and though she was nearly as tall as Twilight, her thin legs and slender body hinted at an adolescent youth.

Both sisters were still alicorns, their wings tucked tightly against their sides, but this was such a far cry from how Twilight had ever seen them that she wondered if this was some trick. Had Luna’s wyrd somehow taken control without her noticing? Was it trying to confuse her or distract her while it prepared to strike?

Luna had come to a stop, staring silently into Twilight’s wide eyes as Celestia kept walking. After a couple seconds, the older sister looked back. “Luna? What’s wrong?”

Luna blinked, looking away and bounding clumsily through the snow to catch up with her sister. “Just looking at the stars.”

The wind resumed its pitched howl, lifting the snowdrifts and scattering them into turbulent eddies, and the sisters were reduced to silhouettes once more.

They had spoken quietly, yet their voices rang clearly in Twilight’s mind, as if they were her own thoughts. She was struck by how different they sounded; Celestia’s voice was just as musical as ever, but lacked the deep layers of wisdom and gentle motherly guidance. Luna spoke softly but easily, without the shade of regret that had always lingered in her tone whenever Twilight talked to her.

“This must be a memory,” Midnight said. “Can we rouse her? Perhaps she can aid us.”

Twilight shook herself, starting after them at a quick trot. “We can try.”

A memory! A memory of when the sisters were foals, over a thousand years ago by the time Twilight had been born. There was so much she could learn! About Equestria, about alicorns, about history!

No, she needed to focus on the goal: Wake up Luna, find the Wyrd, and lure it out. She could ask the Princess all about her past afterwards if need be.

“Princess!” Twilight shouted. Was she even a Princess yet? The hazy shapes of the sisters stopped and stiffened as the wind grew stronger. “Luna!”

As she drew close enough to see them clearly through the snow, Twilight skidded to a stop. The sisters were facing her with cautious expressions, their perked ears swiveling alertly. Celestia stepped forwards, standing protectively in front of Luna.

Twilight beamed at the older alicorn, joy swelling in her breast. It felt like it’d been an eternity since she’d seen her mentor in person, and even though this younger, remembered form was so very different from the Sun Princess she knew, it still felt like a reunion.

Celestia looked her over with a slight furrow to her brow, her ears pointed forwards attentively. Slowly Twilight’s grin faltered as she realized that her mentor didn’t recognize her. But then, Celestia wasn’t really here, was she?

Luna’s small, round face poked out from behind Celestia’s legs. She looked up at Twilight with the same innocent curiosity as before, saying nothing.

“I—” What should she say? Luna clearly wasn’t lucid. “W-where are you going?”

Luna looked up to Celestia, who pursed her lips and answered in a clear, but wary voice. “We are only passing through.”

Midnight caught up, standing at Twilight’s side. She looked at Twilight expectantly, silently bidding her to take the lead.

Twilight frowned. She knew this wasn’t the real Celestia, but the distrust in her eyes hurt just the same. She took a tentative step forwards, forcing a friendly smile. “Can we travel with you?”

Celestia narrowed her eyes. Her wings hovered off her sides, twitching anxiously. “It is best that you stay back!”

Twilight winced. Dream or not, the cutting tone hurt her as if it were real.

“We won’t hurt you!” she  tried, raising her voice to be heard over the howling wind. A thick flurry blew between them, and she lifted a hoof to shield her eyes. “We’re friends!”

Celestia shook her head. “We will not disturb you.” She glanced down to Luna, guiding her gently back. “Come, sister.”

Twilight watched in dismay as Celestia turned away, walking deeper into the blizzard. Luna lingered only a moment longer, staring into Twilight’s eyes, then followed her.

“Wait!” Twilight reached out with a hoof, but the snow had already turned the alicorns to hazy silhouettes, and they showed no sign of stopping. She looked at Midnight, who arched her brow flippantly.

“Shouldn’t we chase them?”

A sudden burst of wind interrupted Twilight’s response. She cried out as she was knocked to the ground, the snow dancing frantically around her.

A shadow passed overhead.

A huge, white-furred paw dug into the snow by Twilight’s head. She yelped, ducking her head under her forehooves protectively as three more giant paws kicked up snow around her, and cautiously raised her head.

A great white wolf the size of a train car bounded across the snow, its lips drawn back in a snarl that revealed wickedly sharp fangs. It bolted after the alicorn sisters with a vicious bark, almost disappearing among the white flurries as the wind built up into a deafening shriek.

“Oh, no!” Twilight climbed to her hooves, running after the wolf with horn aglow. Was it the Wyrd? She hadn’t seen any signs of corruption, but she’d gotten only a brief glimpse of it. “Luna!”

Again the wind struck her, tossing her sideways into the snow with a frustrated grunt. She struggled to a sitting position, squinting through the blizzard to make out the hazy shapes of the wolf and the Princesses.

She saw it pounce. The smaller shadow of the sisters was swallowed whole by the wolf’s imposing bulk, but she heard no scream. Flashes of bright light bloomed like firecrackers, outlining the wolf rearing up and the sisters crouched side-by-side beneath it, and then went dark.

Twilight squinted into the snow with bated breath. The shadows had stopped moving. She stood cautiously, lifting a hoof to move closer.

Without warning the temperature plummeted. Though the blizzard had been freezing cold before, Twilight felt as if she could feel the last dregs of warmth physically dragged from her bones. She fell forwards, gasping for breath as darkness began to rush in all around her, stars popping and twinkling at the edges of her vision. She felt a terrible pressure in her breast, followed by a thousand tiny needles prickling at her coat, and she wasn’t sure if the screaming in her ears was the wind or her own voice raised in pain.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. Twilight pulled her face out of the snow and shook her head, chest heaving. She looked to Midnight, who was lying on her side clutching at her chest with bloodshot eyes stretched wide in shock.

“You felt that too?”

Midnight nodded shakily. “Such power.”

Twilight struggled to her hooves before reaching one out to Midnight. The other mare considered the offer for a moment before accepting, allowing herself to be pulled up.

The wind had died down to a steady but tolerable breeze, pulling Twilight’s mane to the side as she looked ahead again. She could see the wolf clearly, lying on its back with its legs spasming weakly above it. Its jaw was stretched wide in a pained grimace, revealing long, curved fangs that shone like polished metal, its eyes sunken deep into its skull. It wheezed, its chest trembling with quick, tiny breaths, then went still.

Celestia had fallen on her side, breathing hard but uninjured. And standing between them was the small, filly Luna, her eyes radiating a pale white light.

Twilight blinked, looking between the little filly and the huge wolf. “Did she…?”

Luna’s head snapped sideways, her arcane gaze glaring straight into Twilight’s soul. She staggered backwards, struck by a sudden wave of hatred so pure it felt as if she’d been stabbed in the heart.

You weren’t supposed to see this.

It felt like her own thought, but was unmistakably foreign. A shudder of fear trilled down Twilight’s spine as she fell backwards, but this time the ground didn’t catch her.

Instead, she kept falling, her stomach lurching and hooves flailing as a thick sheet of snow flurried around her. She screamed, her horn sparking to life as she sent out a frantic series of pings, but none of them came back. She tried to bend the dream to give herself wings, but it didn’t respond, and when she looked around in search of Midnight all she saw was the same all-encompassing curtain of fluttering white.

Finally the snow dissipated and the roaring wind went silent, and Twilight gasped as she realized the true scale of Luna’s dreamscape.

She was falling through an astronomical abyss of incomprehensible proportions, a trillion pinpricks of starlight shifting like the dancers of some cosmic choreography in the infinite distance. Scattered across the abyss were—the first term that came to mind was islands, but it seemed somehow inadequate—pockets of existence where the infinity bled and twisted into a more recognizable reality, depicting a thousand different scenes. She saw the Castle of the Two Sisters in the midst of a great conflagration, with snarling smoke clouds boiling from its towers and turning to starlight. A tree taller than the universe sprouting from a tiny seed, its branches falling and shattering. A pond reflecting the moonlight as a bearded stallion reclined in the grass, eyeing her with a warm smile. Mountains melting and sublimating into vapor under a blistering heat. Silver armor stained red with fresh blood as helmeted stallions marched within its reflective surface. She’d turn her head from one scene to another and be filled with waves of emotion she couldn’t explain, images of bliss and suffering flashing across her sight.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, overwhelmed by it all, but one scene lingered even still. A small island surrounded by calm waters, and Princess Luna reclined on a cushion under a softly glowing flower. Twisting her head to focus on it, Twilight hesitantly opened her eyes.

It was the same island that she’d seen the Princess sleeping on when she’d first entered her dream. The still water surrounding it turned to stars around the edge, drifting across the dreamscape in lazy arcs. And hovering over the island she saw Luna’s Wyrd, its blood wings spread wide and its ragged coat drooling blood from a thousand wounds.

The Wyrd lunged, and a pony-shaped cluster of stars leapt back, dodging the pounce—the Guardian that had stopped the Wyrd after Twilight led it into Luna’s sanctum. The Guardian tossed its head with an eerie silence, a beam of starlight zipping across the abyss aimed straight for the Wyrd’s breast. The Wyrd dashed sideways with an angry hiss, and as the beam seared past it cut a wound into the infinite fabric of the dreamscape, a fresh reality bleeding out and taking shape.

Wind pulling at Twilight’s mane tore her attention away. She looked up and cried out in alarm when she saw a maze of rocky canyons hurtling towards her at breakneck speed. Her horn burst into light as she cast a quick featherfall, but even with the spell slowing her descent she smacked into the edge of a plateau with enough force to drive the breath from her lungs.

She yelped, bouncing from one side of a narrow canyon to the other, slapping face-first into a cliff face, and awkwardly floating down to the rocky earth. She fell onto her back, chest heaving and mind racing, feeling very much as if she’d just run a marathon across dimensions.

With a groan of pain she looked to the side and saw Midnight standing over her with a pensive frown.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes. All of it.”

“I don’t understand.” Twilight grimaced, climbing back to her hooves and shaking dirt and pebbles from her coat. She was breathing hard, after-images of the starry abyss flashing at the edges of her vision. She looked up, spotting a sliver of night sky between the canyon lips where she’d fallen through, but all she saw beyond it were twinkling stars. “That was Luna. But it wasn’t.”

“And she saw us,” Midnight said, scanning up and down the dark crevasse. “Yet we are not welcome. Did she not recognize us?”

“I—I don’t know.” Twilight shook her head, trying to dislodge the strange scenes. She felt sunlight on her back and heard a colt’s laughter, and tasted fresh blood pumping across her fangs. “It shouldn’t be possible for her to be in two places at once, even in a dream! Dreams don’t exist when the dreamer isn’t there to see them, but—look at this!” She gestured at the cliff faces in amazement. She could focus on each individual rock and pick out patterns in the stone. “So much detail!”

“She is the Princess of Dreams, is she not? She may not have the same limits as a mortal.” Midnight frowned, stepping closer and resting a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Are you well?”

“But how? Why? The last time we were here everything made sense! It was one dream, with her in the middle. Now it’s like—it’s like she’s having a thousand different dreams all at once!” The smell of moondust drifted across her nostrils. What did moondust smell like? “Ugh. Are you feeling these, too?”

Midnight shrugged. “I feel everything you do. Do you need to stop?”

“No! No, I think it’s only temporary.” She took a deep breath as the surreal sensations faded, replaced by the scent of sand and the chittering of insects carried on the gentle wind that weaved through the canyon. “We should keep moving. We need to find a way to get to the center of this—” she paused, again at a loss for words “—place.”

She pushed herself into motion, simultaneously watching herself walk away through Midnight’s concerned eyes.

“Can we not cross?” Midnight asked, following after her. “We know where we need to go.”

Twilight shook her head. “The dream isn’t answering me. I tried giving myself wings when I was falling, but it didn’t work. None of my techniques are working like they should, and Luna never taught me about anything like this! I’ve heard of recursive dreaming before, but this is something else. Not dreams within dreams, but dreams beside dreams. Parallel dreaming?” She pursed her lips, her voice trailing off to a thoughtful mutter.

“And the solution is to walk aimlessly until we end up where we want? This is an exceptionally poor plan, even for you.”

Twilight smirked, playfully flicking Midnight’s nose with her tail. “It works in dreams. Usually.”

They walked in silence for a time, weaving between the rocks and peering into the darkness ahead. Was this the Ghastly Gorge? Some distant Badlands canyon? Dry, dead trees hunched over them with a menacing air, their branches curling down like claws that flexed and rattled in the wind. Sometimes she would turn and her heart would skip a beat when she saw a face, only to realize it was a pattern in the rock, the illusion disappearing as soon as she took another step. If Twilight stopped and spent too long squinting in one direction then stars twinkled at the edges of her vision.

A dim, circular light appeared in the distance, followed shortly by five more. They bobbed and shifted as they moved from left to right, then disappeared around a corner where two paths in the canyon intersected.

“Over there!” Twilight sped into a trot, her and Midnight’s hoofsteps echoing behind her.

They stopped as they reached the corner, peeking around. A party of several ponies were navigating the canyon in a dispersed but strict formation, lanterns hanging from their belts casting a pale silvery light into the night. At first Twilight thought they were Royal Guards, but after a moment more details jumped out at her. Their armor had more coverage than the guards she knew, with long metal greaves protecting their legs, helmets crowned with sharp steel horns, and muzzles encased in hooked metal beaks. They scanned the canyon through narrow slits in a curtain of chainmail that hung to their shoulders, guarding their throats and giving them the appearance of faceless, beaked griffons.

Rather than the polished gold of the Royal Guards from Twilight’s time, these ponies wore armor of gleaming steel. Complex runes were engraved into the metal with intricate patterns of silver inlay. Small diamonds were set into the runes, glittering like constellations as the lantern light hit them. Some of the ponies carried barbed pikes against their shoulders, the hilts decorated with the same diamond-and-silver runes as their armor. Others pulled heavy arbalests on sleds behind them, with bolts the size of a pony strapped to their sides.

At the head of the group stood Princess Luna, wearing a far less encumbering but similarly decorated set of armor. Her face and neck were unprotected, allowing her ethereal mane of starry firmament to billow out behind her. Though she was no longer the size of a young filly, she was still smaller than the Luna Twilight knew, standing only a few inches taller than her guards.

Midnight hummed, speaking in a thoughtful whisper. “They are hunting something.”

“How can you know?” Twilight asked, watching as the group came to a stop. Luna’s horn glowed, her eyes squinting into the darkness.

“I know what a predator looks like,” Midnight said. “That mare is not prey.”

Twilight pursed her lips. “We should be careful.”

Princess Luna stopped abruptly, her wings flaring out and revealing the silvery blades strapped to their sides. Immediately her entourage spread out, setting their lanterns down ahead of her and forming into a pair of measured lines with the ease of obvious practice. The first line rolled their shoulders, stabbing the sharp butts of their pikes into the ground and leveling their long, sharp heads on the darkness ahead. The ponies of the second line shrugged their yokes from their shoulders and turned their arbalests to face forwards, rushing to load the huge bolts into the massive weapons.

Twilight watched with bated breath, looking anxiously from the guards, to Luna’s stern expression, to the dark canyon. The silver lantern light framed long, eerie shadows that danced across the rocky walls as the arbalest gunners spun heavy winches attached to their weapons with both forehooves, tightening the powerful springs.

Luna’s horn glowed. A lantern floated off the ground wrapped in the blue of her magic and flew forwards, hitting the ground with the loud crack of breaking glass. Rather than go out, the silver light inside drifted upwards in a stream of tiny glowing motes, the wind carrying it deeper into the canyon.

The earth under the shattered lantern erupted with a tremendous, ear-splitting roar. Boulders the size of a wagon flew through the air like pebbles, bouncing off the walls and cracking into a dozen pieces. An impenetrable cloud of dust was thrown up by the explosion, swirling and twisting around some huge mass within. Twilight caught brief glimpses of pitch-black limbs and twinkling stars as the ground shuddered underhoof, the vibration of crumbling stone and sound of grinding rock combining into a single, heart-stopping sensation that made her teeth chatter and her bones ache.

When Twilight looked to Luna, the alicorn was nowhere to be seen. The guards in the front row adjusted their stances, and the runes engraving the long hafts of their pikes began to glow and hum.

Gradually the dust began to settle, and Twilight found herself squinting in confusion at the thing within. At first it looked like a curtain of stars stretching across the canyon from wall to wall, but she couldn’t see anything behind it. Where there should’ve been more craggy rock and winding walls there was only impenetrable blackness.

The stars shifted, and Twilight gasped as the wall rushed forwards. It lurched and skittered, the movement allowing her to pick out the shape of six stomping legs. A pair of thick claws emerged from the mass as it reared up and unleashed a furious hiss, a pointed stinger bobbing and twitching at the end of a bulbous tail behind it.

The silver-armored ponies roared back, angling their pikes towards the monster as it fell onto them. There was an ear-splitting crack, and for a split second the entire canyon was illuminated with pale silver light. Twilight could clearly see the shape of the beast outlined by the harsh shadows wrapped around it, its body writhing and twisting in fury; a massive scorpion, its arching tail reaching all the way to the craggy lip of the canyon and its vantablack carapace absorbing all light but for the star-like pinpricks of white dotting the surface.

The moment was gone as quick as it came. The scorpion flinched away from the clash, and the deep shadows of night rushed in to fill the canyon once more.

“That’s a scorpius malus!” Twilight whispered, eyes widening in recognition. She’d done some reading after her confrontation with the ursa minor in Ponyville, fascinated by the creature’s astral biology. “They were wiped out centuries ago, even before Nightmare Moon!”

“Then this is another vision of the past,” Midnight said. “These aren’t just dreams. They’re memories.”

The twang of thick cords bounced off the canyon walls as two of the arbalesters fired, launching a pair of huge bolts into the scorpius’s bulk. One ricocheted away, but the other punched through its carapace, the impact accompanied by another flash of bright silver light.

Behind the scorpius, revealed by the light, descended Princess Luna.

She landed on the monster’s back with her wings flared, a ring of weapons orbiting her like murderous silver moons glowing with her magic. She pierced the creature’s thick shell with a pair of broad-headed spears, drawing an anguished shriek from its maw. It whirled, swinging with one heavy claw and lunging with its tail as she leapt off its back, throwing a trio of spinning axes a rapid one-two-three beat, each of the heavy ax heads streaking through the night like comets before smacking home with the sound of cracking glass.

Turning to confront Luna, the scorpius exposed its back to the double line of her escorts. The two remaining arbalests fired, each one striking squarely and burying deep into the monster’s flanks. It howled, stumbling to one side and smacking into a canyon wall. The earth shuddered as stones rained from above, bouncing off steel armor and starry carapace alike.

“The books I read never explained what happened to the scorpius,” Twilight said, watching the fight in awe. “Nopony ever knew. They just disappeared, along with so many other deadly creatures.”

“Your Equestrian scholars are naive foals,” Midnight scoffed. “Monsters do not disappear. They are slain.”

