Prologue: Disappearance

Prologue: Disappearance

Vellum jolted awake to the sound of thunder. Wind buffeted his face, ruining his once well-groomed mane, sweeping the black strands backwards into an unruly mess; the flying chariot he passengered was open to the night sky and offered no protection from the elements.

Out of his jacket, the unicorn levitated a watch. A flash of lightning reflected off the glass, briefly allowing a reading. Two hours had passed since the flight to Canterlot had departed from Manehattan.

Stretching and loosening his joints, Vellum steadily got to his hooves and peered over the heads of the gold clad pegasi pulling the chariot. Through the darkness he could almost make out the lights of Canterlot Castle glowing in the distance.

Photographs usually framed the castle majestically against the mountain, a shining beacon with the sun hanging above in all its glory. Now the gathered thunderclouds and intermittent flares of lightning gave it an ominous air; the pouring rain accorded the architecture’s white, gold and purple color scheme a washed-out appearance. The palace hung off the peak like a great fungus clinging to a dead tree.

Noticing the burly drivers were steering towards the tempest, Vellum nervously clutched the brass railing running along the chariot’s frame as pellets of water started pattering against his gray fur.

“Sergeant!” he called out to the white coated soldier heading up his escort. “Are you sure flying into the storm is safe?”

Sun Runner’s turned his head slightly to address his passenger. “Don’t worry, Professor,” the guard bellowed over the thunderous din. Rivulets of water ran down his helmet, but he didn’t appear bothered. “We’re trained to handle all sorts of weather. Snow, rain, hail, doesn’t matter. There’s a rain slicker in back; if you’re worried about getting wet.”

Vellum quickly opened a compartment bolted to the carriage’s frame, and found the canary yellow raincoat folded and crammed between other emergency sundries. Worn over his blue suit, it clashed horribly with his slate gray fur. Nevertheless, the last thing he needed was to arrive before the Princess soaking wet; his wife would never let him hear the end of it. Luckily, his saddlebags were enchanted to repel water, so he didn’t worry about the expedition’s notes being damaged.

Seeing the storm gather strength, the historian was reminded of an old pegasus proverb. “Dark clouds, dark omens,” he recited.

“What’s that, Professor?” asked the other the other pegasus, overhearing his utterance as they flew through a quiet patch.

“Old saying from the pre-classical period,” the historian explained. “Pegasi avoided gatherings during periods of stormy weather. They considered it bad luck, dooming any endeavor discussed.”

“Sounds like ponies believed in a lot of superstitious nonsense back then. How can a storm be bad luck when we control when and where it happens? Were they really so gullible?” Pike scoffed, earning a swat to the head from his partner, and causing the chariot to wobble. Vellum squeaked and immediately wrapped his hooves around the rail again.

“Don’t speak ill of your ancestors, Private. Ever heard of a thing called lightning? That’s bad luck if you get struck by it!”

Pike rolled his eyes and quietly grumbled something about lightning strikes in relation to his superior’s privates.

“It’s important to remember,” continued the professor while ignoring the guards’ bickering, “that pegasi didn’t have as much control over the skies as they do now. Cloud industrialization didn’t ex—.”

Sun Runner cut him off with a raise of a hoof.

“Please hold on, Professor. We’ll be swinging round to a bay reserved for VIPs. Once there, we’ll escort you to Her Highness.”

With practiced ease, the chariot team skillfully weaved through the tempest, maneuvering towards the palace.

Vellum trotted between Sun Runner and Pike with some trepidation, their hoofbeats echoing down the dimly lit hallway. Icy drops that had avoided the rain slicker raised the hair on the back of the professor’s neck. It wasn’t the pervading darkness that made him nervous; his profession often required him to investigate dark places.

The portraits of Princess Celestia lining the walls seemed to lighten the hall by themselves—a reflection of their subject, Vellum supposed. He noticed that, while each painting displayed the Princess in clothing from different periods— ranging from intricate dresses with ridiculously large skirts to full plate armor—her face bore the same enigmatic smile. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Vellum found her expression disingenuous.

Beams of moonlight usually shone through the hall’s large arc windows, but tonight, angry clouds drifted overhead and blocked them. Candles held in sconces provided scant illumination, wax running low. Intermittent flashes of lightning elongated the trio’s shadows and provided brief glimpses of ornate double doors flanked by guards at the end of the corridor.

“This doesn’t look like the way to the throne room. It’s different than I remember seeing it as a colt,” the academic thought aloud, looking around curiously as they approached the sentries. Most children came to Equestria’s capital at least once during their school years on field trips. From those days, he remembered large open spaces, statues, petitioners herding about in waiting areas, robed functionaries rushing to complete the day’s work...

“I recall a tour guide mentioning the castle’s most recent renovation included gas lighting,” he continued, glancing at the candle holders.

“True, but Her Highness prefers to maintain an air of antiquity in this section of the palace,” answered the sergeant. “Here’s where we part ways, Professor; Her Highness’s private throne room, specially reserved for confidential meetings.” He threw a crisp winged salute to the soldiers facing them.

“These two or their replacements will return you home. Good luck with your audience, Professor. I doubt we'll be seeing each other again.”

Before Vellum could ponder the sergeant's odd choice of words, he was jostled by a purple filly leaving the chamber; she wasn’t watching where she was going due to the oversized book blocking her vision. Muttering apologies, and escorted by the retreating guards, she vanished down the darkened hallway.

“Please come in, Professor. I have been expecting you.” A serene voice called from within, drawing his attention back towards the chamber. Her motherly tone did little to ease the butterflies in his stomach. This was beyond presenting a paper to be judged by a panel of stuffy academics; this was the sovereign of all Equestria herself.

Taking a calming breath, he wiped his brow with a hoofkerchief. No need to fly off the handle, Vellum. It’s Princess Celestia, for Faust’s sake. There’s nopony kinder than she is. You’re being silly, he scolded himself, feeling foolish for his earlier nervousness. After all, a small child had just left Her Highness’s company. After running a hoof through his mane and straightening his tie one last time, the stallion entered, closing the great door behind him.

Hours passed and the sun rose at its normal time. The changing of the guard occurred without incident. Oddly, nopony reported Vellum exiting the room.

Earlier that evening

A copper pot of bubbling stew simmered on the stove, spreading wisps of steam and the heady aroma of cooked vegetables throughout the small kitchen. Willow Wind took it in with a satisfied sigh as she adjusted the flavor, tasting it with a ladle, and adding seasonings as needed. Her pink apron protected her light lilac coat from splatter, and a rose-colored handkerchief kept dark lilac curls out of her eyes. The apron strings accentuated the bulge of an expecting mother, but left her cutie mark bare: a trio of green leaves blowing in the wind.

Opening a window, Willow could hear the sounds of the Manehattan evening. The clip-clop of hooves on pavement and the clatter of carriage wheels invaded the kitchen. With dinner ready to serve, she carried the pot with mitt-covered wings, placing it on the dining room table, and ladled broth into a trio of clean, blue bowls.

“Vellum, Mayflower! Dinner!”

Through the hallway, she heard the sound of squeals and hoofsteps. Willow huffed as her call went unanswered and she walked towards the commotion.

Inside the living room, an earth pony filly, encapsulated in a field of gray magic, nearly knocked over a vase on an end-table with a pair of cardboard wings. The blue and yellow costume armored her in an aura of youthful invincibility as her father used his telekinesis to zip her through a series of loops and turns around the sofa and coffee table. Her mane, which shared her mother’s coat’s pale shade of violet, whipped through the air.

“Fasta, Daddy! I need ta show the cwowd my new twicks!”

Indulging his daughter, Vellum sent the little Wonderbolt into a series of quick corkscrews, dangerously zigzagging between a series of chairs exclusively set up for this purpose.

“Vellum, I wish you wouldn’t play Wonderbolt with May indoors.” Willow furrowed her brow as she walked over by her husband, disapproving of his typical cavalier attitude towards child safety. “She could get hurt.”

Vellum chuckled. “C’mon, honey, I’ve only been back a day. My little girl and I have to make up time.” He lowered the laughing filly and tousled her mane. “I believe we have some time to make up too.”

Willow blushed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Come along, both of you. Dinner’s ready.”

“Willow, I told you to call me when you were done cooking. You shouldn’t be lifting things in your condition,” the unicorn said in a concerned tone, pointing at her swollen belly.

“Being pregnant doesn’t make me an invalid, Vellum,” she replied dismissively. “I was perfectly fine carrying Mayflower and am perfectly fine now. Now enough out of you two; the food is getting cold.”

The family spent dinner listening to Vellum speak about his trip to the Griffon Kingdom. During the expedition, his archaeological team had discovered the ruins of an old Equestrian embassy, and Vellum had retrieved some valuable artifacts dating back to the Pre-Royal Sisters period. During his lecture, Vellum gestured wildly with his hooves for emphasis while Willow nodded and occasionally added, “That’s interesting.” She allowed Vellum his excitement, content to have her husband back home in Manehattan, and her family complete again. Besides, history never held much interest to her; she was more concerned with her children’s futures. She glanced over and noticed Mayflower meticulously picking out vegetables from her bowl and depositing them on the tablecloth, leaving wet stains.

“May, why aren’t you eating, honey? Don’t you like Momma’s cooking?”

Mayflower scrunched her face. “I hate cauwif’ower,” she whined.

“But you’ve never tasted it.”

“Don’ wanna. I know I won’ like it.” She pushed the bowl away and crossed her forelegs.

Willow might have been exasperated in months past, but she’d dealt with Mayflower’s picky eating habits before. These episodes could last a few minutes or all night, depending on whose will was stronger. Luckily, Willow had a secret weapon.

Smiling, she asked, “Did you know Thunder Cracker eats all his vegetables?”

Eyes opening wide, the filly shook her head.

“Well, he does. Why do you think his wings are so strong? Wonderbolts have to eat a healthy diet. You’ve seen his posters in the doctor’s office, haven't you?” she asked rhetorically.

As part of the Equestrian military, the Wonderbolts were obligated to participate in public service campaigns. One campaign encouraged healthy eating and exercise among the country’s youth. Posters featuring different members of the flying team were plastered on the walls of schools and pediatric offices.

The poster Willow was referencing featured May’s favorite Wonderbolt, Thunder Cracker, doing a loop while holding a bowl of broccoli. The phrase “Wonderbolts Eat Wonderful Vegetables” was emblazoned in large yellow letters. Willow felt the poster was silly, but her daughter adored anything with the redheaded stallion’s likeness.

"And if you want to be a Wonderbolt, you better start eating like one!"

Mayflower took only moments to messily gobble her serving. After Willow, giggling, wiped her daughter’s muzzle clean, Mayflower asked to be excused from the table and went to play. Mentioning her idol always did the trick.

“How much longer are we going to humor her, Vellum?” Willow sighed once she was out of sight. “Did you know she asked for a pair of wings for her birthday? I’m not sure I can deal with her disappointment again.”

Vellum moved over to embrace his wife and rub her shoulders. “Dear, I’m sure she’ll grow out of this Wonderbolt phase. In the meantime, maybe I’ll see about getting the Flutter-wing Spell cast on her. I know some unicorns in the Arcana department; one of them should be able do it.”

“I’m reluctant, honey. Should we be feeding her fantasy? Maybe I shouldn’t take her flying with me so often.” Her husband shifted his hooves gently down to her sides, massaging tired muscles with slow circular motions.

“Don’t be silly, sweetie. You know she loves flying with you.” He cupped her face, his silver irises staring lovingly into her cobalt-colored pools. “Don’t worry so much. A pony’s youth is their time to dream. Let her worry about boring reality when she grows up.”

He cut off any inkling of a response by kissing her on the lips. What started as a chaste peck quickly escalated, as both opened their muzzles to deepen their mouths’ embrace. Willow traced her wings along her husband’s flanks, letting them rest on his cutie mark: an open scroll, half-obscured by caked-on sand.

The couple’s intimate moment was cut short by the ringing of the doorbell. Willow growled in annoyance at being interrupted. She made to get up, but Vellum motioned for her to stay put, not wanting the pregnant mare to unduly exert herself.

Distracted while wondering who’d come calling at such a late hour, Vellum almost tripped as Mayflower darted between his legs. The energetic filly galloped towards the door only to be captured by her father’s magic.

“May,” he scolded, “you know you’re not to open the front door without permission.”

“But, Daddy, I wanna see,” she complained with a pout, stamping her hooves.

“Just stay behind me.” He shunted the filly behind him as he opened the door. Standing on the stoop of the family’s brownstone was a pair of white pegasi clad in gold armor. Except for the difference in crest color, both were identical in their statue-like countenance.

“May I help you, gentlecolts?” he inquired, masking his unease with a layer of politeness.

The stallion on Vellum’s right answered, his tone official, “Are you Professor Vellum Scroll?” Vellum nervously nodded. “I am Sergeant Sun Runner of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard. This”—he gestured with a wing to his partner—“is Private Pike. We apologize for disturbing you at this late hour, but we are on Her Majesty’s business. May we come in?”

Usually, Vellum would have insisted the pair come back in the morning, but royal business sounded important, so he reluctantly lead them to the living room. Mayflower gawked at the soldiers, enamored by their shiny gold armor. To an impressionable youngster, it was as cool as a Wonderbolt uniform.

“If I join the guard, will I get cool armor like yours?” she asked, hopping besides the sergeant with excitement.

The sergeant smiled down at the still-costumed filly. “Sure you will, but it looks like the Wonderbolts have already claimed you. They wouldn’t like the Guard stealing one of their recruits.”

Willow Wind joined Vellum on the sofa opposite the two guard ponies, and Mayflower sat between her parents. The guards refused their hosts’ offer of tea, instead opting for water.

“Professor, Princess Celestia has summoned you to Canterlot. We are to escort you,” said Sun Runner. He removed a sealed scroll from his saddlebag, which Vellum magically unfurled.

“This says the Princess wants an immediate audience. How immediate?”

“We have a chariot parked outside,” replied Sun Runner.

“Right now? Can’t this wait until morning? My husband’s been home only briefly, and it’s late,” Willow protested, resting a wing protectively on Vellum’s withers.

“I am sorry, ma’am, but our orders are quite clear,” the sergeant answered, taking a sip from his glass. “Professor, you are to bring all collected material relating to the Griffon Kingdom expedition for the Princess’s review.”

After putting Mayflower to bed, Willow followed her husband into their own bedroom.

“I do not like this, Vellum. A summons in the middle of the evening? Doesn’t it strike you as odd?” Willow asked while laying out Vellum’s best suit. The outfit consisted of a sharp navy blue jacket, a complementary light blue shirt, and a necktie of a darker shade. She didn’t want Vellum to go, but one couldn’t ignore a royal summons. The least she could do was make sure he was well-dressed for his meeting.

Willow’s concerned tone wasn’t lost on her husband, but he was just as mystified as she. “It’s difficult for me to say, dear. The seal’s authentic. I can’t imagine the Princess wasting time sending those two if it wasn’t important... A pox on the pony who invented ties!” Vellum complained as he struggled with the piece of cloth. Even using magic, Vellum could never tie a proper knot; he either left a gap near the collar, or the narrow end of the tie would be visible. “This is why I prefer clip-ons,” he sighed.

Willow clucked her tongue in disapproval at the result of his struggles. Vellum’s repeated attempts had undone her careful ironing and left the fabric a wrinkled mess. She disentangled the tie from the unicorn’s neck and set it on the ironing board.

“Really, Vellum, it’s a wonder you can dress yourself,” Willow grumbled.

The stallion draped his gray-furred forelegs over his wife’s withers and nuzzled her neck, not minding that he was interfering with her work. He playfully nibbled her ear. “That’s why I married you, dear. We stallions can’t dress ourselves. It’s not in our blood.”

Willow raised an eyebrow, not buying her husband’s excuse.

“It’s historical fact. First, we rely on our mothers, then our fillyfriends, then our wives,” he said. “Besides, we both know you like me naked.” He cheekily swatted her rump with his tail, eliciting a giggle.

“Mmmhmm… so what happens if there’re no mares around?” Picking up the freshly pressed tie, Willow turned and wrapped it around Vellum’s collar.

“Oh, then we just choke to death trying to fix the damn things,” he quipped.

“Well, I’m not ready to be a widow... yet,” Willow remarked wryly. With a few deft movements of her wings, she completed a Wingsor knot. “There, now you look quite handsome. I do good work, if I do say so myself.”

“Indeed you do.” Vellum admired himself in the mirror. “Maybe the Princess will be so impressed by my dapper attire, that she’ll ask me to run away with her, hence the late night meeting.”

“Whatever will I do without my darling husband?” laughed Willow, feigning horror while raising a hoof to her forehead. “How will I live without a stallion to cook for and pick up after?”

The couple laughed together and set about packing Vellum’s saddlebags. One side bulged with parchment and notebooks; the other held a single cardboard cylinder.

With work packed, Vellum secured the straps around his torso. “That appears to be everything. Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

The guards hitched themselves to the chariot as Vellum and Willow stepped outside. The couple’s goodbyes were interrupted by Mayflower running down the front steps.

“Wait, I’m coming too!” The lilac coated filly wore little saddlebags over a frilled lavender frock.

“Mayflower? Why aren’t you asleep, sweetie?” Willow turned in surprised and scooped her daughter onto her back. “And where do you think you’re going, dressed so well?”

“I’m going with Daddy to meet Pwincess Celestia. She can change me into a pegasus!” she cried, her parents exchanged worried looks.

“May, the Princess can’t change a pony’s tribe,” explained her father, trying to gently ease her disappointment. “There is no such magic.”

“But Orange Zest said that if Pwincess Celestia gives you one of her feathers, it will turn any pony into a pegasus,” she spoke back in a tone expressing disbelief that her friend’s words could be anything but fact. “And she heard it from her cousin in Ponyville.”

Pike snickered, earning a wing to the back of the head from his superior. Both guards had heard a number of outlandish stories about the Princess’s abilities, but this was the first they’d heard about magical plumage.

“You can’t believe every story your classmates tell you, May. Besides, this isn’t a field trip. I can’t bring you along.”

Unhappy with being left behind, Mayflower unleashed the ultimate weapon of little children everywhere, a wide-eyed, pouty stare. Vellum could feel his resolve breaking in the face of the large silver pools. He quickly thought of a compromise.

“How about I ask the Princess for a feather? She might give me one if I tell her what a good girl you are, but only if you stay here,” he offered.

“You pwomise?”

“I promise to ask. No crying if her feather doesn’t work, okay?”

“Okay.” The filly smiled, satisfied.

After giving his wife and daughter some last nuzzles, Vellum climbed aboard the chariot and waved goodbye as the pegasi took off. Willow and Mayflower watched the night sky until the carriage was out of sight, confident that the Princess would take care of him.

Chapter 1: Legacy

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Chapter 1: Legacy

Never fight the breeze. Let the wind be your friend, and the currents will carry you home.

Mayflower reflected on her mother’s lessons as she soared upwards, the forest canopy becoming a green blur as she gained speed. Catching a thermal updraft, she shifted her weight back, forcing the glider to cut upwards. The uneven rustle of wind buffeting her orange flight suit filled her ears as she quickly gained altitude. Her mouth pulled on the bridle, arresting her ascent.

Breathing deeply of the crisp morning air, Mayflower took in the vista before her. A pinkish hue tinted the sky. She gazed above as golden sunlight filtered through alternating shades of lilac coloring the sail, basking in the welcome warmth. The lenses of her flight goggles darkened, allowing her eyes to focus on the dark speck silhouetted against the glare of the setting sun.

Every waypoint, Skybox, you’ve been ahead. Well, let’s see if Willow and I can close the distance.

The Manehattan Regional Hang Gliding Championship was a five hundred mile race through four waypoints around the eastern coast of Equestria. Mayflower trailed behind Skybox during every leg, a fact the cocky pegasus had rubbed in her face at every rest stop. She suppressed a growl of frustration, picturing his smug face.

It doesn’t help that he’s dangerously handsome with his immaculate white fur, flowing blonde mane, square jaw, those piercing green eyes…

Mayflower sighed, banishing images of the hunky stallion.

Why do all the good looking ones have to be such insufferable plotholes?

Nudging the control bit, she banked hard right, letting momentum carry the glider through a tight barrel roll. Her lips curled into smile as the craft effortlessly sliced through the air, evening out in line with her target.

Preparing for her most dangerous maneuver, the earth pony steadied her breathing and checked the speedometer. Forty miles per hour, a decent cruising speed. Time to see if all the hours spent customizing Willow Wind were going to pay dividends. Tightening her teeth around the control bridle, she forcefully pulled a strap hanging overhead. The bottle of propellant slung under the glider’s tail expelled its contents with a loud hiss.

Mayflower’s ears flattened against her helmet as the g-forces pushed against her body. She reveled in the rush of adrenaline flooding her system, letting its fire cleanse her mind of all thoughts except the desire for more speed. The wing’s leading edge cut through the air’s resistance like a razor, the speedometer rapidly spinning up to eighty miles per hour. Her short tail straightened in the wind, leaving behind a light purple contrail wavering in a white haze.

In under a minute, she could make out the white and blue colors of the stallion’s sail. Exhilaration filled Mayflower as she felt victory within her hooves. By her estimate, she was three hundred meters and closing. Just as thoughts of the Manehattan Regional Hang Gliding Championship Trophy danced in her head, the propellant sputtered out. Mayflower’s jaw dropped, realizing she had miscalculated the quantity of gas loaded in the canister. She cursed as Willow Wind rapidly lost speed, and Skybox pitched towards the final landing zone. Resigned to taking second again, she lazily banked the glider towards the finish line.

Wallflower shivered. The cold mountain air above the Hollow Shades chilled him to the bone. More accustomed to a heated library than a windy cliff, the lanky historian pulled his green parka tightly around his chest.

“I wouldn’t brood too much, May,” he said, trying to console his elder sister. If last year was any indication, she would be moping around the workshop for at least a week.

She only grunted in response, busy breaking down the flyer. Mayflower had removed her flight suit at the end of the race, laying bare her cutie mark, a cog betwixt flared wings. Unlike her brother, exposure to low temperatures caused her no visible discomfort.

Mayflower’s lithe figure made no secret which parent she took after; if not for the lack of wings, the earth pony was easily mistaken for a pegasus. A resistance to cold wasn’t the only trait she had inherited from Willow Wind; her mane had grown into the same curls as her mother. A pair of timeworn aviator goggles, permanently perched on her forehead, held the pale violet locks out of her silver eyes, their color the one aspect she shared with her sibling. Her tail shared the same style as her mane; Mayflower’s profession as an engineer necessitated keeping it docked lest a loose strand catch in one of the many machines in her workshop.

Where his sister was a transposing of their mother’s colors, Wallflower was their father’s mirror image, sharing the same messy black mane, slate grey coat, and silver eyes. Even his magic color cast a pale grey. Only his cutie mark differentiated Wallflower from his sire. Where Vellum’s portrayed a scroll hidden in sand, Wallflower’s depicted a curved arrow pointing counterclockwise over an open book.

Floating a wrench, he started taking apart the control frame. “So what happened with the gas canister? It worked correctly back at the workshop.”

Mayflower picked up the now empty booster, eyeing it with disappointment. “A miscalculation. I overlooked the colder temperature. The volume of gas contracted, so when it was expelled, the force and duration were less than when I tested it.”

Growing up, Wallflower had always been able to read his sister’s moods and instinctively know what she needed. From the self-disgust in her voice and the way she listlessly pawed at the ground, he could tell that making what she considered an elementary mistake really hurt her professional pride, especially since it cost her the race.

Feeling a younger brother’s natural urge to comfort his big sister, he laid a reassuring foreleg over her withers. “So you came in second place. It’s still a thousand bits and another nice trophy. Besides, there is always next year.” The engineer returned her brother’s nuzzle, his affection taking some of the sting off the day’s loss.

“I wouldn’t count on it being any different next year, ground pounders,” a voice sneered, ruining the siblings’ moment.

“Nice to see you too, Skybox,” Mayflower replied flatly, her cultured voice a sharp contrast to her competitor’s rough Cloudsdale accent. She didn’t bother facing the blond stallion as she finished rolling the disassembled glider into its carrier. “Come to gloat, I see. Predictable. Well, get it out of your system.”

“Thank you, I think I will,” he said smugly, strutting around like a peacock with its tail unfurled. “Leave flying to the experts, May.” He trotted in front of the mare as she hefted the carrier across her back and leaned in close. “Accept the truth: earth ponies, mixed blooded or not, don’t belong in the air.”

