> Archæan
>  by The Ancestor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Departure And Arrival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I yawned, my visage reflecting into the darkness of the screen in front of me. I was tired, so very, very tired. My eyes darted to the digital clock in the corner of my monitor's screen. A disappointing yet predictable number stared back at me, three in the morning yet again. I drummed my fingers on the wooden surface of my work table, my eyes scanning through yet another revision of my term paper.

"I swear, if this one gets denied again..."

Any witty remark died in my throat as I hit save, closing the tab and staring at my browser's blindingly white page. I pondered watching a movie, only for the idea to be dashed away by the weight of my eyelids. If I wanted to feel alive tomorrow morning, I had to hit the hay that instant, lest a shambling corpse enter the university's doors tomorrow morning.

I shambled towards my bed, vision blurry as I took out my contact lenses and deposited them into their respective containers. Despite my heavy limbs I know that a good hour or two of restlessness awaits me, so I reach for a bottle of sleeping pills, nothing too serious, over the counter stuff.

Popping two tablets into my mouth I swallowed them dry, settling into the comfortable warmth of my bedsheets. I exhaled as the confines of my bed failed to bring me into the warm embrace of sleep, anxious thoughts ruining any chances to fall asleep by myself.

A violet cough rattled my ribcage, reminding me once again that I've forgotten to grab flu medication on my way back home. Fuck, just what I bloody needed. I rubbed at the needle-like protrusions penetrating the back of my palm, the hard, black surface still visible in the darkness of the room.

I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing the bridge of my nose.

This term paper was the only thing standing between myself and getting shitfaced with my friends during new year. I prayed for a swift and favorable resolution of my troubles, medicine soon taking its toll on me as I faded into the dark.





I'm not sure when, but at some point I understood that I wasn't simply dreaming. It wasn't just the ever present darkness, I had experiences with dreamless nights, after all. Rather, it was the lack of stimuli that clued me in on the state of my being, coupled with my unnatural lucidity during the entire affair.

Ever heard of sensory deprivation chambers? You know, salt water at body temperature that makes you float at the surface, the pitch black interior and soundproof walls ensuring you are completely cut off from the outside world? Yeah, think that, but worse. Because sensory deprivation chambers don't restrict your movement, you can flail your arms or scream your heart out, you can bang your fists on the walls until they bleed, scream for someone to let you out.

I listened intently for any sound, even tinnitus would've been a saving grace compared to the deafening silence around me. It was when I tried to still my breath to listen intently for any sound, I noticed something that terrified me to my core. I wasn't breathing. I wasn't breathing.

In retrospect, it's somewhat amusing that my first reaction was to hyperventilate, to no avail, mind you, my nonexistent diaphragm didn't expand, no air entered my ethereal lungs, no oxygen traveled to my missing alveoli. My second reaction was to scream, which was, of course, impossible, the lack of trachea or vocal cords, nevermind the lack of air, making the action fruitless.

My eyes shot open in a desperate attempt to assess my surroundings, but nothing changed. It was at this moment, as my eyeballs danced in my orbits to take in as much light as possible, I realized something terrifying. I had no eyes. Another attempt to scream, another failure.

I then tried to flail my limbs, yet no signals came from my missing spinal cord, no electricity traveled through my nervous systems, no motor neurons were fired, no muscles were flexed. I couldn't feel my body, but not because I was sleeping.

I simply didn't have a body.

To say that I broke down would be an understatement. I wept nonexistent tears, a million thoughts raced through my mind, a silent scream of terror filling the void around me. I'm not certain for how long I remained a screaming, weeping mess of consciousness. It could've been days or weeks, maybe months, it wasn't exactly easy keeping track of time, but at some point I managed to calm down. Well, 'calm down' isn't really the right way to put it. Looking back, I'd say I exhausted myself enough for my thoughts to slow down, and I realized that I was having thoughts.

And that meant that I was still alive. You know, 'therefore I am' type of deal.

I remember breaking down once more, I cursed all gods I've ever heard of, everyone I've ever met in my life, cursing them for dooming me to this fate, one I was fairly certain was worse than death. I was sure they conspired against me, they had to, right? Perhaps someone broke into my apartment while I was sleeping and killed me, and all of this was a punishment for my earthly life? Or maybe I overdosed and was in a coma, all of this being a fever dream my mind conjured up as I slowly wilted away on a hospital bed.

That last thought sparked hope in me. If I was still alive, maybe I could send a sign to the people in the real world? I screamed and shouted, willed my missing libs to move and begged for anybody to help me, come and save me from this eternal torture. I wasn't strained by physical limitations of my nonexistent body, so I once again lost track of time, pouring my heart and soul into the void, my last ditch attempt at escaping this prison met with silence.

Finally, my will to fight waned enough for me to stop, putting a stop to my attempts to set myself free. My thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, one overlapping the next. If this was what awaited me for the foreseeable future, was there even a point in thinking? Maybe if I cleared my head of any and all thoughts, I could cease to exist? It surely would've been a better alternative to all this. The thought seemed inviting, fading away into the nothing shouldn't have been a frightening prospect at this point, right?

But I was terrified.

I remembered my friends and family, tried to picture their faces, their voices, a feeling of relief washing over me as a slideshow of faces appeared in my mind's eye. I was ecstatic at that moment, positively crying with joy as I recollected my life, both the good and the bad, happy and sad moments. Camping trips and drunk get-togethers, evenings of playing tabletop games, long lectures at my university and nerve-tingling minutes before exams, all of it was better than what I was currently experiencing.

Was it worth losing all that, just to stop myself from suffering? Accept that I lost this fight and choose an easier, albeit a cowardly option to go gently into that good night? It scares me that, even to this day, I don't think there's a right answer for this question. I was tethering the line between wakefulness and final slumber, dangerously close to falling over the edge and into the other side, when something gave me a kick in, what I now understand to be, the right direction.