Princess Luna and her soldiers worked in perfect synchrony. Whenever the scorpius rounded on the tight formation of armored escorts, Luna would coalesce from the shadows behind it, burying her weapons into its astral flesh. As it turned to defend itself from her, the soldiers would harass it with their pikes and bolts, drawing its attention again, and the cycle would repeat. 

Despite its fury, the scorpius was helpless. Gradually its movements slowed and its screeches weakened. Its sleek, nearly invisible carapace took on the appearance of a porcupine as spears, swords, axes, and bolts stuck through its shell. Luna lashed out with a long scythe, carving its limbs away one by one—first its tail, then a minute later, a leg—until finally it collapsed onto its side, wheezing and growling ineffectively.

Luna landed gracefully next to the monster’s head, her hooves alighting in its viscous, sparkling black blood. It hissed as she lifted her scythe, the only weapon still remaining in her magic from the dozens she’d started with, and stabbed it into the side of its head.

The scorpius spasmed, every limb twitching for several seconds, then fell still.

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” Twilight’s brow furrowed in thought. “Did Luna kill every monster in Equestria? That’s absurd! And why wouldn’t it be in books? She would’ve been a hero!”

The silver-armored soldiers straightened stiffly out of their combat stances, exchanging glances through their armored faces. They fell out of their formation, pulling out axes and knives as they began climbing over the scorpius corpse.

“Would she?” Twilight looked to her side, meeting Midnight’s thoughtful gaze. “Would you think she’s a hero? For killing monsters?”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Midnight—”

She was interrupted by a sudden pain stabbing at the base of her horn. Twilight cried out, collapsing onto her side as all the heat was sucked from her body at terrifying speed. She looked up, teeth chattering, and saw Princess Luna standing over her with a hateful glare, scythe raised and dripping starry blood from its curved tip.

Twilight raised a shivering hoof. “Luna, wait!”

The scythe arced down, filling her vision with the silver light reflecting off its blade.

Twilight flinched as a rumbling boom filled her ears and a wave of prickly heat washed over her coat. She gasped, opening her eyes and blinking up at a clear blue sky. Luna was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear ponies screaming, shattering glass, and pounding hooves.

She climbed back to her hooves as she looked around. Ponies ran in every direction around her, chased by packs of grinning changelings. One mare shrieked as she was tackled from behind and dragged down, immediately swarmed by a dozen chittering changelings that dragged her away screaming. Fires blazed all over the marbled streets, engulfing storefronts and hugging the city’s gold-banded towers, casting long, dancing shadows across the pitted cobbles.

“Canterlot.” Midnight appeared beside her, scanning the chaotic scene around them. “This is the day it fell.”

“The changeling attack.” Twilight nodded, recovering from the abrupt transition as she took in her surroundings. “But I don’t remember Luna being at the wedding.” She frowned, trying to find the Princess’s distinctive blue coat.

“She must be close. You said aimless walking works, yes?” Midnight broke into a brisk trot without waiting for an answer, slipping around a pair of royal guards locked in combat with half a dozen drones.

“Wh—hey! Wait!” Twilight ran after her, mind racing and chest heaving. Had Princess Luna been in Canterlot during the attack? Why hadn’t Twilight seen her? Was there a chance that Twilight might see another of herself, as Luna remembered her? Her recollection of the wedding was still hazy; she remembered Chrysalis revealing herself and defeating Celestia, and a frantic run for the Elements, but after that it was just violence and noise. 

Twilight’s heart wrenched as she dodged between panicked ponies and snarling changelings, jumped over limp bodies, and ran through billowing clouds of angry black smoke. Were these real memories of real ponies that had died just out of sight of her centuries ago, or just imagined scenes created by Luna’s mind to fill in what she hadn’t personally witnessed? It felt so terribly real, and everywhere she looked she saw visions of the future, of dead streets cluttered with bones and crumbling bricks.

All these ponies were going to die—had died. Even the ones that escaped today would be dead within months, lost in the floods, all because she hadn’t been there for them. The screams around her mixed with the ones from her memories, each one like a spear driven into her breast. And the fact that she was letting herself be distracted like this, right now, when Luna needed her more than ever, only made her hate herself even more.

A tingling warmth pressed against her side, pulling her from her reverie. Glancing over, she saw Midnight leaning into her, her slitted eyes focused ahead.

Twilight cringed in shame as she realized her other half had noticed her weakness. “S-sorry,” she muttered. “I just—”

“We’re together,” Midnight said, cutting her off. Her voice was firm and level. Unaccusing.

Twilight flinched, having expected some cutting remark about her episode, only to blink in confusion when it never came. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Look, ahead.”

Twilight blinked the wetness from her eyes, bringing the street back into focus. She gasped as she spotted Princess Celestia, her pristine white coat stained with blood and smoke but her posture as regal as always. The Princess lit her horn, brilliant sunlight flooding the street around her and sending changelings stumbling back with angry hisses. Royal guards galloped forth, driving their spears into the stunned changelings and then dragging shocked civilians back inside a formation gathered protectively behind Princess Celestia.

The Princess pointed forwards, her voice cutting through the mayhem as clear as day. “Keep going, my little ponies! Don’t stop!”

She led the way, her glowing horn leaving a trail of dazed changelings behind for the guards to finish off as wide-eyed civilians followed close behind. At the rear of the procession, Princess Luna ran into view, her lips set in a stern frown.

A group of changelings surged from an alley, trying to grab at some of the ponies in the formation. Luna snarled, a sparkling white star zipping from her horn. It pierced the closest changeling’s chest like an arrow before emerging from its back, arcing through each of the invaders in quick succession and then returning to the tip of her horn. The changelings fell into fresh puddles of green ichor, twitching.

“Luna!” Twilight shouted, but the Princess didn’t hear her call. Instead she ran after the group of fleeing civilians, striking down any changelings that tried to attack.

Midnight was already quickening into a gallop. Twilight put on speed as they reached an intersection, rounding the edge of a smoking corner store, and—

A wave of nausea swelled in Twilight’s gut. She grunted, squeezing her eyes shut as the world spun around her, and when she opened them, she found herself standing in a wide room of smooth wooden walls and broken floor-to-ceiling windows. She blinked, looking around at the tables and chairs piled haphazardly in the corners. She could see the streets of Canterlot through the windows—she was on the second floor—with royal guards on alert just outside while civilians milled anxiously inside their perimeter. Plumes of smoke billowed through the sky, barely a block away.

“We are trapped, sister.”

Twilight jumped at the sound of Princess Luna’s muffled voice coming from downstairs.

“The changelings have herded us like cattle and hold watch on every approach,” she continued. She spoke firmly, her tone urgent. “Our only hope is to clear the path to the train station!”

“Many of our ponies will die if we do that, Luna,” Celestia answered. Calm, but with a clear note of exhaustion. “We can’t protect them if we go on the offensive.”

Spotting the stairs, Twilight began to creep across the room, placing each hoof carefully. She didn’t know if Luna would be able to hear her or not, but so far every time the Princess had spotted her it had led to another disorienting transition between dreams, and this was a conversation that Twilight was determined not to miss.

“Thou intendest to protect them whilst backed against the mountain till the changelings grow bored, then?” Luna countered. “Ponies will die. If we remain here, they shall all die.”

“There must be a way,” Celestia said hoarsely. “I can’t order a refugee train to attack, Luna. Even if we make it through, we would lose so many.”

Luna let out an audible sigh. Twilight’s ear twitched at the scraping of shoes against wood. “There is no other path, sister,” she said quietly. “The wicked queen hath outmaneuvered us. If we cannot pay the toll now, it shall only grow worse.”

Midnight appeared at Twilight’s side as she reached the top of the stairs. She paused, exchanging a glance with her darker half, and then started down the steps. The stairwell was built into the wall, meaning she wouldn’t be able to see the lower floor until she was halfway down.

“I wish we didn’t have to pay any toll.” Celestia’s voice was so soft that Twilight had to stop and strain to make out her words. “I feel the loss of every single pony. Twilight tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. Now all this… it’s my fault.” Celestia’s words made Twilight’s heart ache. “If I could give myself up to fix this, I would.”

“We both know the folly of such a fantasy,” Luna said consolingly. “Thou knowest I hate it, too, but it must be done. And if we do not escape, there shall be nopony to return to rescue Twilight and her friends.”

Both Princesses fell silent as the sound of the door opening interrupted them. Armored hooves clicked against the floor, followed by a new speaker.

“Princesses.” Shining Armor’s strained voice nearly sent Twilight to her knees. “Some of the scouts came back. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold here.” He hesitated before asking, “What are your orders?”

“No orders yet, Captain,” Celestia said. Unlike the uncertainty from mere seconds before, now she spoke with calm confidence, all signs of exhaustion or doubt gone from her voice. “Allow my sister and me to consult a moment longer.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shining Armor stomped a quick salute, then trotted away. The door squealed on its hinges, the anxious chatter from outside briefly leaking through before it shut.

“Thy lies serve thee well,” Luna said. “But they will not stop a changeling army.”

Forcing herself back into motion, Twilight crept further down the stairs to the landing. She poked one eye around the corner, spotting Celestia. Luna was standing out of sight.

Now that she was alone with her sister again, Celestia had dropped the facade of certainty. Her eyes darted about uncertainly, her shoulders slumped and her voice weary. “We could use the amulets.”

“The amulets?” Luna echoed incredulously. “We did not extract them from the castle to use them, sister. The exact opposite, in fact.”

“We’re alicorns. They won’t affect us like they would a mortal pony.” Celestia turned away from Luna, facing the wall of windows through which she could see the crowd standing outside. “And they were created for our use. If there was ever a time…”

“We put them behind us,” Luna cautioned sternly. “It was thine idea!”

“And you’re the one that said we should keep using them,” Celestia said, turning and staring intently to where Twilight assumed Luna was standing. “Think of all the lives we could save, Luna!”

There was a long moment where neither sister said anything. Twilight frowned, considering what she’d heard. What amulets were they talking about? Cadance had hidden the shards of three amulets in her lab, the amulets she said Celestia had used to flood the world. Was this the first step on the path that led Celestia to that terrible decision?

Luna was the one to break the silence. “Thou art correct, as always,” she said stiffly. The tinkle of magic drifted across the room, and a couple seconds later three amulets floated into Twilight’s view. Each one had a vibrant gemstone set into an elaborate golden neckpiece: a sparkling sapphire that glittered like the ocean on a clear night, a verdant emerald that appeared to writhe with life, and a brilliant ruby that seemed to throb within its frame like a beating heart. “Take care, sister.”

“You know me, Luna.” Celestia smiled wanly as she accepted the amulets in her own magic. “Be ready. The changelings will not sit idle once they realize what we’re trying.”

Celestia walked out of view, and a few seconds later Twilight heard the door open and swing shut. She looked to Midnight, who was crouched low beside her.

Your Princess is alone, she said. We should attempt to confront her.

Twilight nodded. Let me talk to her. Maybe here she’ll be able to recognize me.

And if not?

Twilight grimaced. Then we’ll try something else.

Straightening up, Twilight took a step forward and nearly walked straight into Princess Luna.

She stiffened, looking up and meeting the Princess’s angry glare. Her long horn glowed, silvery light reflecting off the walls.

“Thou dost not belong here.”

Twilight’s vision burst into searing white. She flinched, stumbling back as stars popped in her eyes and her ears rang, followed a second later by a sudden lurching sensation in her stomach. It felt like she was falling upwards, drifting off the ground with increasingly sickening speed.

“Oof!” Twilight smacked to a stop against hard earth. She groaned, blinking the blurriness from her eyes and struggling to her hooves.

I’m getting sick of these games, little flower, Midnight growled. We’re bumbling about like blind foals and no closer to our goal!

“Ugh.” Twilight rubbed at her head, looking up and taking in her surroundings. Dark trees flanked her in every direction, the thick canopy blocking almost all light. “I—I think we’re making progress. Every time we’ve seen Luna, she’s sent us closer to the present.”

But why does she toy with us like this? We’ve come to save her, and she forces us through this maze of memories!

Twilight sighed as she pushed herself into a trot, weaving between tree trunks and over gnarled roots. “We must be almost there. The last dream was only a month before the floods.” The undergrowth was just as thick as the canopy, leaves and twigs crunching underhoof as she squeezed through it. “No matter how long it takes us, we can’t give up. This is our best chance at fixing things.” Though she didn’t say it out loud, she knew Midnight would hear the unspoken implication: if they failed here, they didn’t have anything else to fall back on.

Despite her determination, Twilight could already feel the mental strain weighing on her. The mix of fresh mysteries, revelation, and emotional turmoil was exhausting, but she couldn’t allow it to slow her down. She just had to bottle it all up, every question and heartache, and focus on moving ahead, no matter how strangely hollow it made her feel.

After a few minutes of walking it became clear to Twilight that they were in the Everfree Forest. Even if she couldn’t tell where exactly inside the haunted wood they were, the endless, indistinguishable wall of trees in every direction couldn’t be anywhere else.

It was strange, seeing the forest as it used to be again. She’d only been in it a few times before the floods, and in her most recent visit it had been resting far under the waves. She hadn’t had any chance to peek under the canopy back then, but now she found herself imagining what it looked like.

A flash of sunlight ahead of her pulled her from her thoughts. She quickened into a trot, jumping through a break in the trees and coming out onto a rocky ledge.

Ahead of her, across a rope bridge gently swaying in the wind, was the Castle of the Two Sisters.

Twilight glanced towards Midnight before starting across the bridge. She couldn’t help but compare the castle to how it’d appeared when she found it at the bottom of the ocean. Compared to its flooded state, the ancient stones looked almost pristine as she walked through the arched entryway. The tapestries on the walls, faded and threadbare, still retained their color and intricate embroidery. She knew she was only walking through an old memory, but nonetheless it felt like she’d traveled back in time.

Her ears twitched at a muffled sound from ahead, barely audible over the clopping of her hooves. She paused, tilting her head and angling her ears until it came again—a pained shout, coming from deeper inside the castle.

It’s coming from the throne room, Midnight said, stepping ahead. Where we found her.

The expedition! Twilight’s horn glowed as she channeled her magic into the form of a hasty teleportation spell. The researchers that were working out of my library sent an expedition here, with Princess Luna! This must be when she put herself to sleep! With a crack and flash, she flung herself across the castle.

The castle was quiet when she reappeared outside the grand double doors of the throne room, tapestries fluttering around her as she displaced the air. As the lingering sparkles from her teleportation faded she realized that it was darker, too, the sunlight that had been streaming through the windows replaced with the pale white glow of the moon. One door was cracked open just enough for a pony to slip through, obscuring what awaited on the other side.

Slowly Twilight crept forward, poking her head through the gap.

Princess Luna sat in the center of the circular chamber, her head hung low and her shoulders slumped. Her wings drooped beside her, the long feathers splayed out over the floor. Her astral mane billowed about as if in the midst of a hurricane, the clear night sky usually held within contaminated by a dark red nebula that twisted across it in angry tendrils.

There were ponies scattered around her, all lying down with their eyes closed and expressions peaceful. A couple wore the armor of royal guards, but most were dressed in simple saddlebags, hats, and jackets. Many of them were unicorns, and from what few cutie marks she could see, Twilight assumed this was the research party that had accompanied the Princess into the Everfree.

They weren’t breathing.

Luna remained totally still in the middle of the scene, facing away from the door. Her billowing mane was the only movement in the room. Twilight glanced to her side, exchanging looks with Midnight.

Just as Twilight was steeling herself to step inside, a trio of other ponies walked cautiously into the room from a smaller side door. They wore armor like the Royal Guards, but instead of gold their bodies were wrapped in polished silver. Each one had the distinctive slitted eyes and leathery wings of a bat pony, and their hooves made no sound as they approached the Princess.

“Your Highness?” the lead bat pony asked.

“Thou shouldest not approach me,” Luna whispered, drawing away from them.

The bat ponies stopped a respectful distance away. “What happened?”

Luna didn’t say anything for a long moment. Twilight’s throat tightened as she thought back to her own past, how she’d felt when she realized she’d hurt one of her closest friends. In that moment she’d wished more than anything to take it back. She would’ve given anything, even her own life, to go back just a few seconds and try another path. The days following that moment had been the darkest days of her life, and not just because she spent them at the bottom of the ocean surrounded by bodies.

“I have—committed a terrible crime,” Luna said, her voice hoarse. “Leave me here.”

The bat ponies frowned, exchanging looks between themselves. “We can’t leave you here, your Highness. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous to whom?” Luna countered, a bitterness creeping into her voice. “Dost thou not see these breathless sleepers around me? I—cannot control myself!” Her shoulders shuddered as she paused to let out a choking sob. “If ye stay then I will hurt you! Bring the bodies back home for burial, and leave me here among the monsters, or ye shall hang for treason!”

The bat ponies stayed where they were. They looked between each other in confusion, before one spoke up. “We have our oaths, your Highness. We are not afraid of you.”

“Foals.” Luna uttered the word with more exhaustion than disdain. “Ye should be. How can ye not fear a goddess who fears herself?”

“We have our oaths,” the guard repeated. “And our faith. We will stay with you.”

Luna let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I cannot say whether thy loyalty is a blessing or a curse. But I will take solace in it.” Finally she lifted her head, looking towards the bat ponies, and Twilight could see the blood tears streaming down her cheeks and the fangs poking past her lips. “Silver Star, return to thy kin and bid them to flee into the Night. I do not know if my sister will defeat this corruption, but thou art not bound to serve her in my absence.”

Silver Star dipped his head and stepped back. “What of yourself, your Highness?”

“I will stay here. I know not for how long, but thou shalt not come look for me. When it is time, I will call.” She looked sadly to the other two bat ponies in turn, who stiffened to attention. “These two shall be my guardians until then.”

“As you wish, your Highness.” Silver Star lifted his head. “Nox Impavida.”

Luna gave him a small nod and a wan smile. “Nox Impavida.”

After several seconds of hesitation, Silver Star turned in place and marched out of the chamber, leaving Luna alone with the two other silver-armored guards. She drew in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, looking up at the moon through a crumbled hole high in the chamber’s walls.

“Lay down and close thine eyes, my faithful guardians,” she said.

The guards did as they were told, one lying down on each side of their Princess. They closed their eyes and rested their heads on their forelegs, their tails curling around their flanks. The soft tinkle of magic drifted through the air as Luna’s slender horn began to glow.

A sudden wave of drowsiness washed over Twilight. She stumbled the rest of the way through the door, struggling to keep her eyes open, and fell onto her side. She didn’t feel the hard stone catch her. She felt as if she was falling through a thick bed of clouds, floating down on a cool wind like a twirling leaf in autumn. She tried to find the ground, feeling out with a hoof, but no matter what direction she reached in, she felt only bare wisps of sensation that would disappear so fast she wasn’t sure if she was feeling anything at all. A tingling hoof pressed against hers, and she saw her own eyes looking back at her in the dark, slitted and bloodshot.