Wallflower stepped back and watched. His sister was familiar enough with pegasus body language to recognize when one was trying to be intimidating and could deal with it on her own. Not to mention, Skybox was much bigger than he was, possessing the body of a trained athlete. Being relatively thin and gangly, Wallflower considered getting in front of the muscular flyer a bad idea.

“We should all know our place. Is that what you’re saying?” she asked coolly, unfazed by Skybox’s aggressive posturing. She pressed her forehead against his, surprising the stallion by not backing down.

Her rival puffed his chest and spread his wings to their maximum span, casting a shadow over the smaller mare. “Exactly. Pegasi fly, unicorns do magic, and earth ponies… do whatever it is that earth ponies do. There’s an order to things, and we don’t need ponies like you trying to upset society.”

“Quaint notions as always, Skybox,” she said dryly. “Thank you for flying all the way down from Cloudsdale to grace us with your wisdom.” She brushed aside his feathers and stepped past.

“Perhaps we should move back to the dark ages, when members of different tribes weren’t allowed to marry. You can’t have dirty mixed bloods like myself being born.” She gazed over her shoulder, looking at him as a cat might look upon a particularly stupid bird about to be devoured. “But wait, isn’t your brother a unicorn? Oh, the scandal! I guess your bloodline isn’t so pure,” Mayflower quipped, turning up her nose.

Wallflower stifled a chuckle, watching the white stallion’s face redden as the sting hit home. He always found it amusing to observe his sister’s wit pierce the overinflated egos of arrogant blowhards like Skybox. One did not survive growing up among the upper class of Manehattan without honing a sharp tongue.

“Oh… no response? A pity.” Satisfied she’d taken her nemesis down a peg, Mayflower feigned disappointment and turned away. “Wallflower, come. Let us away to lunch.”

“Finally!” her sibling complained through chattering teeth as he cantered to her side. “It’s freezing up here. I think my horn is going numb.”

Unfortunately, Skybox, unwilling to let an upstart earth pony leave with the final word, foolishly kept the argument going. “So where’s your mother? She’s usually at the finish line. Was the old bird too ashamed of your dismal performance to bother showing up?”

A twitch of her hind leg was Wallflower’s only warning before Mayflower abruptly turned to spring at her rival. Wallflower’s reflexes were barely quick enough to grab her tail in his telekinesis, preventing her from smashing Skybox’s face in.

“Let me go, Wally, I am going to bucking stomp his wings and toss him off the mountain!” she yelled, livid at being held back.

“He’s not worth it, May. He’s trying to bait you!”

Nostrils flaring and puffs of hot air condensing around her snout with each breath, Mayflower took on the visage of an angry dragon whose slumber had been interrupted. In this case by a very loud and stupid pegasus. Ignoring her brother’s protests, she dug her hooves into the gravel and slowly dragged the grey unicorn forward.

“You just had to take a parting shot, didn’t you, Sky?” he spat, wincing as his haunches scraped across the sharp pebbles.

“So the ice queen has some fire.” Skybox ignored the warning. Seeing Mayflower riled up was rare, and he wanted to make it last. “Did I hit a nerve? Did the eagle finally notice she gave birth to a kiwi?”

“I. Am. Going. To. Break. All. Your. Bucking. Legs,” she snarled, each word punctuated by a strained step forward.

“Your ornithological knowledge is most impressive. Now get out of here before I lose my grip on her!” Rivulets of sweat ran down Wallflower’s face as he struggled to maintain his hold. Mayflower’s light frame belied her inherent strength. Resemblance to a pegasus aside, she was still an earth pony with all the muscle power to match. It didn’t help that Wallflower’s spell power and mana pool measured below average, meaning only a few moments remained to get the swaggering idiot out of harm’s way. Worse, said idiot was hovering in and out of Mayflower’s reach, easily avoiding her angry swipes, infuriating his sister further.

“Ha. Far too slow. You’re pitiful. No wonder she―”

“She died six months ago, you feather brained imbecile!” Wallflower shouted, cutting him off. “That’s whole reason she wanted to win so badly!”

Skybox’s mouth froze midsentence.

He floated in place, paralyzed by the burning hatred in May’s eyes, she chomped at the bit to stomp him into paste. Probably best he moved.

The epiphany came just in time as Wallflower’s magic ran dry. The sudden release sent the unicorn flying backwards. He hissed as pain exploded in his head and spots clouded his vision.

Unleashed, May roared as she lept towards the pegasus, snapping him out of his stupor. With a strong flap, he bolted for the sky, narrowly avoiding a potentially bone shattering swipe from her foreleg.

The earth pony threw both curses and any small rocks she could pick up at his fleeing form. He yelped as a stone clipped his left ear, causing him to briefly lose altitude. Watching the target of her fury get away, Mayflower lost all control and vented her unspent anger on the ground, pulverizing the small rocks into powder. Eventually, she collapsed, letting out slow, ragged breaths. As her rage was washed away in a torrent of grief, she lay wailing in the dirt. Even her Wallflower’s gentle stroking of her mane did nothing to stop the tears.

“Shh...” he comforted. “It’s alright, let it all out.”

“Momma...” Mayflower’s cries became muffled in the damp fur of her brother’s chest.

Every mare in the cafe set their sights on Wallflower the moment he and his sister set hoof inside. Wall’s friends had warned him about this phenomenon: anytime a stallion appeared alongside a mare who’d clearly been crying, a silent directive circulated to every female in the vicinity to turn their most accusatory stare on the unlucky colt. After all, whatever had upset the poor girl was obviously the male’s fault.

A waitress begrudgingly provided him an icepack after taking his order. He sat, pressing it to the back of his head, trying to ignore the negative energy emitting from everything with two X chromosomes. Mayflower’s return saved Wall from bursting into flames. She looked refreshed. A quick rinse had cleaned the tears from her puffy eyes. They each searched for words to break the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m really sorry for what happened up there, Wally, and thank you.” May started fidgeting with her goggles. “If you hadn’t been there…”

Wall recognized the nervous habit and waved off her apology. “It’s okay, I understand. If it’s any consolation, Sky’s brother is just as much a cretin as he is,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “You’re lucky. I have to attend the same university as Platinum.”

In truth, the fight had terrified him. He’d never known his sister to have violent mood swings. The unhinged look in her eyes as she threatened Skybox left no doubt in his mind she would have crippled the pegasus—or worse—if he hadn’t intervened.

“It’s not okay, Wally. I thought I was over mother’s death, but everything still feels...” She trailed off. Wallflower kept silent. He wasn’t a psychology major and hadn’t anticipated his sister being in such a dark place. The fortuitous arrival of their food bought him some time to think.

May’s expression slowly transformed to one of delight as she realized her brother had ordered not one, but two servings of her favorite dessert: the triple chocolate mousse parfait.

Three layers of dark, milk, and white chocolate mousse, crushed bits of delicate chocolate wafers, finished with a scattering of dark chocolate shavings, all served in a tall glass of fine crystal. It was an unusually elegant dish, considering the eatery’s usual clientele of hikers and mountaineers.

On the first spoonful, she entered chocolaty nirvana as a wave of smooth bitterness swept her in. Subtle floral notes hid under the ocean of flavor, and hints of coffee added to its complexity. Unable to resist, May broke through both remaining layers, the sweet milky taste leading a sugary waltz over her taste buds. The wafer crumbs broke up the dessert’s uniform smoothness.

Wallflower stared at his sister, a little envious of her hummingbird metabolism, as she polished off the first treat in the time it took him to finish a quarter of his walnut-apple salad. He wondered where she hid the calories. Her claim of mares having separate stomachs for sweets sounded dubious at best.

Returning from her sublime journey, Mayflower let the spoon clink in the now empty glass.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she sighed. Consuming so much rich chocolate lifted her spirits considerably.

Wall allowed his sister a few moments to bask in sweet-induced euphoria. He hoped a good mood would lessen the pain of the upcoming discussion.

The unicorn leaned forward, hooves steepled. “I’m really worried about you, May. Since the funeral, you’ve spent every waking moment in the workshop.”

May ate the second parfait at a more sedate pace, appetite stifled by the serious undercurrent in her brother’s words. “I thought losing myself finishing the crossbow would make me forget, but anytime I stop working I remember she’s gone.”

He nibbled his salad, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Normally, the combination of candied walnuts, tart apples, tangy goat cheese, and bitter greens would dance on his palate, but the mood turned the once bright flavors to ash. “I went to a grief counselor. He suggested a vacation. I want you to come with me.”

She rubbed her neck, unsure. “I don’t know, Wally. I have my presentation to the military coming...”

Wallflower took her hooves in his. “We’re drifting apart, May. I’m scared for you. I need my big sister back.”

May thought about the projects left unfinished. Could she really afford to go on a brother-sister bonding trip? Her brother’s pleading expression convinced her she couldn’t afford not to.

“Alright,” Mayflower sighed. “I could never say no to you, little brother.” She finished the last of her mousse and motioned for the bill. “So what paradise have you selected?”

“Let’s go, and I’ll show you,” her brother said, already leaving. “Oh, and you’re paying for lunch, correct?”

Mayflower found her brother sitting on a grassy knoll, watching the clouds. She marched over and dropped beside him in a huff. “Thanks for leaving me with the check.”

“You expected me to pay, on a graduate student’s salary? You must be joking.” He laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder.

“So, about my conditions. One, we have to stop in Canterlot for my P.A.C. demonstration.”

“P.A.C.?”

“Pump Action Crossbow.”

“Okay, done.” He nodded, Canterlot Grand Library being on his list of places to visit anyway.

“Two, you’re pulling the caravan.”

“Oh, come on, May!”

“No whining, Wally. You need the exercise. Moreover, while we are on the subject, what was that pitiful display on the cliff? You’ve been neglecting your magic, haven’t you?”

“Umm…”

“Thought so. We are bringing weights.”

Wallflower rolled his eyes. May was always on his back about fitness. Lifting heavy objects up and down in an endless cycle, magically or otherwise, sounded utterly boring. He was a highly educated academic, not a dock worker. Besides, didn’t climbing up and down ladders to retrieve books count as exercise? “Whatever,” he grunted, and dug through his saddlebags.

Out levitated a wide, flat jewelry box, the wood lacquered a dark chestnut. Gold filigree wound around its surface. A lovely piece, but May didn’t see anything to warrant her brother’s growing excitement.

“Behold and be amazed!” he declared, opening the lid.

Seated in the felt lined interior was a nondescript notebook, but the item next to it drew Mayflower’s eye: a pristine primary feather of purest white, the color carrying right down to the root. May held it in awe, feeling a soft warmth as if a tiny fraction of the sun’s essence sat in her hooves. The grand pinion obviously belonged to a pony, just one several times larger than any normal pegasus. “Where did you find this, Wally?”

“It’s a funny story. My thesis was rejected, so...”

Her brother’s voice faded away as Mayflower continued to gaze at the feather, stirring a cauldron of memories. Fragments of the worst period of her childhood floated to the surface.

Guards at the door. Mommy’s crying. I don’t understand what’s happening. Mommy’s wings embrace me, holding me tight. They’re warm. She won’t let go.

Daddy’s not coming back? A chariot accident, Mommy’s angry again. What’s neg-gla-gence?

A letter from the Princess? Mommy says the Princess feels sorry for us and sent me a gift.

Stupid feather! It’s supposed to be magic. why won’t it bring Daddy back? Why won’t it give me wings? How can I be with Mommy all day without wings?

I’ve got a little brother now! He looks just like Dad—no, he looks like Father. I’m a big sister now. I will speak like one. Brother’s name is Wallflower; it’s pretty. Mayflower and Wallflower, Mother says we’re her bouquet of happiness.

“…then the boxes fell on me, papers everywhere… Hey, are you even listening?”

Mayflower blinked back tears as her brother waved his hooves in front of her face. “Sorry, just spaced out there for a second. What were you saying?”

“I found one of Father’s notebooks,” answered Wallflower, getting more excited. “From what little I’ve read, his next expedition concerned alicorn history. Imagine it! The history of the princesses, it’s the stuff of legends!”

May couldn’t help but smile at her brother’s enthusiasm. “So it’s a working vacation for you and fun for me? Sounds good to me. Where to first? Hoofington? Fillydephia? Oh, tell me it’s Las Pegasus. I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“Actually… most of the writing is in Father’s shorthand so… ” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

Mayflower’s smile faded. “In other words, you don’t know.”

“Hey, if I can translate Old Equestrian, I should be able to figure out my own father’s horn writing. How hard could it be?”

Is this some sort of cruel joke left by Father to torment me from beyond the grave?

It was the last party of the semester and instead of enjoying the festivities, Wallflower sat at the back of the dimly-lit student lounge. Maps and parchment lay sprawled across the table. The pencil clenched in his mouth was in serious danger of being bitten in half.

This particular lounge was reserved for well-to-do students. It sported a fully tended bar and well-dressed wait staff who weaved through the crowd, bearing a menagerie of hors d'oeuvres.

Wall ran a hoof through his increasingly disheveled mane. The journal seemed to mock his attempts to decipher it. In the beginning, he had made steady progress, mapping out several potential locations for exploration. The problem came when the list continued to grow ever longer. Equestria was a very old country with a large number of ruins scattered about the continent; it required a lifetime to explore them all, and Wall only had a summer.

“You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Navel Orange slid into a seat next to his roommate. The earth pony was dressed in a simple blue tie, which nicely complimented his burnt orange coat and blond mane. He dwarfed Wallflower in size. Working on the Orange family orange grove had gifted the stallion with a powerful physique. With a Master’s degree in agriculture, Navel was an example of a most elusive species: the physically fit academic. It made him quite the hit with ladies on campus, much to Wallflower’s chagrin.

“So, still stuck?” Navel placed a snifter of brandy in front his friend.

Thankful for the distraction, Wall took his time enjoying the sweet burning sensation as the alcohol ran down his throat. “About the same, I’m afraid.”

“I warned you, Wally. Your father’s generation kept their discoveries secret. Glory hounds, all of them.” Navel paused, sipping his own drink through a straw. “You still have time to rework your last idea, even if It’s a little dry.”

Titled: Differing Lifespan between Tribes and its Effect on the Evolution of Equestrian Social Constructs, Wallflower’s thesis covered the historical growth of Equestria’s institutions and the handling of problems caused by three inseparable races with completely different rates of aging after puberty.

The average pegasus expected to live about sixty years; more gifted flyers lived for significantly less. For example, members of the Wonderbolts averaged fifty years or less, exemplifying the adage, “a candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long”. Pegasi made up for their short lifespans and higher accidental death rates with a much higher birth rate compared to other ponies.

Unicorns lasted an average of eighty years with the numbers for those of exceptionally high power trending downwards, their magic burning through their life force at a rapid rate. With their low birth rate, unicorns were the least populous.

Earth ponies remained the longest lived of all three tribes, with most living well over a century. Their longevity and moderate birthrate made them the largest race by percentage.

The advent of mixed marriages and the children stemming from such unions presented Equestrian society with complex questions. How to deal with families where parents outlived their children by a generation? A healthy earth pony could marry multiple pegasi during his or her lifetime and start a family with each; it made inheritance law a nightmare.

While Wallflower’s paper was well researched, it covered well-trod ground. In addition, nopony wanted a reminder of his loved one’s mortality. Mayflower never discussed how she was going outlive him by several decades despite being his elder. Besides, Wall had stronger reasons to switch topics.

“No, Navel, you don’t understand. This journal, what it contains, is my only chance to connect with my father.”

“Just because I haven’t lost a parent doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic, Wally. Only, I don’t believe chasing your father’s shadow is healthy.” Navel voiced his concern. “Have you discussed this with May?”

Wallflower shrugged. “I don’t want her to worry. She has it hard enough with Mother’s death.”

“She has a right to know. May was only a filly when your father died.”

“At least she spent time with him—remembers his touch, heard his voice,” Wall replied bitterly. “All I have are photographs. Now this.” He tapped the notebook. “This is my chance to fulfill his legacy.”

Navel was about to argue the point when another pony approached.

“Navel, Flower, is this a private party, or can anypony join?”

Both stallions turned to see Platinum Plus. Except for his horn, the white and blond unicorn was the spitting image of his elder brother. Draped over his shoulder was a pretty, teal- coated unicorn mare sporting a bronze updo, which Wallflower assumed was Platinum’s latest piece of leg candy.

Not waiting for an answer, Platinum seated himself opposite the table’s occupants. “Be a good girl and bring me a drink and a few of those little cream cheese things,” he said, sending away his fillyfriend with a swat to her flank.

“Do you even remember this one’s name?” asked Navel, disgusted by Platinum’s typical chauvinism.

“Do I ever?” replied Platinum in a bored tone. “So, Flower, I see you still haven’t been expelled.”

Wallflower bristled. “Go back to your painted-up tart, Platinum. I’m not in the mood.” To an outsider, his response would seem like an overreaction to a harmless jest, but to those who knew them, it was like picking at an old wound.

From the very first time he encountered him, Wallflower had taken a dislike to the arrogant stallion and the feeling was mutual. In Platinum Plus, Wall saw everything wrong with Equestrian society: a self-entitled fop, coasting through the hated School of Management, guaranteed position in government by way of his family connections.

Their rivalry came to a head when Wall published The Problems Inherent in a Self-Perpetuating Autocracy. Platinum had led the charge to have the work banned, labeling it treasonous. Wall had narrowly avoided expulsion.

“Still upset about that?” Platinum smirked, enjoying Wallflower’s cringed expression. “Holding onto the past, I see. Typical historian.”

“Did you have an actual point in coming here, or are you just here to poke fun?” said Navel.

“A little of both,” Platinum said, flourishing a newly minted diploma with his magic. “Looks like I beat you to a Masters, Wally.”

“They accepted your thesis?” Navel sat in disbelief. “Who’d you pay off?”

“Nopony, I assure you. Why is this so hard to accept?”

“Because your thesis is horseapples!” protested Wallflower, his left eye twitching. “Strict Nepotism and its Benefits to the Management of Equestrian Government and Business? Your argument is a one way ticket to stagnation. How could the committee buy it?”

“Cutie marks,” Platinum answered simply, taking the proffered drink from his returning marefriend. “Talents have a way of being passed through bloodlines. Entire families have skills related to one common aspect.”

“Oranges,” whispered Navel.

“Exactly, Navel. Your family is a living example. Even you prove my point, Flower. Professor Scroll was a talented historian, and as painful as it is to say, you share a glimmer of his brilliance.”

Wall opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of a cogent counter-argument. Skybox staggering into the table saved him admitting it.

“You! Tell your sister to watch her back,” the pegasus slurred, glaring at Wallflower. “She thinks she can attack me and get away with it? I’m the champion! I can have her kicked out of the league in a heartbeat!”

“Brother, you are drunk,” Platinum said in a tired tone. Skybox seemed a wreck after the incident at the cliff. Hoping to lift his spirits, Platinum had invited his older brother along to the party, a decision he now regretted.

Sky angrily swept the table with a wing, scattering drinks and papers to the floor. “Well, la-de-da! So what if I am drunk? You worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your fancy Manehattan friends, little bro?”

“It’s a little late for that.” Platinum enveloped his inebriated sibling’s tail in a gold haze and dragged him away. “My apologies, gentlecolts. A spirited debate as always.”

Ignoring the stallions’ withdrawal, Navel bent down to pick up his friend’s papers. As he reached for a sheet, his hoof was swatted away.

“Navel, hoof me the roll of tracing paper and a pencil.”

“Wall, what—”

“No time to explain. Just give them to me.” Wallflower’s eyes glittered as he stared at the maps overlapping on the floor. A fog had been lifted, rendering the answer visible for a precious few moments.

Navel stood aside, puzzled by the seemly haphazard lines his friend drew across the paper. With each application of pencil and ruler, the historian’s tail swished with increasing excitement. Slowly, a pattern emerged as the lines started to crisscross in increased frequency. His grin widening, Wallflower overlaid the tracing onto various maps of Equestria, discarding each until he found one which fit his unknown criteria.

“I’ve finally got it, Navel,” he exclaimed, tracing a hoof along the symbols at the chart’s edge. “All of these are start and end points, but they only work for a map of a specific scale.”

The earthy pony raised an eyebrow and hovered over his friend’s shoulder. “A type of triangulation?” he supposed.

“Close, but look.” Seen from overhead, a keen observer would make out a series of arrows hidden amongst the grid of overlapping marks. They all pointed towards one point. Cross-referencing the coordinates against a guide to Equestrian ruins revealed a single entry: The Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters, Everfree Forest.

Chapter 2: Ponyville Discovery

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Chapter 2: Ponyville Discovery

Ah, progress. Such a simple word for a multitude of pleasures. The hiss of steam escaping from hot metal, carrying with it the delightful tang of sour grease and burnt coal, was a bite across the nose. As Mayflower stepped onto the train platform, she welcomed the sights and smells like a circle of her closest friends.

Wallflower alighted next to her, struggling to keep both their suitcases aloft. He moved listlessly, missing the jolt provided by his usual cup of coffee. Coming face-to-face with a pair of huge blue eyes framed by the poofiest cotton candy hair he had ever seen proved to be an effective substitute.

“Hiya!”

Wall couldn’t help letting out a startled yelp as he dropped the luggage. The sudden appearance of the grinning pony sent him instinctively scurrying behind his sister.

Procuring an index card from her mane, the pink mare cleared her throat and read aloud, “Greetings, visitors! On behalf of Mayor Mare and the Ponyville Tourism Board, welcome to Ponyville!” Balloons and confetti burst from a wheeled contraption set up nearby. “I’m ‘write name here’. Please follow me to your complimentary party!”

Mayflower took the lead, adopting her most formal manners. Mother’s lessons on etiquette flowed naturally. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss…?” she asked, extending a hoof in greeting.

“Pinkie Pie!”

Since Pinkie habitually ambushed newcomers, the Mayor had decided to turn it into an official position, funneling her urge in ways beneficial to the town. Tourists were left with a friendly impression and the Cakes received free advertising.

“Miss Pie, I am afraid we must decline. My brother and I are in town for a brief sojourn, and as divine as a party sounds, we simply cannot spare the time.”

“Ooo… you talk fancy.” Pinkie sounded impressed. Luckily, she came prepared for such a scenario. She wasn’t Chairmare and sole member of the Ponyville Welcoming Committee for nothing. “Here you go”—she flourished a pair of small cake boxes—“Pinkie Pie’s Patented Portable Party… in a box.”

Each container bore the name ‘Sugarcube Corner’ in pink lettering. May’s eyes lit up at the contents: a bag of confetti, a party popper, and most importantly, a Death by Chocolate cupcake. Dropping all pretense of manners, she stuck her face in the box and attacked the treat with gusto, completely unconcerned by the chocolate frosting smearing all over her plum furred muzzle.

Wallflower gave his cupcake a perplexed look. “Vanilla sponge with strawberry-basil frosting, my favorite. Only a few bakeries in Manehattan make these. How did you…” He looked up to find Pinkie and her party paraphernalia gone. “…know?”

After a moment, he shrugged and took a bite. The brochure mentioned Ponyville’s rather eccentric history, but at least the residents seemed nice.

The residents of Ponyville were normally a very friendly bunch. They were used to odd ponies visiting and didn’t give them much thought, unless one was trotting through town openly carrying a weapon.

Fearing the theft of her precious prototype, May insisted on bringing it along, despite Wall’s protests. The collapsed crossbow strapped to her side rattled as she walked. Combined with the hang glider bag slung across her back, she made for quite the sight.

“There’s virtually no crime, May,” her brother complained. The stares being thrown their way made him uncomfortable enough to quicken his pace.

“No chance, Wally. I’m not letting Alula out of my sight.”

“You gave it a name?”

“You’re the historian. Heroes of old named their weapons all the time. It’s lucky.”

Wallflower rolled his eyes; it was true that most weapons of legend carried names, like Vainglorious or Justice Bringer. However, it was also true that most of those weapons turned out to be cursed and eventually brought ruin to the wielder. It was unlikely that his sister had paid a sorcerer to enchant the crossbow, so Wallflower held his tongue on the matter.

After checking into the local inn, he insisted their first stop be the town library as it was the mostly likely place to house a map of the Everfree Forest.

The building was as far from Manehattan architecture as can be. Neither pony had ever encountered a tree turned into a living space before.