Both a physical and a metaphorical one, as my entire being lurched violently into one direction, sending me reeling from the long forgotten sensation, the sensation soon being replaced by a gentle yet ever-present pull. It was so refreshing to actually feel something. Not to recollect it in your mind's eye, but to physically feel the pull of my body, the revelation that I still had a body terrified me to no end.

What did I look like? An emaciated body on a hospital bed, currently being cleaned? Or was I finally being pulled from life support, no signs of me leaving this coma-like state for who knows how long sealing the deal? Either that, or whatever hellish dimension I resided in finally decided I had enough of this isolation, and was currently transporting me to another never ending torture session.

Still, if there was even a slim chance that someone could hear me, help me, I had to try. I filled my lungs with oxygen, and screamed my heart out for as long as I could, begging, pleading with anyone who could hear to help me, tell the world that I was still there. It didn't take awfully long for the pull to become stronger, seemingly correlating with my efforts.

My momentary happiness soon turned to horror as a burning sensation enveloped me from head to toe, a pain I haven't experienced in a long, long time. Despite the burning sensation increasing in intensity as it enveloped me, the pain I initially felt seemed to have dulled, in time turning into a barely noticeable ache. It was an odd development, all things considered, but before I could begin to question what was happening to me, the burning sensation lessened, finally ceasing to exist, only for something else to take its place.

A violent crash shook me to my core, the force of the impact no doubt enough to turn a person into a fine red mist. That same force failed to do more than daze me momentarily, leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened? Had I fallen from my hospital bed? It would've been funny, if it weren't so infuriating. Whoever was taking care of me, were clearly doing a bad job. I was about to try my patented 'scream and shout' method of getting results, when a brand new sensation made itself known.

It felt like pulling off a scab from an old wound, the sensation both pleasant and slightly painful. Now, something I'm about to tell you is hard to describe, so please bear with me. It felt like taking a breath after surfacing from under the water, the air dry as that of a desert. The cool air caressed my body, sensations outlining its current shape.

It was an odd thing to take in, the fact I was no longer human. Instead of a normal, bipedal humanoid body that I used to inhabit, a roughly geoid shape greeted me instead. I didn't see it per se, more like I felt it, the rough edges of what seemed like a carapace distinctly different from the mucus-like substance contained within.

I reeled from the revelation of my current state, but intrigue won over disgust, in the end prompting me to investigate further. Muscle memory kicked in as I tried to flex and relax my nonexistent muscles, the action doing little more than frustrating me. Undeterred by the lack of response I tried and tried again for what seemed like hours, to no avail.

I growled in frustration, the bleakness of my situation once again setting in. Great, instead of being dead or hospitalized, I turned into a puddle of God-knows-what. Fucking great. I concentrated all my anger and frustration into one thought, wishing I could move or punch or do something more than just exist as a puddle of liquid. I mentally lashed out to strike the nearest object, fully prepared for my initiative to fail.

Only to feel the puddle move.

It did so almost imperceptibly, the sludge not simply moving from one place to another, but rather growing to consume more space. My initial confusion gave way to excitement, which further shifted into exhaustion as the sludge, as I continued to move, slowly but surely spread from the confines of my rocky geoid, and onto the sandy ground beneath. To my utmost bewilderment the carapace shifted, once again closing shut, the sludge/me now seeping through the small opening at the base of the geoid.

I am still not one hundred percent comfortable with this sensation, so alien from what I was familiar with. It was actually overwhelming, feeling yourself spread over each grain of sand, each groove of the ground. So much so, that a hidden part of me refused to continue without rest, without a chance to properly assess things. Even this alien sensation dulled as I began to feel the embrace of sleep, something I haven't felt in a long, long time.





A quiet night settled over the town of Appleloosa, ushering in a welcome cold that contrasted harshly with the town's blistering midday heat. Braeburn watched his beautiful apple orchard from a convenient vantage point that was a hill not far from the settlement. The stallion reclined in his seat, sipping a can of his family's famous cider, most graciously provided by his cousin.

The peaceful night was cut short, however, when a ball of red light emerged from behind the clouds, dispelling them in an instant. The farmer watched in horror as the meteorite headed straight for his priceless orchard, landing amidst the very first grove of trees planted on his property.

"Horseapples!" Braeburn cursed, quickly folding his chair and placing it into his saddlebags, galloping down the hill like a stallion possessed.
> Rooting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I rested within the comfortable confines of my bed, the warm mattress and pillows failing to bring me to the precipice of sleep. I, however, was undeterred by the prospect of falling asleep late into the night again, mainly because I finally did it.

I was at last done with university until late January, the free time available as a result making my head spin with possibilities.

A night of tabletop games coupled with hard booze was definitely a must, it's been a tad too long since our last get together.

Next on the list? Probably bowling. Last time we went turned out to be great fun, and it was worth going there again if only to gawk at the absurd score animations.

I was about to ponder what to do next, when a pesky itch on the back of my palm made itself apparent once again. I groaned in annoyance, getting up to head to the bathroom, where a freshly bought bottle of hand creme resided.

I scratched at the irritated skin as I walked, not particularly bothered by the tiny black spikes protruding from the skin's surface, each one around a centimeter long. Half of my class had this weird germ, whatever it was, and so far only Alex had called in sick, deciding to visit a doctor. Whatever, that guy always was a bit of a germaphobe.

I swore under my breath as one of the spikes broke the skin of my fingers while I was trying to scratch it, my pace quickening as a result.

I squinted at the darkness of the hallway, my hand tracing the wall in an attempt to find a lightswitch, to no avail. The way definitely took longer than I remembered, the itch growing more worrisome as I approached the bathroom.

My feet clicked against the tile floor, the cold sensation dulled somehow. I searched for the lightswitch once more, the plastic surface jutting out of the wall just where I expected it to be.

Warm light illuminated the bathroom with a soft click, allowing me to observe myself in the mirror.