Twilight jerked her head out of the water. She was lying on her side in a shallow, gently sloshing lake, the water as smooth as glass. Reflected within it she saw a sky split in two, one side a dark, throbbing red, roiling clouds swirling around a blood moon that seemed to rotate and twist in place like a huge, angry eye. The other was a clear night sky, the twinkling stars swaying to and fro like tiny candles bobbing on the surface of a lake. There was a gentle rain drizzling from above, each drop sending little ripples across the water, and in the waves she caught glimpses of other things—burning cities, marching armies, smiling ponies—Luna’s parallel dreams, each one blinking in and out of existence in a heartbeat.

Twilight stood, shaking the drowsiness from her head. She could see Princess Luna asleep in the middle of the lake, resting peacefully on the little island in the center lit by the luminescence of flowers and mushrooms.

“We did it,” she said breathlessly. Looking behind her, she could see a distant border where the lake water turned into starlight, drifting up into an infinite curtain of stars. “We made it to the center.”

“Finally.” Midnight looked up, focusing on something above them. “Now we can do what we came here to do.”

Arcing through the split sky, two silhouettes battled for dominance. Luna’s Guardian could barely be seen until it flew under the angry red clouds that dominated half the horizon, its astral form silhouetted clearly against them. It twisted its head, firing a beam of starlight from the tip of its long horn. Opposite it, Luna’s Wyrd lifted one of its bloodstained wings, erecting a thick red shield that absorbed the beam and then shattered, splitting into a thousand drops of blood that rained down into the waters below.

“Right.” Twilight nodded, spreading her stance. “So, here’s the plan. We—”

Midnight spread her stance and roared as she launched a lance of lavender magic towards the Wyrd, the water rippling and splashing around her hooves. The Wyrd stiffened, disappearing in a flash of red just as the attack cut through the sky where it’d been. It popped back into being a short distance away, baring its fangs and hissing in fury.

“Midnight!” Twilight stomped a hoof. “That’s not a plan!”

“You make the plan.” Midnight’s lips peeled back as she answered the Wyrd with her own equally bloody snarl. “I’ll kill the monster.”

She ran forwards, hooves kicking up fountains of water in her wake and horn glowing lavender with crackling arcs of red lightning. She pulled two jets of water from the lake as she ran, draining their heat until they formed into a pair of misshapen spears, and threw them ahead of her, each one leaving a hanging mist of vapor in their wake.

The Wyrd jerked its head, lifting a curtain of blood from the lake in front of it. The curtain hardened into a firm wall, intercepting the ice spears, and a second later burst apart as the Wyrd leapt through it, meeting Midnight head-on.

Twilight flinched as Midnight and the Wyrd locked horns, snarling and stomping like crazed animals. Even watching from a distance, her connection to Midnight let her experience a shadow of the battle as if she were in it herself. She could feel the muscles in her neck straining, the excited shriek of magic as she twisted her horn to try and hit her enemy with bolts of magic, the water splashing around her hooves as she fought to keep her balance while dislodging her foe, and most breathtaking of all, the pure hatred welling in her breast, so powerful it threatened to swallow all conscious thought.

Twilight stumbled and shook her head, looking away and withdrawing from her connection with Midnight. She ran towards Luna instead, the water kicked up by her hooves tickling at her belly.

“Princess!” she called, eyes fixed on Luna’s sleeping form. She grinned as she reached the small island in the center of the lake and climbed up the sandy beach, just a few steps away from the cushion the Princess reclined on. She looked utterly at peace here, without the bloody tears that were stained into her cheeks in the waking world.

A sudden wave of force shoved Twilight back into the lake. She yelped, falling on her back and looking up at the astral Guardian that floated down to stand in front of her, blocking her path.

“Wait! It’s okay!” Twilight climbed carefully back to her hooves, looking to where she imagined the eyes would be on the Guardian’s featureless head. “I’m on your side!”

The Guardian didn’t move. After a few seconds its head twisted slightly.

“You have to recognize me,” Twilight tried, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “I’m Twilight Sparkle! My friends and I rescued Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon! Please, let me help her!”

The Guardian didn’t move.

“You’re part of her subconscious, right?” Twilight walked to the side, trying to get a glimpse at Luna. The Guardian remained perfectly still, but somehow remained directly in front of her, blocking her view of the Princess. “Don’t you recognize me?”

The Guardian showed no reaction. Twilight grimaced, plopping back onto her haunches. Was she doing something wrong? She wracked her memory of the dreamwalking lessons Luna had given her, but this was so far beyond the basic principles she’d been taught she couldn’t even guess at what she might need to do.

She bit her lip, frustration welling in her chest and coming out in an angry stomp. “Let me through!”

The Guardian lowered its stance, answering her with a wispy, warning hiss.

A sharp cry of pain from Midnight drew her attention. Twilight whirled, watching as the other mare was sent tumbling across the lake, trailing blood. Luna’s Wyrd raced after her, its maw open wide to reveal rows of deadly fangs inside poised to strike.

“No!” Twilight gasped, horn sparking to life. Without thinking she teleported to Midnight’s side, summoning a spherical shield around them just in time to intercept the Wyrd’s descending fangs.

“What are you doing?” Midnight growled, wincing as she rolled onto her belly. “I do not need your help, little flower!”

Twilight grunted, transferring the energy from her shield into a shockwave that sent the Wyrd stumbling backwards. She grabbed Midnight’s shoulder and helped her back to her hooves. “We’re doing this together, right?”

Midnight opened her mouth, and Twilight could see the scathing retort forming in her mind. But instead she hesitated, briefly meeting Twilight’s eyes and then looking away.

“Together, yes. It won’t stand a chance.”

“Great.” Twilight smiled. “I’ll focus on defense. You do what you do best.”

Midnight snorted, rolling her shoulders. “You would be a pitifully poor attacker.”

Luna’s Wyrd drew their attention with a raspy snarl. It squared off against the two of them, its tail lashing sharply behind it and its horn dripping a thick stream of blood. Now that she was closer, Twilight was struck by the tangible hunger in its eyes. Under all the scars and blood, it was still a perfect replica of Princess Luna, and she found herself wondering if this was what Midnight would’ve become, if Twilight hadn’t tried showing her another way.

Midnight struck first, swinging her head down and launching an arc of crackling lavender energy that screeched through the air like a sawblade, throwing up a curtain of glittering water behind it. The Wyrd deflected the attack with an explosive burst of red magic, then rushed in, long talons extending from its hooves as it pounced. Twilight clenched her jaw and erected a shield, throwing the monster back.

The fight quickly fell into a rhythm. Midnight unleashed a ceaseless assault, attacking from every direction with bolts of magic, sharpened spikes of ice, jabs from her horn, and bucks of her hind legs, but none of her attacks made a solid connection. Twilight could barely keep up with her, putting all of her focus on deflecting the Wyrd’s own attacks, flinching back as it shrieked and wailed its hate. They were locked in stalemate, neither side able to hurt the other.

But Twilight could feel her reactions slowing, and Midnight’s too. No matter how determined they might be, Luna was still the Princess of Dreams, and her wyrd showed no sign of tiring. Twilight’s shields went from all-protecting domes to small, flickering discs that existed only long enough to block one strike before dissipating, and soon they began to crack and chip as they were struck. Despite her fury, Midnight’s attacks were growing weaker, her challenging roars less common. And all the while Twilight caught glimpses of the Guardian standing in the background, watching impassively.

Finally a blow made it through. Twilight cried out as she was thrown to the side, bouncing and skipping across the lake before rolling to a stop. She groaned, blinking the stars from her eyes as her ears rang. Glancing to her left, she saw the edge of the lake dissolving into starlight. To her right, she saw Midnight dodge two lunges from the Wyrd’s wings, then catch a blast of magic that knocked her onto her back with a sharp yelp.

The Wyrd stomped its hooves and flared its wings, roaring a challenge as Twilight struggled into a sitting position. She wasn’t bleeding. She wasn’t even bruised. But she could feel the impact of the Wyrd’s attacks in a persistent, painful throbbing at the base of her horn. Dream or not, if it hit her hard enough she’d be helpless, and it wouldn’t hesitate to consume her consciousness just like all its past victims.

Midnight rolled back to her hooves with a frustrated scream, stomping and kicking at the water around her. Twilight let out a quiet grunt before teleporting to her side and laying a consoling hoof on her shoulder.

“Midnight, calm down!” she said. “Getting mad doesn’t help anything!”

“Mad?” Midnight echoed haggardly, shaking her head. “How can you not be mad? This mindless creature is beating us, even when we work together!” She jerked her head towards the posturing Wyrd, lips pulled back into a snarl. “Don’t you realize what happens if we lose here?”

Twilight flinched. “Well—”

“We will die, Twilight!” Midnight snapped. “We’ll stop breathing on the floor of Shaper’s throne room, another victim of hundreds! Our friends will never know what happened! We will fail!”

Twilight blinked, stunned by the emotion in Midnight’s voice.

“What?!” Midnight spat. “You know I’m right! You feel it, too! Or you would, if you didn’t push it all onto me!”

Twilight frowned, taken aback by the accusation. “I don’t—”

“You are!” Midnight turned towards the Wyrd and spread her stance, tail lashing behind her and blood tears welling in her eyes. “You think you’re calm right now because you’re good at handling stress? Ha! You bottle it up and hide it away like always, little flower! But that’s fine!” Midnight’s horn began to glow, the whine of magic building around them. “I’ll take it! I hold the pain and you do the thinking! That’s how we work best!”

An arcane wind circled around them, tugging at their manes and sending ripples through the water as Midnight pulled more and more magic into her horn. Twilight watched in silence, seeing the mess of emotion in the heaving of Midnight’s chest, the stains on her cheeks, the twitching of her ears and the clench of her jaw. And she realized.

Twilight reached out, taking Midnight’s hoof with her own. The other mare looked down in confusion, going to pull it away, but before she could move Twilight closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel.

All the pain. The shame. The terrible breathtaking dread of what might happen, squeezed into a tight knot by the pressure of expectation. The white-hot rage with nothing to take it out on, an inferno inside her that made her want to scream and stomp until she collapsed from exhaustion. The tentative hope lingering under it all, wrapped protectively around the love she had for her friends. All the little feelings she had pushed aside for later, pressed down and packaged into neat items on a checklist that she could ignore, as long as she kept moving forward.

It was there for just an instant before Midnight yanked her hoof away, taking the flood of emotion back with it. Twilight gasped, opening her eyes and gazing intently into Midnight’s glare.

“This is how you feel?” she whispered. “All the time?”

“It’s what you gave me! Look out!” Midnight pushed her back just as a thick tendril of blood lashed down in the space she’d been standing, throwing a curtain of water up between them. “It’s my duty!”

“That’s how you see yourself?” Twilight leaned to the side, trying to catch Midnight’s eye through the falling water. “But—that’s terrible!”

“You misunderstand as always, little flower!” Midnight kept her gaze focused on Twilight, sidestepping a wild lunge of the Wyrd’s wing. “Yes, it’s terrible—” Midnight grit her teeth and shoved the monster back with a blast of magic “—but I’m not the victim!”

Twilight stepped forwards, pausing as she tried to gather her thoughts, only for the Wyrd to lash out with its other wing and catch her square in the chest. The blow drove the air from her lungs, lifting her off her hooves and sending her soaring backwards.

Twilight struck the ground with a strangled yelp, bouncing and rolling before finally coming to a stop with her ears ringing. She blinked in shock, gasping for breath as she lifted her head, squinting into a blinding flash of light as the shriek of magic filled the air.

Slowly the image came into focus. Midnight was standing over her with a furious snarl, meeting a beam of energy from the Wyrd with her own. The beams hissed and spit on contact before fizzling out with a deafening boom, sending Midnight stumbling back with a pained wince.

“You see?” Midnight straightened up with a bloody grin, breathing hard. “I can take the pain!”

“But—” Twilight climbed weakly to her hooves, muttering under her breath. All the pain she’d pushed down, the hundreds of times she’d set it aside for later, all this time she’d only been putting it on Midnight? “I n-never meant to—I—”

“Focus, little flower!” Midnight looked ahead and met the charging Wyrd head-on, stabbing her horn into its chest and shoving it back with a roar of fury. Blood dripped from her horn as she yanked it free, scrambling away from a bite aimed for her throat. “I need you!”

Twilight looked up, tears brimming in her eyes. “But I hurt you.”

Midnight froze, turning to face Twilight. “What?”

Twilight took a faltering step forwards, staring into Midnight’s eyes. “It’s my fault.”

Midnight frowned, lifting a hoof with uncertainty. Behind her the Wyrd hissed, and a writhing tendril of blood burst from its side and smacked into the side of Midnight’s head. Midnight grunted as she was thrown to the ground, repelling the Wyrd’s follow-up with a shockwave of lavender energy.

“This is not the time, Twilight!” Midnight leapt back to her hooves, dodging a blast from the Wyrd’s horn. “Now, of all times, you want to process these emotions?” Beads of water burst up around her, hardening into ice shards that she sent hurtling towards the Wyrd, forcing it back. “Let me bear it, for just a little longer!”

“No.” Twilight’s voice cracked. She wiped the tears from her eyes, summoning a shield in front of them just as the Wyrd pounced with a deafening screech. The shield cracked as it impacted, but didn’t break. “No more.”

“This isn’t the time!” Midnight insisted, watching as the Wyrd took flight and began to draw magic into its horn. “Do you want us to die?”

“What you’ve dealt with—” Twilight reached out, taking one of Midnight’s hooves firmly into her own. “That’s not living.”

As Midnight tried to pull away, Twilight closed her eyes and looked inwards, finding the barrier between them and forcing herself through it.

Where before she’d faced a flood of emotion, now it was an ocean. Twilight dove into it headfirst, pushing into the murky depths as the waves pushed her in every direction. The sea grabbed her like a riptide, pulling her down in competing currents of fury and fear, followed by a moment of panic. She realized that if she didn’t turn back then she would never escape, doomed to drown.

But if she didn’t keep going, then Midnight would have to face that fate alone. Like she’d always done.

Twilight surrendered herself to the darkness, breathing in deep. Cold, grasping claws pulled her down, whispering into her ears. She was ashamed of how she’d treated her friends and revolted by what she’d become. She was afraid that after everything, she wouldn’t be good enough. That she’d fail. She hated her world for ending and leaving her behind. She hated Shaper, hated all the monsters that had forced her to fight.

And most of all she hated herself, for selfishly forcing this pain on another.

It was enough to overwhelm anypony. To turn them into a bitter, spitting villain that lashed out at any perceived threat. And as Twilight settled onto the seafloor she saw Midnight standing across from her, her cheeks stained red and her lips quivering beneath a shaky glare.

There at the bottom of it all, drowning in her turmoil, Twilight reached out and, for the first time since she’d awoken in the dead ruins of Canterlot, she stopped.

Midnight’s eyes widened, the blood trailing over her cheeks drying out. Crystal-clear tears streamed down in their place, washing away the bloodstains.

Why are you doing this?

Twilight answered with a sad smile. Because no one should have to endure that pain. Her own tears thickened and darkened, turning to dark beads of blood dripping down her cheeks. Least of all a friend.

Midnight blinked. It… doesn’t hurt. She looked down at herself, her shoulders jerking as she let out a choked cry. It always hurts. As long as I can remember.

Twilight stepped forward, pulling Midnight into a tight hug as the other mare began to sob in earnest. She wept too, her ears drooping as she let the months of suppressed grief finally wash over her.

Midnight pulled her hooves up, returning the hug with a trembling squeeze. And despite everything, that made Twilight feel a little better. Even in the face of all her pain, fear, and doubts, she still had her friend with her.

And friendship is magic.

The lake snapped back into vivid clarity around her as Twilight opened her eyes, blinking away the blood tears. She felt as if she had run a thousand miles at a full sprint and her head throbbed with a sharp, stabbing pain. Her hooves twitched, her breaths coming in little gasps as she was struck by a sudden, persistent urge to act, to do something. To do anything.

Midnight stood at her side, a broad smile on her face. There was no bitterness, no judgment, no pain hidden behind a cocky mask.

“I feel free.”

The Wyrd hovered over them, silhouetted by the blood moon in the sky. It reared back and unleashed a vivid lance of red magic aimed straight for them.

Twilight went to summon a shield, but her magic faltered, the sparks fizzling out at the end of her horn—

Midnight stepped forwards; her horn burst to light as a radiant lavender dome formed around them. The Wyrd’s attack bounced off, crackling into smaller pieces that arced away and sent fountains of water splashing into the air where they landed.

“I feel alive!” Midnight giggled, accompanied by the rippling of the water as she danced in place.

Twilight flinched as cold drops of water splattered across her face. She opened her mouth to chastise Midnight for dancing in the middle of a fight to the death, only to bite her tongue at the last moment as she realized what she was doing. Swallowing the bile in her throat, she instead forced out a, “How?”

“I’ve always told you you hold this power, little flower.” Midnight spread her stance and dispelled the shield, drawing more magic to the tip of her horn as waves of light rippled and danced around them. “You’ve just been afraid to use it.”

Aiming her horn at the Wyrd hovering above them, Midnight unleashed a wave of searing white magic so bright that Twilight had to screw her eyes shut. Even through her eyelids she saw the beam twist around itself as it cut through the air with an arcane shriek and a thunderous boom.

There was a pained screech that echoed around them, followed by a heavy splash, and then a fading whine as the magic dissipated, leaving Twilight blinking the after-image of the beam away and trying to shake the ringing out of her ears. It took her a moment to spot the Wyrd, lying on its side a few yards away, completely still. Misty red arcs of blood swirled out into the lake around it, mixing with its bloodsoaked mane and tail.

Twilight waited. It didn’t get up.

“We did it!” Midnight stomped a hoof in celebration. “Did you see that?”

Twilight could feel the surge of elation through their bond, but it was strangled by the fury still writhing in her gut. Nevertheless she forced a smile onto her face and nodded. “Yeah. It was good.”

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by a strangled yelp as Midnight pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Alright, that’s enough!” Twilight tried to push her off, grumbling as her lips twitched up in a small smile despite herself. “Let me go!”

Midnight gave Twilight one last squeeze before releasing her, running up to Luna’s Wyrd and sitting at its side. Twilight followed at a cautious walk, scanning the lake for any other threats. It was easy to imagine the Wyrd was dead, but Twilight suspected it would recover within a day, or maybe less. She glanced towards the island, where the Guardian was still watching in silence by Luna’s sleeping form, and narrowed her eyes. Now that the Wyrd was beaten, the Guardian was the next biggest threat.

The Guardian stared back impassively. As if it were mocking her.

“Come on,” Midnight said, drawing her attention. “It’s time to wake up.”

Twilight nodded, positioning herself above the Wyrd’s head. Lowering her horn until it touched against the jagged tip of the Wyrd’s, Twilight closed her eyes.