“They certainly strive for a natural motif,” Wall observed.

On arrival, a rather surprised lavender unicorn ushered the travelers inside. The library rarely received patrons; Ponyville wasn’t the best-read place in Equestria. The only other visitor was a cyan pegasus skimming the children’s adventure section.

“Welcome to the Golden Oaks Library,” greeted the librarian. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. How may I assist you?”

Wallflower’s mouth went dry. Standing before him was the Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, twice recognized heroine of Equestria. He mentally kicked himself for scanning the brochure so quickly. Surely, it mentioned Princess Celestia’s own student living here.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name’s Wallflower Scroll, and this is my sister, Mayflower Wind. May I say, it’s quite an honor to meet you, Lady Sparkle.” He gave a little bow. “Hereditary Color Schemes through History was fascinating.”

“You’ve read it?” Twilight clapped happily. A serious scholarly discussion was one of the few things she missed about Canterlot. “And just Twilight is fine. What are your thoughts on the discovery of mane dye and its cultural eff—”

“Hey, I’m Rainbow Dash,” the pegasus rudely horned in between the chatting scholars. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” She couldn’t let Twilight steal all the attention and puffed out her chest, waiting to bask in the inevitable, but deserved accolades.

They didn’t come.

Twilight gave her friend a flat look. Why did Rainbow always insist on stealing the spotlight? Can’t she see I’m having an intelligent discussion?

“So...” She turned back to Wallflower. “You’re a historian. I’m quite the history buff myself,” she added, rubbing a hoof against her chest. Wallflower knew a challenge when he heard one. The unicorns commenced quizzing each other on Classical Equestrian history while an increasingly put out Rainbow Dash tried to garner their attention.

“Name the last chancellor of the Earth Pony Parliament.”

“Hey! I asked if you’ve heard of me.”

Wallflower groaned. “Chancellor Custard Tart.” He rolled his eyes a bit. “Far too easy. My turn. What was the Law of Trinity Punishment?

“Equestria’s fastest flyer.” Rainbow’s voice lost a bit of its brashness.

“The Law of Trinity Punishment was written by Princess Celestia nine-hundred years ago, outlawing the death penalty, replacing it with three maximum punishments: life in prison, banishment, or service to the crown til such time the Princess determined repayment to society complete,” Twilight answered, confident in her encyclopedic knowledge.

“The Rainbow ‘Danger’ Dash?”

“Wow, impressive,” Wallflower said. “Well, for a nonhistory major.”

“Only pegasus to pull of the Sonic Rainboom?”

“Really now?” Twilight gave a wry smile, missing the athlete's growing irritation.

Rainbow grunted in annoyance. “What am I, rotten apples over here?” May giggled at her disgruntled expression. Taking pity on the neglected mare, she tapped her on the shoulder.

“They’ll be a few hours,” May said, maneuvering Rainbow Dash away from the bookworms. “I’ve read the cliffs around here are quite spectacular. Could you perhaps show me a good hang gliding spot?” She noticed Rainbow’s wings flap at the mention of a flight related activity. Typical pegasus. “It would be the highlight of my trip to share the sky with such an acclaimed flyer.”

Rainbow’s chest visibly puffed out, each compliment reinflating her ego. “Aww yeah! Now you’re talkin’ my language. I know the perfect place,” she cheered while pumping a hoof in the air.

“Wally, I am going to out with Miss Dash.”

The unicorns didn’t appear to hear her, too busy pulling books off the shelves and arguing over esoteric unicorn history. Mayflower frowned at being ignored, but it slowly morphed into a mischievous smile. It was an expression, had Wallflower been paying attention, would have set off his ‘your big sister is about to embarrass you’ alarm—standard equipment for all younger siblings.

“Oh, and have you told Miss Sparkle about the poster you have of her?”

Twilight blushed at the knowledge that she had fans, causing Rainbow let out a guffaw. “Why?” he mouthed, spinning on his sister, but she and the pegasus had already left.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Well… that is… nice.” She tilted her head at the reddening unicorn.

“It’s nothing risqué, I swear!” he yelled, wanting to curl up and disappear.

After an awkward silence, much to the stallion’s relief, Twilight chose to drop the embarrassing subject. Over tea, the academics continued making small talk. Both enjoyed the mentally stimulating conversation, Twilight especially. She loved her friends, but intellectuals, they were not.

“Encouraging Miss Dash to read must be difficult,” Wallflower commented when the discussion turned to Twilight’s friends.

“Hopefully, I can get her into literature beyond middle school level.” She giggled.

Putting down his coffee, Wall broached the subject of his visit. “Twilight, the reason I’m here is to complete my thesis.”

Twilight’s ears perked at the mention of a research paper. They continued to twitch as she listened to his story. Alicorn history fascinated Twilight; it was one of the most clouded sections of Equestria’s past. Even her position as Princess Celestia’s apprentice hadn’t afforded her any insights. Both princesses deflected any questions posed.

The exchange ran into a hurdle when Wallflower mentioned the Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters as his expedition’s target.

“The Everfree Forest is a dangerous place, especially for somepony not familiar with the area,” Twilight said with concern.

“It certainly can’t be that bad. What could possibly be so terrible?”

Twilight inhaled deeply. “Manticores, timberwolves, cockatrices —trust me; being turned to stone isn’t fun.”

“Twilight.”

“I think there’s a dragon still living nearby.”

“Twilight.”

“Oh and not to mention an Ursa Minor, probably an Ursa Major and—

“Twilight!” he yelled.

“Sorry, I tend to get carried away,” she said sheepishly, “but my point still stands.”

“No need to worry, Twilight.” The stallion thumped his chest. “I was in the Celestia Scouts. The great outdoors will not be a problem.”

Twilight suppressed an eye roll. She’d spent two summers in the Celestia Scouts, and the unicorn division was kind of a joke. ‘Camping’ consisted of sleeping overnight in libraries and museums; the closest they came to trees were displays in the natural history wing.

“Besides,” he continued breezily, “I’m sure you noticed my sister’s crossbow. We won’t be without protection.”

Twilight rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “There is something else.”

What she was about to share was technically restricted, but Wallflower seemed intent on going, leaving her no choice. “The ruins are inside a barrier spell. After the Discord incident, Princess Celestia declared the area off limits. Nopony can enter without an official seal.”

“But I have written permission from the university.”

Twilight shook her head. “You need sanction from one of the princesses or a ranking member of the court.”

“What about you?” Wall asked, eyes flashing with hope. “You’re the Princess’s student. Surely, you have the authority.”

“Technically, I do, but I can’t break a royal edict for this.”

Wallflower chewed his lower lip, buried his self-respect and fell to his knees. “Please, Twilight,” he sniffled. “It’s not just about my paper. It’s… it’s for my father.”

Twilight’s expression softened. “Look, maybe you should start from the beginning.”

Wallflower released a deep sigh. “Just promise me you won’t tell anypony. My sister considers this private.”

Twilight agreed, executing a complex series of hoof movements that left the stallion baffled. He put it to some local custom before launching into his story. Wallflower told her what he had learnt from Mother, the summons, the accident, and the notebook.

Twilight patted his hoof in sympathy. She couldn’t imagine growing up without one of her parents. She felt some guilt for not writing them more often. “I’m so sorry. It must have been difficult for all of you.”

Wallflower accepted the condolence imparted in her touch. “Our lives were actually quite comfortable. The Princess faulted the Royal Guard for flying during a preplanned storm. She ordered our educations paid for, even providing Mother with a generous stipend.

“I’ve never told May, but I’ve always felt a bit of hollowness, never knowing my sire.” His voice cracked as he placed his notes on the table and ran a hoof along the diagram vectoring to the ruins. “This is my one link, so I am asking you, not as scholar, but as a son. Lady Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, help me… please.”

Maybe Applejack or Rainbow Dash could have stood solid against his tale, but hearing the desperation in his voice pulled at Twilight’s heartstrings. She surprised Wallflower with a comforting embrace.

“Alright,” she acquiesced softly, then spoke with all seriousness. “Just promise you won’t make me regret this.”

“Do I have to poke myself in the eye?” he asked, wiping his tears.

Rainbow Dash might have found her new best friend. After spending all morning stunt flying near Ponyville Cliffs, May offered to buy lunch. Next to flying and napping, free food topped the list of Dash’s favorite things.

She’d expected the Manhattanite to be stereotypically snobby, but Mayflower was surprisingly laid back. Not to mention, the glider tricks she could pull off were amazing, even to a seasoned flyer like Rainbow Dash, and she wasn’t impressed easily. She had to admit, the earthy pony possessed skills usually reserved for those born with wings.

May had been initially put off by Rainbow’s boastful attitude. In her opinion, a heroine of Equestria should be a bit more modest. Having dealt with another arrogant pegasus recently, it was disappointing. However, as they spoke, May found she and Rainbow Dash had much in common. They loved the beauty and thrill of flight, and shared a drive to excel in their chosen professions, even sharing the same literary tastes in the Daring Do series.

“When you went for that diving corkscrew, I thought for sure you were going hit the trees!” Rainbow said, illustrating the move with her forelegs. “Then woosh, you pull up and just skimmed the branches. You almost looked like a pegasus out there.”

“Thank you… I guess.” Mayflower decided to take it as a compliment.

“You’re welcome. Gotta say, I’ve never met an earth pony who loved flying as much as me,” Rainbow said as she munched some hay fries. “Most like to keep their hooves on the ground. One time I snuck up on my pal Applejack and took her on a little joyride.”

She laughed, remembering the high-pitched screaming. “She was pissed off for a month. ‘Rainbow Dash, yah ever do that again, Ah’ll buck yah so hard your great-great grandkids will feel it!’.” Rainbow’s impersonation of her friend’s trademark drawl would have warranted a whuppin’ from the farmer had she been around.

Mayflower nibbled her salad. The vegetables tasted fresher than in the city. “I’ve met some pegasi who would disagree with you, Rainbow. Many ponies believe we should know our place.”

“Featherbrained tribalists,” Rainbow snorted, waving her hoof dismissively. “You’ve got pegasus blood. The sky is part of who we are. Doesn’t matter if you’ve got wings or not.” She kicked her hooves up, ignoring glares from the wait staff. “My great-grandma was an earth pony. I got my awesome mane and my radical name from her. So I don’t give a flying feather about that mixed blood versus pureblood stuff. Take it from a future Wonderbolt.”

Mayflower whistled. “The Wonderbolts? Impressive, but not surprising given your resume. I assume they’ve sent you an invitation.”

Rainbow leaned closer. “Yup, already started training at Wonderbolt Academy,” she said proudly.

“Wow! So are you going to teach them the Sonic Rainboom?”

“Not really…” Rainbow’s brows creased downward. “I mean it’s mine, right?”

May cocked her head quizzically, rubbing her chin. “I don’t mean to judge, but that sounds a little selfish. Can’t you see all the ways Equestria could benefit?”

The earth pony considered herself a patriot. She envisioned many military applications for the maneuver. To see one of the supposed exemplars of Equestria’s ideals shirk her duty brought back feelings of disappointment. It was unacceptable.

Negotiating contracts had taught May that all ponies had different levers; pull the right ones and they could be steered towards your terms. Though she’d known the pegasus for only a brief time, it became clear the key lay in challenging Dash’s ego.

Mayflower pulled that lever.

“Your intransigence makes me sad, Rainbow.” She sighed melodramatically. “What happens if you’re injured or, Celestia forbid, dead, and Equestria needs the Sonic Rainboom? What if the changelings come back, or the griffin’s attack?

“I can see it now. The skies above Canterlot darkened with Equestria’s enemies. ‘Where’s Rainbow Dash?’ everypony will say. ‘We could surely use a Sonic Rainboom or three. Oh no, she’s dead. Too bad she didn’t care enough to teach it to anypony else. Now we’re all doomed.’” May covered her smile with a sip of water. Rainbow’s agitated wings proved her words were having the intended effect. She angled for the kill.

“Oh well.” She shrugged. “Not every pony can teach others. You can’t be the best at everything.”

Rainbow Dash immediately leapt onto the table, spilling her unfinished hay fries. “Oh yeah? Watch me!” she retorted, eyes narrowing into a glare, puffing out her chest. “I may not know what intrans-whatever means, but nopony tells The Dash she doesn’t love Equestria! I’m loyalty person-person…”

“Personified?”

“Right, that word. Give me anypony with wings and three days. I’ll hav’em doing Sonic Rainbooms all over town, no problem!”

Spotting an orange filly flying down the street on a scooter, the fired up flyer called her over, “Scootaloo, get over here!”

“What do you need, Rainbow Dash?” asked the little pegasus, magenta eyes shining with idol worship.

“Squirt, remember when I told you I’d teach you everything I know? Well, it starts today.” Rainbow hovered back and forth in front of her protégée, sounding like a drill sergeant. “This mare is questioning my awesome teaching skills. We’re going to prove her wrong!”

Scootaloo practically vibrated with excitement. “You’re gonna teach me to fly, Rainbow Dash?”

“Fly? That’s easy, squirt. No, you’re gonna learn. The. Sonic. Rainboom.”

Her hero’s pronouncement sent the filly buzzing into the air. She only made it a few feet before crashing onto the table, flipping over the salad bowl.

Mayflower took a napkin to an errant bit of lettuce stuck to her face.

“That’s the spirit, Scoots! Now drop and give me twenty!” Rainbow ordered.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Scootaloo jumped to the ground and started rapidly snapping off push-ups.

“See.” Rainbow gave May a smug look. “By this time next month, she’ll be me… ‘cept a bit smaller.”

Scoot popped back up, panting a little.

“Take five, Scoots.” Rainbow pushed a water-filled glass to the grateful trainee. “Keep working hard, and you’ll join me in the Wonderbolts in no time.”

“Really? The Wonderbolts? Me? ...But I still don’t have my cutie mark.” Scootaloo’s ears drooped. The Wonderbolts don’t take blank flanks.

“I was about your age when I got my cutie mark,” Mayflower said, rubbing the filly’s back. “Would you like to hear about it?” The filly’s ears perked back up and she turned in rapt attention. The Crusaders were always after cutie mark stories. “Oddly enough, the Wonderbolts helped get my cutie mark.” Rainbow Dash leaned in, eager to hear more about her idols.

The lilac mare reclined, reminiscing. “The Wonderbolts had a show in Manehattan one summer. My favorite flyer, Thunder Cracker, was going to perform.”

Rainbow had memorized the entire Wonderbolt Compendium. She recalled Thunder Cracker being a beefy tan stallion with red hair and a lightning bolt splitting a boulder adorning his flank.

“It was my birthday; it started as the best day ever. Mother even purchased backstage passes. And there he was, Thunder Cracker, in the flesh. His wings were even more impressive in person. My posters didn’t do him justice.”

“Sounds like somepony had a little filly crush?” Rainbow snickered.

Mayflower’s pink coat did a poor job hiding her blush. “Yes… I owned everything with his likeness.”

“Oh, like Rainbow does with Soarin!” chirped Scootaloo innocently. Rainbow spit out her water.

May continued, “I asked him for an autograph, saying the same thing every filly says, ‘When I grow up I want to be a Wonderbolt, just like you.’”

“And he told you to work hard and your dreams will come true, right?” Scootaloo parroted her mentor’s earlier encouragement.

“No, he laughed in my face, saying, ‘You’re either an earthworm or an eagle.’ Mayflower grimaced at the hurtful memory. “He made it clear I was firmly in the former category and when earth ponies grew wings, he would take up farming. He pretty much crushed me.”

Rainbow Dash slamed the table, ears flat against her skull. “Wow, that is totally uncool.” One of her heroes spitting on a little kid’s dreams really pissed her off. “I would’ve bucked that guy in the face!”

“Yes… well, Mother didn’t find it amusing. I’d never seen somepony kicked in the privates before or heard such a high pitched squeal.”

“Jerk deserved it,” said Rainbow with some satisfaction. If she’d been there, he would’ve gotten much worse than a kick to the privates.

“We did get a written apology and free tickets for the rest of the season.”

Scoolatoo raised a brow in confusion. “So how did getting laughed at get you a cutie mark? Diamond Tiara laughs at my friends all the time, and nothing happens.”

“I’m getting to that,” May continued. “I was pretty depressed. That’s when Mother suggested hang gliding. Her talent was sensing wind currents and using them effectively. She said I had as much a right to the sky as any pegasus, so she taught me everything I know about flight.”

She sighed wistfully. “She was so proud when I built my first gilder. After our maiden flight my cutie mark appeared.

“For my Cutecenera she gave me these.” May turned her goggles over to Scootaloo. “They’re her lucky weather work goggles. A bit outdated, but I never leave home without them.”

“That’s pretty rad,” the orange filly said. Maybe flying was Apple Bloom’s or Sweetie Belle’s special talent. Plans to attach her friends to kites started to form.

“I still remember the feeling of that first flight, the wind blowing over my coat and the liberation of no longer being tethered to the ground.”

“Right here, sister.” Rainbow hoof bumped May in agreement. “Flying is the greatest thing in the world.”

“It’s something all ponies should experience.” Mayflower unrolled a schematic onto the table. “And I am close to making that a reality.”

It was a wireframe model of a pony with its hooves outstretched. On its back was a pair of artificial wings with underslung turbines. Control rods ran the length of the pony’s limbs, and a bridle covered in small switches fit in its mouth.

May chuckled as both pegasi’s mouths gaped open.

“That’s so cool,” they cried in unison.

“It still needs a name,” Mayflower said. “Something poetic.”

“Icarus,” chirped Scootaloo earning a surprised look from Rainbow Dash. “What? I like to read too, you know!” she said defensively. “It’s the story of an earth pony whose father builds a set of wings to escape the minotaurs. It was pretty cool.”

“I like it, Scootaloo.” Mayflower mussed the filly’s magenta mane in appreciation. “A bit cliche, but it’s definitely poetic.” She wrote on the blueprint, making the name official, giving Scootaloo credit much to the filly’s delight.

“Now, Icarus isn’t quite ready.” As May expected the winged ponies let out an ‘aww’ of disappointment. Pegasi were typically impatient and always in a hurry. “I’m almost there. I just need funding to develop a power supply.”

“I gotta have the first one, Mayflower,” Rainbow Dash begged. She imagined the speeds possible with the device augmenting her already impressive wing power.

May’s eyes glittered like quicksilver. Rainbow recognized the look. It was the same flame of ambition she saw in the mirror every morning. This mare took her work very seriously and was willing to do whatever it took to realize her awesome idea, and she wanted to share it with everypony. It made Rainbow feel slightly ashamed, not that she would ever admit it.

What’s the point of doing something great if you kept it to for yourself? Besides, even if everypony could do a Sonic Rainboom, she would always be remembered as the first.

“I’ll make you a deal, Rainbow Dash. If you successfully teach one pegasus the Sonic Rainboom, the first Icarus off the line is yours.”

The inventor ordered a round of grape juice for the three of them. “Who knows? One day the Sonic Rainboom will be a button press away.” She raised her glass in toast. “To the future.”

“To the future!” the pegasi echoed.

Wallflower checked the map. The route Twilight had charted yesterday was more circuitous than the path her friends had taken on their fateful quest to retrieve the Elements. While longer, it avoided all the hazards the six had encountered. Coupled with travelling during daylight, the siblings made excellent time.

Rising out of a clearing, The Castle of the Two Sisters appeared to be a maze of broken stonework and overgrown vines. The march of nature was stymied by a dome of energy protecting the ruins in a glowing white.

Bearing a parchment with Twilight’s signature and cutie mark allowed the travelers to pass through the barrier. Both giggled at the tickling sensation as the energy passed along their coats.

Navigating around piles of rubble, Wallflower tried to imagine what the castle looked like in its prime. Many books contained artist renderings of what might have been, but being here, walking through a piece of history, the illustrations didn’t do the site justice.

Entering the grand hall through a broken portcullis, the historian was struck by the large amount of visible damage.

They passed several broken windows, which had most likely been filled with stained glass at some time. Blast craters marred the marble floors. The pair found themselves detouring through destroyed side rooms as collapsed ceilings turned the once majestic fortress into a labyrinthine maze of blocked passages.

Father’s notes stated whatever he was after was located near the castle’s library. Despite the clear objective, Wall found himself beset by questions. Certainly, there had been past expeditions; why hadn’t anypony found anything? What had Father found that everypony else had missed?

The further they progressed, the chillier and darker it got. The ceiling here was intact, blocking out the sunlight. Wallflower summoned a collection of wisps. The little flames did a poor job of relieving his growing sense of claustrophobia.

In unsaid agreement, the duo picked up the pace, hoof steps echoing along the soulless hallways and stairwells.

They came to rest in a featureless antechamber. No bookcases, no rolls of parchment, not a bit of evidence anypony had ever visited. The room was completely barren.

Wallflower flipped through his notes, agitation clear on his face. “This can’t be correct.”

“This was a fine choice for a vacation, Wally,” Mayflower quipped, trying to break the tension. In truth the lack of light and open air was starting to get to her. She ran a hoof along the surface of one wall, clearing a path through the thick layer of grime. “Dusty.” She tsked. “I’ll certainly have to scold the management on their poor cleaning staff.”

Wall could tell the room hadn’t been looted, being far too clean. A scrying spell revealed nothing; no cloaking field, not even a hidden passage—what self-respecting castle didn’t have a secret passage or two? “There should be something here,” he growled. Father’s notes were quite clear; had he made a mistake? No, impossible. He was just overlooking something. Something important. Something burning?

Mayflower’s yelp of surprise brought Wall out of his reverie. Her left saddlebag shined a blinding white. She felt the heat searing her coat and struggled to unstrap herself. She heaved, sending her bags and Alula flying in opposite directions.

The bags burst into flames before they hit the ground, leaving only ash and a single glowing feather.

Both ponies watched in silent awe as the white light it produced swept the area in a three hundred sixty degree arc, leaving behind tables, chairs, bookshelves, and the stink of ozone. A hidden library being brought back into existence for the first time in a thousand years.

Wallflower licked his lips at the cornucopia of lost texts. Only Mayflower’s hiss of pain kept him from diving right in. Quickly moving to his sister’s side, Wallflower looked over her injuries.

“It’s only a light scorch,” he assured, pouring a canteen of water over the burnt area. Mayflower sighed in relief at the cool sensation. “I’ve read of turn key cloaking spells before, but I never expected to encounter one. Full materialization from a dimensional subplane is very rare and needs a powerful caster to pull off.”

Mayflower didn’t speak while her brother explained the spellcraft. Her understanding of magic didn’t extend beyond crystals sometimes needed to power equipment.

He wrapped a bandage around her barrel and eased his saddle bags over her to hold them in place. Only after ensuring Mayflower was all right did the he pick up the now inert feather and inspect the aftermath of its effects. The books were ancient. With a cursory glance, Wallflower recognized several lost works dating back centuries.

“Wally, come here and have a look at this.”

Wallflower turned to see his sister inspecting a jagged hole in the back wall, exposing stairs hewn from the stone, leading downwards into the darkness.

The thrill of discovering another hidden level left the historian slightly giddy. He worked to suppress it. No need to get sloppy now; there were procedures to follow.

Abandoning his eyes in favor of hornsight, Wallflower saw the damage was beyond physical, bleeding into the astral plane. His horn tingled, practically tasting the magical residue left behind. It felt very old, close in age to the warding around the library. In sharp contrast to the warm, inviting glow left by the feather, the energy around the edges of the hole felt cold, repellent, dark. Even faded, the traces of battle magic were still potent.

Normally, uncovering a hidden cache of old texts would be enough to warrant turning around, but the lure of finding more was too tantalizing; Wall found himself following his sister down the narrow stairway.

Wallflower gasped. Illuminated by the flickering blue light of enchanted torches stood rows upon rows of sarcophagi. They had stumbled upon a crypt.

A forgotten library and the last resting place for who knew how many figures of Equestrian antiquity. Individually, either was worth its weight in gold to any historian. The bas-relief images around the perimeter of the chamber, however, outclassed them both.

Picking his jaw up from the floor, the historian drank in the details.

By the art style he placed the work as created during Equestria’s medieval period, likely pre-classical by his estimation. The stone was faded and chipped in places but still in very good condition. Vibrant colors of white, gold, and midnight blue were prominent, and figures were carved cleanly, leaving no doubt whom was being depicted. Broken into several panels, each depicted a part of a heroic fable. Flowing script in Old Equestrian wrapped around each section of the story.