Long black spikes jutted out at odd angles from my body, a dozen of smaller ones peppering my skin in tiny clusters. The rest of my skin, unoccupied by the angry looking protrusions, was a few shades paler than I remembered it being. The hair on my head were replaced by more black spikes, these protrusions forming a rough outline of what my hair used to be.

I recoiled from my own reflection, the look of fear and disgust morphing into an angry grimace. As if on cue, my body reacted violently to my change of temperament, the spikes growing longer, pulsing red streaks making their way from the base of the spikes to their tips. At the same time, what little skin wasn't marred by the disgusting mutations turned dark, a sort of black carapace coating the skin.

I looked down at my arms, only to see the tips of my fingers turning black, black spikes jutting through the carapace and out of the tips of my fingers. I yelled in fear and anger, the sound coming out akin to a rabid howl.

Swiping at the accursed visage, my claws sank into the wall-mounted glass, cracking it and showering me with a dozen small, sharp shards.

I fell to my knees, the glass' remains sliding harmlessly off of my freshly formed carapace. I tore into my new body, a disappointed shriek escaping me as my claws failed to pierce the carapace.

I curled into a fetal position, continuing to claw at my body, heavy tremors approaching from the corridor.





To say I awoke would only be partially correct. In a sense it was true, I came to my senses, as much as I could anyway given my current form. But that didn't mean that I was unaware of what was happening to me during my "sleep", I still felt all of me slowly spreading through the ground, apparently stumbling onto a grove of trees. It felt more like a blackout, a temporary loss of consciousness but not memory, the past few uneventful hours imprinted in my mind.

The nightmare seemed more appealing by the minute.

Speaking of, what the hell was that? I turned into some kind of demon hedgehog from hell, what's up with that? If dreams are supposed to have meaning, I'm not put out to interpret them. Probably need a shrink for that.

Scratch that, I'll definitely need a shrink after all this settles down. If it ever does.

My musings were cut short by a series of rhythmic vibrations spreading through the ground, their owner, a quadruped, judging by the strange pattern, soon enough stumbling upon me, actually stepping into the small puddle of me.

That sounded mighty odd.

It seemingly recoiled, the sticky sludge refusing to let go of the furry appendage. Curiously, as the animal jerked its limb away, finally tearing free of the sticky coating, a piece of it stuck to its fur, soon finding a micro tear in its skin to slither through.

It all happened without my input, mind you, the action akin to a reflex.

The creature backpedaled away from me with frantic steps, soon turning around and running away, frightened by the weird sludge.

And so I was alone. Again.

Hey, maybe that animal had an owner? I slithered over to the imprints it left in the soil, the shape distinctly hoof-like.

Alright, so it was a horse that elevated the odds of a human stumbling upon me. And that was good, right?

Come to think of it, what good would a human finding me in my current state do? If I found something like that on my property, I'd most likely either attempt to kill it with fire, or call professionals to get this strange mold removed.

So, in the end, my situation could only become worse. It was a welcome thought, that I didn't hit the bottom of the barrel.

Before I could begin to brood in earnest, I felt a light ding in the periphery of my awareness, something close to a tap on my shoulder, or the ringing of an alarm clock in the morning. I turned my attention to the source of this ding, only to find it to be from an errant clump of bacteria cells, currently moving away from me at an accelerated pace.

It took me a second to realize what that signal was, my confusion cleared by another ding, this tap on the shoulder coming bundled with a plethora of information. Fur and skin, flesh and blood, vital systems and organs flashed through my mind's eye, my alien physiology acting on its own as it scanned the insides of the animal that stumbled upon me not too long ago.

Just then, I felt that a distant part of me reached out to reconnect to its bigger part, offering me control over its/my actions. It was a wholly alien sensation, controlling something so far away from you, all the while feeling all that it experienced. I felt the pressure of blood from all sides, felt each beat of the creature's heart propelling me through its arteries, felt its T lymphocytes attack the antigen, only to be consumed by my bacterial cells.

I didn't control it, per se, that would require a vast amount of fine cellular control, something I wasn't capable of doing at the moment. Instead I simply nudged it in the right direction, letting the cells do what came naturally. The bacteria reacted almost instantly, latching onto the wall of the artery it currently resided in, beginning to grow slowly.

Allowing the antigen to take its sweet time, I turned my attention elsewhere, my metaphorical eyes setting on the place of my arrival. By now my 'skin' had spread over a good part of the grove, much of it beginning to spread deeper into the trees. My skin slithered through the cracks in the bark, dissolving through the cambium layer and infiltrating the xylem and phloem, perforating through the heartwood, some of the cells arriving into what I theorized to be apples, judging by their form, anyhow. The cells ran down the xylem and into the root system of the trees, spreading deeper into the ground to rejoin a much denser root beneath the hard carapace I arrived in.

It was quite a welcome development, the continuous flow of nutrients being a great backbone to my continued survival. My curiosity was piqued as I began to feel out each and every tree, traveling through the grove from tree to tree, simply exploring my newfound abilities. Trying to make the best out of a bad situation, I lost track of time, having no way to tell it in the first place, the arrival of day heralded by a familiar, yet unwelcome sensation.

Burning hot pain seared my skin away, the bacterial cells burning in the ultraviolet rays, the lucky ones retreating deeper into the tree, hiding behind the hard bark. A pained scream echoed through my mind as I felt myself erode away, the scream turning into an angry holler as the realization of all my efforts being wasted hit me like a freight train.

I took a deep metaphorical breath, calming my nervous system in an attempt to arrive at a logical conclusion. I observed what remained of myself, the only 'skin' cells remaining being the ones that managed to retreat into the confines of the apple trees. My gaze turned to the other part of me that survived, the hardened carapace unaffected by the sun's deadly rays.

An idea sparked within me, one that theoretically could save me the trouble of having to retract my skin during the day. If the sludge-like skin managed to harden into the sun-resistant carapace when I arrived, what was stopping it from doing so again? It was worth a shot, I wagered, gathering my mental strength and preparing for an hours-long session of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what stuck.