Twilight woke up with her chin resting on Luna’s barrel. The cold crystal of the floor had grown warm against her body, its surface tinted by the soft lavender glow of the shield surrounding her.

She was exhausted. A bone-deep weariness that she felt in every muscle, every breath, and every beat of her heart. Her heart ached as if it were about to burst and her legs shuddered with the effort of standing. She could barely think, and she wondered at how Midnight had functioned at all.

“Equestrian?” Shaper’s deep voice sounded like distant thunder at first, muffled by the horizon. “It is done?”

Twilight teetered for a moment, taking a breath as she tried to gather her thoughts. Midnight appeared at her side, placing a comforting hoof against her shoulder. “It’s done.”

“Yes. We feel it now, Our magic knotted together with hers.” Shaper let out a long, low hum. “And something else too?” Twilight tensed, her magic responding sluggishly as she prepared a spell. “You are—lighter. Altered.” The shadows thickened around them, probing at the edges of their shield and causing it to fade, as Shaper’s curiosity dipped into dark fascination.

“You have your prize! Or are you so quick to break your word?” Midnight snapped, reinforcing the shield around them.

“No. We would not. We are merely curious.” The shadows stopped, then pulled away. The walls appeared to bow inwards before disappearing in the swirling shadows, all light outside of their shield swallowed up but for the dull red of his eyes frozen behind his crystal prison. “Truly, a gift fit for a king.”

The hairs on the nape of Twilight’s neck tingled. She didn’t see any magic aura, but she could feel Shaper’s power slithering through the air like invisible serpents. The strange current slid past her, wrapping around Princess Luna and squeezing firm.

Twilight stepped away, watching in silence. The shadows shuddered around the shield as Luna’s serene expression strained, her brow furrowing and her lips turning down into a pained frown. She let out quiet grunts as her hooves scratched at the ground, tail swishing and wings twitching.

“What are you doing?” Twilight asked, trying to keep the weakness out of her voice. If Shaper was trying to hurt Luna, then they would have to defeat him next.

“Only what you bid Us do, Equestrian,” Shaper rumbled. There was a hungry energy in his voice, like an alcoholic in line on the first day of cider season. “The process is not pleasant, but your Princess will not be harmed.”

Twilight pursed her lips. Midnight gave her hoof a gentle squeeze. Steady, little flower. I can see the workings of his magic. He is doing as we asked.

Finally, Luna relaxed. Twilight felt the invisible dark presence withdraw, retreating back to Shaper’s crystal form as the shadows eased back.

“It is done.”

Twilight licked her lips. Gingerly she knelt at Princess Luna’s side, uncertain of whether to reach out, or even to speak, but finally she couldn’t keep it in any longer.

She touched a hoof to Luna’s shoulder, her heart skipping a beat when the alicorn stirred.

“Princess?”





“We’re going down! Abandon ship!”

Rarity clung to the cracked railing in shock as the smoke stung at her eyes and nose. Where had it all gone wrong? She’d known the plan to defeat Philomena had been dangerous, even suicidal, but nothing could have prepared her for the chaos of failure.

It had all happened so fast, and now the world seemed to move as if in slow motion. She saw every detail in the flames curling around the ship’s hull, the bodies sliding limply over the deck as it tilted forward. The sky disappeared into the smoke, replaced by the sight of Leviathan Wakes bobbing on the waves growing steadily closer. She saw the deepfish circling under the surface, a thousand menacing shadows outlined by the noon sun.

Philomena hovered before them as a harbinger of doom, the water rippling beneath her as she sent waves of fire splashing against the ship-city beneath with every beat of her wings. Her glow was growing brighter, flames around her leaning in, and Rarity realized with a distant, detached sense of dread that she was preparing to unleash another deadly attack.

Rarity’s stomach lurched. The deck tilted even further, gravity threatening to drag her down as the ship listed to one side. Looking back, she saw Jester standing between two of the ship’s three wheels, clutching a spoke in each hoof with a mad look in her eye. The pastel purple of her fur was indistinguishable under the soot staining her face, which when combined with the jagged edge of her broken horn, the bloody cuts marring her coat, and the twisted snarl of her lips, made her look more like a spirit of vengeance than a living pony.

Above them, the ship’s envelope split in two with a hideous tearing sound. Rarity flinched, tightening her grip on the railing as pieces of flaming canvas rained around her and rolled off the deck. Her mane flapped wildly around her, caught between the waves of hot air coming off the fires and the upwards pull of the wind as she plummeted out of the sky aboard a ruined hunk of blazing metal and wood.

Looking down, Rarity caught one last glimpse of Philomena before the ship crashed into her at full speed.

Half a second later, it hit the water.

Rarity shrieked as the powerful shock of impact broke her grip. She went spinning across the deck as a huge wave of salty water reared up and splashed onto it. The groan of splintering wood drowned out the shouts of the crew and the roar of the flames. The deck bucked and rolled beneath her, sending her sliding back the other direction until her flailing hooves caught hold of a stretch of half-loose netting.

Finally the rocking deck stilled enough that she could pull herself shakily to her hooves. She watched dumbly as Wakers ran in every direction, grabbing spears, firebombs, and harpoon guns before leaping overboard. Some landed on the floating piers criss-crossing the city, gathering together into knots of resistance to fend off the deepfish that lunged from the ocean. Others splashed into the water, swimming desperately for scant seconds before being dragged under, replaced moments after by swirls of red.

It wasn’t until Rarity’s gaze passed over the smoking hole in the middle of the deck that she snapped out of her daze, everything lurching back into terrifying focus at once.

“Fluttershy!”

She turned, sprinting for the nearest door that would take her below decks. It hung half-open, popped off its hinges by the crash, and she was forced to pause and twist, hitting with two full-bodied bucks of her hind legs before it fell apart.

It was hot inside the ship. With only a few small windows and doors for air to circulate through, the hull was quickly turning into a giant oven, with a constant cloud of black smoke pooling against the ceiling. Rarity ripped a length of fabric from her cloak, tying it over her muzzle and pressing deeper through the cramped halls.

She drew up short as she turned a corner and nearly bumped head-on into Whitehorn. He blinked, looking her over, then grabbed her hoof and went to pull her back outside.

“Countess! Quickly, before we sink any further!” His voice was ragged, and bloody cuts were ripped across his vest.

“Fluttershy is still down there!” Rarity jerked her hoof away. “We need to save her!”

“She’s dead, Countess!” Whitehorn shouted. “The lower deck is flooding and aflame!”

“Go if you must!” Rarity turned away from him, starting for a steep stairway clogged with smoke. “But I will not abandon her!”

Thankfully, he didn’t try to stop her. Clenching her eyes shut tight, Rarity dove into the smoke and clumsily felt her way down the stairs. Cold water sloshed around her hooves as she reached the bottom, taking a few steps before opening her eyes again.

The lower deck of the ship was a mess. The neatly organized stacks of cargo that had been stored within had fallen into haphazard piles, many of the containers popping open and spilling their contents. A jagged gap was torn into one side of the hull, water flooding in as punctured pipes vented hot steam from the walls. There were still sheets of fire climbing up the walls in many places, but the salty water was gaining ground, steadily dragging the ship down. From where she was, Rarity could catch glimpses of one of the city’s floating walkways, a group of Wakers struggling to fend off a growing horde of deepfish, and a fresh wave of fear swelled in her gut as she realized that soon the predatory monsters would be swarming into the ship.

She dismissed the sensation quickly, focusing instead on the keening bear cry from the far side of the hold. Brownie squatted on top of a raised platform opposite the stairs, connected to Rarity’s landing by a thin metal catwalk that looked like it would snap in two at the slightest disturbance. And leaning against him, covered in scratches and matted with smoke, was a coughing Fluttershy.

“Fluttershy!” Rarity lifted a hoof to run across the catwalk, but a sideways lurch of the hull and a groan from the metal gave her cause to hesitate. Looking around, she spotted a length of thick rope floating in the water, and reaching out with her magic she hauled it up and tied it around the middle of the catwalk, where it looked the weakest.

Biting her lip and uttering a quick prayer to Celestia, Rarity bolted across the catwalk. The metal rattled underhoof, but thankfully didn’t snap, allowing her to skid to a stop at her friend’s side.

“Rarity?” Fluttershy croaked. She coughed, doubling over with an ugly wheeze. “Where’s Philomena?”

“We need to get you out of here!” Rarity tore two more makeshift masks from her cloak, using her magic to quickly tie them over Fluttershy and Brownie’s muzzles. “The ship is sinking!”

“Philomena is down here too!” Fluttershy said, her hoarse voice barely audible over the rushing water. “She’s hurt!”

Rarity grabbed Fluttershy’s shoulders, meaning to drag her out of the ship by force if necessary, but a keening ethereal wail from behind her froze her in place. She looked back over her shoulder, a pit of dread forming in her gut as she spotted the shape spreading its wings under the water in the cargo hold, silhouetted by a pulsing golden glow.

Philomena burst out of the water, casting fresh flames over the hold that began to eat away at the scattered cargo. The rope Rarity had used to tie off the catwalk sizzled and snapped, the metal giving out an instant later and splashing into the water, cutting off the path back to the stairs.

The phoenix was battered and bleeding, her fire dull enough that Rarity could clearly see her face contorted in fury. She let out another shrill call, swooping closer and pulling into a hover close enough that Rarity flinched back from the wave of heat.

“Philomena!” Fluttershy called, pushing off Brownie’s side and struggling to stand up straight. She flared her wings and pulled her mask down, putting surprising strength into her scratchy voice. “Stop! We don’t want to hurt you!”

Philomena hissed. The fires raging around the room began to lean in as her eyes glowed brighter.

“Countess!”

Rarity looked up, squinting through the haze of smoke and spotting Jester’s head peeking through the hole in the ship that Fluttershy had fallen through.

“Catch!”

A long shape fell through the smoke, clattering to the ground by Rarity’s side—a harpoon gun, already loaded. Rarity scooped it up clumsily and pointed it at Philomena, only then realizing she didn’t know how to shoot the thing.

“Fluttershy?” Rarity asked, looking between the pegasus and the phoenix.

Fluttershy didn’t respond. She stood tall as the wind pulled at her mane and the ship rocked beneath her, fixing Philomena with a harsh stare. Philomena hovered in front of her, seemingly transfixed, but showing no sign of backing down. Rarity grimaced as she saw the bloody wounds and old scars criss-crossing the phoenix’s body.

This is it, isn’t it? she thought. They’d thrown everything they had at the phoenix, and it was only just now showing signs of slowing down. All they had left was one harpoon, and Rarity didn’t even know how to shoot it. She could already see Philomena straining to break free of Fluttershy’s stare, her wings twitching and her head jerking as she tried to look away.

The room went dark.

The fires dulled. The thrashing waves grew still. Philomena’s glow diminished and then vanished entirely, the anger in her eyes turning to confusion.

A chill went down Rarity’s spine. She looked up to the sky, through the rings of shattered wood and curling smoke, and saw the moon hovering in front of the sun, a pitch-black disk framed with white casting the world into shadow.

An eclipse.

“Shoot!” Jester shouted. “The lever by the handle! Pull it!”

Rarity blinked. She looked down, her hoof sliding into place against the trigger, and lifted the harpoon gun to her eye. Philomena was looking up, hovering almost totally still in front of her. She couldn’t possibly miss, but she hesitated.

“Fluttershy?”

“Do it,” Fluttershy whispered.

Rarity pulled the trigger. With a startling bang and kick and a puff of smoke, the harpoon flew forwards. The barbed tip punched through Philomena’s breast with a wet smack, flickering embers and blood spilling from the wound.

Philomena screeched. She spasmed in the air, wings fluttering, and then she fell. Fluttershy gasped, diving off the edge of the platform and spreading her wings to catch the phoenix just before she fell into the water.

She landed messily at Rarity’s side, cradling the still phoenix in her forelegs. “Rarity! Get something!”

Rarity dropped the spent harpoon gun, ripping the last of her cloak off her shoulders and spreading it out on the ground. Fluttershy hurriedly set Philomena down on top of it, reaching out with one hoof and gingerly stroking her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes, but her voice was firm. “It had to be done.”

Philomena let out a quiet squawk, her scarred face looking up at the eclipse, and crumbled into ashes.

Fluttershy pursed her lips, carefully catching the bloody harpoon and pulling it out of the pile of ashes before wrapping them up in Rarity’s cloak. She looked up to the sky, then down, meeting Rarity’s wide eyes.

“She did it.” A tentative smile pulled at her lips as she lifted the bundle of ashes and hugged it to her chest.

Rarity nodded, an adrenaline-fueled laugh escaping from her lips. “And j-just in time!”

Both mares flinched as the deck lurched beneath them, nearly tossing them into the rising water. The fires were dying down now, but they weren’t out of danger yet.

“Let’s get out of here.” Rarity looked up, waving to Jester. “Do you have a rope, darling?”





Rainbow lay on her side with one shaky hoof held over the bloody dressing on her chest.

The command room of Prince Argent’s ship was eerily still compared to the bloody violence that had stormed through it only minutes before. The thin wisps of snow drifting through the shattered glass were the only source of motion or sound.

Rainbow had never contemplated the possibility of her own death. She knew that ponies died, of course. She’d become more than intimate with the fact since the world’s ending.

But herself? Through everything, even when she’d stared down the maw of a huge sea serpent in the Everfree Forest, when she’d felt Gava’s talons sink into her flesh for the first time, when she’d raced through the flames engulfing Altalusia as Twilight lost her mind, the idea that she might not be around to see the dawn had never crossed her mind. Dying was a thing that happened to other, less awesome ponies. Rainbow might get hurt, but she always got back up again.

“Boss?” Trails said quietly. She leaned against the submarine wedged askew into the middle of the room, one hoof twisting anxiously side to side. “I’m scared.”

“You’ll be fine, Trails,” Sabre said. “Argent will honor the deal, and you’ll find a new contract. You’ll be fine.”

Rainbow’s chest tightened. She was painfully aware of Sabre’s choice of words. You’ll be fine.

The waiting was torture. Rainbow could face anything when it came at her, but she hated waiting. It made her thoughts wander to dark, vicious corners, accusing her of ruining everything, of getting ponies she cared about hurt. Her feelings towards Sabre were complicated, but she respected the mare. She didn’t deserve the burden of dealing with Rainbow’s actions. And what of the crystal ponies, who had taken her in so warmly, fighting an impossible battle against an enemy she’d unwittingly led straight to their home?

Clenching her jaw, Rainbow rolled onto her belly and struggled to her hooves.

“Whoa, now,” Flint said, sidling up next to her. “Where ye think yer goin’?”

“The window,” Rainbow croaked, nodding her head towards the front of the room. “I want to s-see the crystal ponies.”

He nodded, staying at her side to support her as she slowly crossed the room, broken glass crunching underhoof.

There was a storm coming in. A thin haze of swirling snow filled the air, clouding the horizon and turning the Crystal Spire and the surrounding mountain peaks into distant shadows. The Crystal Heart was still visible, locked together with Prince Argent’s second ship—the Brasher, as the now-dead captain of the Hoplite had called it. Through the haze Rainbow could just make out the flash and pop of gunfire, but it was distressingly scattered. She bit her lip, watching in silence for what felt like an eternity as the shots tapered off more and more before going completely silent.

“Hoplite, Brasher.” A radio towards the back of the control room buzzed to life. Rainbow closed her eye, dreading what would come next. “The natives are pacified. Nothing useful on their ship. We’re rigging it to blow.”

Flint sighed. Trails let out a quiet, “No.” Sabre was silent. A quiet shame filled Rainbow’s breast as she imagined Beau and his fellow hunters, fighting a hopeless battle to defend their home and their new friends. Did they fight to the end? Surrender? Would they be thrown into cells or just shot where they stood?

If only she’d been faster, more focused, she could’ve made it there unwounded and in time to help them. Rainbow pursed her lips, taking her shame and holding it close. She would remember the feeling. She’d use it to fuel her in the future.

“Good work, Brasher,” Prince Argent’s voice crackled in response. “Rendezvous with the Hoplite and transfer your marines. The Argo crew is currently contained on the bridge.”

“Wilco, Hoplite. Brasher out.”

When Rainbow opened her eye, the Brasher was already separating from the Crystal Heart. She didn’t cry. Instead she imagined wrapping her hooves around Prince Argent’s throat and squeezing until he popped.

“They put up a good fight,” Flint said, the bass of his voice causing his side to vibrate against hers. “Ain’t a bad way t’ go out.”

“They were our last chance,” Sabre said. Rainbow heard her walking closer, but she didn’t look away from the Crystal Heart’s silhouette. “We should surrender while we still can.”

“Just like that?” Rainbow’s voice cracked, her throat tight. She strained to suck in another breath past the pressure in her chest, forcing her words out. “So they die for nothing?”

There was a long pause before Sabre answered. “Most ponies die for nothing,” she said. “I know what you’re feeling, Rainbow. But they wouldn’t want you to do the same.”

Rainbow gnashed her teeth. She hated it. The tone in the older mare’s voice, as if she were speaking to a confused foal. She hated everything. “We should wait—as long as we can.” She couldn’t tell if the pain was coming from her punctured lung or her aching heart. Even the thought of surrender made her hate herself.

Sabre sighed. “A little longer, then.”

“Hoplite, Brasher. Controlled det in three, two, one. Fire in the hole.”

A tiny, flickering spark burst into being next to the Brasher. It raced through the air in a lazy, drooping arc, crossing the distance to the Crystal Heart and then disappearing from view. A second later the defeated ship was silhouetted by a series of rapid explosions, the hull cracking and splitting with a sound like shattering glass. The pieces fell to the thick ice below, landing with distant thuds.

“Maybe they took prisoners?” Trails asked hopefully. “There’d be no point in killing anyone that surrendered.”

Flint grunted. “Maybe.”

Again the room fell silent. Rainbow felt like a statue, staring stiffly at the Brasher as its outline grew gradually larger. She grunted, retching up a mouthful of blood before spitting it onto the floor. The haze grew thicker as the storm strengthened, blocking out the noon sun and casting the room into shadow.

A tingle traveled up Rainbow’s spine.

She frowned, finally tearing her gaze away from the approaching ship and looking around. 

Trails stiffened and shivered, reaching up and pulling her helmet off with a quiet hiss of steam.“Did you guys feel that?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Aye,” Flint rumbled. He narrowed his eyes, checking each of the doors in turn. “I felt it, too.”

“Stay alert,” Sabre said, placing her back against a wall.

The shadows began to move.

It happened so slowly that Rainbow didn’t notice at first. One moment she was scanning the room, sucking in short, wheezing gasps of air, and then she realized the shadows were getting longer. Darker. They crept across the floor, taking on hard edges and menacing points. The whole room suddenly went dark as night, the only light coming from a few lanterns slowly swaying from the ceiling.

Trails flicked on the lights from her suit, playing the beams over the room. “Guys?” She asked nervously. “What in Luna’s name is going on?”