“Surgere Caelestium Regiarum,” he read out loud.

The first panel depicted two groups of three ponies surrounding a fourth in some sort of ritual. Each of the tribes were represented. The focus of each group was a different mare; the first group’s being a pink maned white unicorn and the second a pegasus coated in dark blue. Painted whorls of multicolored energy flowed from the participants into the mares.

“Alicorn Ascendancy,” he whispered under his breath. The holy grail of the Equestrian history. Take that, Platinum Plus!

In the second panel, the newly born alicorns did battle with a mismatched serpentine creature. Six gems orbited the sisters, obviously the Elements of Harmony.

The final frame showed victory and dominated the rear wall. Princess Celestia, reared back, stood equidistant between panels depicting each of the tribes, signifying her divine right to rule all ponykind.

Unpacking his camera, Wallflower danced a little victory jig as he spun about snapping pictures.

He telekinesed a guide to Old Equestrian and a roll of parchment. Wall was quite proud of his refinements to the translation spell; it was one of the few areas of magic in which he excelled. He merely needed to run a hoof over whatever text he wanted deciphered while touching corresponding reference material, and the quill would automatically produce a version in modern Equestrian.

While her brother was lost in translation, the engineer noted the series of load bearing columns running the length of the tomb. She wiped the dirt away from a couple of the brass plates at the base of each coffin. The names and word sacrificium were the only parts she understood, the rest written in an dialect unfamiliar to her.

This is turning into a regular Daring Do adventure, except without the death traps and slavering monsters.

Mayflower’s ears swiveled towards a low chittering sound. “Did you hear that?” she called out.

“Rats probably,” Wallflower postulated with a shrug. He didn’t hear anything. “May, you have to see this,” Wall called over, horn casting his face and parchment in shadow. He wanted her to share in the euphoria of their discovery. He waited for Mayflower to trot over before reading aloud.

During the final days of Discord, we, the last leaders of the Equestria, authorized a desperate experiment.

To those who would judge us harshly. Understand, our land was in turmoil. The Spirit of Disharmony and Chaos ran rampant, working his foul magic unopposed, and the Celestial Council of unicorns lacked the power to successfully harness the Elements of Harmony.

They determined avatars were needed to defeat the fiend.

With the aid of Clover the Clever, a ritual was enacted. Members of each tribe sacrificed their essence to imbue volunteers with power beyond that of any single individual. Two mares survived, the process linking their magic with the sun and the moon. Thus those, who later would be known as the Royal Pony Sisters, were created.

“Certainly disproves my theory,” interrupted Mayflower.

“And that is…?”

“Aliens.”

“Really? Aliens? You’re serious?” Wall asked in disbelief.

“Creatures of immense power, from beyond, come to rule us. It’s a fitting description of the princesses,” explained Mayflower.

Refusing to be drawn any further into a conversation about extraterrestrials, Wall continued reading.

Aliens, preposterous.

With Discord’s imprisonment, peace was restored. Or so we thought.

The first alicorn rechristened herself Celestia after the now defunct Celestial Council. She refused to relinquish her power, dooming those ponies who feed her magic to death.

Declaring herself and her younger sister Princesses of the Realm, Celestia ordered dissolution of the Stable Parliament, equivocating democracy to chaos, naming our government dysfunctional and the prime catalyst in Discord’s summoning. Freedom and self-government were to make way for absolute order.

The unicorn nobility allied with the Princess—unsurprising, given Princess Platinum’s original opposition to a republic during the founding. The Diarchy was easily established.

The majority of the population is cowed. All who resisted have been exiled, eliminated or forced into hiding.

The Royal Guard are destroying all records pertaining to the Sisters’ ascension. The truth must not die with our generation. Celestia may be immortal, but we will not let her cover up history.

In hidden locations around the world, we have secreted copies of the Constitution and accounts of what really occurred. If you are reading this, do your duty. Expose the truth.

May Equestria be free again.

-Chancellor Custard Tart

-General Nimbus

-Archmage Crystal Abstract

The rest was a transcription of the old Constitution.

“Wally.” Mayflower cleaned off the inscriptions of a few more caskets. The word sacrificium appeared repeatedly. “These ponies... they’re all the ones who died creating the princesses, aren’t they?”

“Most likely,” he confirmed with a nod, taking a brush to another plaque.

She recoiled in disgust. This was exactly why she preferred machines to magic. Machines were logical and reliable. With magic, there was always a price, in this case blood sacrifice.

Her brother didn’t notice her reaction, busy as he was transcribing faded scraps of parchment. The use of sacrifices in the creation of alicorns had been postulated before, and here lay hard evidence.

His colleagues were going to be so jealous. A world of possibilities opened up. Forget just a Masters. This discovery would catapult him to the highest echelons of academia—maybe a stint on the lecture circuit, eventually a PhD and a teaching position.

Rereading the second half of the translation, Wallflower scoffed, dismissing it out of hoof. Although the translation was quick and dirty—skipping much of the flowery language favored during the period—the authors’ biases were obvious. Cast down from positions of power, they sought to paint the Princess in the worst light possible. Even so, any museum would pay a fortune to display their words.

Besides, one artifact wasn’t enough to overturn centuries of accepted history. The idea of Princess Celestia banishing or killing her political opponents was laughable. Ponydom loved her unconditionally; opposition didn’t exist. Heck, imagining her doing anything more ‘evil’ beyond eating an extra slice of cake was impossible.

Hopefully, the library upstairs contained more information. He sat down and scratched his chin thoughtfully, watching his sister peer at a damaged sepulcher. Now he could take Mayflower on a proper vacation, perhaps the Baahamas. Wallflower tilted his head back. He could picture it now: lounging on the beach, diploma in one hoof, a daiquiri in the other, mares clad in tight swimsuits as far as the eye could see, a monster dropping from the ceiling.

Surprised by Wall’s yell, Mayflower spun around just as the Scorpio dropped in front of them.

Both ponies stared at the creature. Like the Ursa Minor, the Scorpio was a constellation beast, obscenely huge with a stinger as large as a pony’s leg. Its six beady eyes focused on its petrified prey, sensing an easy meal.

May was the first to say anything. “That’s a big rat.” She bolted for the stairway, and looked over her shoulder to see her brother frozen in fear as the giant scorpion made ready to skewer him.

“Wally!” she shouted. “By Celestia’s mane, move!”

Wallflower wanted to move. By Luna’s twin moons he wanted to move quite badly, but overwhelming terror had turned his limbs to ice. His eyes ran the length of the beast, widening at the creature’s stinger. Dripping green venom, the wicked point looked long enough to easily impale him. At that moment, he really regretted not taking basic arcane defense as an elective. Even a small fireball would be nice.

A loud bang reverberated around the chamber when Mayflower opened the party popper. The noise unfroze her brother and he willed his legs towards her.

The Scorpio screeched and turned towards Mayflower. The unexpected bang appeared to make it angry. The monster charged, violently smashing aside columns with its oversized claws.

Mayflower rolled behind a fallen column. She prayed the clouds of dust from the pillar’s collapse obscured the creature’s vision for the few moments it took to prep Alula.

The Scorpio emerged through the haze just as she shouldered the weapon. Her first bolt glanced off a claw. The second struck one of the creature’s eyes with a wet squelch. A keen of primal outrage loosed from the Scorpio’s churning maw.

The monster relentlessly advanced. Mayflower backed away, firing shot after shot. One landed in its mandibles, and she could only stare as the razor-sharp appendages chewed up the arrow. Maybe it was time to develop some better ammunition. She cursed after the final bolt pinged off its star covered hide. All her reloads had gone up in flames along with the saddlebags. She ducked a claw swipe, resulting in a nearby sarcophagus being crushed to dust.

She rolled behind another casket, narrowly avoiding a falling boulder the size of her head.

“The area is losing structural integrity,” Mayflower shouted over the noise. “It’s going to collapse!”

Wallflower knew it was a bad sign when his sister fell back on jargon. “Get to the stairs,” he yelled back.

Mayflower rolled out of cover, galloping towards her brother, the Scorpio nipping at her tail—whose shortness was the only thing keeping it out of range as debris rained down.

Both ponies scrambled up the stairs, slipping on the uneven steps, certain the monster couldn’t follow. Wallflower heaved a sigh of relief, doubling over on the library's floor with Mayflower just as out of breath. After a moment they both burst out laughing, the absurdity of surviving bleeding into their giggles.

Their laughter petered out as purple smoke coalesced, blocking the exit.

“Bucking magical creatures,” was the extent of Mayflower’s curse before the Scorpio leapt.

Mayflower’s buck sent her brother crashing into some bookshelves before she was pinned down. She squealed as the stinger pierced her abdomen.

“Mayflower!” Wallflower cried, clambering out of the mess of books.

Her vision dimmed as venom pumped through her bloodstream. “Wally…” she rasped, “…run.”

Wallflower charged, slamming into the creature. He yelled out, bucking the Scorpio’s armor. A casual pincer-swipe sent him tumbling, the back of his head impacting on floor with an audible crack. He spat, tasting iron. Ponyfeathers, I think I’m bleeding internally. The sharp edge of the creature’s claw had left an open gash on the side of his barrel. He lay still, blood staining the white marble.

The Scorpio clicked its mandibles and drooled as it prepared to feed on the two tasty morsels.

Hmm… how disappointing. I was hoping for a certain purple unicorn, but I guess you’ll do.

“Who’s there?” Wall cracked open an eye but didn’t see anypony. It took him a minute to realize time seemed stopped. The blood loss must be causing me to hallucinate.

Oh, this is no hallucination, my friend. This is quite real, said the voice inside his mind, speaking in the oily manner of a used wagon salespony. And you, my friend, appear to be in need of some assistance.

Wall grabbed his head; it ached fiercely. He blinked away the few tears of pain. “I just need to save Mayflower.”

Mocking laughter echoed in his skull. Of course you do. You’re her loving wittle brother after all. Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘Save your sister from a terrible death.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

“Why should I trust you?”

You shouldn’t, Tulip. The wisest choice would be to accept both your fates and be done with it, but the question stands. Do you want to play?

“I don’t have much of a choice. And my name is Wallflower.”

Are you sure? I quite like Daffodil, or how about Buttercup; so many good choices, but I can tell you’re getting impatient. The voice gave a cough. So here’s the bargain: you and your lovely sister help me out with a teeny, tiny little favor and I gift you with the power to save her. It’s a steal and only available for a limited time. Free shipping.

“What’s the favor?”

Now, now, that is a surprise, the voice tutted. But tick-tock, what’s it going to be, boyo? Yes or no?

Wallflower glanced at the stricken form of his sister. He had a fairly good idea of the voice’s owner. One didn’t forget that laugh, not when you’re sliding down soap covered pavement towards a boiling lake of chocolate in Manehattan Central Park. A Faustian bargain, but in the end there was really only one answer.

“Yes.”

Wallflower’s body snapped taut as an amulet of gold with a fat orange gem formed out of thin air. He could barely make out a dancing snakelike figure trapped within the stone before it fell around his neck.

Esoteric power filled his horn with a sickly orange light. The surge of power was like nothing he had ever experienced. The magic tasted salty, spicy, sweet, hot, cold and all sensations in between. It felt beautiful. It felt terrible. It spoke of no control, complete freedom. Chaos.

The power of creation. Everything and nothing at the same time. Paradox. No wonder you’re mad.

Hey, I take great offense to that remark. I prefer to be called eccentric.

Wallflower turned towards the Scorpio, still frozen mid-strike. It looked so insignificant now. Fearing it felt so absurd.

Now, what to do about our clawed friend? Hmm… I have it. What’s your favorite breakfast?

The instant waffles entered Wallflower’s mind there sounded a distinct snap. Where once stood a fearsome Scorpio now sat a plate of toasty waffles, overflowing with strawberries, covered in whipped cream, and dripping with maple syrup. It looked scrumptious.

Giving in to a sudden wave of malice, the possessed unicorn greedily consumed the creature turned breakfast. He let loose a great belch, the vulgarity of which sent him into a fit of unhinged giggles.

Thirsty, how about a drink? He guzzled the newly arrived glass of orange juice, before casually tossing the empty glass over his shoulder.

As entertaining as watching you summon an entire continental breakfast is, let’s not lose focus, the voice lightly scolded. Sister dying, remember?

The word ‘sister’ seemed to penetrate the haze of Wallflower’s power trip. Ugh... What am I doing? Mayflower! Have to save Mayflower!

He concentrated on a simple first aid spell. The magic slipped his grasp; it didn’t want to be controlled or take commands. It was like giving orders to a three-year old, except the three-year-old could turn trees into spaghetti. It made his horn ache.

Stop trying so hard. Just picture your desire.

A transparent cocoon enveloped May’s prone body. Wallflower watched in wonder as her wound knit itself closed. Poison flowed from her pores into a greenish puddle nearby. When the glow faded, even her burns were gone, leaving her lilac coat pristine.

As suddenly as it arrived, the magic left. The unicorn collapsed in a fit of retching. A wave of greasy nausea overtook him, and he vomited a stream of black bile. The vile substance left a tarlike aftertaste.

His body contorted as needles of pain lanced all over. “What did you do to me?” he heaved, the acid burned his throat.

Chaos magic. Never really meant to be wielded by mortals, ponies especially. I may have neglected to mention that.

“You bastard,” Wallflower wheezed.

Welcome to the game, Wally. We are going to have so much fun together.

Discord’s laughter echoed in Wall’s ears as he blacked out.
—

Chapter 3: Hive

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Chapter 3: Hive

Twilight sat in the doctor’s office, the smell of antiseptic invading her nostrils, bringing up unpleasant childhood memories of shots long past.

The unicorn’s mane appeared a disheveled mess, with strands sticking out at wayward angles. Bags under her eyes made obvious her lack of sleep. Being accosted in the early morning by a distraught Fluttershy wasn’t the most pleasant way to start the day.

She gratefully accepted the cup of coffee proffered by the tan stallion who took a seat behind his desk. Blowing on the hot beverage before taking a sip, she winced at the burnt taste—swill compared to what she grew up with in Canterlot.

Doctor Stable gave her few moments to warm up while he organized some papers. “Miss Sparkle, I’m glad you could come. I trust Miss Fluttershy explained the situation.”

“Only how she found Wallflower and his sister unconscious at the edge of Everfree Forest,” said Twilight.

“Under normal circumstances, medical confidentiality prevents me from discussing patients’ cases with you, but we are at impasse and I feel you are the best pony to consult,” Stable admitted, keeping a professional tone.

“I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m a little lost. Medicine isn’t a field I’ve studied heavily.”

The doctor pushed his glasses back up his muzzle and put his hooves together, leaning forward with a serious expression. “Given the... unique nature of the case, you are best the authority we have.”

He clarified matters by sliding Wallflower’s toxicology report towards her. She recognized the compounds listed.

“Scorpio venom?” Bringing her in made more sense now. Given a Scorpio’s celestial nature, its venom was part magic. Consequently, no anti-venom existed yet—that and nopony in her right mind would try to catch one. A sting was a death sentence.

Twilight’s heart seized up. It was her fault. She’d recklessly sent two unprepared ponies into a restricted area. The Princess would have her head!
The doctor read her expression. “They're both still alive.”

Twilight looked up incredulously. “How’s that possible?”

Stable pursed his lips. ‘How?’ was the million bit question. “We have no idea,” he confessed in exasperation.

Ponyville was supposed to be a simple country practice. Mysterious conditions weren’t supposed to pop up, aside from ponypox and the occasional food poisoning or broken limb.

“Mister Scroll came in comatose with signs of polytrauma. We managed the injuries and tried to resuscitate him, but he did not respond. Physical exam revealed multiple bone and soft tissue injuries.” Twilight flipped through photographs of the examination, eyeing the bruising along Wall’s torso as the doctor continued.

“Looking for an explanation for the coma, we did a toxicology screen and, as you can see, it returned positive for Scorpio toxin,” he explained in puzzlement.

“We have checked every square inch for a puncture site but found none. We called you as soon as the tox screen came back. Have you ever seen something like this? The poison didn’t just appear out of thin air.”

The physician reached around and opened another chart. “The venom is systematically shutting down his organs, but something is slowing it down. A barrier, definitely magical in origin.” Twilight stared at the chart, utterly perplexed. The arcane signature was like nothing she’d seen before.

She scratched her chin in puzzlement, levitating astral scans of Wallflower’s body. Her time in the Royal Archives allowed Celestia’s student access to knowledge not privy to the general public. An unknown form of magic piqued her interest, despite the circumstances.

The doctor took a sip of his now cold coffee. “Miss Wind’s condition is even more unusual, given her brother’s state, in that she is relatively unharmed. Beyond a few burs and light scratches—presumably from running through the forest—she’s untouched.

A nurse stuck her head in the office to inform them Mayflower was awake. Twilight followed the doctor out. With Wallflower unconscious, the mulberry mare remained her best source of answers.

Mayflower squinted against the glare of ceiling lights. She tried to move a foreleg to cover her eyes, but the pinch of the IV running from her pink fur limited her range of motion.

Certainly not the Eternal Pasture, she thought, taking in the sterile hospital room.

“Oh thank Celestia you’re awake,” said Twilight. She sat bedside, the relief obvious in her voice.

A purple hoof pressed a glass to May’s lips. The water like fine wine to her parched throat. “What do you remember?” Twilight inquired.

May quivered, running a hoof along her abdomen. “The last thing I remember... is the monster stinging me.” The doctor and Twilight traded a glance.

“I should never have let you go into the forest.” She angrily scolded herself.

“Don’t blame yourself, Twilight.” Mayflower tried to calm her down. “We knew the risks.”

For the first time, Mayflower noticed the doctor standing on the other side of the room, furiously taking notes. He cleared his throat. “Miss Wind, I am afraid what you have described is inconsistent with our findings. It appears your brother, not yourself, was the victim of the attack. Putting aside a few scratches and some dehydration, you’re perfectly healthy.”

None of the doctor’s words made sense. May clearly remembered pushing Wally out of the way. He had to be wrong. She and Wally were fine. Soon they’d continue with their vacation. A lump caught in May’s throat as the doctor continued. “Miss Wind... I’m afraid your brother is in a coma. We are unsure of his prognosis.”

“No! I told him to run. I was stung! Not him!”

“You’re under a lot stress, Mayflower. Isn’t it possible you’re misremembering?” Twilight asked.

May shook her head violently. “I-I didn’t hit my head, Twilight! It pounced on me!” At this point, Doctor Stable quietly pulled Twilight out into the hall.

“A clear case of denial,” he put forth in a low voice. “She’s obviously traumatised.”

Twilight nodded in agreement. The symptoms fit. “She’s also switched places with Wallflower.”

“Likely guilt stemming from her inability to save her younger brother.”

Twilight nodded again. ”Agreed. What’s our next step, Doctor?”

“Normally I’d let her recover gradually, but given time is a factor, I suggest forcing her to confront the truth.”

Here, the knowledgeable unicorn felt out of her depth so she followed his lead.

Aided by nurses, they wheeled Mayflower to the Intensive Care Unit. Mayflower couldn’t believe her eyes. It was like a bad dream; her precious little brother lay comatose, covered in bandages, a feeding tube down his throat. Machines hummed as they kept him alive.

She stroked a stray strand of black hair away from his eyes; his usually shiny grey coat seemed faded.

May held in the choked sob until she and Twilight got back to her room. Father, Mother, now Wallflower. It was too much, too soon.

“We have no idea how long the magic keeping him alive will last. I’m so sorry,” the doctor consoled. “Do have anypony we can contact? Parents? Other siblings?” Mayflower was barely understandable at this point.

“No.”

“What about extended family? Aunts? Uncles?”

“They won’t care!” She spat with loathing, still crying into her blanket. “We’re an orphaned branch.” Understanding the implication. Twilight grasped May’s hoof in her own. Mayflower was truly alone.

An orphaned branch. Twilight was familiar with the practice; she’d seen it many times in Canterlot. Some rebellious young nobles would break away from their overbearing parents and marry outside of their tribe. The offender and their descendents found themselves ostracized, cut off from the family tree. Interbreeding was not tolerated, incidents considered a major scandal among the upper crust. She considered herself lucky to be from a liberal family.

“Twilight, isn’t there something you can do?” May implored. Twilight bit her lip; she hated giving the distraught inventor false hope, but she couldn’t just do nothing. This was partly her fault and as certain as Celestia raised the sun, Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t rest till she found a solution.

“I’ll write to the Royal Academy of Medicine in Canterlot. If we’re lucky, the poison will move slow enough to find a counteragent.” she offered reluctantly, standing up to leave. “I’ll do some research and come by later. I promise to do everything I can to save your brother, Mayflower. If there’s anything more I can do for you, ask okay?”

The librarian’s parting platitudes provided little comfort.

For rest of the day Mayflower cried, her tears staining the white sheets. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to. All emotional control was lost.

As promised, she was discharged the next morning. May spent the following week aimlessly wandering around Ponyville. The residents sensed the dark cloud hanging over her. Beyond a few sympathetic nods, they politely left the grieving earth pony alone.

Twilight’s friends proved to be the exception, the lavender unicorn leading their efforts to lift her spirits with mixed results.

Pinkie Pie’s attempt to force feed May a triple layer chocolate cake was quickly thwarted by the local dressmaker, Rarity.

Sharing a similar background with the fashionista led to a number of pleasant enough conversations. Gossiping over tea about Manehattan fashion and the travails of running one’s own business allowed Mayflower to forget her troubles. These moments were fleeting, however, as depressing reality lay in wait, ready to pounce, and devour her good mood the moment she left the boutique.

Rainbow Dash offered to take her back to the cliffs. May must have gazed over the edge a bit too long for Dash’s comfort because she immediately dragged the inventor back to town. May hadn’t seen the flyer since.

Each day she spent visitors’ hours by Wallflower’s side, reading aloud in hopes he was listening. Twilight checked in daily. The scholar grew more and more haggard, with little progress to show for her efforts. The inquisitive unicorn’s repeated questions regarding what really occurred in the ruins left May exhausted and unsure of her own memory.

The missives to Canterlot proved fruitless, the academy unable to find even the beginnings of an antitoxin or the source of the mysterious barrier keeping the poison out of Wallflower’s nervous system. Slowly May came to accept the inevitable: she was going to lose her last family member.

The final blow came one afternoon. Doctor Stable indicated the barrier was weakening, and her choices now were to let the poison run its course or allow her brother die with some dignity.

So, as she’d done each evening, Mayflower knelt by her brother’s bed, her hooves wrapped tightly around the warmth of Princess Celestia’s feather, and prayed.

She prayed to her princess. The one being who, years ago, comforted her family in its darkest hour. She prayed for her goddess to hear her pleas.

“Princess, save him. I don’t know what to do... Please... help me.”

As fate would have it, someone heard her prayer.

“Sister, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

The familiar snakelike body of the draconequus formed at the foot of the bed. The way various parts flickered reminded Mayflower of a faulty projector. It was an apt analogy as creature’s image appeared to emanate from a necklace suddenly materialized, floating above her saddlebags.

“Discord...? Impossible, you’re supposed to be imprisoned,” she exclaimed in disbelief.

Discord gave a bow. “It’s always nice to be remembered, and yes most of my handsome self is still stone. Technically, I’m just a shard of my greater self. Think of me as a failsafe.”

May pressed the emergency call button only to find it nonfunctional.

“We are quite alone, my dear... well except for mister vegetable over there.” Discord said, pointing to the unconscious stallion.

May clenched her jaw, trying to hide her fear. “What do you want with me, abomination?” Being alone with the patchwork monstrosity made her skin crawl.

He floated languidly about the room. “Now be polite,” he said, giving a snaggle toothed grin. “I’m the only reason Wallflower is alive… for now.” He raised a paw to forestall her response. “And if you want to keep him that way, you’ll listen carefully to my offer.”

He shrunk down and wrapped himself around May’s shoulders causing her to shudder. “How would you like to go on a grand adventure? Just like those books you love. What’s the character’s name? Darling Dodo?”

“Daring Do,” she corrected, wanting this obvious hallucination to be over. “Just get to the point already.”

“Straight to business eh?” Discord waggled a finger, finding her impatience amusing. Really, try to act with a little showmanship, a little panache and did ponies appreciate it? No.

The serpent blinked to the foot of the bed and conjured a blackboard. On it was a crude rendering of Princess Celestia, complete with a frowny face and comically oversized buttocks, crossed out with an X.