It wasn't the best way to spend the morning, that's for sure.





God damn fucking shit!

One upside of no longer being a normal human being was my newfound ability to multitask, to an absurd level, might I add. I delegated a cluster of cells to count seconds to keep track of time, keeping me at least somewhat grounded, while the rest of me set out to fix the disastrous situation I was in. My first attempts to layer cells in a cellulose microfibril like pattern were met with failure, the density of cells didn't seem to matter, ultraviolet rays tearing through the structure with little effort.

Deciding not to reinvent the wheel, I turned to the resilient carapace already present in my ecosystem - Shit, I was an ecosystem now? - deciding to replicate its cellular structure. It turned out to be way harder than I anticipated, so much so I initially failed to grasp what the damn thing was made of. One painstakingly long memory deep-dive lended me a solution, one I'd never come to if not for my tendency to go down wikipedia rabbit holes.

Apparently, the carapace was partially composed of chemically inert materials, extremely long-chain proteins woven into a non-protein molecular scaffold, the whole structure further hardened by a polymer catalyst. Truth be told, if not for my innate ability to synthesize materials, I would've been up shit creek, the complex molecular structure leaving me unable to synthesize it manually.

Thankfully, with the apple grove under my control, I had ample time to accumulate enough materials to begin synthesizing the required proteins, albeit at a rather slow rate. To test out the viability of this newly synthesized carapace, I targeted one of the trees, willing it to be encased in the biological armor.

Slowly but surely the bark crystallized, the cells mutating and hardening, encasing the apple tree in a thick layer of highly resistant cells. With bated breath I watched the ultraviolets rays bombard my freshly grown carapace, squealing with joy as the armor remained inert, unaffected by the sun's deadly presence.

Bingo! All I had to do now was wait, and soon enough I would've been able to secure myself a steady source of nutrients, securing my continued survival.

Only one question pulsated in my mind, making me shift in my metaphorical seat.

What now?





Braeburn galloped towards his house, rushing past confused farm animals, the door all but flying off its hinges as the stallion barged into the bathroom. The stallion turned the faucet on, sticking his hoof under the waterflow, using his other to violently rub the appendage with soap. His heart pounded in his ears as the water bubbled, washing away the dirt and sand, the stallion's breath hitching as he watched the water clear, revealing a normal-looking hoof. Braeburn squinted, trying to see if the frog of his hoof was harmed in any way, letting out a sigh of relief as he found nothing.

He'd have to get somepony to remove that nasty mold from his farm, maybe get a unicorn to check up on the health of his apple trees, but most importantly, the stallion considered the crisis to be averted. Braeburn headed for his bedroom, an innocuous cough following him in his wake.
> Adaptation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dreaded boredom arrived in time, although in a form different to the one I had anticipated. Turned out that my current supply of nutrients combined with a need to shield myself from the violent ultraviolet rays resulted in a mind numbingly slow production of carapace, so much so, I had to come up with a different way to propagate myself throughout the surrounding territory.

Taking root seemed to do the trick, sharp pyramids burrowing through the ground, with the same regrettably mediocre speed. I needed something faster, something that equaled the spread of the skin-like goo that I produced earlier, coupled with the protective capabilities of my carapace.

My immediate thought was to synthesize a small layer of the armor on top of the much more vulnerable muck, my brilliant idea crashing headfirst into the harsh conditions of reality.

Exact reasons escape me to this day, but at that time, what I later came to call my 'sprawl', refused to integrate with the carapace, resulting in a very thin layer of resistant cells, that all but refused to propagate on its own, all the while being just as tedious to synthesize.

Fucking brilliant.

Hard coping with wasted resources by swearing revenge on the dreaded solar object and whatever deity was responsible for creating it, my mind turned to pursue other avenues, a particularly helpful tidbit of information appearing in my mind's eye.

In particularly harsh conditions, bacteria, among other organisms, were able to produce spores, the living part of the cell falling into a state of deep sleep, hardening the cell wall in an attempt to wait out the unfavorable conditions.

I wasn't sure how I'd do it, but it was worth a shot, right?

My alien biology came in clutch once more, translating my intent into biochemical reactions, parts of the hardened carapace cracking to reveal it slowly spreading outwards, forming a bulbous sack of retractable armor. The goo-like sprawl poured into the space behind the carefully crafted barrier, shifting and changing to turn into a form easily carried by wind.

It wasn't yet time to test the effectiveness of these spores mind you, the midday sun would make quick work of my means of propagation. With nothing to occupy my mind with I turned my gaze to a piece of me spreading through the capillaries of one most unfortunate horse, and I did so at the most opportune time, it seemed.

My little antigen seemed to have managed to pass through the blood–brain barrier, giving me a very handy access to this creature's occipital lobe. Before I proceed any further, I gave the creature's brain a careful look over, juggling my surprisingly thorough memory in an attempt to find any matching information. Unfortunately, my non-alien goo self wasn't a fan of animal neurology. Fortunately, however, I had to do a presentation on the adverse effects alcohol has on the human body, mostly the central nervous system, around the time of tenth grade, which was surprisingly easy to remember, courtesy of my current state.

Comparing said image from long ago to what a piece of me was currently relaying to me, I had found an alarming amount of similarities. First things first, the general shape and volume were strangely similar, down to the position and shape of the lobes. Either this was a very smart horse, or something was terribly amiss. Because up to that point everything was going stellar.

I ordered the pathogen to tap into the animal's occipital lobe, allowing me to see the world for what felt to be the first time. The animal blinked, stars popping into its vision as the parasite rerouted the signal, connecting my network of neurons to that of the animal.

I thought I was prepared for everything, how could I not? After turning into a sentient mass of aggressive bacterial parasites, capable of scientifically dubious feats of metabolism, I was more than sure than nothing in the whole wide world would have surprised me.

But it seemed God wasn't done punishing me for my sins.

Because instead of finding this unfortunate horse going through its daily routine, you know, galloping through the fields, manning the plow, doing whatever normal horses do in their daily lives, I witnessed something completely uncharacteristic for a regular farm animal.