Rainbow’s eye widened. She whirled back to the window, squinting up, trying to spot the sun through the mounting blizzard.

Instead of a bright circle of light, she saw a ring.

“She did it,” she whispered, her lips twitching up into a bloody grin. She fell back onto her haunches as her hooves began to tingle, clammy sweat clinging to her coat. “I knew she would do it.”

“Hoplite, Brasher.” The voice on the radio sounded anxious. “Are you—are you seeing this?”

“Stay focused, Brasher,” Prince Argent answered. “We know there’s Gifted among the Argo’s crew.”

“Roger, Hoplite. Staying on—”

The transmission cut off with a burst of static. Through the haze, Rainbow saw the Brasher’s silhouette suddenly turn sharply to one side. Through the windows lining the ship’s side she caught glimpses of a tiny ball of white light, zipping from point to point like a shooting star. She heard gunfire and distant shouts, the flashes outlining ponies for brief seconds before going dark.

“Brasher?” Now Argent seemed nervous. “Respond.”

The Brasher didn’t respond. The little shooting star worked its way through the ship piece by piece, leaving silence and darkness in its wake. It began to drift to the side, a lifeless silhouette.

A beam of silvery light erupted from inside the ship, slicing through it from bow to stern. The twin envelopes burst into flames as the ship fell out of the sky, crumbling into burning pieces.

“It’s Princess Luna!” Rainbow’s mane whipped around her face as she turned to the others. She stumbled into Flint’s shoulder, coughing up another mouthful of blood. “I’m—I’m s-sure of it!”

“Take it easy.” Sabre frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Twilight must’ve—” Rainbow winced, clutching at the wound in her chest, but forced the next words out through the pain. “She’s awake.”

A second passed. Rainbow groaned, letting Flint take more of her weight.

“Sabre,” Flint started. “If an actual livin’ princess is about t’ descend from on-high and save us, I sure as hay ain’t gonna surrender.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Trails said, shaking her head. “You think Princess Luna just killed all the ponies on that ship? Like the goddess?”

“Just trust me!” Rainbow wheezed. She pushed away from the window, starting for the nearest door. “C’mon! We’ll take the fight to ‘em!” She made it a couple steps before her legs dropped out from under her, sending her toppling to the ground with a strained grunt.

“Hey, relax!” Trails was by her side in an instant, gently easing her off the floor and pressing a hoof over her wound. “I know you’re tough, Rainbow, but you took some serious damage here. You need to save your strength.”

“Whatever’s happening, she’s right we should take advantage of it,” Sabre said. “Trails, you help her. Let’s move.”

The team moved quickly. Sabre and Flint lined up against the door before rushing in, their armored hooves stomping against the metal stairs. Trails and Rainbow followed after, the pegasus coughing and groaning as she struggled to climb down the steps with Trails’ help.

It was almost pitch-black at the bottom of the stairwell, the lights on Trails’ suit the only source of illumination. Sabre’s lips were set in a hard line as she leaned against the wall next to the door, ear flicking.

“So what now?” Flint rumbled. “Do we just rush out n’ hope that ’Light’s pet goddess saves us?”

“That sounds like a terrible plan,” Trails hissed. “We should wait for Princess Luna to show up before we do anything.”

“Quiet,” Sabre said, cutting off Flint’s response.

The four ponies waited with bated breath, ears swiveling. Rainbow grit her teeth and slapped a hoof over her mouth, spitting out blood in between muffled coughs. She thought she could hear shuffling hooves or whispered voices through the wall, but it was so faint she wondered if she was imagining it. Her hooves shivered, cold creeping up her legs.

The lamp on Trails’ armored chest flickered. Trails looked down, tapping at the glass with quiet mutters as it slowly died. A second passed in total darkness before Rainbow felt a chill breeze caressing her legs, pulled towards something behind her.

“Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow jumped. She twisted so fast she nearly fell from the pain in her chest.

Princess Luna was standing behind her, her dark coat blending into the shadows and her ethereal mane wafting around her in a halo of twinkling stars. The gentle glow of her mane reflected off dark wet spots in her coat, reeking of blood.

“Thou art wounded.” Luna’s horn glowed, her magic wrapping Rainbow in a wispy blue light. Rainbow gasped as the pressure in her chest tightened, then vanished, allowing her to suck in a deep breath for the first time in what felt like ages.

“I’m—heh.” Rainbow spat out one last mouthful of blood, grinning up at the Princess as her voice cracked. “I knew you’d show up.”

Luna offered a small smile, the expression quickly replaced by a grave frown. “If there be any souls aboard this vessel which thou valuest beyond the ones in this chamber—” her voice was cold and stern “—I bid thee tell me now.”

Rainbow blinked. After a moment she realized the Princess had asked her a question, and she dipped down into a deep bow, tears brimming in her eye.

“There aren’t any, Princess,” she said, her throat tight. “Kill them all.”

“Very well.” Luna’s horn brightened, the pale blue glow reflected in the eyes of the ponies around her. “I will return shortly.”

Her mane shifted, wrapping around her like a cloak. One second she was there, and then she was gone, melting into the shadows with only a few motes of dancing light in her place.

“Oh, stars,” Trails whispered. “She’s real.”

A shout from out in the hall drew their attention, followed by a burst of gunfire. Rainbow straightened up and pushed past the others, shoving the heavy metal door open and poking her head out.

Ten ponies lined the corridor, their backs turned to her. It was so dark Rainbow couldn’t even see the windows she knew were there, the only illumination coming from a few lamps strapped to the barrels of the ponies’ guns. They played their lights over the hall nervously, but they were swallowed up by an impenetrable wall of darkness on the far side, a trail of fresh blood leading into its depths.

“P-Prince?” One of the ponies asked, clutching at a bulky radio strapped to his side. “I think w-we need help!”

“What is it?” Prince Argent’s voice crackled back. “Quickly!”

Princess Luna’s eyes appeared out of the shadows, reflecting the light from the torches. Her horn began to glow a soft blue, a tiny white star of magic forming at the tip as she stepped closer.

The radio pony jumped, letting go of his radio and leveling his gun on the alicorn as his voice cracked. “Fire! Fire!”

One mare towards the front was able to get a shot off, the flash revealing Luna’s full form a brief fraction of a second. The bullet twisted mid-air, caught in the grip of the alicorn’s magic, and orbited around her before zipping straight back into the mare’s brow and exploding out the back of her head. She collapsed with a shocked grunt, dead in an instant.

Luna’s eyes shone with moonlight as every gun in the hall glowed, snapping from their saddle mounts and flying into a tightly spinning ball beside her. She inspected them with an unreadable expression, her head cocking slightly.

The stallion closest to her snatched up a spear in his wing, bellowing a warcry as he charged. He made it two steps before his spear was ripped away from him, twisting and stabbing straight into his eye as it glowed with Luna’s magic. It burst from the back of his head, continuing all the way through him and coming out the other side.

He fell to the ground, a hoof-sized hole drilled straight through his skull. The spear did a lazy twirl before coming back to rest at Luna’s side, the tip aimed at the eight surviving ponies watching in shock.

Luna jerked her head to the side. The wall dented, then groaned, before being peeled away with an ear-splitting screech, disappearing into the darkness outside as thick sheets of snow swirled into the hall. The bounty hunters cried out in panic, stumbling away from the sudden wind as Luna threw the ball of guns into the snowy void.

She jerked her head in the opposite direction, the bloodsoaked spear flying forward. It swept the legs out from under a stunned mare before snapping in two, the lower half impaling the mare through the gut and pinning her to the wall as she scratched at the floor in vain. The upper half darted towards the next pony, stabbing upwards through his jaw and twisting with enough force to snap his neck.

“Move!” the radio pony barked, grabbing his nearest subordinate and shoving her forwards. “Stop her!”

A stallion rushed up with a wild-eyed scream, only to gasp and keel forwards as Luna sliced his forelegs out from under him with an arc of silvery starlight from her horn. The mare next to him fell to her haunches, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I surren—ghk!” A tiny mote of white magic zipped from Luna’s horn like a shooting star, punching through the mare’s forehead with enough force to throw her onto her back. It burst out the side of her head, bouncing between the skulls of three more gaping ponies in the span of a half second. They all hit the ground at once, one of the corpses sliding limply into the howling blizzard.

The white glow faded from Luna’s eyes. She walked past the scattered corpses, her hooves splashing through the warm blood and her mane rippling calmly despite the harsh wind, and came to a stop in front of the last survivor: the stallion with the radio, his hooves shivering as he clutched it against his chest.

Luna frowned down at him, a mote of starlight twinkling on the tip of her horn.

“Prince?” she asked.

The stallion stared dumbly for a few seconds before nodding, his breath shaky.

“Tell me his name,” Luna ordered.

“Pr-Prince Argent,” the stallion stammered. His eyes lit up as he licked his lips. “I c-can take you to h-him!”

Luna shook her head. “That shan't be necessary.”

The stallion’s eyes widened. He tried to turn to run just as the arcane star pierced his forehead, sending him crumpling to the floor.

The hall was still. Princess Luna turned, spotting Rainbow watching in awe, and nodded.

Her mane twisted around her as she melted into the shadows.
> XXXII: Of Alicorns
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warm water flowed around Anatami’s hooves, coaxing her awake.

She blinked her eyes open, lifting her chin out of the wet sand. She was lying on her belly on a quiet beach, water smooth as glass stretching out before her.

There were stars, a twinkling reflection of the night sky so pristine it felt like she could pluck one out of the water with her hooves. Or perhaps she could dive in and join them, becoming a new constellation that young foals would look up at in wonder instead of fear. They framed a full moon, radiant and larger than she’d ever seen before, that illuminated the landscape with a pale blue glow.

Mountains in the distance, soft and purple, their sides dotted by trees that swayed in a gentle, soothing wind. The chirps and croaks of crickets and frogs drifted over it all, forming a song that tickled at the back of Ana’s mind like a distant memory she couldn’t place.

She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there. Part of her felt that she should be concerned by the revelation, but the only emotion she could muster was contentment. Peace.

She stood, the water splashing around her hooves as she turned around. A small island awaited her, decorated by winding patches of colorful glowing mushrooms and lotus flowers. Her hooves began moving of their own accord, guiding her on a weaving path up the island’s gentle slope.

A wall of willows surrounded the peak, their trunks and sweeping limbs separating it from the rest of the world. Ana’s hooves rustled through the fresh grass as she stepped between them, emerging into a small clearing ringed by luminescent blue flowers.

Princess Luna stood in the center, smiling at her.

Ana froze, her reverie shattered. She was dreaming. There were no mountains in Equestria; there were no islands or beaches or seas smooth as glass.

Some ponies said the Princesses came to them in dreams and told them prophecies of the future. Others said it was impossible to dream of them. Ana had certainly never dreamed of them before, despite many nights spent imagining what they might look like in reality. The artistic renditions seen in statues and paintings and the stained-glass windows of a hundred halls of worship were as diverse as the ponies that made them. Who could say which were most accurate?

But Gava had seen a princess. And Ana had seen the moon rise in the middle of the day to blot out the sun. Deep in her soul, with more certainty than she’d ever felt for anything, she knew this was not just a dream.

“Thou art a long way from home, my little pony.”

Her words were like the mirror-smooth waters surrounding the island: crystal clear, flowing like water. But firm. Regal. Her voice carried truth in a way that a mortal’s couldn’t.

Ana felt she should answer, but what could she possibly say? She wanted to fall to the floor and beg for forgiveness, for guidance, to pour her heart out with the foalish hope that the Princess could provide answers to her every problem. But she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of a goddess.

“Are you real?”

Stupid question. Of course she was real. She felt more real than anything Ana had ever seen, but there was still a part of her waiting to wake up and realize she’d imagined it all.

“Yes, I am real.” Princess Luna smiled wider, extending a hoof. “Thou art in turmoil.”

Ana stepped closer. She reached out, touching the Princess’s hoof with her own. Her heart fluttered with a painful hope.

“Can you—” her throat tightened, her voice going hoarse “—help me?”

“First, thou must help thyself.” The Princess’s smile twisted into a smirk. Playful, but kind. “Seek out thy siblings, Silver Glow. Return home.”

“W-what?” Ana frowned, struggling to process the words.

“I must go, for now.” Princess Luna’s smile faded grimly. “But we shall speak again. Thou art not alone.”


Ana’s eyes flinched open.

She lay on a rooftop in Harvest. There was no beach, no island, no distant mountains and no starry sky. There was no Princess Luna. The serenity faded away, replaced by nagging doubt.

She shot to her hooves, looking up, dreading what she might see.

There was a black disk where the sun should be, ringed with fire. The moon, eclipsing the sun in the middle of the day.

She coughed up a shaky laugh. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her whole body shook with rapture. She’d prayed, and Princess Luna had answered!

She heard ponies panicking in the streets below. Some of them screamed, no doubt taking the eclipse for a terrifying omen. The entire city was seized by a cacophonous buzz as the impossible blazed in the sky above them.

But one sound in particular cut through the rest: a shrill, high-pitched keening that made Ana’s ears twist and flick instinctively. No normal pony could make that noise—they couldn’t even hear it—but Ana heard it.

She snapped her head toward it, scanning for the source.

“Seek out thy siblings.”

Ana broke into a breathless sprint.





Princess Luna opened her eyes.

They didn’t snap open with shock, nor did they wearily blink open as if rousing from a deep slumber. After centuries of continuous dreaming, Princess Luna woke casually as if from a midday nap, rolling to her hooves and straightening to her full height in a single fluid motion.

Twilight watched breathlessly as Luna turned her head, her gaze passing over the cracked crystal floors, the golden sunlight bleeding at all angles from the jagged wounds carved into the architecture, and the unnatural darkness clinging to every surface. There was a subtle shift in Luna’s stature—her wings hovered at her sides, her hooves spread, her eyes narrowed and her horn angled down ever so slightly—with only a slight ruffle of her long feathers to mark the transition.

“What is this place?”

“Princess!” Twilight stepped into Luna’s line of sight with a tentative smile. She opened her mouth, but was interrupted before she could find the words.

“Welcome to Our Crystal Empire, Moon Princess,” Shaper rumbled. “Much has changed since you last set hoof here.”

“Sombra!” Luna’s horn flared bright silver, her powerful magic aura shattering Twilight’s shield dome into a thousand spinning shards. The inky darkness filling the room rushed hungrily towards them, only to be beat back by the brilliant, pulsing light radiating from Luna’s horn. “Thy cloying corruption seeps from the crystal itself! Thou art a fool to rouse me here; I shall relish thy cries for mercy!”

“Is this how an Equestrian princess shows gratitude to her savior?” The shadows lengthened, the walls appearing to bow towards the stallion trapped in crystal as his red eyes smoldered. Twilight’s ear twitched at the sound of crystal scraping against crystal, and she glanced behind her to see Shaper’s thralls lurching back into the room, their beady gemstone eyes glinting in the light of Luna’s horn. “We are not Sombra! We are Shaper, and We have sated Ourselves with the nectar of your blackened soul, Moon Princess! Face Us now, then, so we can take your body as our thrall!”

Twilight grimaced, looking between the two powerful beings squaring off right in front of her. Exhaustion clawed at her, but she forced it down. She stepped to Luna’s side, turning to face the thralls steadily surrounding them and straining to draw on her magic.

Twilight, Midnight cautioned. We need to get the Princess to safety!

She’ll be safe once we get rid of Shaper and his thralls, Twilight countered. She glared at the misshapen husks circling around them, daring them to come closer. “I’m ready, Princess!”

“Thou must take heed, Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Luna said. “This fiend’s corruption carrieth an evil thou canst not imagine. Everything it toucheth—”

She cut off with a quiet gasp. Startled, Twilight looked back and saw Luna staring at her with a wide-eyed, uncertain expression.

“What fate hath befallen thee?” the Princess asked. “Corruption clingeth to thee like the progeny of Sombra himself, thy body is twisted and unnatural, yet thou actest freely? Is this some trick?”

Her head snapped back towards Shaper, her voice lowering into a menacing growl. “Villain! Thou has mangled her soul beyond salvation!”

Twilight flinched, shrinking back from the grief in Luna’s voice. For a brief moment, shame swelled inside her, but she cast it aside, trying to step into Luna’s view again. “I’m still me, Princess!”

“Your little pony speaks truth, Princess Luna.” Shaper’s deep voice echoed from every direction as the crystal ponies completed their encirclement, shuffling to a stop with eerie precision. “She is a unique specimen. We would’ve happily studied and devoured her Ourself, if she hadn’t promised to deliver you to our chamber.” He let out a low, satisfied hum that sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine. “She has helped us grow stronger in one day than We would in centuries!”

“And still it shall be naught in the face of my fury,” Luna growled. Her eyes shone as the temperature plummeted. A layer of frost formed across every surface, coating the crystalline bodies of the surrounding thralls and sparkling in the light glowing from Luna’s horn. Her majestic wings flared out with a powerful gust of wind, causing her starry mane to roil behind her. “Stay back, Twilight Sparkle! We shall talk after I have dealt with this monster!”

She doesn’t trust me, Twilight realized, half-stumbling out of the way as the Princess stalked towards Shaper. Her gut twisted in on itself, hot blood tears welling in her eyes. She thinks I’m weak!

You’re not weak, Midnight said, leaning against Twilight’s side. And you know she doesn’t think that way.

Twilight cringed away from the touch. I can prove myself! If I help her defeat Shaper, then she’ll see!

Why do we need to fight him? Midnight pleaded. There are more important things than squabbling with a petty king!

No! Shaper is still a threat. Twilight’s lip curled into a snarl as she turned to face the crystal ponies and lowered her horn. She could still feel the bone-deep weariness from the fight with Luna’s wyrd, which combined with Shaper’s oppressive aura made every attempt to channel magic feel like knives stabbing into her skull, but rather than shy away from the pain she embraced it. She used it to block out her doubts and the nausea still lingering after Princess Luna’s reaction to her appearance, and with clenched teeth she created a long spike of red-lavender magic, spinning in the air beside her. We can win this fight.

Twilight, stop. You’re hurting yourself!

You hurt yourself all the time, when we needed to fight.

And you stopped me! Midnight reached over, grabbing Twilight’s hoof. Instantly the flow of magic cut off.

Twilight realized her legs were shaking. She looked into Midnight’s concerned eyes, struggling to keep the snarl on her face. What do you expect us to do, then? Hide under the Princess’s tail while she fights Shaper and his thralls?

The air began to reverberate as a droning hum filled the chamber. The thralls rocked slowly side to side with a single, shared rhythm, their voices growing steadily louder as their crystal eyes grew brighter, the shadows sharper, the air thicker. Glancing back, Twilight saw Luna standing with hooves spread and her horn pointed at Shaper’s crystal form like a spear, his eyes flickering like fire within his prison.

The humming stopped. The pressure around Twilight’s horn abated as every crystal pony, all at once, snapped their heads towards the ceiling.

“What…?” Shaper sounded confused. Surprised. And then angry. “No!”