“Help me bring down Celestia and I’ll keep your brother from kicking the proverbial bucket. A reasonable exchange, wouldn’t you say?” Of all the reactions Discord expected, a brief pause followed by uncontrolled laughter wasn’t one of them.

Mayflower almost fell to the floor, she was laughing so hard. “You truly are insane,” she jeered.

“I love Wally, but do you really expect me to betray Equestria while you hang the Sword of Dam Oakleaves over his head. Everypony knows about you, Discord, your word is worthless. Besides, Princess Celestia is an immortal goddess, she can’t be defeated.” It took May a few seconds to become serious again.

“My family owes the Princess a lot. There’s nothing you can offer me.”

Discord blinked to Mayflower’s side and a draped an arm over her shoulders. “How about the truth? Let’s take a trip down memory lane.” With a snap of his fingers, they were gone.

Moonlight filtered through the elegant stained-glass windows of the throne room to lay in pools around the regal form of the Solar Princess, the light of moon mingling with the aurora of her mane. Celestia wore a simple smile as she looked down on the grey unicorn kneeling before her; a packet of documents held securely in her magic.

To May it was like watching a movie. She could talk at the screen but the characters continued their scripted motions.

“She's huge,” Mayflower observed. The alicorn was least two heads taller than anypony she had ever seen. Her body glowed faintly in the dim light of the throne room like a magnificent sculpture cut from the purest white marble.

“Yes, she’s let herself go. Too much cake, I’d wager,” Discord added derisively. “Now, see anypony familiar?”

“…Father?”

“Bingo! Now shush, we’re just in time for the good part.”

Celestia inclined her head, indicating for Vellum to rise. “And these are the only copies, Professor?” The stallion nodded. He was justifiable nervous given his host. “And you have spoken to nopony else of this discovery?”

“I’m ashamed to admit, I haven’t, Your Highness,” Vellum answered with a touch of embarrassment. “Mine is a competitive field. I hoped to unveil the Constitution at the next symposium.” He following the Princess to a large bay window overlooking Canterlot. The storm made a drumbeat against the glass. “Is something wrong, Princess?” he asked, following her gaze outside.

“Professor, you know Equestria’s history well, do you not?” Vellum took her question to be rhetorical. She continued before he could answer. “We live in an age of peace and plenty. A state which is fragile.” He nodded, knowing just to listen as his sovereign spoke.

“If made public, the Constitution could break that peace.” Celestia glared at the parchment floating before her. “I had hoped to see that last of this accursed document.”

“Princess, I thought you would be pleased. Certainly controversy is possible, but,” Vellum sounded genuinely put off, the public image Celestia presented was always of serenity. He was unable to comprehend her change in attitude, “shouldn’t your subject be given the benefit of the doubt?”

Celestia shook her head. “No, my little pony, sometimes the past needs to stay buried.” With a flicker, the parchment went up in flames. “This knowledge promises only dissent and disharmony. Equestria can ill afford grievances of old resurfacing. Not when her time draws so close…” she whispered the last set of words under her breath.

“Do you have children, Professor?” Vellum was so shocked by the casual destruction of the priceless artifact he almost didn’t register the abrupt change of subject.

“A daughter, Highness, and a son on the way,” he mumbled slowly.

“And you provide for them, love them, try to protect them from bad influences?”

Vallum wasn’t sure where the Princess was going so he simply nodded.

“I too am a mother.” Lightning briefly illuminated her face as she continued to stare down at the statue garden below. “All ponies are my children, Professor. So you understand why I must protect them from this knowledge.” Vellum finally came to terms with the danger he was in and started backing away.”

The atmosphere felt no longer welcoming as if the warm had fled. “Equestria must not be allowed to slide back into chaos,” the alicorn added, moving one step forward for his every two.

“Yes, but you’ve destroyed the only copy and I’m the only one…” as the Princess towered over him, Vellum looked into two deep mauve eyes, filled with such sadness he almost drowned; a sadness of a mother who’d come to a terrible decision. He dreaded asking his next question. “I’m not leaving this room, am I?” The answer was barely a whisper.

“No.”

“Daddy, run!”

Vellum sprinted to the entrance. “Open the door!” His cries unanswered, Vellum reared up and smashed his forelegs forward. The blows only resulted in blood running down his forelegs as the inset bronze sculpture left small cut into his hooves. The unicorn’s vision inverted as he cartwheeled through the air in an aura of gold. The Princess lowered her captive gently to the floor.

Chains of light tied the panicked scholar down. “Oh, no! No, no, no. Princess, please!” he pleaded. “I won’t tell anypony! Don’t do this!”

Runes of black and yellow orbited, encasing him in a sphere of golden light.

“I am truly sorry, my little pony.” Celestia spoke gently, a mother soothing her frighted foal. Her words did little to stop to unicorn’s struggles. “Please understand I do this for the greater good. Your family will be well taken care of. You have my word.”

With a blood-stopping scream, a blinding flash shook the room. When the unseen watchers could see again, the sphere was gone.

“She killed him!” Mayflower shrieked. Adrenaline washed away her fatigue, she barely kept from tearing her goggles in two, she was so livid. “The entire accident was a lie! We loved her! Trusted her!” She threw up her hooves. “I wrote her a bucking thank you letter!”

Discord flickered as he reclined in a chair, luxuriating in May’s outrage. Truly, he was drinking from a soda bottle marked ‘Mayflower’s outrage’. It tasted delicious.

“Oh please. Celestia never gets her dainty hooves dirty. She only banished him.” He sounded almost bored. “It’s not so bad. Visit far off places, meet interesting people. Think of it like a vacation. Except forever.”

He folded his arms, a little cross. “At the very least she felt guilty about it. She turned me to stone and did I get an apology? No,” he whined petulantly.

She shot him a dangerous glare. “This is just a big game to you, isn’t it?”

“Well yes. I’m frankly surprised it took you so long to catch on.”

Mayflower rubbed her temple. Talking to the Spirit of Chaos was incredibly taxing, notwithstanding her already high level of stress. “Tell me where she sent Father. Now.”

“I like your moxie.” The draconequus chuckled, as if a mortal could do anything to him. “Tell you what, I’m generous.” Mayflower snorted at that. “As a gesture of good faith I’ll save your brother. Consider it a deposit.”

“And if we finish your quest, you’ll tell us Father’s location?”

“You have my word as the Spirit of Chaos.” He vowed with false solemnity.

If Wallflower had been awake, he would have told May of many recorded examples of ponies who made deals with beings like Discord. Such stories rarely ended happily. In her head, Mayflower knew this, but right then walking away wasn’t an option and she could only see one path open.

The lilac pony scowled as she slowly extended her hoof. Discord’s grin widened. “Alright, Discord. We have a deal.” Yellow eyes flashed as he grasped his claw around Mayflower’s hoof. Shining chains swirled around the union of hoof and claw. Discord smiled widely as the chains crisscrossed and tightened around the handshake. The chains faded away with small clinking sounds

“This still leaves how to defeat the Princess. I assume you can’t do it yourself,” Mayflower said, withdrawing her hoof to check it over.

“I’m a shard remember? She’d easily seal me away. Luckily, the world is littered with all sorts of magical doodads and thingamabobs”—with a slight of hand, Discord made a photograph appear—“but first we’ll need some allies.”

Mayflower’s eyes widened. A dark insectoid pony loomed triumphantly over the fallen Solar Princess. Mentally, gears clicked into place. Changelings. “We need to find the hive.”

An unfortunate incident involving a cockatrice had taught Twilight Sparkle never to walk through Everfree Forest distracted. Unfortunately, Wallflower’s miraculous recovery was precisely that, a distraction.

For all intents and purposes Wallflower should be dead, not that Twilight wasn’t happy with the historian’s survival, Celestia knows Twilight was the first by Mayflower’s side when her brother awoke, but it left too many questions.

Mayflower’s sudden refusal to discuss what happened roused Twilight’s suspicions. The inventor’s attitude had turned harsh, insisting on taking her brother home.

The hospital couldn’t legally keep Wally under observation. Scans showed no remaining traces of venom or the unknown magic, and he wasn’t carrying a contagious disease. Twilight briefly considered contacting the Princess for a hold order, but the possibility of answering uncomfortable questions of why and how May and Wally got past the barrier stayed her quill. The student wasn’t about to risk her teacher’s disappointment without tackling the problem first.

Several days of research and an analysis of the magical residue extracted from Wallflower’s bloodstream come back inconclusive. If even Canterlot Medical couldn’t find answers then Twilight needed a more direct approach.

Therefore, it was that the purple unicorn, outfitted in her finest pith helmet, found herself back in the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. She wasn’t scared this time. No Nightmare Moon lay in wait and it was daytime. Besides she had the foresight to bring a loyal bodyguard.

“Seriously, egghead, why’d you drag me out here?”

A reluctant but loyal bodyguard.

Rainbow Dash didn’t understand Twilight’s need to tackle this so called ‘mystery’. Mayflower’s turn around made perfect sense. Her brother pulled through so she no longer had a reason to hang around and waste time. Dash could respect her attitude.

The earth pony had dragged her unconscious brother through the forest and survived a Scorpio attack unscatched. That wasn’t just tough. That was Dash level tough. Rainbow mentally shrugged, understanding what Twilight didn’t: ponies like May and Dash simply bounced back from extreme situations faster than others.

She noticed Twilight straying ahead and flapped to catch up, almost hitting a low hanging branch. Rainbow hated the forest, especially during summer. The thick canopy prevented her from flying very high or very fast. Worst were the mosquitoes. The little blood suckers swarmed all over, biting her wings even as she flailed. The irritated pegasus looked at her nerdy friend with jealousy.

Twilight trotted on, oblivious to Rainbow’s discomfort. A liberal dose of pest repellant saved her becoming the swarms’ next meal. She’d learnt something from unicorn scouts.

The siblings had made no effort to cover their tracks, so following Wallflower’s magic trail gave Twilight little difficulty. She squeed with glee on arrival at the library.

Shelves were knocked over; their contents scattered about the floor.

With a grumble, Rainbow Dash resigned herself to ‘guarding’ Twilight all day. She knew the librarian would insist on cataloguing every scrap of moldy old paper. Seriously, they’ve been out here for Celestia knows how long, another couple days wouldn’t’ hurt ‘em. She could be out training the squirt right now.

The little pegasus’s rapid progress filled Rainbow with pride. Doesn’t hurt she’s got the best coach in Equestria. Who is currently trapped in a dusty old library surrounded by moldy old books with, —she picked one up and stared at antiqued language, words I can’t even read. Great!

Dash turned and was surprised to see Twilight hadn’t immediately jumped into the nearest pile of books.

“Twilight, why are just standing there?” she asked.

Her horn aglow, Twilight stood with her eyes closed, overwhelmed by the ambient magic in the room. Somepony or something had left a powerful aura. She picked up a heady mix of magic types. Princess Celestia’s was the easiest to identify. The freshness of her traces left Twilight wondering why her teacher’s bright energy was here. She filed it away for further investigation later.

The other aura, by contrast, felt slippery and indistinct. It felt almost familiar to Twilight, but each time she tried to concentrate, the magic would blur out of focus. She was about to try capturing a sample when Rainbow interrupted her, pointing to stains on the floor.

“Twi, I think this is blood.” The normally cool flyer paced apprehensively, unnerved by the sight. “Do you think the Scorpio is still around?... Not that I’m worried or anything,” she blustered out.

Without forensic spells, Twilight had no way of determining the stains’ age, but given the condition Fluttershy found Wallflower in, she deduced the blood was his. Her eyes followed the blood spatter to a collapsed section of the back wall.

Compacted rubble blocked the passage. Twilight snorted grumpily, a professional excavation would take weeks to set up, she didn’t have that type of time and it was far too compressed to move even with her powerful magic. Besides, if the Scropio’s lair was blocked, she wasn’t about to disturb it without a squad of Royal Guards.

“We need to do more research,” Twilight concluded, gathering up a sample of books. “We need to go to Canterlot.” Ponyville simply didn’t have the volumes she needed and Canterlot boasted the largest archives outside the Crystal Empire.

“What do you mean ‘we’, Twilight?” the pegasus asked slowly. The last thing Rainbow wanted was being stuck in a stuffy library, acting as a substitute Spike. Lucky guy, getting a free vacation in the Crystal Empire. I was there too, where’s my prize? “Besides, I have work.”

“No you don’t, Rainbow, I checked your schedule.”

“What do mean? How’d you know my schedule? Are keeping tabs on me?” That got a laugh from Twilight.

“Don’t be silly, Dash. I wouldn’t just keep tabs on you.” Rainbow sighed in relief. “I’m keeping tabs on everypony. It was Princess Celestia’s idea,” Twilight said matter-of-factly. “A good friend always knows what her friends are doing. How else can I plan a proper socializing schedule? I’ve got notebooks, charts and time tables of when all of you sleep, eat and work. Isn’t it great?”

Rainbow was doing her best to hide how stalkerish the idea sounded. She didn’t want to hurt Twilight’s feelings. “Yeah… that’s… uhmm... great, Twilight. Nothing weird or abnormal about that.” She made a mental note to change the locks on her house.

“You’re going to enjoy Canterlot, Rainbow. I’ll take you on a tour of the Royal Museum, there’s an amazing exhibition on the history of saddles. You’ll love it.”

“Yeah… saddles... Woo…”

Wallflower was thankful he and Mayflower could afford a private train car. Other passengers would have complained about the loud yelling.

Since departing Ponyville, Wallflower had been arguing vehemently in favor of turning around and telling Twilight Sparkle everything. He went so far as to throw Discord’s amulet out a window, only for it blink back around his neck.

“You seriously believe this charlatan?” he demanded. “One dubious vision and you’re ready to commit high treason? Are you crazy?”

The living embodiment of chaos shared their sleeper car and sat not three feet away in a plush armchair, enjoying their bickering. Disharmony between family was like wine and he drank it in. He couldn’t help but egg them on.

“You can hop off anytime, I don’t really need you. She’s quite willing.” Discord pointed out. That got a scoff from Wallflower. He completely disagreed with the plan, but abandoning his sister never entered his mind.

Wallflower watched the draconequus with undisguised hostility. Talking with the fragment was incredibly circular. The projection constantly deflected questions, quickly growing bored and leaping off into seemly random non sequiturs.

The half hour ramble on the merits of breeding an army of penguins armed with exploding kiwis was enough for Wall to consider sticking a fork in his eye to ease the pain.

But most all he hated the big childish grin Discord always wore. More of a smirk actually. The sort of smirk that says, ‘I know something you don’t and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

That sort of smile.

For her part, Mayflower didn’t care. She was riding high on a wave of righteous indignation and needed to hold on to its warmth. Truthfully, the prospect of facing the Solar Goddess chilled the usually confident mare to her core. Father’s scream and the blinding flash were etched into her memory. What chance did she have in the face of such power? Children’s stories told of the Princess eating the souls of naughty ponies to stay forever young. Would that be her fate?

Even so, she put on a strong front. Wally never met their sire; it was her duty, as his big sister, to give him that chance.

Their heads pressed together, she stared him down. The intensity made Wall flinch back; Mayflower’s will being stronger. “Celestia sent him away; at least I love Father enough to do something,” she said, jabbing him in the chest.

The jabs hurt less than the accusation. “He’s dead, May. Discord is feeding you false hope. Let it go, he wouldn’t want this.” Wallflower put a hoof on his sister’s shoulder and shook his head.

She brushed his hoof away. “Don’t you dare pretend to know what Father would’ve wanted. You weren’t there! You weren’t curled up with Mother while she cried herself to sleep night after night. You can’t fathom the loss we felt.”

The stallion looked down and scuffed the floor. “Remember in school, the hymn everypony sang each morning?” he quietly asked. “‘Oh Celestia, great Celestia, may your sun shine down on me. Oh Celestia, sweet Celestia, please bring us harmony.’ You always sang with the most faith, the most conviction. Don’t throw it all away for a pack of lies.”

She hopped into bed and turned away from him. “I’m too tired to argue anymore, Wally. When we reach Dodge Junction, I’m heading to the hive, with or without you.

Wallflower knew better than to pursue the conversation, for now. He let out a hollow sigh and closed the room divider, swapping the emotional wall between them with a physical one.

The peril of revenge was something he was well versed in, history was littered with examples of ponies destroyed in its pursuit: Nightmare Moon, the Pax Equis War, the feud between the Cumulous and Nimbus families of Cloudsdale—which left both houses in ruins. I’ll not let her to fall into the same trap.

The couch felt luxuriously plush and Wallflower fell into its embrace, letting his thoughts flow. Before diverting to Tartarus, the trip had started with such promise. The mad escape from the Scorpio had forced the historian to leave behind all his notes. All his findings now lay languishing under several tons of rubble. Only two items survived: Celestia’s feather and Mayflower’s crossbow.

The few bright spots in visiting Ponyville had been meeting Twilight Sparkle and scoring a free bottle of applejack from the local apple farmer. Who knew Navel had such a cute cousin?

Doctor’s orders be damned after almost dying he needed a stiffer. Wallflower took a sip, savoring its flavor, Applejack certainly knew how brew her namesake. He closed his eyes, alcohol made for an excellent mental lubricant. Outfoxing the primordial manifestation of Chaos was going to take all his wits… and maybe another bottle of booze. I’ll have to thank Navel for suggesting I visit her stand. He looked over at Discord. If we survive.

“You know what’s sad?” Discord harrumphed. “You’re angry with me and your sister’s angry with you. Why can’t I ever find happy ponies? If I wanted grumpiness, I could be hanging out with Princess loudmouth and Princess stick up her plot.”

“You want to know what I find sad, Discord?” Wallflower replied, in no mood for Discord’s theatrics. “If you weren’t such a compulsive liar, you’d be considered the biggest gold mine of historical information ever. Such a waste.”

The trickster grabbed his chest in melodramatic fashion, spinning around till he came to rest hovering near the ceiling. “You wound me, boyoh. The stories I could tell you would turn your mane white.

He snapped his claw and Wallflower found himself back under the Everfree ruins, Discord floating near the bas-relief. “For instance, this carving you found, one hundred percent true.” By Wallflower’s cocked eyebrow, Discord could tell he wasn’t buying it. “Even encased in rock I was aware of world around me. Celestia wasn’t always such a goody four shoes. That motherly image she projects, complete hogwash.”

The jolly spirit crossed his arms, pouting at his audience’s lack of reaction. “You know, you could at least pretend to look interested. When else are you going to have access to the living history that is my glorious self?”

Wallflower shrugged. He looked forward to the time when he wouldn’t have access to the glorious living history named Discord.

The bottle of brandy was half empty; he wondered how much more was needed to pass out. At least then, he wouldn’t have to listen to Discord’s prattle.

Suddenly they were in an empty lecture hall. Discord appeared dressed in a tweed jacket with glasses hanging down his snout. “Since my history listen bores you. Let’s switch to magic. Welcome to Professor Discord’s introduction to the arcane arts.”

There didn’t appear to be an obvious escape so Wallflower slumped down in one the many uncomfortable seats. From college, he knew the basics of unicorn magic. It wasn’t his best class. Damn general education requirements.

“Now class, who tell me how basic unicorn spell casting works? Anyone? Come now don’t be shy.”

“We’re the only ones here.”

“Please, raise your hoof and wait to be called upon. Ugh… Freshmen, what a curse.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped Wall’s lips and he raised a hoof.

“Yes, you there, the skinny grey one.”

“Not counting spells all unicorns know on a genetic level, a typical spell involves the caster envisioning a sequence of runes and channeling mana through their horn.” Wallflower spoke quickly, reciting the lecture from memory with little excitement. It was very dry material.

“More complex spells require stringing together more advanced runes in longer chains. The power and duration of the casting varies by the unicorn’s affinity towards certain schools, innate ability and depth of mana.”

Out of nowhere, Discord pulled a hanging chart covered in colored circles and arrows. Wallflower recognized it from class. The diagram displayed all the known categories of magic, from light to dark, solar and lunar, transformation to illusion. Arrows displayed how each type complemented and countered the others. Aside from alicorn magic, no school necessarily dominated. Discord pointed a ruler towards a new addition to the chart, a blob of orange disconnected from the spectrum.

“Behold Chaos, primordial force made manifest,” he announced. “While other schools of magic are just tools to be ordered about, Chaos lives, thinks, evolves.”

“So that’s why it wouldn’t listen to me in the crypt,” Wallflour intuited.

“Exactly! Chaos works for itself, just give it a goal and it’ll do whatever’s funniest.” Discord took in Wall’s flat expression.

“So it’s magic whose main purpose is to annoy ponies.”

“Not just ponies,” Discord defended. “Zebras, buffalo, cows. I’m not racist like some beings.”

He rubbed a claw on his chest with a bit of smugness. “Without the Elements of Harmony even Celestia and Luna combined couldn’t touch me. A tip, try not get blasted by the Elements, stings like the dickens.”

“What’s the point of this lecture, Discord?” Wallflower asked, ignoring the implied accusation of bigotry. He was in no position to refute the charge, having seen it first hoof when visiting Canterlot.

“The point, my skeptical friend, is when you run into Twilight Sparkle, you best have some defense.”

“Or I could jump off the train,” Wallflower said, words dripping with sarcasm. “The result would be same and probably less painful. Twilight Sparkle is the most powerful unicorn in Equestria. If I get in a duel with her, she’ll smear me across the landscape and barely break a sweat.”

“You’re being fatalistic. Sure she’s a talented, book obsessed uber-nerd with a massive reservoir of mana, but even Twilight Sparkle is no match for the power of Chaos. Just get her to waste herself on some high cost spells and voila! Instant victory. With my help, her magic won’t even scratch you.

“If you want the boring sciency explanation”—a rotating sphere uncoiled. Purple bolts bounced off— “the spell matrix is constantly mutating, as a result no magic can produce a reaction, regardless of strength.”

“I almost died, channeling your power last time. You admitted it’s poisonous.”

“Not if I train you to handle it properly. I’ve always wanted a slav—I mean student. Besides, don’t you want to make history instead of just studying it? You’ll get college credit,” Discord sang.

The graduate student opened his mouth to tell Discord where he could stick his credits, but came to a sudden realization. He was being stupid; the route to victory lay in the path of least resistance.

Like all good plans, it was both simple and formed while intoxicated.

Discord wanted him to fight Twilight Sparkle, ergo crossing her path was inevitable. Wall just needed to bide his time then calmly explain to Twilight the situation. She would inform Princess Celestia and the shard would be locked away, nightmare over, Discord loses.

If the historian was really lucky he could recover his notes and get back to his thesis.

In the meantime, all he had to do was prevent May from doing anything too treasonous and keep her out of jail. Heck, in the process maybe I’ll be the first unicorn to learn some concrete facts about Chaos magic.

“You’re thinking of tattling to Celestia, aren’t you?” Discord complained. “Oh don’t look so surprised, it’s written all over your face.”

With a flourish, a puppet stage replaced the lectern. Discord popped up with three sock puppets, colored grey, white and purple. A hastily painted sign declared ‘Discord’s Puppet Theater’ open for business. “Let me show you how that would end.”

“Greetings, my subjects,” said the white puppet in a squeaky voice. “Come listen as I drone on and on about the magic of friendship while barely getting off my fat rump.”

“Not now, Princess,” interjected the purple one. “My friend has an urgent message about Discord.”

“Is that you, Twilight Sparkle? I didn’t recognize you; usually your mouth is firmly attached to my rear.”

“There will be plenty of time for that later, Princess,” declared the lavender sock. “Discord is using my friend to execute a nefarious plan.”

“Easily fixed, my student.” Celestia’s horn glowed, setting the grey sock on fire. It ran around the stage screaming. “Equestria is safe once more. Now kiss me, my faithful apprentice!” The puppets started noisily making out.

“Okay that’s enough!” Wallflower found himself yelling.

“You do realize, no one else can see me.” Discord grinned. “It would be amusing if the conductor walked in. He would think you were crazy… not that there’s anything wrong with crazy.”

Wallflower pinched the bridge of his nose as the train car faded back in. He had a hunch the headache currently pressing against his temple would be the first of many in the near future.

After swallowing an aspirin with a swig of brandy, the annoyed unicorn turned to Discord, who was peeling an orange... filled with potato chips. Why does everything have to be food related with this guy? “First of all, the Princess would never act in such a manner and second, how are we supposed to find the hive? Even the Royal Army hasn’t discovered its location and they’ve been searching since the invasion.”