The stallion stood in what looked to be a fairly regular bathroom, although it accounted for the animal's stature. His right hoof was currently hidden behind the opened door of a wall-mounted cabinet, rummaging for something. His other hoof was placed in the bathroom sink, a steady flow of clear water turning different shades of pink as it disappeared down the drain.

Before I could even begin to rationalize what I was seeing, the stallion yanked a small tube with a leaf logo printed on its cover, opening the tube with his mouth, all the while raising his other hoof from below the water. Black spikes peppered the length of his fetlock, the familiar carapace-like material easily breaching the skin. The stallion shifted his weight as he leaned on the sink, squeezing the tube in his mouth to pour what I assumed to be medicine onto his other hoof, bringing it closer to tend to his injured limb.

As soon as his limbs came within touching distance the spikes shifted, jutting out ever so slightly to puncture his other leg, retreating as the poor creature recoiled from the unexpected attack, losing his balance and falling backwards. I was grateful not to have bothered to tap into his Lobus temporalis as the stallion hit the back of his head on the tile floor, no doubt cracking his skull.

It was why I was surprised when the opposite happened.

In a split second between the animal plummeting to the floor and his skull kissing its structural integrity goodbye, the parasite within him activated, sensing the drastic state of things. His dermis was all but annihilated as the parasite hardened that layer of skin, the hair falling out at the place of the impact. A lighter, less resistant, but nonetheless formidable form of carapace formed instead of the normal skin layer, all but negating the possibility of a hemorrhage.

Still, the bones of his skull were destined to take the brunt of the floor's merciless attack, leaving the animal's fate more or less unchanged. At least, I thought so at the time.

The parasite redirected its efforts inwards, reinforcing the bones with the same material I used to fossilize the apple trees, albeit a less dense variation of it. The downside of this development made itself apparent as the reinforcement spread to a good portion of the creature's head, its right side all but covered in the carapace-like material.

Yes, even the eye socket.

Pain receptors flared all over the stallion's head as it collided with the tile floor, the creature confused as none of them were coming from the back of his head. He stood as upright as he could, wobbling slightly as he took a look in the mirror to assess the damage. His disturbingly human expression morphed into one of horror as the same black spikes burst from underneath the skin of his head, his mouth opening in a silent scream as the coat and mane fell off, only to give way to razor sharp splinters. The right half of his vision turned blurry one moment, only to go black the next.

I cut the signal at that moment.

The only reason I hadn't emptied my stomach at that moment, was the lack of the organ. The haunting image burned itself into my memory, my current state all but guaranteeing I was never going to forget it. It wasn't particularly hard not to.

I vividly pictured the black splinters rending the flesh of that poor creature, a frightening similarity to a nightmare of mine shaking me to my core. Was it just a nightmare, or something more? If I was responsible for what was happening to that horse, who's to say I wasn't to blame for what happened to me in that vision? From whose point of view had I witnessed it? A man, suffering from a disease he can't possibly understand, or a pathogen, intent on spreading as far and wide as possible?

In a desperate search for answers, I accessed the creature's temporal lobe, a rush of sights and smells, sounds and concepts, hopes and dreams streamed into my neural network, almost drowning me in the waterfall of information. It was a surreal experience, watching someone's life pass from their perspective, acutely aware you're not the one experiencing these events. His name was Braeburn, if my translation was to be believed, a hardworking and honest apple farmer just trying to live his life to the fullest, doing what he loved. I filtered out most of the information, skimming through what the neural network considered to be the 'highlights' of his life.

His arrival to the relatively small town of Appleloosa, the brief scuffle with the buffaloes some eight years ago, his brave cousin and her friends butting in to resolve the conflict peacefully. The day he met the mare of his dreams, their first kiss. The day he made it top seller of apple products in the town, so on and so forth. I choked back tears as I recollected my own memories, my time spent in isolation giving me ample time to reminisce.

All that I remembered, all the thoughts and experiences, good and bad, looked eerily similar to what I had just experienced. Ruling out simple coincidence, I came to a stomach churning conclusion.

Was I the real me?

Was I that lone student, sitting in front of an LCD monitor late at night, trying to finish his studies only to be whisked away by the forces that be and reduced to a clump of self-aware cells? Or was I that parasite, the continuously evolving ecosystem that infected that student, adding him into its no doubt extensive memory bank, or simply assuming the last consciousness that it assimilated?

Who, what was the real me?

If I still had a brain, I would've most certainly had an aneurysm.

Even if I was the pathogen, and the student persona was just a leftover from my latest meal, what did it change? I was still stuck as a weird ass alien goo, on a weird ass alien planet with talking horses, and I still needed to get my shit straight if I wanted to survive the blisteringly hot days that were to come. Additionally, the student really was just a quick fix, how come I'm not convincing myself that I'm Braeburn all of a sudden? I searched for information regarding the stallion, only to find it neatly stashed in a cluster of neurons, separated from my 'main consciousness' by around a dozen of safety mechanisms, ones that hurt like a bitch when I tried to mix the stallion's memories with my own, or do something else I wasn't supposed to.

It wasn't the best rationalization, sure, but it was something to hold onto.

And I really needed that something, even If that something was hard coping by trying to find meaning in things that were completely alien to me.

Identity crisis momentarily averted, my mind wandered onto another topic. Should I feel any remorse towards this clearly sapient creature? It wasn't a topic I thought would surface so soon, but if I was to continue, I had to clear some things, if only for my own sanity.

Was it bad hurting others? Well, duh, a five year old would give you the same answer. This answer was backed by most laws written in civilized societies, 'do unto others' and all that jazz. In a normal, everyday life, you'd get odd looks by saying something on the contrary, and that's the best case scenario.

My situation, however, was far from normal.

My options were as follows. Either a): I become a bleeding heart humanitarian and spare the poor creatures of this earth, remaining a slowly-spreading goo for the rest of my existence, or at the very least until the authorities find the grove of tree-spikes, and a mutilated body of a local farmer.