Luna’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t release her magic. Twilight looked around in confusion, taking an uncertain step towards Luna. Every crystal pony was focused on the same thing, somewhere far away and above.

“You have brought invaders to Our Empire, Equestrian!” Shaper roared. His thralls looked down, the chunks of crystal in their bodies grinding together as they leveled their dead stares on Twilight. “They are killing Our ponies!”

“What invaders?” Twilight challenged, keeping her gaze focused on the surrounding thralls. “If I’d wanted your land, you’d know it!”

“You dare accuse Us of such perfidy? Here you stand in Our sanctum, your princess restored by Our own magics, and We awaken from the ritual to find your allies attacking Our subjects in their flying ships!”

What? My friends wouldn’t do that!

Unless they were in some kind of danger, Midnight reasoned.

“You’re lying!” Twilight spat. “My friends are peaceful ponies!”

“Peaceful ponies slaughtering Our servants without mercy!”

Twilight was preparing a scathing retort when Princess Luna glanced back, cutting her off. “Twilight Sparkle, whatever the truth may be, it seemeth thy friends are in danger.”

Twilight blinked. What was she doing arguing about the truth when her friends might be fighting for their lives at that very moment? She raised a hoof to her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “We need to go help them.”

Luna nodded, stepping back and curling one wing around Twilight’s shoulders. “Thy punishment is delayed for now, fiend,” she said to Shaper. “But I will not forget thee.”

Her horn went out, the pale light of her magic vanishing with startling speed. The shadows rushed in, racing up Twilight’s legs. For a moment she could only see the fire-lights of the crystal ponies’ sightless eyes, and then she felt a sudden, indescribable shift—

She felt warmth against her coat, and wind tugging at her mane.

Twilight blinked in confusion. She was standing on top of the Spire as Princess Luna’s wing lifted off her shoulder. The stifling presence of Shaper’s dark magic was gone, leaving a strange emptiness in its place. When she reached for her magic it came easily, eagerly, the rush of power serving as an anchor she could clutch to.

The thick fur curtains had been drawn closed and tied down with loops of cord. They fluttered and flapped along the edges, occasionally letting in a flurry of snow, which would quickly melt in the face of the burning braziers that wrapped the Spire’s peak in a protective shell of heat. Several crystal ponies stood around the edges, their shoulders wrapped in thick furs, staring in shock at the two mares that had just appeared in their midst. At the center, seated around the black crystal marking the entrance to Shaper’s domain, the crystal ponies’ elders looked up with expressions of mixed confusion, rapture, and suspicion.

“Could it be?” Arctic Rose breathed, rising shakily to her hooves. A younger stallion rushed up, lending his support to the older mare as she stared at Princess Luna with unabashed reverence. “The Shaper has returned, in our time of need!”

“Steady yourself,” Smoke Quartz cautioned, seated opposite her. “We cannot be certain this isn’t some trick.”

“Chosen Twilight?” Ametrine asked uncertainly. “What did you see on your pilgrimage?”

Luna looked to Twilight, who looked to Midnight.

What should we tell them?

“We came to help,” Midnight said. Twilight blinked, suddenly finding herself standing a step to the side, and Midnight in her former place. “Explain, quickly.”

The elders hesitated, their gazes flicking towards their advisors watching from the periphery. Arctic Rose spoke first, her greying pink mane curling around her hooves as she threw herself down into a deep bow.

“Oh, Great Savior and her Chosen! Equestrians have come from beyond the ice to attack our home!” she said. “We’ve sent our warriors, but we fear it will not be enough!”

Twilight’s lips curled down into a firm frown. So it wasn’t the crystal ponies who were attacking her friends; it was likely more bounty hunters that had somehow found them even this far north. And now the innocent crystal ponies, some of the kindest ponies she’d met, were getting caught up in the violence.

Well, if they wanted to make her an enemy, she would oblige.

“Where are they?”

“Outside, past the South Face,” Ametrine said. She nodded to one of the watching advisors, who jumped to pull one of the fur curtains aside.

Through the haze of snow, Twilight saw four airships locked in battle. She immediately picked out the Argo, circling above an unfamiliar, fortified ship with a long cannon barrel protruding from its prow. A short distance away, one of the crystal ponies’ strange black ships, the Flurry Heart, was drawn abreast to another, open-decked airship. She saw several bodies littering the deck of the Flurry Heart, pools of blood gleaming in the sunlight. The crew of the open-decked ship were in the process of pushing off, using long poles to distance themselves from the Flurry Heart as the propellers spun up.

“We’re too late.” Anger swelled in Twilight’s breast as she stepped closer to the ledge. Was she mad at the attackers for slaughtering innocents, or mad at the crystal ponies for being so pitifully weak? “They already lost.”

“No!” Ametrine cried, stepping up to Twilight’s side with teary eyes. She sat back on her haunches, her hooves rising to muffle her sobs. “What have we done to deserve this?”

Behind her, the other crystal ponies joined her in mourning. Princess Luna came to Twilight’s other side, looking out over the frozen lake and snow-capped mountains before focusing on the airships floating above them.

“How much time have I lost?” she asked.

“Centuries,” Twilight muttered, glaring at the invading ships. “Maybe a millenium.”

“And Equestria?”

“Destroyed in all but name.” Twilight pursed her lips, thinking back to the shock of her first days in the future. “Selfish, violent ponies have taken charge. Magic and harmony are almost nonexistent.” She clenched her jaw. “All of my friends are suffering.”

Luna nodded. They watched as the open-decked ship began to accelerate, turning away from the drifting Flurry Heart. “What is happening here?”

“More bounty hunters,” Twilight said confidently. “They never leave us alone. They’ve followed us even here, beyond the edge of the map.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. The wind quickened. “And the crystal ponies?”

“They’re strange, but kind,” Twilight said. “They eat meat and wear the skin of dead animals, but they welcomed us generously, invited us into their home, and now they’re fighting and dying for us.” Her ears angled back, her voice lowering. “They don’t deserve any of this.”

A spark flared out from on top of the open-decked airship. It curved through the air towards the drifting Crystal Heart before disappearing into its hull.

A flash of light silhouetted the Crystal Heart as it was blasted apart, the primitive netting and bridges built on top of it soaring through the sky in every direction. The hull cracked as secondary explosions detonated along its length, shattering the dark crystal like a giant glass toy. The thunderous report of the blast reached Twilight a second later, the deep rumbling soon joined by the sharp, shrill crack of heavy chunks of crystal smacking into the thick ice.

The ponies atop the Spire wailed in despair. Twilight’s heart began to beat faster, her blood going hot in her veins.

We’ll kill them, she thought, nostrils flaring and horn lowering. Rip them apart.

Twilight, this isn’t you. Midnight stepped in front of her, standing in empty air with wide, concerned eyes.

This is me when my friends are in danger, Twilight glared at Midnight. What happened to the mare that pushed me to kill at every slight?

I know what you’re feeling, Midnight drew closer, lifting a hoof to Twilight’s chest. This isn’t healthy. Let me hold it again.

No! I won’t hide away from my feelings anymore.

“If my noble Sister had awoken to this Equestria, she would weep,” Luna said quietly. “It is good, then, that she is not here.”

A tingle raced down Twilight’s spine.

She shuddered, looking up to see Luna’s horn glowing a pale blue. The crystal ponies went quiet as well, their sobs cutting off with small, sudden gasps. The fires burning in the braziers dimmed, the shadows cast by their light growing hard and sharp.

“Princess?” Twilight asked.

“Without guidance, it seemeth ponykind hath fallen to the old ways,” Luna continued. She spread her wings, and in the distance Twilight saw the shadows cast by the half-submerged mountains shifting. “I remember those ways. It is through my actions that they died, and I am well capable of killing them again.”

A wall of shadow crested the eastern horizon, creeping between the valleys formed by the mountain peaks and racing across the ice. Twilight gasped, looking up, and watched as the moon slid neatly into place atop the sky, a stark black circle ringed with fire. The land was cast into a starless night, a darkness that subsumed the ground and sky. Only the lights of the three surviving airships stood out, and as the wind picked up and thick sheets of snow began to swirl around the Spire, even they were barely visible.

“I thank thee greatly for waking me, Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Luna said. “It seems I am eternally in thy debt.”

She stepped off the ledge, disappearing in the darkness.

“Princess!” Twilight ran after her, throwing herself off the edge and into the howling wind.

She reached out with her arcane senses as she began to plummet, disappearing with the crackle of magic.





As she took in the grisly scene before her, Rainbow realized she was holding her breath.

Ten ponies, all armed. Probably trained, Rainbow assumed. Princess Luna had slaughtered them all in the span of seconds, even with every one of them ready and waiting for her. She hadn’t broken a sweat, hesitated, or even blinked. They’d been snuffed out like candles left outside in a chill midnight breeze.

Maybe Rainbow could’ve done the same thing, if she had the element of surprise and a fire in her breast. If she’d been able to get on top of them before they knew she was there. But it’d be a heart-pounding, adrenaline-fueled dance for her. She’d be out of breath afterwards, bleeding from close calls and jittery with nerves. She knew she was awesome, but she couldn’t come close to Princess Luna’s calm lethality.

Not yet, Rainbow thought as she exhaled. The air reeked with the stench of fresh blood and fear. But one day.

Star Trails stepped up on Rainbow’s right, shivering as eddies of snow whirled through the huge tear in the hull and settled on the warm bodies.

“She’s back,” she whispered. She made a sound between a laugh and a sob, her next words filled with shaky relief. “W-we did the right thing.”

Rainbow looked back. Sea Sabre’s hard red eyes went from body to body, her spread wings half-folding, then flaring out again. The corner of her lips twitched up and down before setting into a thin line.

“Hear that, Sabre?” Rainbow pushed out an exhausted grin. “I told you, didn’t I?”

Muted gunfire and screams echoed down the halls from the far side of the ship. Rainbow forced her grin wider as she thought of the bounty hunters getting what they deserved.

“Seems we’re gettin’ through this after all, eh?” Flint said. He was standing behind Sabre, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. “Figure we oughta call Sunfeather? Unless ye wanted t’ spend th’ night.”

Sea Sabre blinked. She shook her head, her wings folding neatly against her sides. “Right.”

A crackling flash of lavender drew their attention. Rainbow whirled, a rush of joy swelling in her breast as she saw Twilight standing in the hall, framed by the dissipating sparkles of her magic.

She looked like a mad mare. Many of the various baubles and trinkets the crystal ponies had festooned her with before her descent were absent or broken, and she had deep bags under her slitted eyes. Her coat was matted with patchy splotches of blood.

Rainbow didn’t care. She probably looked just as bad. She leapt forwards and tackled her friend, squeezing her tight.

“You did it!” she cackled, shaking with relief. “I knew you’d do it! You’re amazing, Twi!”

Twilight stiffened, awkwardly returning the hug. “I’m just glad we were able to get back in time to help.” She wriggled out of Rainbow’s grip, taking a full step back before continuing. “What happened up here?”

“Silverblood’s son.” Rainbow jumped up and struck a pose, hovering mid-air. “Heh! Thought he could do what his father couldn’t! But nobody beats Rainbow Dash! Especially not with Princess freaking Luna around to help!”

The memory of a desperate mare driving a screwdriver into her lung reared up without warning. Rainbow faltered, drifting back down until her hooves touched the slickened metal floor. “Seriously, though. I—it was looking pretty bad, Twi.”

Twilight nodded. Her gaze drifted downwards. The cacophony of gunfire on the other side of the ship came to an abrupt stop.

Seconds passed with only the whistling wind to fill the gap. Rainbow shifted her weight from one hoof to the other.

Something felt off about Twilight. Rainbow’s first instinct was to ask what was wrong. What had happened to her down there? What had she seen? She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Twilight was going through.

But Twilight had made it clear already that she didn’t want to talk—at least not yet—and Rainbow knew she wasn’t good at talking. It went against every instinct she had, but maybe it would be better to wait until they were somewhere safe. When they weren’t soaked in blood with a blizzard tugging at their manes, surrounded by the stench of blood in a dark, corpse-strewn hall. Princess Luna was back, so surely they’d have time to rest now? The Princess would take one look around and know exactly what to do, and maybe then, with Applejack’s help, Rainbow would have a better chance at helping Twilight.

The choppy roar of the Argo’s propellers drew Rainbow’s attention. The familiar ship was pulling up next to them, fighting to keep steady as it swung its rear in their direction. There was a metallic clunk and then a steady clicking as the cargo ramp swung down, revealing Applejack standing in the hold with a coil of thick rope beside her.

“Howdy!” she called, barely audible over the wind. She planted one hoof on her head, pinning her hat in place, and tossed one end of the rope over with an expert flick of her tail. “Glad to see y’all still in the right number of pieces!”

Flint caught the rope in his teeth, his neck muscles bulging as he pulled. The Argo drifted closer, the cargo ramp bumping into the Hoplite’s hull with a metallic groan. Sabre and Trails jumped the gap immediately.

Rainbow looked back to Twilight. “You coming?”

Twilight grimaced, looking backwards into the ship’s dark halls. “We should get back to Princess Luna.”

“I am here.”

Princess Luna strode noiselessly out of the shadows, coming to a stop at Twilight’s side. She dragged an unconscious pony behind her, his quiet, pained groans proving him still alive.

Rainbow frowned. “You let one live? Why?”

“As in all things, an excess of bloodthirst is oft self-defeating, Rainbow Dash.” Luna smirked, her magic hefting the pony up by his neck. “This one may yet have uses. He is no threat.”

Rainbow’s frown turned to a snarl as she recognized Prince Argent. “This guy? Princess, he’s the one in charge here! He’s the one responsible for all this!”

“Thus wherefore he is spared, for now.” Luna shot him a sideways look, her mirthful expression turning cold. “'Tis not a mercy.”

Flint cleared his throat, drawing their attention. He jerked his head questioningly, his teeth still clamped around the rope.

“Let us not test thy companion’s patience further, Rainbow Dash,” Luna said, already turning towards the Argo. “We shall discuss much, I am certain.”

She leapt gracefully across the gap, her wings spreading barely an instant before she landed lightly in the Argo’s cargo hold. Prince Argent floated beside her as she looked back, ignoring the way Star Trails blatantly stared in awe.

Twilight glanced to Rainbow before teleporting across, a few lavender sparkles left in her wake. Rainbow huffed, spreading her wings and gliding over the gap.

Flint jumped across last, landing on the metal floor with a loud bang before spitting the rope out of his mouth.

“Why th’ hay did I hold that rope so long if none’f ye three even needed it?” he grumbled.

Applejack rolled her eyes and pulled the big lever on the cargo door’s control panel. The heavy ramp slowly ratcheted up, sealing the outside world away.





More than anything, Twilight wanted to take a nap.

She’d been exhausted when she’d woken at Luna’s side in the middle of Shaper’s sanctum. Waves of adrenaline had kept her going since then, but now she was safe. Her friends were safe.

She saw Applejack and Rainbow Dash watching her as she dragged her hooves towards her little sectioned-off corner of the cargo hold. Princess Luna was looking around the ship with a keen eye. Star Trails was still staring, and Sea Sabre and Flintlock were quietly exchanging words off to one side. It would take hours to wade through the sea of questions everypony would have, including her own.

“I need to sleep,” Twilight mumbled. She nosed through the curtain that served as her bedroom door and fell into her cot face-first. Silently willed her friends to leave her alone for just a little bit longer.

She didn’t notice the moment of transition. There was maybe a minute where she was allowed to dream in peace, blissfully unaware. She was in the Golden Oaks Library, reading an extremely interesting eighth edition of some textbook or other. It was sunny, and birds were singing, and she’d closed up the library for a holiday or renovations or some other off-the-cuff excuse.

Well?

Just like that, she was lucid. Twilight pursed her lips and looked up from her blank book, fixing Midnight with a challenging glare.

Sorry. It’s best we don’t put this off any longer. She was stretched out lazily on top of a bookshelf, her own book cradled between her forelegs. She flicked it shut, revealing the title: Prudent Practices for Psychiatric Practice. Twilight was fairly certain it wasn't a real book.

I don’t want to talk about it. Twilight stood and pointedly turned away, walking into the kitchen. There was a kettle already on the stove.

Midnight was sitting at the dining table, levitating a steaming cup of tea to her lips. I know why you don’t want to talk about it.

Twilight narrowed her eyes. Midnight answered with a warm smile.

Twilight knew that Midnight would keep pestering her until she gave in, and Midnight knew that she knew. She might as well get it over with.

Begrudgingly, Twilight sat opposite her other half, idly stirring her tea. She blinked, looking down at the steaming cup floating in her magic in surprise. She took a cautious sip and was rewarded with a satisfying heat, the earthy flavor accented by a spoonful of honey.

What do you remember?

Twilight bit her lip as she lowered her mug. She remembered running after Luna, teleporting onto the bounty hunter’s ship. It had been a massacre. Luna had walked through the ship and slaughtered all opposition, but Twilight had been focused on looking for crystal pony survivors. She’d found them, but they’d had guards. And then one of the guards pointed a gun at her. Pulled the trigger.

I remember… the hatred.

It reminded her of the first time Midnight had taken over, when she’d faced Philomena within the sinking ruins of Fellis. She’d had only glimpses of that outburst, and it had terrified her so much she’d refused to use her magic until her friends’ lives had been endangered.

But then she’d become the danger. Midnight had taken over again and hurt Pinkie in a way that Twilight would never be able to take back.

Over time she’d almost become comfortable with it. When some monster had threatened them during their journey north, it had been easy for Twilight to let Midnight take care of it. Twilight did the talking and Midnight did the fighting. The killing. They’d made a good team.

Until just minutes ago when Twilight had turned six ponies into dismembered corpses. Midnight had only watched.

There wasn’t any need for Twilight to say it out loud. They’d both been there, mostly. Twilight didn’t remember every detail, but she remembered the sound of bones being pulled apart and the taste of blood splattering across her face. Above all she remembered the moment of realization when she’d calmed down.

She’d murdered six ponies. She hadn’t even hesitated.

Now you understand? Why I asked you to give it back?

Twilight looked up from her teacup, meeting Midnight’s sympathetic gaze. I don’t want you to suffer anymore.

I appreciate that, Twilight. And I appreciate what you’ve done. You know how much it means. But clinging to every negative emotion is just as destructive as pushing them all onto me. Midnight reached out, touching Twilight’s hoof. Give them back. You’ve given me a glimpse of what it is to be happy, and that’s enough.

No! It’s not fair! Twilight shook her head, slapping her teacup away and shattering it against the floor. I won’t put you back into that place. I can take it.

Of course you can. Midnight leaned in. But what might it cost us? What happens the next time you lose control, or the time after that? What do we do when the only thing either of us can do is kill?

I didn’t lose control! Twilight stood abruptly, glaring down at Midnight. Those ponies needed to die! They attacked our friends! And Princess Luna would’ve killed them all anyways! I saved the crystal ponies they were holding captive, just like I’d meant to do!