“But I know.”

“How?”

“Chaos!” Discord merrily declared waving jazz hands as if ‘Chaos’ answered everything. He wrapped around the sitting stallion, who wore a look of skepticism. “Don’t worry so much, boyoh. I have a cunning plan.”

“This is your cunning plan?”

Being captured, tied to a pole and carried between two changelings didn’t fit Wallflower’s definition of a cunning plan.

The trek south from Dodge Junction had been without incident before coming to the edge of the swamp. Wallflower had just decoupled from their caravan— how he loathed pulling it— when a swarm of changelings ambushed them.

The fighting ended fairly quickly. Mayflower slotted two assailants and bucked a third before being overwhelmed. Her brother actually made a fair accounting of himself, lasting a full two minutes, running in circles, screaming his head off till a changeling paralyzed him with a stun bolt.

Discord spent the entire encounter floating above the scene, fast asleep, a stream of winged letter ‘Z’s flying off into the sky.

When asked why he’d not lifted a finger to help, Discord simply pulled his horn revealing a dipstick.

“Sorry, seem to running a little low,” came the disingenuous reply.

Wallflower struggled at his bonds, cursing the changelings, “I’ll scream!” he warned. “I’ll scream like a mare and it’ll be so high pitched your ears will burst!”

An escorting changeling looked down with a predatory grin… a very fanged filled one. She—Wally really prayed it was a she— brought her lips closer to his muzzle. The unicorn’s eyes crossed, as the lips came closer, he could smell her breath, flowery with a hint of musk. Even trussed up and taken prisoner, he was still a stallion and his base instincts betrayed him. Celestia’s teats! She’s going to kiss me. Did she just lick her fangs?

The changeling spitting a glob of silk over his lips cut off his thoughts. From within her mouth, tiny spinnerets stitched Wallflower’s mouth closed, muffling his cries.

Many reasons existed as to why the hive remained unfound by Equestrian Intelligence. The changelings lived in relative harmony with the creatures of the swamp. Any intruders were instantly reported, making stealth virtually impossible. The heavy canopy of trees protected it from aerial surveillance.

The hive’s final defense was its most cunning. Being masters of spells designed to attract ponies, the changelings could cast spells to repel. A particularly brilliant version was maintained over the hive at all times. Any explorer who wandered within its range suddenly found him or herself unconsciously driven in the opposite direction.

Both captives writhed, the spell violating their brains. The moment mercifully passed and the path turned downward.

Much like an iceberg, the top of the changelings’ home accounted for only a small percentage of its size. Most of the structure lay hidden underground, a maze of dark tunnels lined with crystal, a green pale glow barely providing any light. Able to see in the dark, the changelings marched unhindered towards the core.

Discord lazily trailed behind, undetected, dressed in a loud floral shirt and sunglasses, snapping pictures like tourist on a sightseeing holiday from the world’s worst travel agent.

The tunnel abruptly opened up into a massive chamber, well lit when compared to the previous passages. Numerous green orbs hung from the ceiling on winding vines, providing steady green light. Changelings buzzed haphazardly throughout the chamber. At its center arose a throne of darkest green, seemly grown from organic matter rather than made by any artisan. A tall figure languidly lounged upon the seat.

At a gesture, the guards unceremoniously deposited the prisoners. Free of their bonds, the siblings took in their ‘host’.

Chyrsalis, the Changeling Queen. She was a match for Princess Celestia in stature, but whilst the alicorn shone with benevolence and kindness in her countenance, the Queen seemed to radiate an atmosphere of desire and sexuality. She showed no expression other than a coy hunger.

Wallflower found himself instantly smitten. She was so alien, so repulsive, yet so dangerously alluring at the same time. Giving his sister a sidelong glance, he noticed she wasn’t faring much better.

Mayflower shuddered, a moan escaping her lips as a changeling attendant brushed past, lightly caressing her barrel.

“Kneel. You are in the presence of Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis,” one of the escorts hissed.

Queen Chrysalis rose from her perch with a buzz of her diaphanous wings. She gently tilted Wallflower’s chin up with a perforated forehoof.

“What gifts have you brought me, my children?” Her dual timbre voice sang in her victim’s ear. It was like the most beautiful sonata; Wallflower wished nothing more than to stroke the iridescent membrane which passed for angelic creature’s mane. “One of Celestia’s spies or perhaps poor lost souls, in either case, they will make fine meals. Especially the female, she looks firm and fully packed.” She drooled over Mayflower as tiger would a helpless gazelle. Earth pony stamina was highly valued.

Twisted horn glowing a sickly green, Chrysalis began the siphoning process, searching for the richest deposit of love contained in her prey. The love for friends, the love for their lost parents, and there it was, their love for each other… succulent. Just a little taste, it was her right as ruler.

“Whoa, hold on there, Chrysy. My minions aren’t on the menu today.” Discord flashed into being, interposing himself between the two hypnotized ponies, breaking the hold of the suddenly hostile changeling queen. Good thing she didn’t realize she could’ve stepped right through him.

The chamber reverberated with hissing, growls and the buzz of wings, the changelings agitating in empathy with their queen.

“Discord!” she shrieked. “Legionaries. Dispose of this trickster!” How dare these ponies sully her hive with the insufferable Spirit of Chaos. Only one penalty would suffice.

“Wallflower. Shield. Now.”

The unicorn’s horn glowed orange. With a POP, an oversized orange gelatin dessert came into existence— the Manehattenites suspended within like fruit.

Discord nodded in approval. “Not the funniest of shields, but an excellent first try.”

Funny or not, the jello proved effective. Bolts of green magic bounced off, sending ripples of wobbliness through giant dessert. Heavily armed changeling legionaries quickly surrounded them.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Discord encircled an increasing angry Chrysalis. “Back off or queeny gets it!” The swarm advanced eager to free the imperiled monarch. “I’m warning you, I have a tangerine and I know how to use it!” he threatened, holding a citrus with a suspicious fuse growing out of it.

Unwilling to risk harm to the Queen, the surrounding legionaries withdraw but kept their spears trained on the draconequus.

Wallflower dispelled the jello mold with another pop, freeing his sister who immediately crouched in a defensive stance.

“Now, Crysy, is this any way to treat guests?” Discord scolded, still tossing the ‘tangerine’ up and down in his claw.

Chrysalis figured it best to remove the unstable apparition and get him out the hive. There was no telling the damage he could do if he hung around. The hive was already in dire straits following the disastrous invasion. Adding Discord to their list of woes would be catastrophic.

“Say your piece and be gone, Discord,” she fumed, returning to recline on her throne. “And be quick about it.”

“No need to get snippy. My friends and I are just here to ask some questions.” He brought up a hazy window replaying the short lived duel between the two leaders. “You faced Princess jiggly butt and survived. How did feel?” Due to his nature, Discord had never truly felt Celestia’s magic in all the times he’d battled her and was honestly curious as to the Queen’s answer.

Chrysalis’s smile curled upwards, revisiting her moment of triumph. “It felt… like staring into the sun. A light which promised to blind me, burn me and render all my subjects to ash…” she trailed off reliving the brief second of panic. Celestia’s beam closing in, threatening annihilation. “I don’t believe she was using her full power. When I struck her down, for a brief moment; I felt her connection to the sun. The power she commands, so vast, never ending. I was a fool to challenge her directly.”

“Hmm… so if someone was to say… cut Celestia off from the sun, you could… hypothetically take her on?” angled Discord, stroking his beard. “Well this is your lucky day because my colleagues and I are going to liberate the sun!” he announced merrily, not waiting for a confirmation.

The chamber erupted into peals laughter. The Queen tightly held her bands as a wizened old changeling barely kept standing, he wheezed so much. Once the laughter subsided, he steadied himself on his staff of office.

“Impossible,” he croaked. “The Sun Tyrant can never be ripped from her charge. No magic exists in this world to do so.”

“Not in this world,” Discord was quick to correct, “but there are other worlds, other planes of existence, hiding all sorts of mystical doodlybops.”

“You speak of Tartarus,” the Vizier scoffed.

A loud ding sounded. “Bingo! Though I can’t seem to remember the way in for some reason,” the shard added tapping his chin.

“The Royal Archive,” Wallflower blurted without thinking. “The Palace houses restricted texts gathered from all over the kingdom. If there are clues to be found, they’ll be stored there.”

“That‘s a highly restricted wing. Sneaking in will be very difficult,” commented Mayflower.

“And who do we know who’s really good at sneaking in out of places undetected? Begins with a ‘C’, ends with a ‘G’… on the tip of my tongue.” Discord wondered aloud.

While the Queen and Discord talked, Wallflower noticed Mayflower fidgeting with her goggles. Whatever animosity she held towards the Princess, opening Equestria’s defenses to another invasion couldn’t sit well. He shot her warning look, fighting out of the hive, pursued by hundreds of changelings wasn’t a winning prospect.

Deftly maneuvering the conversation albeit unintentionally towards heading to Canterlot meant one step closer to the Princess and eventually ending this farce.

“Even if you succeed, and Celestia is removed, Princess Luna still poses a formidable threat. Come nightfall she would descend upon us.” Chrysalis pointed out.

“Free the sun and Luna will be rendered just as powerless. Celestia likes to pretend they’re on equal footing, but we all know who’s really in charge. The rays of the Moon are but a reflection of the sun’s light. Celestia’s always been stronger than her sister and always shall be.”

“I have little reason to trust you, Discord. In any case, our own plans are already in motion.”

“Listen carefully, she won’t be able to help spilling her ‘brilliant’ scheme,” Discord gleefully whispered in Mayflower’s ear. “As I remember, Chrsy, your last plan ending with your army getting its flank handed to them by six unarmed mares with no military training.”

“The pink one bore a cannon!” the Queen protested. “Conscripts. If they’d faced legionaries, the battle would have ended quite differently,” Chrysalis spat.

The success of the Elements of Harmony still grated on her carapace. The hive simply hadn’t enough fully trained soldiers. The importance of the invasion’s success to the hive’s survival necessitated conscription of untrained civilians. The plan was simple: overwhelm Canterlot’s defenses with mass numbers.

Unfortunately, Shining Armor and his accursed fiancee’s love wave resulted in massive casualties. So many of her children dead or maimed. She still wept, remembering feeling each death through the gestalt. She’d cut herself off, lest the pain drive her mad.

“We will have our revenge on the Elements of Harmony soon enough, Discord. Even now, my best assassins are maneuvering into place.”

A slow condescending clap met her pronouncement. “Base violence? Ugh… Dull, dull, dull.” Discord grumbled. “Don’t you wonder why I simply didn’t drop a boulder on their skulls?”

“Because you’re an over confident buffoon stuck in a rock for a thousand years?”

Discord appeared nonplussed by his audience’s laughter.

“No… It’s because they’re the Element Bearers, not the Elements themselves. An easy mistake to make. If its bearer dies, the Element will simply find another one. Trust me; I’ve taken a friendship rainbow to the face on two occasions. I know how those trinkets work.” It’s certainly why Discord went the corruption route, that and watching Twilight Sparkle emotionally disintegrate was simply priceless.

“But I digress,” he continued, “Can you imagine Celestia’s reaction if even a hair on her precious little student was harmed? She’s not trying to find you right now, but murder one her favorite ponies… Well, I’ve had the pleasure of making Celestia truly, truly angry. Fun for me, but quite, quite fatal to anyone else.

“Picture it. Fireballs the size of boulders raining upon this place. Leaving nothing but a barren wasteland with no hope of life for generations.

“The griffons cook a lovely dish called a crawfish boil. A tasty shelled sea critter boiled alive with a basket of veggies— be right back.”

He reappeared a moment later wearing a soiled crawfish dib, licking the excess butter from his fingertips before belching in satisfaction. “Ahh… love Neigh Orleans, highly recommend visiting. Now where was I?” The serpent blinked, reboarding his train of thought. “Oh right, crawfish analogy.

Take what the crawfish experience and multiple by a thousand. At least the they keep their shells; there’ll be nothing left of yours. Your precious hive will be rendered a smoking cinder, all traces of the changeling race wiped from existence.”

Discord floated close to the Queen, relishing the fear and uncertainty in her emerald eyes. Normally petty threats felt base to the con artist, unsubtle and blunt. But when he could ruin someone’s day with the truth, well that was just too delicious to resist.

“Oh and she won’t stop there. Pray your agents are well hidden. Celestia is relentless when she wants to be—a perk of being immortal. It could take a few days, it could take a hundred years, but she won’t stop till each of your kind is dragged into the light of her day and made such an example of, that no mortal creature will ever dare lay a hoof, finger, claw, what have you, on her little ponies again.

Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional plink of dripping water.

Then pandemonium broke loose; the chamber lit up with shouts.

“The Queen has brought the sun’s wrath upon us!”

“Our children will burn!”

“We must flee!”

“ENOUGH!”

The chamber quieted to a dull murmur of discontent at the Queen’s outburst.

“Very well, Discord, you’ve made your point. I’ll rescind the kill order… for now.” Chrysalis stammered, doing a poor job sounding as if she’d done Discord a favor.

“A wise decision, O Great Queen of the Changelings”

Chrysalis bristled at his mocking bow, but kept her temper in check. Best to be rid of the nuisance. “Legionaries, return the ponies’ possessions and see them safely to the edge of the swamp. My agent will meet you there.”

“My Queen, I must protest, you cannot trust this creature!” The vizier's warning went unheeded.

“Enough, Façade. I’ve made my decision. Get them out of my sight.”

The advisor deflated, his old wings tucking under his shell in submission. “As you wish, My Queen.”

Only after her new found ‘allies’ left the chamber did Chrysalis relax and drift into the hive’s gestalt. The guards moved quickly, she observed through the link.

Now whom to send?

++Façade, your thoughts?++ she sent.

++Our agents are spread thin, many lost their lives during the expulsion. With each sunset our numbers grow fewer. In all my years I’ve not seen such dark times. Extinction nips at our heels, My Queen.++

++I’m well aware of the hive’s position. I was referring to the chimera’s chances,++ she sighed through the link. The old changeling, while sage, tended towards over dramatics.

++Insignificant. The Lord of Chaos is not to be trusted.++

++Yet, if successful, the advantage to us is tremendous. But you are correct. We cannot afford to waste valuable resources on a fool’s errand. So why not send a fool?++ She projected the profile of the chosen agent.

++My Queen is aware of this one’s... defects, yes?++ Façade felt her affirmation as the link ended. The entire exchange lasted less than a few seconds.

An expendable asset for an impossible mission. She will be just perfect.

The HiveNet was abuzz with news concerning the disruption caused by the Spirit of Disharmony’s visit. A recording of Discord’s audience quickly became the most discussed topic since the Great Expulsion —or as quieter circles referred to it: Chrysalis’s Folly.

Facsimile simply called it what it was. A mistake. A mistake which cost most of her friends their lives.

Waking up alone still felt weird, changelings were meant to share chambers. A healthy hive echoed with the hum of many workers, nymphs and drones.

The hive wasn’t healthy.

At least no one was around to complain about her choice of decor. Framed Con Mane movie posters hung on every wall. The one exception being a Wonderbolts poster signed by the entire team, her second most prized possession, it held pride of place on a wall all its own. A clear shallow pool served as the chamber’s wash basin.

Stepping lightly into the shimmering water, Fax went about her daily bath. The little changeling had never really grown out her nymph phase. Some called her a runt, Fax preferred the term ‘petite’.

Bath done, she shook her light blue frills. It had grown back out, since the Expulsion. During the planning phases of the invasion, the higher ups explained uniformity in the ranks would unnerve the populace, so everyone shaved their frills.

Fax gave the membrane another shake, letting a porous strand fall over a rich blue eye. It looked pretty, she supposed, but pretty wasn’t what she wanted right now.

Standing in front of a full length mirror she struck her most fearsome pose.

Head low, teeth bared wide, eyes narrowed, wings flared. She looked fierce. She looked ferocious. She looked… like a tiny kitten hissing at a ball of yarn.

In a word, adorable.

Giving up with a disgusted, but cute, hiss; the ‘adorable’ changeling blew a raspberry at her reflection. Infiltrators weren’t supposed to be adorable. Infiltrators were supposed to be dangerous, suave, debonair; changelings of action and romance.

Turning away from the disappointing reflection, she grabbed a novel off a nearby shelf and tightly hugged it to her chest. Oh, Con Mane, she gazed longingly at the handsome tuxedo clad stallion adorning the cover. Why can’t I be like you?

Not like the higher ups ever gave her an assignment. Not since the ‘Incident’.

It wasn’t fair! She passed her exams. Wasn’t she a fully trained infiltrator, with all the skills of her classmates? She lived while most of her classmates were dead, wasn’t that worth something? She even learnt to play baccarat. No one else in class bothered to learn baccarat, but did command care?

No, bitterness colored her thoughts. They only care about the past. I’d show those old stiff wings, only if—

++Facsimile.++

Fax stopped midthought. HiveNet messages didn’t usually barge in unless…

The infiltrator quivered, wings humming in anticipation. A Hive Command Directive meant only one thing: A mission. Finally, a chance for redemption.

This is mission going to be perfect!

Academics referred to pocket dimensions as artificial and unstable sub-realities, suitable for garbage disposal, adding an extra room to one’s home, or hiding an illicit gambling den from the authorities.

To the pair of draconequus, sitting on opposite side of a chessboard, theirs served as more of rec room. Chess was always most satisfying against an equally skilled opponent, and who was more equal than one’s self.

For the statuefied Discord the game served as a welcome respite from the tedium of standing on display with no one coming to visit.

The evil tyrant she is, Celestia stuck him in the center of the hedge maze. Nopony bothered navigating to center anymore. Worse, she only ordered the Royal Cleaners to wash him once a month. Didn’t she understand the quantity of poop those flying rats produced every day?

Oh, when he got out, those birds were going to pay. Maybe turn the world upside down, bring all statuary to life in glorious rebellion against the winged oppressors! Then we’d see how they liked getting pooped on.

“The bird revenge fantasy again?” asked the more mobile of two Discords, politely setting up the chess set.

“Oh, how dreadfully rude of me, Discord,” the statue sincerely apologized. “Here I am, head in the clouds, while we have a game to begin. You go first, I insist.”

But this was no ordinary game. Normal chess was far too limiting. Rules were for mortals and the Discords eschewed rules whenever possible. Multiple pieces moved at once, sometimes switching allegiance or leaving the board altogether. And time limits? What use did immortals have for time limits?

And were the pieces colored the typical boring black and white one would expect? No, from the lowliest pawn to the mightiest queen, each piece carried far more personality, far more pizzazz, every color of the rainbow making an appearance.

The first move saw the advance a trio of pawns—pink, grey, and black.

“So, are your pawns cooperating?” the statue queried, contemplating his first move. “And how is Queeny? I imagine it wasn’t a pleasant meeting.”

“One may be a problem,” admitted his opponent with a shrug. “But nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off the concern. “As for Crysy… let’s say the satisfaction in deceiving the deceiver is its own reward.”

“You’ve never let me down before, Discord,” the statue complemented. A light blue knight and a purple bishop jumped forward. An aggressive opener, the pawns were in for a hard time. “It’s your move.”

And the game began in earnest.

Chapter 4: Canterlot Convergence

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Chapter 4: Canterlot Convergence

Rainbow Dash crashed into a wall of noise as she barrelled out of the train coach. A cacophony of boarding announcements, shrill whistles, and the general hustle and bustle expected of Equestria’s busiest railway station overwhelmed her senses; the place was a far cry from Ponyville’s quiet single platform.

Ears flattened against the din, “Gangway!” she called ahead, elated to finally be out of the cramped box. With little room to maneuver, her beating wings almost knocked over a nearby conductor.

Canterlot station, being the central hub of Equestria’s rail network, was consequently its most crowded. As the saying went, spend one day watching its platforms, and an attentive viewer was virtually guaranteed to see at least one resident from every Equestrian city and town pass through the station’s overarching halls.

Ponies from as far as the Crystal Empire and Mustangia to as close as Appleoosa mixed freely with the upper class Canterlot locals in a melange of fashions and accents neither seen nor heard elsewhere. The colorful throng milled about the busy platforms as stewards dressed in the distinctive red and gold uniforms of the Equestrian Royal Railway Service efficiently herded passengers and unloaded cargo.

Twilight Sparkle stepped onto the crowded platform at a more civilized pace. “Rainbow!” she yelled, frustrated by the brash flyer’s rough exit. “Will you slow down, please?” She grabbed Dash’s tail in her magic and hung on for dear life. “We still need to wait for our bags.”

“No, we don’t,” Rainbow snorted. She gestured to the pair of saddle bags belonging to Twlight and herself, then crossed her forelegs. She testily nodded towards an alabaster unicorn. “She does.”

The mare she nodded towards was currently supervising a well-dressed porter. The poor stallion struggled to secure the tower of suitcases onto a cart.

“It’s bad enough somepony just had to worm their way into our trip, pushing us back a day,” Rainbow continued. “Then, on top of it, we missed the early train ‘cause the same somepony took forever packing everything ‘cept the kitchen sink, for what’s supposed to be a two day trip at most!”

“Well!” Rarity huffed. “I would hardly call wanting to join two dear friends on outing to our fair capital…” She scrunched up her face in disgust, turning up her nose. “Ehh, worming, as you put it, Rainbow Dash.” Rarity sniffed haughtily. She bridled at allowing such an uncouth word to sully her delicate lips. “And can I help it if it takes time to select the perfect ensemble?”

Indeed, the elegant fashionista looked smashing in her white and blue sun dress, complemented nicely by a lovely, over-sized yellow sun hat—an outfit befitting a proper lady such as herself.

“Some of us actually care how we present ourselves, darling,” she added, putting on a chic pair of horned rimmed designer sunglasses.

“Now, Rarity,” Twilight carefully interceded before Rainbow started another argument. She had quite enough on the train ride over. Next time she intended to spring for a separate berth… or at least a bottle of sleeping pills. “You know you’re always welcome to come along,” she assuaged. “I just worry rummaging through the Royal Archives won’t be your cup of tea.”

“Yeah, best be careful or our frilly princess might get a little dust on her dainty hooves,” Dash snickered.

“Rainbow!” Twilight scolded.

Rarity attempted to placate her fellow unicorn. Celestia knows, the poor thing must be tired of Dash’s insensate complaining. “Now now, Twilight, that’s quite all right. As it so happens, the boutique is running a mite low on a few odds and ends. I was due to travel here anyway. Combining our trips seemed the most efficient course. You do like efficiency, don’t you, darling?”

Twilight Sparkle rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a second. She did like efficiency, and more passengers on a single train certainly fit the definition.

“So what if I now happen to be staying at the palace?” Rarity could practically hear Rainbow rolling her eyes; she was doing it so hard. “And if I happen to bump into Fancy Pants, and he just so happens to invite moi to an exclusive soirée…” Twilight joined Dash in the eye rolling competition. Twilight, having much more practice since moving to Ponyville, won by a large margin. “Well, all the bette—Oh do stop making that horrid gagging gesture, Rainbow Dash!” she sputtered in a most unladylike manner before lighting up her horn. “Here, make yourself useful, dear.”

The pantomiming pegasus squawked as she was sent to her knees by Rarity’s tower of trunks suddenly settling onto her back. It tilted precariously as she struggled to get up. “Heavy…” she groaned. “What did you pack? Tom?”

“We agreed never to speak of that!” Rarity snapped before realizing she’d raised her voice in public. Clearing her throat, she regained her composure before continuing. “To answer your question, darling, it’s only a few cases of gems, a small selection of outfits, and a few tools from the shop. One never knows when the muse will strike.

“In any case, I’m sure a little heavy lifting isn’t too much for Ponyville’s self-proclaimed Iron Pony,” Rarity tittered with a dismissive wave of a well-polished hoof. She made sure every last trunk and tote bag was securely fastened onto her makeshift pack mule before primly following Twilight towards the exits. “Come along, darlings. Canterlot awaits.”

The night rendered Facsimile a black shadow as she sprinted along the roof of the midnight train to Canterlot. She moved from one car to another, each bound as surefooted as the last, her stride unimpeded by the natural sway of the cars as they clacked along the rail. The passengers inside heard nothing. Her hoofsteps were trained to be unnaturally silent.

Rule sixteen of infiltration: an unheard changeling is an undetected changeling.

Reaching the tenth car in line, she clambered down the side like a spider—the bristles in her hooves held her perpendicular to the ground as it sped past.