Or b): I come to terms with my situation, do whatever is needed, anticipate an intervention by building up a solid defense, and then... Well, ideally find a way to be human again, but at the very least secure my continued existence.

Yeah, I'm going with the second option. Tough luck, Braeburn.

Resurfacing from the deep dive into my own musings, I found myself pondering what to do next. Braeburn was in a stable condition, despite his looks, the parasite not too keen on letting its host die. That meant he was going to go to the hospital, a place with many, many people, all with less than stellar immune systems and/or health conditions.

A veritable breeding ground for diseases.

If only I could fit a spore cluster into each of his lungs....





Braeburn hobbled out of the bathroom, his head spinning, the right side of his head going up in flames. He had to go to the hospital, get a doctor to fix him. One of the unicorns, they were practically miracle workers, or so he'd heard. An image of a one-eyed horror flashed in his mind's eye. No, not like this. He couldn't go out like this.

The stallion yanked an blanket off the top of his bed, wrapping his head and shoulders in the velvet fabric. It hurt like tartarus.

"Find a hospital. Get a doctor. Fix the farm." He mumbled, shambling down the stairs and out of the front door, sharp spikes easily puncturing the thin fabric.
> First* Contact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The distinct smell of medicine permeated the air, mixing with an aroma of hot coffee fresh out of a vending machine, creating a decidedly unique combination. It was a relatively slow evening for head physician Redheart, the mare sipping her hot drink in an attempt to get enough caffeine to last her through the night shift. Not that it was necessary, of course, Appleloosa Hospital wasn't exactly a hotspot of activity even during the flu season, one of the few perks of working in a small town hospital.

It was one of the reasons Redheart accepted the work offer, many of her Ponyville colleagues criticizing her seemingly swift decision to relocate. It wasn't something the mare would admit to out loud, but the less than creatively named town had grown too big for Redheart's taste. Ever since Twilight was crowned the newest Princess of Equestria a few years back, they had to be running out of titles by now, the quaint town became sort of a tourist hotspot, bringing with it both never before seen profits, as well as a flood of patients.

Because of this rather relaxed routine Redheart was doubly shocked when her latest evening patrol throughout the clinic offered her a most unwelcome surprise. The main entrance doors slid open, arhythmic clip-clops announcing the arrival of a patient. Redheart's gaze lifted from the mug of coffee she was holding, ready to question what was bothering her clinic's latest arrival.

Time slowed to a crawl as the mare's grip faltered, the hot drink taking a collision course towards the lobby floor. For a good few seconds Redheart failed to identify the thing that entered her clinic, the only familiar feature of the creature being its cutie mark. Braeburn, or whatever was left of him, shambled past the slide-open doors of the clinic, mumbling something under his breath. 

Now, Redheart had a good ten years of experience under her belt, a number of cases involving animal attacks, freakish workplace accidents, even a couple magic mishaps that made her skin crawl, but whatever was happening to Braeburn made all the previous injuries look like foal's play.

Chunks of coat were missing from his body, leaving patches of empty skin sprinkled randomly throughout his frame, angry red skin exposed for the world to see. Black, razor sharp spikes peppered the right side of the stallion's face, the cancerous growth completely obscuring his right eye. His fetlocks were covered in tiny black needles, dried blood sticking to the coat around his wounds. His head was covered by a tattered blanket, the thin fabric providing little protection against whatever was plaguing him.

"Braeburn?" 

The stallion's head jerked in response to the sound, his good eye focusing on the mare, the pupil shrinking as his mouth hangs open, a raspy voice Redheart never heard from the stallion emanating from within.

"Help me..."

She caught herself reaching a hoof out towards the stallion, shaking her head and instead turning to call the medical staff. She faced the stallion once more when she heard a sickening cracking sound coming from the stallion, her mouth opening to offer words of encouragement to Braeburn, only for her jaw to go slack. 

His sclera turned a shade of pink as the blood vessels burst, the spikes on his head jutting in and out ever so slightly. Redheart managed to slip her facemask on, before Braeburn emitted a deep guttural howl, rushing the head physician in an attempt to tackle her.

The was a hoof away from coming within touching distance, when a teal glow encompassed Braeburn, giving Redheart enough time to stumble away from the crazed stallion. Medical personnel rushed the duo, one of the nurses straining to hold Braeburn in place. Redheart blinked, recovering from the initial shock of the encounter enough to begin giving orders.

"Morning Star, sedate him, now!" One of the earth ponies scrambled for a syringe, Braeburn lashing out as a nurse ran past him.  "Set up a quarantine room, I'm talking BSL 3 health bubble!" A small group of medical staff scrambled to follow Redheart's orders, just as Morning Star came back, syringe in hoof.

The nurse came closer to Braeburn, the stallion thrashing against the magical restraints in an attempt to grab him. The needle connected with flesh, only to stop dead in its tracks, an audible ding emanating from the point of contact. The nurse tried to administer the sedatives a number of times, each attempt failing just like the last.

"I can't sedate him, ma'am!" Morning began, trying again and again to do what was asked of him. "It won't break the-"

The coat peeled away from Braeburn's fetlocks, exposing a thick, black carapace rapidly growing over the pale skin of his legs. The small spikes on his fetlocks violently contracted, expanding to grow over the entirety of his front legs, violently jutting out to stab at the pony standing closest to him.

Morning Star cried out in pain as a razor sharp carapace sunk into his flesh, the stallion backpedaling in an attempt to get away from his assailant, bumping into the unicorn casting the telekinesis spell, breaking his concentration. Free from the magical bonds that restrained him, The-Thing-That-Used-To-Be-Braeburn was quick to overpower the earth pony nurse, sinking his razor sharp front legs into his torso.