“Sleeping well?”

Twilight blinked, looking to the side. Princess Luna was sitting on her haunches next to the kettle, sipping her own cup of tea.

“Princess Luna!” Twilight fell into a hasty bow, nearly smacking her head on the floor. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I have missed much,” the Princess said, looking around the little kitchen. “I had hoped, when I cast myself into enchanted slumber, that my sister would defeat the corruption and rouse me within a few years.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Yet it appeareth the corruption hath won. Ponykind is fractured. There is much to do.” She opened her eyes, looking down at Twilight. “I must know what happened. Rainbow Dash telleth me thou art my best chance.”

Twilight straightened up uncertainly. How long had the Princess been watching? “When did Rainbow tell you that?”

“She is still telling me, and with great enthusiasm. She hath also requested I look into thy—” she paused, narrowing her eyes “—affliction.”

“She’s not an affliction,” Twilight said tersely. “And what do you mean, she’s still telling you? Aren’t you asleep?”

Luna snickered, the corner of her lip pulling up into a teasing smirk. “I am the Princess of Dreams, Twilight Sparkle. I need not sleep to dream.” The expression vanished in an instant, replaced with an intent gaze. “Tell me everything.”

Twilight looked to Midnight, but she wasn’t there. Even her teacup was gone.

Have fun, little flower.

Twilight grumbled. So much for getting some peace.

Everything was a long story, but they had time, and it needed to be told. Twilight started at the beginning: the shock of waking in the ruins of Canterlot.

Once she started, it was impossible to stop. The opportunity to recount her every step all at once, with the extra benefit of hindsight, to a pony she trusted and who hadn’t been there for any of it, was unexpectedly therapeutic. Midnight stayed out of sight, but Twilight could feel her quietly listening throughout.

Luna’s eyes narrowed when Twilight explained how she’d first become infected by Midnight’s presence, and Twilight found herself rushing to explain every action, trying to preempt Luna’s accusations. She rationalized how Midnight had actually saved her life when she took over, and how she hadn’t meant to hurt Pinkie. She emphasized how, without Midnight, she would’ve never survived in Canterlot alone or made the journey north. She explained how Midnight had only acted the way she did because Twilight had unwittingly pushed her towards it. How Midnight had listened and learned and developed over time, and how Twilight had grown as well.

Luna listened silently until Twilight approached the end, when she delved into the Princess’s dreams to try and wake her.

“My apologies for the hostility thou faced from me in that realm,” Princess Luna commented. “My memories are trained to be unwelcoming towards visitors.”

Continuing on, Twilight hesitated as she reached the final confrontation with Luna’s wyrd, considering how to approach it. After a moment she decided to gloss over the details of her emotional exchange with Midnight. It was messy, difficult to explain, and not altogether relevant. And it wasn’t entirely incorrect to only say that they had beaten the wyrd together.

“That brings up a question,” Twilight said. “What was the other being that your wyrd was fighting against? It never helped me, but it didn’t seem malicious.”

“Tantabus.” Luna smiled softly. “A creation of my own making. It was not meant as a protector in the beginning, but nonetheless hath well served that purpose.”

Twilight nodded. “Well, that’s pretty much it. After we defeated your wyrd, we woke up and watched Shaper consume it. You know the rest.”

The kitchen was silent for several seconds. Twilight glanced towards the window, expecting to see the sun rising, but it still appeared to be the dead of night. Despite having spent what felt like hours non-stop talking, her voice was still healthy and smooth. She sipped some tea to fill the gap, suddenly realizing her cup had been full and just the right temperature throughout the entire story.

“This Midnight character,” Luna began. “It appeareth she hath been quite helpful during thy quest, so perhaps I have misunderstood.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Surely, thou speakest not of thy corruption?”

Twilight couldn’t keep the tension out of her voice. “Yes. I am.”

Again the silence.

“Thou namedst it?”

Twilight took a deep breath. Her tail flicked behind her. “Respectfully, Princess, you said it yourself. She’s been helpful. Very helpful.”

“I have dealt with many helpful monsters in my life,” Luna said. Her calmness was infuriating. “I’ve made certain they didn’t linger.”

Twilight set her teacup down. Behind the Princess, in the window, she saw Midnight’s eyes. Watching. Wary. Warning.

We would not win this fight, little flower.

Twilight felt trapped. That was a threat, wasn’t it? A thinly veiled statement that Princess Luna intended to ensure Midnight was destroyed sooner or later. What could she do? Maybe she could force herself awake, buy some time. She could run if she needed to.

Twilight, drink your tea. Midnight’s eyes faded from the window, but her voice was still clearly audible. There’s no reason to be afraid. We still have time to show her.

One of the benefits of an endless teacup was that Twilight could buy several seconds with one long draft. She gasped as she set the cup back down, a little harder than she should’ve. “Well, now that I’ve told you my story, Princess, maybe you could share your side?”

Luna arched a brow.

“I cannot tell thee much more than thou already knowest of the—collapse—of Equestria. I was not present beyond the early stages of the corruption, and thou hast discovered much of that by thyself. It spread from Canterlot, overcoming our ponies with its insidious taint. Even alicorns were not immune to its malevolence.”

Luna looked away.

“I have battled many entities of darkness in my long life, Twilight Sparkle. They leaveth a mark alway, long after they are vanquished. But this corruption is the most terrifying foe I have ever witnessed. It wormeth its way inside thee and maketh thy very soul its plaything, twisting you to its will. And 'tis not the first time I have faced it.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “It isn’t?”

“Nay. There was a unicorn long ago, his memory faded beyond myth by the year of thy birth. A dark enchanter who surpassed all before him. He fashioned himself a king, and sought to make all Equestria kneel beneath him. My sister and I saw fit to strike him down preemptively, and he attempted to employ it against us then. An arcane superweapon that could turn legions and bring nations to heel.”

She smirked, a small snort escaping her. “But we did not send our legions. Celestia and I went alone, and banished him from this realm.”

“And that dark enchanter, is that Shaper?” Twilight asked. “If you beat him so long ago, how did the corruption get to Canterlot?”

“His name was Sombra. The Shaper thou hast dealt with is only a shadow.” Luna sighed, turning to look out the window. “Truthfully, I do not know how that seed came to be planted in Canterlot soil. My sister was fascinated by the masterful construction of it, and ’twould not be the first time she brought some arcane malignancy back for study. But I demanded we destroy it utterly, and she agreed. Keeping it in our vaults was far too grave a risk.”

“What about Chrysalis?” Twilight suggested. “It can’t be a coincidence that the corruption began to spread right after her attack.”

Luna hummed thoughtfully. “'Tis an unusual conjunction, yes. I would not put it beneath either of those fiends to forge some twisted alliance against us. She would have been foolish to attempt negotiations with such a manipulative soul, but she may have intended to betray him as well. Indeed, it was not uncommon for old enemies to ally against us.”

“Could anypony else have done it?” Twilight asked.

“The corruption is insidiously difficult to detect in its early stages, and malevolently stubborn in the face of attempts to wipe it out." Luna shrugged. “Any sufficiently motivated sorcerer may have sent an unwitting victim to the wedding as a walking weapon.”

“Anyone?” Twilight frowned, her brow furrowing. “Were there ever any previous attempts?”

“Yes. A few.” Luna turned back around to face her, her voice taking on an edge of bitterness. “The stream of visitors would have made it easier to penetrate our defenses. Alas, the entire event could’ve been mere happenstance.”

The room fell silent. Twilight tapped a hoof against the table, listening to her pulse quicken.

“Are you saying that everything that happened, everything my friends and I have been through, could have been nothing more than a stroke of bad luck?”

Luna’s lips curled into a sad smirk. “'Tis a possibility, yes.”

Twilight stood, sending her teacup tumbling to the floor. It shattered, ceramic pieces bouncing in every direction.

“I need to get some air.”





The storm cleared. The moon could be seen clearly through the huge curved window of the Argo’s control deck, a few feeble rays of sunlight making it past to illuminate the room.

Rainbow stood near the back, next to Applejack. Princess Luna was seated gracefully at the head of the map table, listening intently to Star Trails’ excited chatter. Sea Sabre sat opposite her, occasionally interjecting with a few short words or answering the Princess’s questions.

“How ya feelin’?” Applejack asked quietly.

“Kinda worried about Twi,” Rainbow said. She’d been hoping to sit down and hear all the details of Twilight’s journey into the Spire, but the unicorn had mumbled something and disappeared into her room the instant they came aboard. “Otherwise? Feeling pretty good, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Rainbow frowned. There was something in Applejack’s voice. Like she was trying to figure out how to say something.

Rainbow gave her a few seconds, then got impatient. “What’s up, AJ?”

“That obvious, huh? Heh.” Applejack took her hat off, scratching behind her ear. “Rainbow, y’all’re still drippin’ blood.”

Rainbow blinked. She looked down and remembered that yes, actually, she was still covered in blood. Her hairs were sticking out in jagged red clumps, the drying blood matting it into spikes.

“I guess I should take a shower…”

“A shower?” Applejack sighed. “Rainbow, y’all went in there mad as Tartarus. I watched you charge headfirst into that gunboat and all I could do was pray I’d see ya again in one piece. Then ya come back like Winona soaked in mud on a rainy day, exceptin’ it ain’t mud, and Winona knows she needs a bathin’ when she gets dirty.” She looked away with a grimace, replacing her hat on her head. “I dunno what scares me more, the blood on y’all’s coat, or the fact that ya look so darn comfortable in it.”

“Hey, relax, AJ!” Rainbow let out an uncertain chuckle. “I’ll go wash it off right now, okay? Sheesh.”

“Rainbow.” Applejack stepped in front of her. Stared plaintively into her eyes. “What’d y’all do in there?”

Rainbow frowned. “I killed some ponies.” And then, forcefully. “Ponies that deserved it!”

“Just like that?” Applejack let the question hang for a moment. She reached out, touching a hoof to Rainbow’s bloodied chest. “Sugarcube, I’m worried about you. Killin’ ain’t like makin’ cider. It’s not somethin’ ya just do and then get on with yer day.”

“What do you want from me, AJ?” Rainbow snapped, stepping back. “You want me to be upset? Stomp my hooves and cry? Why can’t I be happy, huh? Those ponies came here to hurt us, and they—” she grit her teeth, her tail flicking furiously behind her “—killed some of my friends! So I went and killed them back! They deserved it!” She leaned in, her voice lowering to an angry hiss. “And I’m fucking happy about it!”

Applejack flinched back, eyes wide. Rainbow glared at her, willing her to understand. Why didn’t she get it? They should be celebrating!

“And I don’t see you asking Princess Luna any questions!” Rainbow spat. “What’s up with that? She blew up a whole ship! Killed almost everyone on the other! Are you gonna go talk at her about cider, too?”

Applejack sighed. She stepped away and hung her head with a little shrug. “I’m sorry, Rainbow. I didn’t mean to upset y’all or nothin’.”

Rainbow pursed her lips. Now she’d upset Applejack, and unlike killing bounty hunters, that did upset her. In the background, she saw Princess Luna glancing in their direction, an unexpected rush of shame swelling in response.

“Sorry,” Rainbow muttered.

She brushed past Applejack and made for the door. She’d grab a cider and then go clean her wingblades. The side of her chest ached with a sharp, stabbing pain.





The Canterlot Gardens smelled wonderful during the springtime. Twilight had been a little surprised at first when she’d opened her front door and found them just outside, but she didn’t complain. It was exactly what she needed while discussing the intricacies of the end of the world.

“So we don’t know where the corruption came from. Not for certain,” she said, thinking out loud. “But we know where the floods came from, right? Celestia cast the spell that brought them, trying to beat the corruption. You can reverse that, can’t you?”

Princess Luna walked beside her, her long legs allowing her a graceful, relaxed gait. “I fear not.”

Twilight closed her eyes. Somehow she’d known. It would’ve been too easy. “Why not? Celestia cast it. Maybe if I helped—”

“My sister is powerful, yes. But even she could not reshape the land as she did,” Luna said. “She called on old powers, which are now lost.”

Twilight nodded, opening her eyes. She thought back to Cadance’s journal, still stashed in her old lab right under Shaper’s nose. The shards of three shattered amulets, with which Celestia had cast the spell that drowned the world. “The amulets? What are they?”

“Hmm.” Luna nodded towards a bench off to the side, facing out over the Equestrian countryside. “Shall we sit?”

“I like walking,” Twilight said. “Please, tell me about the amulets.”

“Very well then,” Luna said. “To begin with, my sister and I are not the first alicorns.”

Oh, you should’ve sat.

Twilight pushed off the statue that had broken her fall, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s sit.”

She turned a sharp one-eighty, beelining towards the bench they’d just passed. She fell heavily atop it, looking up at the stars and taking a deep breath. Waiting.

Luna sat beside her, a small smile on her face. “I hope I have not shocked thee too greatly.”

“No, no, you warned me.”

Luna nodded. She followed Twilight’s gaze upwards, to the night sky, and began to speak.

“Truthfully, Equestria is a land much older than myself or my sister. Thou witnessedst a moment of our youth in our dream, as we emerged from a mighty blizzard.”

The stars shifted, swirled. They formed moving constellations, depicting two young alicorns struggling through the snow. Another pair of alicorns appeared behind them, older and wiser.

“We shared only a brief time with the two who came before us, as did they with their progenitors, but we did inherit their works. We heard the stories of their great deeds, saw the shadows of their actions stretching across millennia. We aspired to serve as they had, to guide ponykind into a new age of prosperity.”

The elder alicorns dissipated as the younger grew regal and tall. They wore crowns of silver and gold, the blizzard replaced by crowds of worshippers.

“But we are flawed. Perhaps the most flawed.”

They turned on each other, bickering and fighting. They raised armies and led them into brutal battles in the midst of the cities they’d once ruled. Until one sister emerged victorious, banishing her younger sibling.

“You shouldn’t say that,” Twilight said, looking to Luna. “We love you and Celestia, Princess. I couldn’t imagine an Equestria without you.”

“I can,” Luna said bluntly. “More than imagine; I have studied the stories of the old alicorns, who erected the Canterhorn, who bent nature to their will, who shaped the very foundations of your world. Mortal ponies cannot possibly see it in their flickering lifespans. What, truly, have we done? Plunge Equestria into a civil war never matched before or since? Watch as it falls to the unleashed weapon of a dark sorcerer, and then strike the killing blow ourselves?” She scoffed. “No, Twilight Sparkle. We pale in comparison to our forebears.”

Twilight didn’t know what to say to that. She pursed her lips and settled for leaning against Luna’s side.

“In the first age, the land was wardened by two lovers.”

Two new alicorns formed in the sky, their necks interlocked in an intimate hug.

“Aphestus, who forged the land from the fire in his heart, and then gifted an ember to ponykind as the first magic.”

The image of Aphestus lifted his head, a shooting star sparking from the tip of his long horn. It zipped through the sky, leaving a trail of smaller stars behind that outlined an image of Equestria.

“And Aurora, who filled the seas and sang the plants to life, and taught the first farmers how to plant seeds and mark the seasons.”

Aurora raised her horn, an explosion of newborn stars arcing across the sky. A distant peal of thunder rolled through the air, echoing off the mountains.

“They did not rule in the same manner as myself and my sister. They created the Canterhorn as an earthen watchtower, from which they could see all Equestria, but they did not hold court or issue decrees. They allowed ponykind to learn and grow, intervening rarely, only when they saw fit. They would travel the land in disguise, reuniting at each sunset to tell each other stories of what they’d seen. Until it was time for them to go.”

The stars shifted again, forming three amulets. One a deep blue, glittering like the ocean on a starry night. The second vibrant green, writhing with unrepressed life. And the third an angry red, throbbing with the rhythm of a beating heart.

“They believed that ponykind did not need the frequent guidance of alicorns to flourish, but they feared what may come to pass after their departure. And so they created three amulets, to pass on to the alicorns that they saw would take their place. The Amulet of Aphestus, to shape the earth and craft a shelter that could weather the mightiest of storms. The Amulet of Aurora, which could summon a never-ending hurricane to bring life to the most desolate land. And the Amulet of Alicorns, to amplify the raw power of an alicorn to face an unstoppable foe.”

The amulets glowed as Luna named them, images of their powers appearing briefly in the sky. First green, then blue, and last red.

“The Amulet of Aphestus,” Twilight asked softly. “That’s how Princess Celestia made the dome around Canterlot?”

Luna nodded. “And if what thou hast told me is true, 'twas these three amulets that my dear sister spent to cast her final magic. To drown the land, raise the earth, and set the heavens into perpetual motion.” The images in the sky faded, replaced once again by a beautiful night sky. “It cannot be reversed, anymore than an alicorn can be unborn.”

“That—that can’t be right.” Twilight slid off the bench, her mind racing as she paced back and forth. She was so close. The solution was right there, she was certain, if she could just make the right connection! “New alicorns are still born, aren’t they? That power has to come from somewhere! There must be a way to access it!”

“'Tis a way, yes.”

Twilight froze. She looked up, waiting for Luna’s next words.

“There hath been three generations of alicorns throughout Equestrian history, and with the ascension of each generation, the land was marked. Existence itself responds to their presence, bypassing the laws of magic.” Luna’s eyes flicked over, meeting Twilight’s. “Before my own ascension, ponies did not dream, nor did the stars beautify the night sky. That is what I brought to the world.”

A second passed. Twilight clenched her jaw and took a deep breath.

Perhaps you should sit back down.

No! I’m fine.

Twilight thought of her library as she paced. Of the library in Canterlot. Of hundreds of books written over hundreds of years about astronomy and dreamscapes, intelligent ponies who had dedicated their lives to studying their intricacies.

“Do you really expect me to believe that out of countless scholars—journalists—historians—” Twilight paused, flinging a hoof out in exasperation “—even foals! Not one of them thought to write about the night that stars appeared? That they had their first dream?”

“Twilight.” Luna smirked. “How old dost thou think I am?”

Twilight slowed, then stopped. She stared at the Princess, brow furrowing.

I think she’s got you there, little flower.

Shh! Twilight narrowed her eyes. The oldest written histories in Canterlot went back several millennia, so… “You’d have to be so old that all records of your ascension have been lost. So old that it would seem reasonable to be banished for only one thousand years.”

“Thou wieldest a keen mind, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna’s smile widened, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Thou remindest me of myself, afore my own ascension. Verily, my sister chose wisely when she selected thee as my successor.”

I give up.

Twilight collapsed to the ground. Midnight’s laughter echoed in her ears.

She lay there for several seconds, allowing her pulse to steady.

“Shall I wait for thee to arise?” Luna asked.

“No, please.” Twilight waved a hoof. “I think I’ll stay here for a bit.”

“Understandable. My sister had prepared a more agreeable method of revealing this to thee, but I never asked after it.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be joking, would you?” Twilight asked shakily.

“No.”

“Oh, Celestia,” she muttered.