Brushing aside a blue strand of fringe, she glanced at the window’s metal identification plate.

This was her stop.

Idly humming the theme from the spy thriller, Mission Improbable, Facsimile projected a needle thin emerald light and cut a circle of glass cleanly from the window pane, securing the round in magic lest the sound of broken glass give her away. A perforated black hoof reached inside and unfastened the latch. In one smooth motion she vaulted inside, landing in a crouch. Again lighting her horn, a simple repair spell restored the cut piece of glass back to its original place.

Rule ten of infiltration: leave an area as if you’ve never been there.

Scanning the unlit room wasn’t a problem for the darksight equipped changeling.

“Umm…” A hoof tapped her shoulder.

Acting on instinct, Facsimile immediately reared up and spun on her assailant. Using the spin’s momentum, she smacked the side of his head with a foreleg, sending him tumbling to the floor with a yelp. Not giving him a moment to recover, she nimbly pounced on his prone body, locking his limbs in place. The figure struggled, but couldn’t escape her expert grapple. He gasped as she raised a hoof to strike.

A flash of light, and Facsimile suddenly found her grasp empty. That was odd. Unicorn teleportation results in a pop, not a flash. Before she could considered the oddity of the teleportation—unicorn teleportation always resulted in a pop not a flash.

Snap.

She hissed and blinked as her nightvision was baffled by the sudden bright glare of fluorescent lights turning on.

Rubbing spots out of her eyes, Facsimile stared out with a bugged eyed fascination. What was supposed to be a normal sleeper car had been replaced by a something ripped from the screen of a Con Mane movie. The décor screamed of supervillany. Every cliché was represented: oversized maps of Equestria covered in pushpins, machines of indeterminate purpose with hundreds of blinking lights, and the floor itself was constructed of transparent glass. Facsimile could see schools of piranha swimming underneath. All that’s missing is…

In a puff of smoke, ponies clad in black bodysuits appeared.

Well, there we go. Facsimile spread her legs in a combat stance, sizing up her opponents. She was outnumbered three to one, and each pony outweighed her by half. Her lips curled back into a predatory smile as she ran her tongue along pointed teeth. This might even be a challenge.

The first ninja rushed forward in a flurry of hoofstrikes. Fax reared back and flowed around the stallion’s jabs and kicks.

Infiltrators weren’t the sturdiest changelings in the hive, lacking a thick shell, a direct hit from a pony could be crippling if not fatal. As such, infiltrator combat training centered around three basic tenets.

Deflect.

Facsimile blocked each heavy hit with her forelimbs, sending the force of the earth pony’s hooves along the outsides her armored forelegs and away from her body. Her counterattack was equally blocked, but it bought her time to strategize. Earth pony stallion. Weaknesses: eyes, throat, groin, magic.

Deceive.

Feinting left, she got within the larger pony’s defense and unleashed a combination of punches. She finished with a jump kick to the chest, sending him back a few feet.

Disable.

Hearing the distinctive hum of a unicorn powering up its horn at her back, Facsimile charged. Using a quick burst of her wings, she somersaulted over the earth pony’s head. Sailing over, she let loose a series of lightning fast jabs to the eyes and nose.

She was rewarded with a scream as he clutched his face. Landing behind, Facsimile bucked her injured opponent into his comrade’s bolt. The stallion jittered as the energy washed over him before collapsing.

Not giving the unicorn a chance to recharge, Facsimile buzzed straight for her. Unicorn mare. Weakness: eyes, throat, horn.

Her hoof struck horn with a satisfying snap, disrupting the spell being conjured. The unicorn appeared to be made of hardier stuff than the stallion, making nary a single grunt before spinning and kicking out her hooves. Fax used her smaller size to slide under the attack. A quick, stinging combination of punches to the mare’s underbelly took her out of the fight. Facsimile barely had time to roll out of the way of the falling body. With two down, and one to go, she rounded on her last target.

The feathered ninja and the changeling tensely circled each other. The glint of metal gave away the wing-blades attached to the pegasus’s flared wings.

Facsimile watched the swords dance in a hypnotic series of movements. The mare was clearly skilled with the weapons. Facsimile waited. She just needed an opening. Pegasus mare, armed with wing-blades. Weakness: eyes, throat, neutralize flight by breaking joints where the wing meets the body, attack nerve clusters for maximum effect.

Blades clattered to the floor as the hooded mare fell to the changeling’s stunbolt. Or just shoot her. Whatever works.

“Velcome to my lair, Miss Facsimile.”

A high-backed chair, behind a large oak desk, spun lazily around. Discord reclined, dressed in a white dinner jacket and with a monocle over each eye. Because if one monocle was evil, two was doubly evil! He tenderly stroked the stuffed white feline perched on his lap with a solid gold claw as he addressed the spy in his midst.

“So, you haf passed my little test, Fraulein,” Discord began, hamming it up with a ridiculous Germane accent. “Boarding a moving train and breaking in, while completely disguised. Most impressive. But tell me, vhy did you not simply buy a ticket?”

Facsimile took a seat opposite and kicked up her heels. “Meh.” She shrugged. Anyling could masquerade as a pony and board with nopony the wiser… but it was so expected, boring, lacking difficulty. No, sneaking aboard in her natural form was so much more thrilling. It really got the blood pumping. “I prefer the challenge,” she replied with complete nonchalance.

“A changeling with guts, glad to see Chryssy didn’t send us a dud—” Discord was interrupted by a blue uniformed henchpony furnishing a paper cup of Starbuckers coffee. Discord took one sip before spitting it out. “I specifically ordered a Grande Caramel Macchiato with skim. This is a Grande Caramel Macchiato with soy! You had one job! One job! What am I paying you for?” he chastised, throwing the scalding beverage back in the cowering pony’s face.

“B-but, sir. You’re not paying us anything.”

Discord pursed his lips. That was technically true. Interns weren’t paid, especially not illusionary ones. He causally pressed an ominous red button on his desk sending the unfortunate intern plummeting to a fishy demise. “Never correct your superiors, kid.”

“A bit harsh, no?” Facsimile turned away from the grisly feeding frenzy. Her gorge rose a bit as the water gained a rosy tint.

“Eh, sometimes you have to sacrifice one to keep the rest in line.” Discord dismissed her concerns with a wave. “Anyway, congratulations!” he exclaimed, reaching across to grab her hoof in a hearty handshake. “Welcome to team Disco-Flower!”

“Speaking of which, where’s the rest of my team?” She was the espionage specialist, so naturally she’d be in charge.

Discord snapped his fingers and changed the train’s interior back to normal. “Assuming command. I like that attitude.

“Mayflower is off to tinkering somewhere. For some reason I get the feeling she doesn’t like being around me. You love me, don’t you, Mister Tibbles?” Much like a live cat, the stuffed toy was indifferent to its owner’s affectionate nuzzles.

“As for her brother, I believe you just scared him off,” Discord continued as he flashed over and wrapped his arm around the changeling with a grin. “Good job by the way. I’ve been pestering him to try teleporting for a while, but for some reason he doesn’t trust me. I ask you, who wouldn’t trust this face?” His eyes spun while he pressed his snouted against her. Facsimile squirmed away like he was the plague.

She wasn’t too familiar with the mechanics of teleportation. An infiltrator's repertoire didn’t include the spell, unfortunately. “And he ended up where? Because I really need to brief both of them before we reach Canterlot.”

Discord‘s grin stretched even wider. “Oh… he’s hanging around somewhere.”

Wallflower clung to the roof like his life depended on it—because it did. He could almost imagine the Chaos magic chuckling at him. All he had asked was to be sent somewhere else on the train. Technically, the carriage’s rooftop was a part of the train. Wallflower would have laughed, but was too busy screaming and trying to keep his heart of bursting out of his chest.

With Luna as his witness, he vowed never to teleport again. Oh ponyfeathers!

The train hit a sharp curve and he started slipping in the opposite direction.

“Buck, buck, buck!” he cursed as he tumbled over the edge. Hmm… never predicted my life ending splattered on train tracks. Before Wallflower had a chance to contemplate why his internal monologue was so unfittingly calm in the face of imminent death—side effects of Chaos magic maybe—the wind was knocked out of him as he landed chest first on hard, black chitin.

“Need a lift?” quipped Facsimile, wings buzzing with exertion. The stallion outweighed her by half, making the flight back to the top a little wobbly. Wallflower’s stomach did a flip. Normally he’d concentrate on the strange dual male-female quality of his savior’s voice—definitely leaning on the younger mare side. Or on the smoothness of her lovely flanks, regardless of species, he was still a college stallion and appreciated a good looking filly.

He meant to say ‘thanks for saving my life. I owe you one’, but what came out was, “Blargh!” Odd. I don’t remember ordering corn during dinner. Orange against black clashed horribly.

Mayflower examined the vacuum tube held in her hooves before carefully putting it down. Suspended within was Celestia’s feather.

Letting out a breath, she stopped working and rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, waiting for the shaking to subside. She was too keyed up to sleep, and nervous hooves lead to mistakes.

Removed from the cramped confines of her mobile workshop, the tools of her trade lay littered across a workbench. A ponyquin stood in the middle of the floor of the cargo car, suited up with the Icarus prototype.

At rest, its wings appeared facing rearward with turbines mounted on top and flaps facing forward. An array of strategically placed hinges along each wing allowed them to fold into thirds and rest against the model’s side.

Nervous energy drove the engineer’s movements as she juggled an assortment of wrenches and screwdrivers, making adjustments to the chest harness.

On the midnight train to Canterlot, paranoia made itself her constant companion. It robbed her of the ability to sleep, whispering misgivings into her ear. To Mayflower, Canterlot represented a gilded edifice masking the rot buried beneath its gaudy exterior.

In truth, May didn’t hate the mountainside metropolis. A short while ago, she’d been looking forward to visiting there. Chewing her bottom lip nervously and fidgeting with her goggles, she opened a window to gaze at the imposing gold and white castle looming in the distance. She who lurked there frightened her terribly.

Rumors spoke of Her Highness possessing a telescope enchanted to allow the user to observe every nook and cranny of the capital, even beyond the city limits. Would Princess Celestia be alerted as soon as they arrived at the station? Immortality lent patience; even now she could be lying in wait, ready to ensnare and devour the ignorant flies foolish enough to enter her web.

Nervous energy drove the engineer’s movements as she juggled an assortment of wrenches and screwdrivers, making adjustments to the chest harness. She paused once again. In her worrying, she’d overtightened a nut.

Focus was needed. Maybe some music would help.

Finding the proper accompaniment for her projects often lent Mayflower inspiration. In the case of Icarus, the inventor chose a favorite, a classic piece. She slipped the record out of a well worn sleeve. Glorious earth pony mares wearing gleaming, gold armor with winged helmets, and waving lightning covered spears while riding pegasi adorned the cover.

Valkyries.

The imagery invoked by the echoing music reinvigorated Mayflower as she pirouetted around the ponyquin. She almost saw herself as one of the warrior mares.

By the blare of trumpets, she again held the vacuum tube aloft. As the violins’ tempo increased, the sweet smell of ozone filled her nostrils as she precisely soldered the precious artifact into the reinforced compartment mounted at the crux of the shoulders.

Slowly, as the trumpets rose again, solar energy filled Icarus with life. The wings unfolded, rotating in their sockets. By the last cymbal crash, Icarus stood fully unfurled. Now slung underneath, the turbines spun up to speed in a harmonious hum. To Mayflower’s ears, the engines sang a more joyous chorus than the orchestra’s finale.

Mayflower knocked her goggles back up towards her sweat soaked mane before she clapped her front hooves together. After years of work, she possessed the last piece of the puzzle, a reliable power source, one akin to the sun itself, an irony given Scootaloo’s choice of name.

The decloaking of the library in the Everfree ruins meant the solar alicorn’s feather wasn’t as inert as she previously thought. Making the leap, Mayflower had asked the next logical question: could the power be harnessed?

It took a long time, Princess, but your feather finally worked. I should send Orange Zest a postcard.

Warmed by triumph, she stroked the wingflaps lovingly. The engine purred sweet nothings into her ear, promising heady heights and a cloud’s caress. “Together we’ll break the feathered ones’ lock on the yonder,” it promised. Mayflower reluctantly pulled away, she need to focus on her next task: uniting Alula and Icarus in a combat platform.

Selling the Royal Army on the crossbow would be simple, but convincing them of the flight pack’s worth was a challenge. She’d tried before. The army brass called flying unicorns and earth ponies, ‘too pie in the sky’, an unnecessary waste of resources when pegasi were available. Hidebound traditionalists, all of them.

Pie in the sky? She’d show them pie in the sky tomorrow. She’d planned her demonstration of Alula months ago. Incorporating Icarus, at the last minute, was tricky, but doable with a now fully functional prototype.

She smirked, imagining the shocked expressions as she flew over their fat heads, raining down a hail of arrows at the targets below. That military contract was good as signed.

Mayflower snorted, thinking back to her first presentation. Walking into the panel and being completely dismissed out of hoof. Did nopony understand the benefits of an expanded air force?

She was under no illusions about who’d blocked her funding last time. The pegasi faction protected their turf fiercely.

Before she could grouse further on the rampant tribalism holding sway in the upper echelons of the Equestrian military, Facsimile flew through the open window and landed heavily. Wallflower slid off of her back into a shaking ball, eyes spinning. May took one look at the disheveled sight of her brother and angrily rounded on the changeling, leveling Alula with a scowl.

“What did you do to him, changeling?” she growled. “Unless you want another puncture added to your body, the answer better be good.” Facsimile gaped at the threat, torn between huffing at the ingratitude—she just saved the mare’s loved one from a messy demise, after all—and identifying ten quick ways to disarm the ungrateful pony. May crinkled her nose with a sniff. “And are you covered in vomit?”

“May, hold on,” Wallflower gasped as he picked himself up. Things were escalating far too quickly. “She just saved my flank. I fell off the roof.”

May turned to stare at him. “The roof? Why were you on the roof?”

The distraction was all Facsimile needed to dart forward. A quick grab and twist, and May found herself staring down the business end of her own weapon. “He teleported and almost killed himself. Luckily, I was around to save his plot. Some thanks would be nice,” Facsimile said flatly.

Mayflower backed up a step, watching the now armed infiltrator warily. At such close range a miss was near impossible. “Wally. Explain. Since when can you teleport?”

“Discord,” he answered, rolling his eyes. Mayflower sighed and shook her head, accepting the single word explanation. Of course the troublesome spirit would be involved. She turned back to Facsimile who had taken the time to remove the ammo cartridge from the crossbow.

“And let me guess, you took him flying?” The soiled changeling nodded. “Well that explains the vomit. Mother stopped trying after two ruined saddles…” May paused to pinch the bridge of her nose. She really needed some sleep. “Look, you saved Wally’s life, changeling. So I owe an apology.” She extended a forehoof. “Let’s start over.”

Facsimile took moment then reciprocated. “Agent Facsimile, infiltrator 3rd class, but everyling calls me Fax.”

“Charmed, I’m sure. You’ve already met Wallflower.” Still slightly green, he returned a weak wave.

Introductions made, Facsimile quickly got down to business. “We’ve only a short time before we reach Canterlot so I want to over a few mission details.”

The reek of sick was filling up the hold. “Perhaps a shower is in order first.” Wallflower gagged, holding his nose.

“No time.” Green fire flashed over her body and Fax stood spotless. “If this mission’s to have any chance of success we need a proper plan of action and…” She stopped, peering at the strange contraption behind Mayflower. “Are those wings?”

Her face lit up with amazement. “Wow! They are!” Fax rushed over to the ponyquin, poking and prodding at all the little switches with interest. “Does it fly? Does it? Does it? Does it?” She hopped up and down with each repetition.

The siblings glanced at each other. May mouthed ‘Huh?’ Wally shook his head and shrugged. The sudden shift in demeanor from professional spy to filly in a candy store befuddled them both.

Sensing the ponies’ confused gaze, Fax stopped bouncing, flattening her ears in embarrassment. “Yeah… sorry. I’m kind of a flying nut.” She blushed, hiding behind her fringe. Wally noticed her cheeks turn a light green rather than red. It was pretty cute.

“But this is the coolest machine I’ve ever seen,” she gushed. “Reminds me of the Con Mane’s flight pack from You Only Live Thrice.” It truly was impressive. Part of the reason she ached to leave the hive was the chance to experience Equestrian innovation. Hivetech mostly consisted of scavenged, stolen or copied technologies. The only homegrown breakthroughs related to the HiveNet or love harvestation. “You’re totally like T.” Not being a Con Mane fan— Daring Doo more her vein—the reference to the fictional agent’s source of gadgets went over Mayflower’s head. “Do think you could make me a superspy laser-watch or maybe an explosive quill? Either’s cool.”

“Sorry, but I’m not that sort of inventor.” Mayflower intervened before the inquisitive changeling broke something. “But I can show you some of Icarus’s functions.” She pressed a button, causing the wings to retract, folding up into standby mode.

During the lecture, Fax easily picked upon the engineer’s loving pride towards her craft. A pity the love was directed at a machine and not something she could impersonate. The changeling was feeling a bit peckish. Not that there aren’t other options, she thought, catching Wallflower sneaking peeks at her backside.

Unusual.

Most ponies only went for their own kind, but a minority possessed a taste for the exotic. But If the grey stallion was one such pony… The tendril she sniffed wasn’t love, barely affection really, more of an interest—something to cultivate for later.

“I’ve never seen changeling wings before. What kind of lift can you get with those?” Mayflower asked with genuine interest, running a practiced eye over the nymph’s gossamer wings.

“Not really sure. We don’t measure wing power like ponies do. Flying isn’t really valued as a skill. Personally, I think we need something like the Wonderbolts. I even snuck into their headquarters once and stole a flight manual.”

“Why? Your wing structure is so different.” The casualness in which the spy mentioned breaking into one of Equestria’s premier military facilities didn’t surprise Mayflower very much. Even after the invasion, the nobility resisted ponying up taxes for increased security. “The physics wouldn’t match up.”

Facsimile chuckled at the inventor missing the obvious. “We‘re shapeshifters. We can sprout feathers whenever we want. Besides, rule number two of infiltration: know your enemy. Plus, the Wonderbolts are awesome!” If Equestria ever invaded, the Wonderbolts would lead the spearhead, everyling knew it.

Wait… If unicorns gained flight without magic… By the Queen’s fangs, it’d be like facing flying magic cannons!

Training kicked in. Facsimile carefully kept smiling and maintained her tone of voice as she oiled towards a nearby wretch. It looked suitably hefty. “So, Mayflower, you’re keeping Icarus for yourself or…?”

“Nope, presenting to the military tomorrow morning,” May answered, breaking Icarus down for storage and completely missing the flash of worry across the agent’s face. The ability to perform magic and fly simultaneously wasn’t an advantage the hive could afford to lose.

Well bother. What a pity. And they seemed like such nice ponies. A shame to kill them really. Hmm… bludgeon Mayflower first. Her brother shouldn’t present much of a challenge.

She hesitated. On the other hoof, outside of self-defense, infiltrators were forbidden to kill without authorization. Killing meant bodies, investigations, a higher chance of detection and mission failure.

Ugh… she cursed her superiors’ shortsightedness and moved away from the tool. The command directive from Vizer Facade made it clear this was her one chance to prove herself. Screw up and off to the mushroom farm. No way, am I being demoted to ditch digger on a technicality.

Putting aside the problem for later, Facsimile motioned for the siblings to gather round.

“Speaking of knowing your enemy, Hive Intelligence rates encountering one or more of the Element Bearers fairly high, given our goals, so they prepared a little information packet for us.”

The ponies blinked as bright green fire flowed over her body. She gained several inches in height and a sturdy orange body by the time it cleared.

“Howdy ya’ll,” ‘Applejack’ greeted with a tip of her Stetson. Wallflower let out a loud gaffaw as the transformed changeling strutted proudly. She was a dead ringer for Navel’s cousin. The increase in musculature was fascinating to observe as was the change in voice modulation to match the workhorse’s drawl.

“Now, Ah may be a simple farmer, but I’ll have yah know, I’ve tussled with the best of ‘em. Of mah friends I’m the strongest, so best avoid gettin’ bucked or ya’ll liable to be sent to the hospital for a spell. Ah reckon Ah can sniff out a liar at twenty paces, so Intel advises not chattin’ me up if ya’ll make mah acquaintance.”

A backflip into the air and a familiar rainbow maned pegasus hovered in place, sporting her trademark smirk. “Aww… yeah! Equestria’s fastest flyer reporting in,” ‘Rainbow Dash’ crowed, striking a heroic pose. The excessive wing flexing definitely fit Mayflower’s experience with the brash pegasus. “Not only am I super-fast, but I’m a black belt in Tail-kwon-do, and a Wonderbolt in training. All in all, making me one radical badflank of a pony. Don’t even try to out fly me in a fight. Ya gotta totally outsmart me.

“Based on reports smuggled out of my shrink’s office, I’ve got a deep seeded fear of failure hidden behind a way overblown ego.” Mayflower nodded. Based on her brief time with pegasus, the assessment rang true. Knock down the fortress of arrogance to goad Rainbow into doing something insanely risky made perfect sense. “One-on-one, cripple my wings as fast as possible.”

Only the colors changed on the next imponification. ‘Fluttershy’ peeked out from behind her pink mane, her voice barely a whisper. “Umm… I’m Fluttershy and I’m not too much of a threat, so don’t mind me. I’ll just hide behind my friends… if they don’t mind. Oh, and yes, don’t look me in the eyes. Intel says I have the ability to bend creatures to my will just by staring at them. So again, don’t look me the eye… if that’s okay with you.”

The elegant and refined Rarity was next. Facsimile definitely had the poise, style, and harpsichord tones of the posh unicorn down, in Mayflower’s estimation. “Greetings, I am Rarity, proprietress of Carousel Boutique where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique. While I am a lady of fine manners, I am not above hoofticuffs if necessary. I more than handled myself during the invasion, so don’t be fooled by my pretty face, darlings.”

Another flash and ‘Twilight Sparkle’ stood proud and ready to lecture. “As protégé to Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia herself,” she began in an officious tone, “I’m considered the highest value target on the list. My I.Q. and magic potential are both in the highest percentile in all of Equestria.” She preened proudly, rubbing a hoof against her chest. “I may suffer from borderline OCD, any disruptions of my plans leading to mental breakdown. In a fight, don’t try to attack me with magic. Intelligence recommends direct physical attacks to the horn from multiple vectors to halt casting.”

Unlike his sister, Wallflower paid little attention to the spy’s presentation. He didn’t have a reason to. Few ponies had a direct line to the princesses like the Element Bearers, and he had no intention of fighting them. If fate smiled and he ran into any of the mares, he was positive, after a calm explanation, an audience with Princess Celestia could be arranged.

“Surprise!” A burst of bubbly effervescence heralded the final entrance. Wallflower had a sudden hankering for strawberry soda for some reason. “Woweyzowey, what a trip!” Pinkie exclaimed then stopped midair, looking around, confused. “Hey, this isn’t Lyra’s closet and what am I doing on a train?” she asked while rubbing her chin. “I don’t remember buying a ticket…”

“Miss Pie, is that you?” Mayflower asked equally confused.

“Yepperooni.” She nodded vigorously. “Just your friendly neighborhood Pinkie Pie.”

She gasped so loudly almost all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. “I remember you. Mayflower, right? I never forget a face. Especially such a downy-mcfrowny. But it looks like your little brother’s all better now,” she sang, cavorting around a nonplussed Wallflower.

Experiencing citrus turned explosives and being suspended in gelatin had desensitized the historian to such oddities at this point. He wondered if that was a bad sign. “Well it’s certainly a surprise to meet you here, Miss Pie,” he said.

“Of course it’s a surprise,” she beamed back. “Everypony’s always telling me ‘Pinkie Pie, you’re the most surprising pony I’ve ever met.’ I even won Equestria’s Most Surprising Pony award three years running.

“Anyway, I’m super glad you guys are okay. Some the girls were really worried when you left.” She lost a bit of bounce on while saying that. “Especially Twilight. She went like totally study crazy again… But now you’re better!” she cried merrily, previous melancholy forgotten, stretching her forelimbs impossibly to pull both ponies into a crushing hug. “Oooh! You guys should totally come back to Ponyville and I’ll throw you a ‘Miraculous Recovery Party’.