The lobby descended into pandemonium as a blood curdling scream emanated from the nurse's throat, devolving into a series of gurgling noises as The-Thing-That-Used-To-Be-Braeburn continued to stab its splinter-like front legs into his chest. A well-built earth pony orderly grabbed the infected from behind, restricting its movement to the best of his abilities. The earth pony grit his teeth as black needles pierced his skin, growing from the thing's back.

The orderly's distraction worked well enough, giving the unicorn enough time to recuperate, a teal glow encompassing the rabid infected, dragging him away from the hemorrhaging stallion lying on the floor. A group of medical staff returned to the scene, rushing to help the critically injured stallion.

"Get him to the ER, but be careful, these black growths could be infectious!" Redheart commanded, turning to the other injured pony, the bleeding stallion carried away by a green aura. She watched the orderly wince as hee peeled away the black splinters that peppered his chest, some of them refusing to come off no matter how hard he pulled. "You, quarantine yourself in the serology lab, report any symptoms. I'll see you in a moment." The orderly nodded with a wince, giving the rest of the saff a large berth as he proceeded to his destination.

Redheart turned to The-Thing-That-Used-To-Be-Braeburn, watched it snarl and swipe at anypony close enough to agitate it. "Don't just stand around, get him contained!" She sighed, trotting in the direction of the serology lab, the hurried hoofsteps coupled with angry snarls growing more distant with each step.

Redheart took a deep breath, the air stuffy through her facemask.

What in Tartarus just happened.





I cut the feed from Braeburn as a thick steel door closed shut, locking the stallion in a hastily assembled padded cell. I chuckled inwardly as I watched the remains of a straitjacket hanging loosely from the stallion's frame, the failed attempt to reign the stallion in doing them more harm than good. Around a dozen blips appeared in my mind's eye, all moving through the rough map of the hospital I visualized based on the memories of the ex-farmer.

All in all, it was a positive first contact situation. Positive to me, of course, I doubt that guy was too happy having both of his lungs punctured. I noticed one of the blips flickering in my 'peripheral', speeding up only to disappear a few moments later. Speak of the devil.

I managed to stuff a smaller cluster of spores into one of Braeburn's lungs, the modification seeing a partial success. Despite the fact that the spores succeed in infecting a decent bit of personnel, the production rate left much to be desired. Ideally, one individual should've been enough to contaminate an entire room, instead of a small area surrounding him.

While on the topic of failures, my mind wandered to the peculiar teal aura that immobilized Braeburn, several times, might I add. My first thought was to think of some advanced technology, but a helpful tidbit of information surfaced from the depths of patient zero's inflamed mind, answering my question.

Apparently, magic was a thing here, and not only was it just as powerful as I thought, it was also widespread, a good part of ponykind note to self, re-check safety protocols regarding memory storage, prevent possible memory bleed, was apparently capable of wielding this magic to great effect, the resulting 'spells' taking may forms, including telekinesis.

It was just my luck then, that the pony I had at my full disposal was as good at casting spells as me. I just had to land on a farm, not a library or a school, no, I landed in a place run by a God damn mud pony. I took a deep, metaphorical breath, rubbing the non existent bridge of my nonexistent nose. It wasn't exactly a setback, if my calculations were correct, at least a couple unicorns were going to succumb to the parasite the following day, give or take a few hours.

In the meantime, I bothered myself with figuring a way to get patient zero out of the predicament he was stuck in, namely swatting uselessly at the steel door of his improvised cell, to no avail, might I add. I honed the root in on the infected stallion's position, ordering them to grow in that direction, hoping they'd be sturdy enough to pierce the building. A problem quickly made itself apparent, the speed with which the spikes grew rivaling that of a comatose snail.

This was unacceptable. If I was to secure my prolonged existence, I had to devise a way to penetrate reinforced surfaces, the ability no doubt proving useful once the pony S.W.A.T. arrives. Do- Do ponies even have S.W.A.T.? Shit, do they have a military? Tanks, planes, the whole shebang? How- how would a pony operate a tank?

I got sidetracked.

Leaving the topic of militaristic ponies for a later date, I began pondering the possible solutions to my situation. The more passive solution was to ramp up the production of nodes, the spiky tree-like growths that supplied my entire ecosystem. My initial fear of running out of 'frames' for my nodes, but a quick dive into the anatomy of these nodes revealed a pleasant surprise.

It turned out that after modifying and assimilating enough of the apple trees, the sprawl 'remembered' their anatomical structure, creating a sort of blueprint that eased the creation of further nodes. Digging a little deeper into the 'body' of my ecosystem, I found out that the same process applied to parasite hosts, a 'streamlined' process of modifications resulting in the creation of something I endearingly called 'grunts' already engraved into my neurons. I wasn't yet capable of creating these out of thin air, mind you, but it was a step in the right direction.

With that out of the way, it was time to devise a more proactive solution, one that didn't require active intervention of  the roots. The ridiculous thought of pony-operated tanks resurfaced once more, a grain of truth hidden behind the humorous facade. Even if these equines didn't have tanks per se, they had to have some sort of cavalry, pardon the pun, something heavy hitting, something employed when simple ground troops proved to be ineffective.

Something that was most likely armored.

Now, as much as I wanted to make something close to a biological RPG, my current struggle for resources made me shelve the idea, starting a different train of thought in my head. If I couldn't rely on firearms, literal ones in this case, I needed something that was capable of delivering an explosive blast from a close range. It needed to be fast enough to cross great distances before the enemy could react, resilient enough to withstand a shot or two, and preferably low to the ground to avoid drawing attention. 

A horrible, awful idea crept up on me as I realized that the carrier didn't necessarily need to survive the blast, especially if it reached its intended target. 

My attention turned elsewhere as an image of an earth pony stallion appeared in my mind's eye. He was a big fellow, if not to say a little overweight. Nevertheless, his physical condition didn't stop him from immobilizing the patient zero for a few precious moments, which indicated his above average muscle mass.