Princess Twilight Sparkle. Just thinking about it made her heart stop. Her, an alicorn? Sitting on the throne in Canterlot Castle, making royal decrees? Her face on every bit? Ponies shouting her name when they stub their hoof? Naming their cats after her? Crying out her name when they have sex? She would have to outlaw that…

Twilight? Should I be worried?

I, uh—

And who would her partner be? If she was supposed to be Luna’s replacement, then that would mean—Cadance? Why did Cadance get to be Celestia’s replacement? That should’ve been Twilight’s job! How was she supposed to negotiate policy decisions with her foalsitter? How would the public feel about their alicorn rulers doing a ladybug dance every time they said hello?

Midnight stepped out from behind a bush with a smirk. “I think you broke her.”

Luna’s ears perked the moment Midnight started speaking. She jumped to her hooves, horn bursting to life and sending a beam of silver shrieking across the gap between them.

Midnight’s hastily summoned shield shattered, sending her stumbling backwards with a groan.

“What are you doing?” Midnight yelled. “Twilight!”

Twilight’s head jerked up off the ground, eyes wide.

A spike of lightning flashed across the sky, casting stark shadows across the garden. Luna’s form melted into them, reappearing in between Midnight and Twilight as thunder rolled through the air.

“Close thou thy mind, Twilight!” Luna straightened up to her full height and flared her wings. Lightning crackled, streaking across the starry sky and sending thunder crashing against the mountainside. “Rise, quickly! We must repel thy darkness before its evil taketh root!”

Midnight clenched her jaw. Her horn began to glow as she climbed back to her hooves.

“Wait, stop!” Twilight scrambled in front of the glowering alicorn and held out a hoof. “What are you doing?!”

“This fiend hath invaded thy inner sanctum!” Luna stomped a hoof, jerking her horn in Midnight’s direction. “We must force it out, before it is too late!”

“Out of the two of us, you’re the one who showed up uninvited.”

“You. Shut it!” Twilight looked back to Luna. “Princess, Midnight is my friend. You can’t just threaten to—” Twilight shook her head and stomped a hoof into the ground. “You can’t just threaten to kill her!”

“It is not thy friend!” Luna said exasperatedly. “It is a malignant magic that will consume thy soul and turn thy body towards its own dark ends!”

Twilight expression hardened, an edge creeping into her voice. “And I suppose you came to that realization during the centuries you spent hiding away inside your own induced coma? The one that we freed you from? Together?”

“Do not deign to use experience as an argument against me, Twilight Sparkle! I have slain and forgotten more evil than thou will ever live to see.” Luna shoved Midnight back with an arcane shockwave and stepped past Twilight, putting herself between them once again. She kept her gaze fixed on Midnight, speaking in a low growl. “I see thy game, creature. Thou wilt need to work harder to fool a goddess.”

Midnight grunted as she was thrown to the ground for a second time, bouncing back up and fearlessly meeting Luna’s glare. “It’s clear to me that you’ve already fooled yourself, Princess!”

Twilight leaned around Luna’s bulk. “Midnight, leave!”

Midnight stomped a hoof, opening her mouth for a rebuke.

“Now!” Twilight added. I don’t want her to hurt you.

Midnight grimaced, looking between Twilight and Luna. Fine.

“No!” Luna’s horn glowed, and a set of starlight chains burst from the stones, wrapping around Midnight’s legs and holding her tight. “I will not allow it to flee to the safety of thy subconscious! I do not trust it!”

“So trust me!” Twilight ran in front of Luna again, trying to catch her eye. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Luna looked down, meeting Twilight’s gaze. “I trust thee, yes.”

“Then let her go,” Twilight pleaded. “She’ll leave, and she won’t hurt me. Especially not with you here to stop her, right?”

The thunder redoubled, then stilled. For a brief moment, the firmament was ablaze, every star connected by a web of lightning before going dark. Princess Luna folded her wings, looking back to Midnight with a smoldering glare. “Very well. I grant thee a continued existence, if only for Twilight’s sake.”

The starlight shackles dissipated into mist. Midnight stepped backwards, keeping her eyes on Luna. I don’t think she likes me.

Clearly not. Twilight shot her a sympathetic look. Don’t make this any worse. Just leave.

I’ll be listening, if you need me.

Twilight sucked in a deep breath. Princess Luna relaxed slowly, scanning the shadows as she sat back onto the bench.

“'Tis unwise for thou to tolerate that thing’s presence here,” she said.

“That thing is my friend,” Twilight countered. “I told you that already.”

“I believe thou thinkest it thy friend,” Luna said. “And I believe it will abuse thy friendship for nefarious ends.”

“You heard my story.” Twilight stepped closer. “I’ve told you about how much she’s helped me. She’s had a million opportunities to hurt me already, and she’s never taken any of them.”

“It would say or do anything to gain thy trust, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said. “'Tis not a raging boar or hungry wolf; it is cunning, and will wait until you are most vulnerable.”

“I know when I was most vulnerable, Princess,” Twilight said bluntly. “It was in Canterlot, when I hated myself and everything I’d done. And in her own way, Midnight was there for me when I needed her.”

Luna sighed. “'Tis clear there will be no convincing thee.” She shook her head, looking out at the horizon. “At least you respect my wisdom enough to banish it in my presence.”

It’s so tempting to tell her I’ve been here the whole time.

Don’t.

Twilight dropped back onto the bench next to the Princess. They sat in silence for a long while, not making eye contact. Finally, Twilight broke the silence.

“So… I was going to be—” it was still difficult for her to say it out loud “—an alicorn. How does something like that even happen?”

Luna shrugged. “'Tis a convoluted and mystifying process which I could not hope to do justice. But as Princess Everfree illustrated to me, each alicorn possesses a domain, an aspect of existence which they both embody and nurture. Celestia’s domain was the waking world, and as her counterpart, I am the night.”

Twilight frowned. She raised a hoof. “Did you just say Princess Everfree?”

“Hm?” Luna paused. “Ah, yes. My mentor and predecessor. Thou hast likely seen her legacy.”

Twilight opened her mouth, then thought better of it. She could likely spend eternity here if she wasn’t careful. “I see.”

“Thy restraint is to be commended,” Luna said. “The realm knoweth when each alicorn generation approacheth their zenith, and begins to plant seeds. Ponies gifted with exceptional talents emerge, each one with the potential to ascend.”

“All of them?” Twilight asked.

Luna nodded. “But it is an incredible feat even for them. They possesseth potential, but their magic must be tested many times, hardened through great adversity, molding them into masters of their domain. Thy first challenge was rediscovering the Elements of Harmony, and defeating Nightmare Moon.”

“But I didn’t do that alone!” Twilight protested. “I was only able to do that because I had my friends with me.”

“Correct. And for thy second feat, thou and thy friends defeated Discord, a creature so powerful that he posed a challenge even to myself and my sister when we faced him.” Luna leaned in, a small smile breaking through her stern facade. “But thou didst not batter him down with formidable magics, nor outsmart him with exceptional strategy. Thy victory came from friendship and connection. Just as before.”

“Oh, no,” Twilight gasped. “I was going to be the Princess of Friendship? That’s ridiculous!”

“Any more ridiculous than the Princess of Love?” Luna countered with a raised brow. “Love and Friendship share a duality, much like Day and Night. Thy title may be of Friendship, but thy abilities would surely extend much farther.”

“Right. That… makes sense.” Twilight nodded, more to herself than anything else. “So I was one of those gifted ponies? Is that why Princess Celestia tutored me?”

Luna leaned back, her smile fading as she gazed into the distance. “Much of my dear sister’s plotting occurred during my banishment. I gather her goal was to manipulate the apparatus to ensure thy smooth ascension. I disapproved of such methods, but—” her eyes flicked back, meeting Twilight’s. “Thy performance was most convincing.”

“So all those things I did, that me and my friends did, were just some—” Twilight gestured with a hoof, as if reaching for the right words “—tests? Boxes on Princess Celestia’s checklist to turn me into an alicorn?” She ran the hoof through her mane, shaking her head. “Did she think I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own? Was any of it even real?”

“Twilight Sparkle.” Luna’s wing stretched out, wrapping around Twilight’s shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that just because a very wise mare puts faith in thy potential, that thy accomplishments are not thy own.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “My sister loved thee. She did not see thee as a pawn to be trained, but more as a daughter to nurture towards greatness. If there was any flaw in her judgment, it was that she allowed herself to become so attached.”

“R-right. Of course.” Twilight blushed, already ashamed of her reaction. “So Nightmare Moon and Discord were tests. What about the changelings?” She bit her lip, looking away. “Was that a test?”

A test that I failed?

“A test, yes. But not for thee,” Luna said, releasing Twilight’s shoulder and folding her wing. “'Twas in fact a trial for Cadance to overcome. I allowed my sister to convince me to restrain myself, to give our successors the opportunity to surpass us.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “By the time we realized our error, ’twas too late.”

“And that’s where it all went wrong,” Twilight finished.

Luna did not respond. Crickets and frogs filled the gap with their songs as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves.

“You said these gifted ponies are born and ascend naturally, without any need for guidance, right?” Twilight pursed her lips, brow furrowing. “So if we weren’t able to ascend, then why didn’t anypony else take our place?”

“Truthfully, I do not know the answer to that question.” Luna stood, walking up to the ornate stone railing that separated the garden from the horizon. “But I have been told of the magic fading from ponykind. It concerns me.” She looked back over her shoulder, her expression grim.

“If the next alicorns do not ascend soon,” she said. “I fear that my generation shall be the last.”





Against all odds, Leviathan Wakes had been saved.

From an elevated balcony, Rarity surveyed the damage. Strangely, there were no bodies and scarcely any blood. Those who died had mostly died in the water, pulled down into it by the insatiable deepfish, or reduced to ashes. What blood had stained the wooden walkways and hulls had been washed away by the saltwater.

Instead, the tale of the city’s fight for survival had been physically carved into its very structure. Many of the floating ships and platforms had been broken to pieces, the shattered ends dragged along haphazardly by rope or chain as they tumbled and rolled. Some had been lost completely, with only a purposeless stretch of pier or frayed netting to indicate that there’d been anything there at all. Burn marks and spent harpoons marked those sections where the fighting had been fiercist, the Wakers defending their collective home with firebombs and harpoon guns.

The most notable change of all, however, was under the waves. Where previously there had been two great shadows lurking in the ocean, the twin Leviathans that served both as the city’s locomotion and namesake, now there was only one.

Rarity wondered if it was lonely. She wondered if it had even noticed as the Wakers had cut the chains binding it to its sister and left the huge carcass to sink to the depths.

Jester emerged from the doorway behind her, walking up to the railing and sucking in a deep breath. “Having fun, moping up here like some storybook character?”

Rarity shot the mare a sideways look. “I’m not moping.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me.” Jester grinned, nudging Rarity with a hoof. “Lighten up, Countess. You saved a city today.”

“Did I?” Rarity sighed, looking to the long trail of flotsam bobbing in the city’s wake. “There’s barely anything left. Barely any ponies left.”

“Nothing wrong with trimming a little fat now and then,” Jester said. “Clear out the old and make way for the new, mm?”

“Do you mean that?” Rarity frowned, turning to face the other mare. “I thought you loved Leviathan Wakes?”

“I love the idea of Leviathan Wakes,” Jester corrected. “It’s the idea that drew me here, a long time ago. Freedom in every way. Free to travel, free to live, free to do whatever the hay you want. But that idea’s faded over the years. Ponies decided they wanted to start owning things here. Wanted to make rules and structure and flags. But you notice something?” She slung one leg over Rarity’s shoulder, gesturing with the other. “No flags left. They’ve all either ran off or been torn down. As far as Equestria knows, this place is dead! Gobbled up by the deepfish!”

Rarity’s brow furrowed. “And that’s good?”

“Yes! By Luna, yes! Means we’re more free than we’ve ever been.” Jester let out a satisfied sigh. “And the only ponies left are the ones that know just how much that freedom is worth. We’re back to the idea. And that’s not so bad.”

“Hmm.” There was a certain romantic appeal to the notion, if one could get past the cost in blood. “What about your bar? The friends you lost?”

“I’ve lost a lot in my life, Countess. Friends included. They’ll be remembered.” Jester doffed her hat, holding it against her chest and closing her eyes. She opened them after a few seconds, giving Rarity a friendly shake. “My new ones will be, too.”

Rarity answered with a half-hearted smile. She felt it was the polite thing to do. “So that’s it? You fight off an invasion and then get back to your life, just like that?”

“What else am I gonna do? This place here is all I care about. As long as it’s still afloat, I’ll be here, serving drinks and swapping stories. And I’m sure to hear a number of good stories soon, I think.”

Jester nodded upwards. Rarity looked up towards the moon, still eclipsing the sun.

“Yes,” she said. “Quite.”
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Celestia missed the sunlight.

Her throne room had been a magnificent and awe-inspiring space, befitting a sovereign ruler of Equestria. There’d been a time when a thousand courtiers a day would shuffle through the huge crystal doors and mill between the marble pillars, each vying for her favor. They would pack themselves into every corner for gatherings or proclamations, climbing onto the ledges beneath the stained-glass windows that depicted legendary scenes from Equestrian history. Daylight would fill the chamber from dawn to dusk, channeled by the architecture to warm every stone and erase every shadow.

But the shadows were thick today. The hall was full of them. Heavy curtains had been hitched up and drawn tight, blocking the beautiful artistry of the windows and the light they provided, and transforming the once-radiant hall into a gloomy dungeon.

She paced in front of her throne, frowning at the darkened corners of the chamber. She glanced at the closed doors, the beautiful engravings outlined by a small beam of light that struck its upper edge. There would be no visiting nobles or petitioners or musicians today. Not unless she opened it.

She turned around, pacing the other direction and looking up at the grand stained-glass window behind her throne, the one window that she had insisted remained uncovered. The depiction of herself and her sister was barely discernible through the filth caked across it. A cold sliver of sunlight filtered weakly through it, illuminating the center of the hall.

The click of the doorknob echoed across the chamber. Celestia stopped and faced the entrance as one mighty door cracked open, spilling a beam of scarlet into the hall. A pony stepped through, their coat painted crimson for a brief moment before the door shut behind them and engulfed them in shadow.

For several seconds the pony was lost to the gloom, their hoofsteps silenced by the plush rug. Finally they stepped into the light, taking the form of a bespectacled earth mare with an ivory coat. She carried a clipboard in her hoof and had a pencil tucked behind her ear. She wore her mane tight and neat, and her tail tighter and neater. She bowed, her nose brushing against the rug.

“Your Highness.” She straightened up, baring her teeth in greeting. “How are you doing this morning?”

“I am well, Raven.” Celestia turned to face her, politely returning the bow. “How go the renovations?”

“Proceeding according to schedule.” Raven kept showing her teeth. “You could order the curtains down, if you’d like to see for yourself.”

“Mm. No.” Celestia pursed her lips, looking towards one of the blocked windows. The curtain was plain and black. “I can’t open the hall. The renovations aren’t done.”

“Yes. Of course.” Raven looked down at her clipboard and pulled the pencil from her ear. “You have another busy schedule today.”

“Oh. Yes.” Celestia sighed. “A Princess’s work never ends.”





The renovations were taking quite a while, and the hall grew dimmer. Strange shapes cluttered the corners, their identities concealed under a blanket of shadow. The light from the tarnished window had weakened. Only a small circle of light surrounded the throne, and the alicorn standing fitfully in front of it.

The heavy doors opened. Raven stepped through the light, her silhouette framed in angry red, and shut the door behind her.

A minute passed. Celestia bit her lip, listening to the stones shift around her. Finally Raven stepped out of the shadows, teeth bared.

“Raven! Good afternoon.” Celestia pushed out a weary smile. “I just finished this letter for Twilight. Could you have it delivered for me?” Her horn glowed as she floated a letter towards the other mare.

Raven frowned at the mention of Twilight’s name, but accepted the letter nonetheless. Celestia was glad she couldn’t see the teeth anymore. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Have you been able to get in touch with her at all?” Celestia asked hopefully. “It’s been so long since she sent a letter.”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. She’s been quite busy with her work abroad.” Raven’s red eyes roamed the room. The letter was gone. “Your ponies are asking after you, Your Highness. They’re wondering when you’ll hold court again.”

Celestia did her best to keep the smile going. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The hall is under renovation. It’s very important.”

Raven bared her teeth. It was not a smile.





Celestia sat on her throne. She could not see the floor, as the light from the window did not reach. She could not see anything, and that was how she liked it.

She jumped at the sound of hooves outside. The angry red light traced the shape of the doors as they opened, silhouetting a thing with the shape of a pony.

The doors shut, and Celestia was alone again. She fidgeted in her seat and glanced back at the tarnished window. Sunlight pushed through in only a few places, where the filth was thinnest.

Minutes passed. Celestia wiped a hoof against her cheek, and did not look at the red stain on her coat.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Raven appeared at the base of the throne, barely more than an outline. “Are you well? You look pale.”

“Raven, do you know when the renovations will be done?” Celestia asked. “They must be done before sunset. It’s very important.”

“Is it?” Raven’s silhouette shifted, her red eyes disappearing as she looked to her clipboard. “There’s nothing on the schedule for today, Your Highness. You should relax. Open the curtains.”

“No, no. They can’t be opened.” Celestia shook her head firmly. “You know why, Raven. It’s not an option.”

“Your ponies want to see you. They miss you. Open the curtains. Say hello.”

“It would ruin the work.” Celestia shook her head again. “I’ve waited very long, and I’m sure they’re almost done. Tell them to hurry, please. I just need it done before sunset.”

Raven bared her teeth. They were just as red as its eyes. “As you wish.”

Celestia clenched her jaw.





Celestia sat on her throne. She held her head high, as a princess should, and did not look down. A single ray of light shone through the window behind her, haloing her head.

She heard the doorknob twist and closed her eyes. She did not look, but she still saw the maddening red light. She did not hear the hoofsteps, and she did not count the hours.

The renovations would be done soon, and then she would open the curtains. She would let the light back in, and the hall would be beautiful and clean like it was supposed to be. She would let her ponies in, and they would be happy and alive. They would smile without showing their teeth, and she would smile back.

“Celestia.”

Celestia did not open her eyes. She saw Raven standing on the side of her throne, red eyes and red teeth.

“I’m very busy, Raven,” she said. “A Princess’s work never ends, and I must have the hall ready before sunset.”

“We should open the curtains, Celestia. Don’t you miss the sunlight?”

“The work is almost done, Raven,” Celestia whispered. “We can let the light in once the hall is clean.”

“But Celestia, if we don’t open the curtains, you’ll miss the eclipse.”

Celestia’s eyes blinked open. She could not see anything, but the faint outline of the bloodsoaked window behind her throne. “Eclipse?”

“Yes, Celestia,” Raven purred. “You haven’t heard?”

“Twilight finally wrote. Nightmare Moon has returned.”






Concluded in Act Three: Ashen Horizons