“Oh yeah, here’s the cake I owe you,” said Pinkie, thrusting a chocolate torte towards a stunned Mayflower. The cake remained hair-free despite it coming from her poofy mane. “Rarity’s not around to stop me this time!” With nary a thought, it was casually tossed onto May’s workbench with surprising accuracy and not a sprinkle out of place. “Enjoy! Anyway, I need to get back. Everypony’s probably wondering where I disappeared to. Don’t forget to smile!” she signed off with a wave.

A hop, skip and jump later Pinkie disappeared in burst of green flame leaving behind a very dazed and confused Facsimile wearing slack jawed expression. She wobbled a bit trying to get her bearings. By The Silk, that was weird. Transformations, as a rule, didn’t usually cause blackouts… or a sudden craving for cake.

Cupcakes! So sweet and tasty!

Blinking again at the errant thought, Fax did a rushed review of the party pony’s dossier. It seemed normal… wait, there was an asterisk. Warning: changing into subject Pinkamina Diane Pie aka Pinkie Pie may result in random side effects. Extreme caution is advised.

“You alright?” Wallflower asked, tapping her shoulder and bringing her out of the stupor.

“I’m not sure. I think so, but one question: are you guys going to eat all that cake?” Love was great but chocolate, divine chocolate would do for now.

Rainbow Dash wasn’t what one would call a religious pony. Sure, her parents took her to the First Solar Church of Cloudsdale when she was a foal, but it wasn’t a habit she continued. Meeting the princesses in the flesh certainly hadn’t helped. Bringing down a goddess made a pony question divinity. She knew for a fact Applejack stopped reading the Celestial Gospel each night after the Nightmare Moon incident. Only five Pinkie Promises kept Granny Smith from finding out and tanning her granddaughter’s hide. Rainbow did find it odd that, given her upbringing at Celestia’s side, out of all her friends, Twilight was the most religious, able to recite entire homilies from memory.

Agnostic or not, Rainbow had reason to praise Celestia, Luna, Faust or any other deities listening, for she was saved.

Hallelujah! The grand exhibit on Saddles through History was canceled. She’d be doing backflips if the museum didn’t enforce a strict no flying indoors policy.

Her horned companion, on the other hoof, hid her face in her hooves in utter embarrassment at her friend’s victory dance. “Seriously, Rainbow, is the ‘The Butter Churn’ dance really necessary? Ponies are staring.”

Indeed ponies were staring at the pair. Some merely glanced and continued on their way; others, especially children, stopped and stared for a moment before being scolded for being rude and escorted away towards other exhibits by their parents.

“So? Let’em watch my smooth moves.” Rainbow started gyrating her hips, more to irritate Twilight than anything else. “You should watch and learn from me, Twi. Your dancing’s terrible.”

“My dancing’s not that bad,” Twilight defended. “I can boogie down. I’ll have you know my brother loves it when I get down with my bad self.”

“Number one: promise me you’ll never say ‘boogie down’ or ‘get down with my bad self’ ever again. And number two: not that bad? Twilight, the last time you ‘busted a move,’ ” she flatly said, breaking out winged air quotes. “Pinkie called an ambulance because she thought you were having a seizure.”

Twilight dismissed Rainbow’s obvious jealousy with a wave and held her head high. Her moves were great. Why else would Shining Armor invite his buddies to her birthday parties and insist she break it down, Twily style? Cadence even complimented her, saying ‘She’d never be able to get Twilight’s ‘dancing’ out of her head as long as she lived.’ Yeah, Twilight totally had the moves.

“Good thing Rarity got called away. She was looking forward to seeing some firsthoof examples of what was in fashion during the classical era,” she said.

As predicted, while taking lunch at a local café, the group had encountered Fancy Pants and his charming wife, Fleur de Lis. The famous power couple immediately took the opportunity to invite them all to the charity ball being held at their estate that very night. Ever the one for a high class soiree, Rarity accepted right away and took her leave; no doubt off to spend the rest of the day getting her makeup and hooves done in preparation.

The remaining mares declined. Politely in Twilight’s case, citing dinner with her parents, and a not so polite outright refusal by Rainbow Dash.

Luckily, Fancy Pants was the type to appreciate brash honesty even if delivered by such words as ‘no feathering way am I spending a night stuck indoors with the snobbiest snobs in Canterlot.’— that was the cleaned up version—and accepted her declination with his trademark aplomb. Ever the gentlecolt, he went so far as to help Rarity, who appeared to be going into a fit of hyperventilation, back into her seat and generously ordered another round of drinks for the table.

Even Dash later admitted, that for a Canterlot elite, Fancypants was pretty cool, and seriously rocked a monocle like nopony’s business.

Twilight remembered getting a bit red-faced herself. She wasn’t sure if Rainbow meant what she said or simply wanted to watch Rarity sputter out apologies as payback for being saddled with baggage cart duty earlier. By the sly grin plastered on Rainbow’s face when the mortified unicorn lunged across the table to wring the living daylights out her, it was probably a little of both.

“On second thought, maybe it’s best Rarity isn’t here.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow massaged her neck in agreement. “Girl’s got a strong grip when she’s angry.”

Twilight shook her head, deciding to write off the incident and move on. With the exhibit closed there was no reason to stay. “I may as well go back to the library and keep researching,” she sighed, starting towards the lobby. “You coming or do you want to explore Canterlot?”

“Nah, I’m gonna hang around here.” It wasn’t the response Twilight expected, if her arched eyebrow was an indicator. She’d never known the sporty flyer to show any interest in history before. “It’s nice and cool in here.” That explained it.

Summer in Canterlot had been especially severe this season. The heat and excessive humidity made everypony sticky and lethargic. Battling the muggy soup of airspace was so draining, the weather department sent out an advisory warning pegasi to walk as much as possible. The ground proved a poor escape, however, as the paved streets radiated the summer heat, turning the city into a sauna.

The Canterlot Library was air conditioned too, but Twilight was secretly glad her friend didn’t want to come along. Truth be told, much like Spike made a poor substitute Rainbow Dash, the fidgety pegasus made a poor replacement for her number one assistant. Impatient, prone to sighing at an irritatingly loud volume, and lacking any knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System, she wasn’t even helpful enough to warrant number three assistant status.

As part of her Princess assigned project on ‘The Knowledge of Friendship’ Twilight had surreptitiously run background checks on all her friends, the justification being knowing your friends’ pasts ensured stronger friendships in the future.

How Rainbow had coasted through Cloudsdale University to a hold a degree in Weather Management without learning basic research methodology Twilight couldn’t fathom. At least until she cracked open Rainbow’s academic records using royal privilege. She should have guessed Dash rode an athletic scholarship to ‘C’ average. Most surprising, Applejack graduated Manehatten University’s degree by mail program with a bachelor’s in agriculture and a four-point-oh grade point average.

After seeing the lavender unicorn off, and finally left to her own devices, Rainbow Dash started a circuit around the building. The Canterlot Museum of Equestrian History was built in a starburst pattern, all wings spreading radially from the central lobby.

Exhibits from all periods of Equestrian history were on display, divided up by subject matter. As she explored, she assigned each item a level of ‘awesomeness’ based on her patented Rainbow Dash scale of awesomeness.

At the bottom languished such things as double-shifts, paperwork, words over four syllables, and Gilda. In a word, ‘lame’. Next was ‘cool’. Most things in Dash’s life ended up in the cool bin: her friends, hayburgers, Scootaloo, the princesses, etc. Finally, the coveted ‘awesome’ slot was reserved for only the best and most radical of Rainbow’s loves: herself, of course; flying; napping; her pet tortoise, Tank; Daring Do; and last, but certainly not least, the Wonderbolts.

Princess Celestia’s old Sun armor complete with badflank halberd: cool.

Unicorn scouts ‘camping’ in the forest exhibit: lame, then upgraded to cool when some of the kids recognized her, and begged her to sign some autographs and pose for a few photographs. Nice to see the Rainbow Dash fan club expanding beyond Ponyville.

About an hour later, Rainbow found herself in large exhibit hall on the history of flight in Equestria. Displays ranging from the early experiments with wooden gliders to the development of hot air ballooning. A statue dedicated to the Germane earth pony inventor and father of the modern airship, Count Von Zeppelin dominated a corner.

Born with wings, Rainbow never really considered airship travel. It was still relatively new, expensive and restricted to specific routes. The fledgling industry was very unpopular with pegasi in government, many unhappy with having to share airspace with what they saw as upstart youngsters with no business in the sky.

The old pegasi were very influential. An entire half of the flight exhibit was dedicated to the winged tribe and its many and varied contributions to Equestria: the development of weather management, aerial combat, and most famously…

“The Wonderbolts!” Rainbow Dash squealed. The exhibit promised a showcase of items from the Wonderbolt’s founding to today. Attending the academy and being screamed at everyday still hadn’t taken the shine off seeing everything associated with the elite unit.

Unfortunately, a sign barred entry to the still under construction exhibit to any unauthorized personnel.

Authorized personnel ehh… Wonderbolts must be authorized… and I’m pretty much a Wonderbolt, so… “Ha! And Twilight says I don’t understand logic.”

Inside Canterlot library, Twilight Sparkle’s ears perked to attention. She felt the sudden, overwhelming urge to correct somepony.

Rationalization, and what the studious unicorn would undoubtedly lament as a butchering of the transitive property complete, Rainbow Dash took a quick glance around for any security guards before easing the door open.

“Wow...”

Wow indeed. Wall to wall glass cases packed with a treasure trove of Wonderbolt memorabilia filled the hall. There was no restraining Dash’s inner fangirl once unleashed.

“Oh my gosh!” Overwhelmed and with wings fluttering in excitement, she pinballed from one display case…

“Captain Wild Wing’s flight goggles!”

…to another…

“The cup from the first Wonderbolt Derby, won by Crimson Sky!”

…and another…

“Air Marshal Skyline’s dress uniform!”

…and another.

She paused at the final displayed and pressed her face against the glass, leaving a moist smear. “An original founding day flight suit,” she breathed in wonderment.

The vintage flight suit was constructed of brown leather and decorated with a bright yellow stripe down the middle— both colors and material a far cry from the spandex bodysuits used now. The leather came from a time when pegasi still drew on their warrior heritage and hunting animals was considered a rite of passage. A blessing Fluttershy wasn’t here, she’d be appalled.

Dash wanted an appropriate souvenir to cap off the trip and spent the next couple of minutes perusing the exhibit’s gift shop. Sure it was unmanned, but she’d leave the right amount of bits and note. A truly righteous pony doesn’t steal.

The gift shop sported a pleasing array of what the sign claimed was exclusive official Wonderbolt merchandise. She spotted quite a few thing she already had, and Rainbow prided herself on having one the most complete collections of any fan, taking up an entire room of her cloudhouse.

‘Official Wonderbolt approved wing weights for kids’ read the package. “Available in light, medium or heavy, huh?” Well, Scoots did drag around Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom all day, making her wing muscles fairly strong already. With a shrug Rainbow selected the heaviest weight. Besides, a heavier weight just meant faster results, and faster is always better. Rainbow, you’re a genius.

For the second time that day, Twilight’s ears sprung up accompanied by the uneasy feeling somepony nearby was committing a logical fallacy.

Persnickety purple unicorn absent to correct her flawed logic, Rainbow packed her purchase and headed for the exit.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Crap!

Back straight, chest out, shoulder squared, face front. Dash’s body reacted without needing to be told. It knew what the gruff voice commanded.

She felt eyes burning into the back of her skull, tempting her to turn around. Don’t do it, Dash. Just stare at the picture. The mosaic depicting a three pony wing against a sunset was quite spectacular—lots of vivid oranges and gold.

Much like the scowling visage entering her field of vision.

Spitfire’s sunglasses didn’t soften her glare. Rainbow kept staring ahead, careful to suppress even a twitch. When facing a bull, any sign of weakness meant being run over.

“Cadet Rainbow Dash, fancy meeting you here,” the captain said levelly as she circled her prey. Rainbow kept counting the tiles making up the picture—she was up to twenty—detecting the dangerous edge in her superior’s tone. “Tell me, Cadet. Do you consider Equestria’s education system the best in the world?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” A bead of sweat began its journey down her neck.

“And, being born and raised in Equestria, you matriculated through the fine halls of academia, graduated elementary, middle school, and high school. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” was Dash’s reply again. She’d finished counting. There were exactly thirty-five tiles making up the mosaic.

“So tell me then, Cadet Dash.” Spitfire stopped pacing. “Why, after receiveing such a high quality education, can’t you read a simple sign?!” she bawled, suddenly mere inches from Rainbow’s now sweaty face. She opened her mouth, but was cut off by the continuing tirade of questions. “Are you illiterate? Maybe we need to send you back to school for remedial reading lessons. Is that what’s needed here, Cadet?”

“No, ma’am!” Rainbow practically yelled back then cringed back as Spitfire removed her sunglasses. Once unleashed, the full power of her well practiced ‘pissed off commanding officer’ glare sent the normally unflappable pegasus quivering.

“So you read the sign and entered anyway, is that it?” she asked, lowering her voice. The authoritative edge combined with the relentless, granite glower forced Rainbow Dash to crumble like Pinkie’s day old coffee cake. Ears and wings drooped and she lowered her head.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” she conceded shamefully.

Spitfire sighed. “Alright, at least you admit it. Stand up straight.” Rainbow obeyed and got ready for whatever punishment the flame haired officer came up with.

Spitfire whistled over two pegasi dressed in same light blue military shirt as herself. The white and blonde stallion Rainbow didn’t recognize. The teal mare, however, she knew quite well.

“Cadet Skybox,” Spitfire addressed the stallion, who saluted smartly. “Good work today. You’re dismissed. Take leave for the rest of the day.” Skybox didn’t need to be told twice, and cleared out in a rustle of feathers. “Lightning Dust, you’re still on probation, but good news. Cadet Rainbow Dash has graciously ‘volunteered’ to help finish cleaning the displays. Isn’t that right, Rainbow Dash?”

So much for taking the rest of the day off. “Yes, ma’am,” Rainbow affirmed weakly with a nod.

“Good. Then as you were, cadets. I’ll see you in an hour.” Orders given, Spitfire sharply about-faced and marched away.

Armed with rags and glass cleaner the two cadets divided up the room as started work. Naturally it wasn’t long before it turned into a race. Both mares being equally competitive, they finished with a good half-hour to spare, which left them with little else to do but make small talk and peruse the displays.

“So thanks for not laughing back there, Lightning Dust,” Rainbow said graciously.

“Pfff... Like I’m gonna laugh at another cadet’s screwup on the last day of probation with Spitfire right there. I’m reckless, not stupid, Dash,” the blonde mare answered dryly. “I might raz you about it later though,” she ribbed.

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that…” An uneasy silence followed, both former teammates conscious of the elephant in the room, but not sure how to address it. Both took a few minutes to examine the displays a little closer than necessary.

Dash hadn’t seen much of the former lead pony since Dust was put on probation. There’d been some lingering tension each time she saw her peeling potatoes or other menial tasks Spitfire came up with. “Hey, Dust... we’re like, cool, right?”

Dust turned away from the cabinet of medals she’d been eyeing and gave Dash an appraising look. “Look, Dash, I’ll be honest. I was pretty saddle-sore about how things went down…” She paused for second and let out a breath, shuffling her hooves around. “But after getting hammered—not my finest moment by the way—talking to some of the others… Well, you were right,” she admitted, sounding much like Dash earlier. “I was out of control up there. You did what you were supposed to do—let somepony know about it.” She walked forward and extended a wing. “So, if you’re cool, I’m cool.”

“Fine by me, Dust.” Dash smiled broadly and blue and green pinions slapped together in renewed comradery. Never let it be said Rainbow Dash couldn’t forgive a pony’s mistakes—as long as they owned to them. Not like I’m perfect… Close, but not perfect.

“But wait, why are you still grounded? You got chewed out weeks ago.”

“Yeah… Hah ha,” Dust chuckled sheepishly while scratching the back of her neck. “Remember I said I got hammered?” She got a nod back from her squadmate, who folded her forelegs and reclined against a wall in anticipation of a good story. “I may have mouthed off to the Captain while drunk.”

“Woah… Dude, seriously?”

“And I may have called her an old grandma who flies with one eye on the regs manual.”

“Bwahaha!” Dash could barely contain herself. “Wow, she must’ve flipped. The buck. Out!”

“Actually no. She was pretty chill about it. ‘Cadet’ she said, ‘Taking pointless risks and relying on luck, like you’re doing now, is a poor way to reach old age.’ Then I snapped back, ‘Yeah, I could reach old age—like a certain someone—maybe net myself a gold watch. Or… fly with a little ‘tude, make a name for myself.’ ”

“Nothing wrong with pushing the envelope,” Rainbow commented.

“Dash, the only envelope you’ve ever pushed is the one addressed to common sense.” The two speedsters immediately stood at attention at Spitfire’s interruption. “And I’ll give ask you the same question I asked Lightning: you want your name on a gold watch or a coffin?

“Lightning Dust. Consider your probation over. Wait for us outside.” A raised wing blocked Lightning as she tried to pass. “And it goes without saying: I don’t want to see you in my office again. Are we clear?”

“As crystal, ma’am,” Lightning acknowledged.

“That goes for you too, Rainbow. I need my two top flyers setting a good example for the rest of the rookies.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Rainbow, punctuating with a salute.

Once back in the lobby the trio was unexpectedly overrun by a flock of children, who started peppering them with excited questions.

“It’s Spitfire!” called out a filly.

“Can I have an autograph?”

“Isn’t that the pony who did the Sonic Rainboom?”

“What’s it like being a Wonderbolt?”

With practiced ease, Spitfire latched onto the last question, having answered it many times. “So you want to know the life of a Wonderbolt?” she asked the nodding faces after slipping on aviators sunglasses, adopting a serious tone. “It’s hard work and sacrifice, kids. If you just want to be famous, find another job. Make no mistake. The training’s tough, the hours long, and we miss our families every single day, but do you know what makes it worthwhile?”

She paused for dramatic effect, gazing over the enraptured expressions of the young audience. “All of you,” she continued passionately and swept a hoof over the crowd. “We do it to protect you, your skies and your futures, with the hope some of you will be inspired to join us and do the same. That’s what it means to be a Wonderbolt.”

The lobby echoed with the sound of applause as all the children and quite a few adults stomped their hooves. There were also a few sniffles from those truly touched by the speech.

“Dash… are you crying?”

“No, it’s—it’s raining, okay.”

“But we’re indoors.”

“I said it’s raining, Lightning Dust!”

By the time Spitfire cleared path outside, Rainbow had wiped the ‘rain’ from her eyes.

“Great speech, Captain, you probably got a few future Bolts out of it,” Rainbow said.

Spitfire gave a nonchalant shrug. These speeches were fairly boilerplate for her at this point. Still, it felt good to encourage the next generation. Wonderbolts needed replacing fairly often—wear and tear, and old age doing in most of them. At twenty-five, Spitfire was no spring chicken herself, heading over the hill in pegasus years.

Time to start cultivating future replacements, she thought as she watched the two younger mares chat. At least it seemed they’d patched things up. Made her job a heck of alot easier. “Alright, ladies, you’re dismissed. Lightning Dust, I’ll see at the academy next week.” The teal mare whipped of a salute, and took off. “Rainbow Dash, hold up for second,” Spitfire quickly added before Dash could also take flight.

“Tomorrow there’s a weapon’s demonstration by some hotshot inventor. I’m on the panel judging its effectiveness. Since you’re staying at the castle anyway, how’d you like to be my adjunct for the day? You might learn something.”

Dash was experienced enough to know this wasn’t a request. “Sure, I’ll be there, ma’am.”

“Good. Rendezvous at the Royal Guard’s practice field at ten hundred hours. Dismissed.”

The pegasi traded salutes and took off in opposite directions.

The Grand Hayett of Canterlot Luxury Suites towered over the surrounding buildings, but even it was dwarfed by the sheer majesty of the Royal Palace. With the annual National Agricultural Expo in town, the group was lucky to find rooms vacant.

Looking out from the suite’s balcony, Wallflower breathed in the clean mountain air. Even from behind the built-in privacy spell—tint added to all balconies after some couple behaved a bit too amorously while outside— the view from the 100th floor was spectacular. For the first time in a while, he smiled broadly.

They had finally arrived.

Canterlot: the shining beacon of hope and prosperity lighting the way for all Equestria. The old city spoke to the historian. Towers of gold built upon the strata of history and accomplishments of Equestria’s heroes. Tales of ages past practically oozed out of the architecture. He could spend days wandering the many museums and libraries. The Grand Central Library of Equestria, in itself, could eat up months. The massive wall to wall stacks housed books from all over the world, with only the Royal Library rivaling its collection.

Speaking of the castle, Equestrian Today reported the recently rediscovered underground crystal mines were due to be sealed in the coming days.

A pity that. What he wouldn’t give to lead an expedition to explore the old shafts. Celestia knows what lost artifacts lay buried and forgotten.

His sister watched the setting summer sun alongside the gray unicorn. She didn’t share his smile, however. Lack of sleep left her eyes bloodshot and her movements lethargic. The suite’s luxuriously appointed poster bed sang its siren song, calling her to its pillowy embrace.

“My, my, you ponies really fixed up the place nice.”

By force of will, May suppressed a shudder. Her personality was pleasant enough, and she knew it unfair, plus a bit rude—Mother taught her not to be speciesist—but on an instinctive level everything about the little changeling standing behind her felt alien. The light trill of her speech, the pupilless eyes, the way her hoofsteps made no noise, allowing the agent to silently appear from behind.

“You could almost forget a battle happened here. Oh look! Down there’s where I first landed after the shield went down.” Facsimile sighed wistfully while pointing out a distant unrepaired crater. “Fun times… Well, until we were blasted out.” She rubbed the underside of her carapace in sympathy. The hard landing had been especially painful for her, not possessing a legionnaire’s heavy armor.

May moved past the infiltrator, making a conscious effort not to touch her. If Facsimile took offensive she didn’t show it. The larger mare acting so uncomfortable around her was small boast to her ego—meant she was scary.

“Your sister looks out of it,” she said conversationally, turning to Wallflower as both watched Mayflower tread back inside. “Her emotions are all over the place. Smells terrible.”

Wallflower simply shrugged. May probably needed some sleep. As far he knew she’d spent the entire trip in the cargo car, putting the finishing touches on Icarus and Alula inside her mobile workshop. At least he didn’t have pull the damnable caravan all the way to Canterlot, thank Luna.

“Her presentation’s tomorrow,” he said, following Fax back inside. “She has a lot riding on it.”

“I’ve a got a little prep work to do tonight, myself. You want to come?”

“Me?” he asked, perplexed. “What would you need me for?”

“A lady doesn’t go the ball unescorted.”

Facsimile smirked at the last word before flashing green, blinding Wallflower for a short moment. As his sight returned, he saw light pink pegasus with a feathered blue mane and two blue lightning bolts adorning her flank.

“Firefly, at your service,” she purred in introduction, winking a flirtatious amethyst eye at the stallion. “I’ll be your date for the evening.”

“A party?” Discord interjected after flashing into existence. “I want to go. There’s bound to be cake. I didn’t get any of Pinkie’s,” he pouted.

“Trust me, I tried. Almost lost a limb.”

“Never get between mares and our cake, Wally,” called from inside the bathroom. Exiting, she couldn’t help but give the changeling’s disguise a professional assessment.

Good wing and muscle development. Short primaries, well maintained. A tight middle. Definitely an acrobat’s body; good for quick, sharp turns, but not extended speed. The mane-cut’s a little retro; feathered hair’s been out style since the neighties.

Being a red-blooded stallion, her brother eyed Firefly with a focus on her other assets.

Said assets were quickly covered in a tight, blue, sequined dress. Both fashionable and functional, it left her wings free while slits along the side allowed her legs freedom of movement.

“It’s a formal engagement, Discord. Everypony there may be a bit too high class for you,” Firefly explained, smoothly switching pronouns.

“Too high class?” The draconequus puffed in indignation at the very thought. With a snap he reappeared wearing a dapper top hat and tails, and holding a cane in the shape of himself. “I’ll have you know, I am the very model of a well-mannered gentlecolt.”

Liberate the Sun

by Seether00

Prologue: Disappearance

Chapter 1: Legacy

Chapter 2: Ponyville Discovery

Chapter 3: Hive

Chapter 4: Canterlot Convergence