He was a perfect testing ground for my new idea - enough fat to draw energy from, all the while having a good amount of muscle to carry the explosive load I intended to supply him with. As I theorized what kind of biochemical reaction could kickstart a detonation process, an image of a frag grenade came to my mind, serving as additional inspiration. The stallion's broad back and shoulders served as a wonderful platform for the tumorous red growth, high concentrations of nitroglycerin flooding the bloodstream and saturating the lumpy flesh of his back. Hard, black carapace grew outwards from within the tumor, sharp spikes splintering to pepper the flesh. Additional carapace broke through the skin in random parts of his body, an inevitable side effect of such rapid cell division coupled with the high saturation of the parasite in the blood.

If my calculations were correct, the explosion would be powerful enough to send these spikes flying into whatever hostiles the infected encountered, nevermind the direct damage from a close proximity explosion. Hopefully this would be enough to breach the enemy lines, clearing the way for grunts.

The process was far from perfect, of course, the conversion rate was positively abysmal, my first 'breacher' losing most of his fatty tissue as it was cannibalized for energy. I was so enthralled by the activity, I missed it as evening shifted to night, daylight breaking me out of my stupor, thanks to the photoreceptor-cells in my sprawl.

I established a connection to the freshly-made breacher, eager to test its capabilities like a kid who got a new toy.





Redheart hobbled to her chair, placing a petri dish under the light of her microscope. Her hooves trembled as she leaned to peek through the lens, her nerves taught as a string.

Tiny black bits of something moved throughout the blood sample she took, aggressively searching for something. One of the black things came into contact with an erythrocyte, stabbing a sharp edge into it. Black splinters began to spread from the point of contact, turning the entire erythrocyte into something resembling the black thing.

The antigen disconnected from the erythrocyte, moving to seek out its next target. It spun in place for a moment, before shooting out a splinter at the microscope lens, cracking the glass.

Redheart yelped, falling backward in her chair, recovering after a moment, rushing to close the petri dish shut. The mare's heart pounded in her ears, the gears turning in her head as she, to her own shock, realized.

I'd never seen something like that before...
> Expansion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The midday sun shone brightly at a sprawling grove of apple trees, a single pony tending to acres upon acres of farmland. The mare's orange coat looked faded from the sunlight, the daily grind of running the farm almost single-hoofedly leaving its mark. The mare trotted through her orchard, mentally taking note of the condition of her apple trees, a fair bit of them were getting wilt this time of year, which spelled bad news for the fall harvest. So concentrated on the health of her trees, the mare didn't notice a pony standing in her way, resulting in a head-on collision.

Thankfully, said pony turned out to be none other than Big Mac, the stallion's frame not budging at the crash, his hoof catching his sister from planting her rump in the grass. Applejack shook her head as her brother helped the mare get back on her hooves, ready to mouth her thanks.

"Got something on your mind?" The red stallion asked, his expression as impassive as ever.

Applejack pursed her lips, drawing the stetson to cover her face. "It's nothing." The stallion sighed in response, with an almost imperceivable shake of his head.

"You ain't getting better at lying, sis." He didn't push any further, but he didn't need to, the deafening silence doing the job for him.

"You know how the family reunion's in a few months?" Applejack asked the question rhetorically. "Ditzy delivered the mail monday mornin'." She paused, searching for the right words. "They have a list of all the family members, the ones who are coming marked by a red tick." Her mouth felt dry, the heat of the sun having nothing to do with it.

"You're worried about Braeburn." He stated, not missing Applejack's confused expression. "I've read the mail."

"He never skips reunions! Never!" Applejack exploded, several days of quiet worry finally realised. "Even if he couldn't make it this year, he would've sent a letter or something!" She bit her lip, pawing at the ground with her hoof. A silence settled over the duo, broken by the stallion's carefully chosen words.

"Why don't you go pay him a visit?" He offered. "It's been high time since you girls had a little adventure."

"But the farm-" Applejack prepared a heated retort, only to be cut short by her brother's strong voice.

"Won't collapse while you're away." His words did little to soothe the farm pony, that is, until he continued. "I'm fine with running the farm for a little while, and Applebloom's no filly either." Sensing his sister's idescision, Bic Mac put a hoof on her shoulder. "We'll be fine, I promise."

Applejack didn't answer, tоo busy planning a very stern talking to for her cousin.





Redheart winced as a series of coughs rattled the silence of the serology lab, the mare breaking away from her work to check up on the source of the cough. Clover Fields sat on the tile floor of a hastily assembled isolation chamber, hunched over as a coughing fit ravaged his body. The doctor felt a stab of guilt as she watched the stallion wipe the red off his face, his tired eyes focusing on the mare.

"Don't you worry none about me, Red." His attempt at an encouraging smile fell flat on its face. "It's just a little cough." He didn't believe his own words as they left his mouth. Noticing his attempt at placating the doctor had failed, he took a deep, ragged sigh. "I've lived a good life, filly. I helped folks, paid my tithes, got to see my grandfoals." His voice didn't sound sad, moreso accepting of the situation. "If whatever you're doing is going to help more folks like me? Then I'm happy to do whatever." He finished, content.

Redheart was unnerved.

She didn't want to tell him, by the Sun she didn't, but whatever was plaguing him left her no choice. Upon first examination, Redheart logically concluded that the thing that's been plaguing him was a bacteria, although a very peculiar one. It had a thick membrane commonly seen in plant cells, but had a list of organelles typically consistent with that of an animal cell. Vowing to look into the strange cell structure once again when things settled down, the mare decided to attempt antibiotic treatment. She took blood samples every few hours to track the presence of the antigen in the body, only to be confused as the number slowly climbed higher, unphased by either the mark of the drug nor the dosage.

Undeterred by her initial failings, she attempted an antifungal treatment, both internal and external ones, to no avail. The oral medicine had no positive effect, only making the patient nauseous, while the different salves she tried did nothing but make the black plates growing over Clover's legs slippery.

It was only after the stallion accidentally chipped off one of the black splinters, did the mare get a chance to study the growth. She couldn't see anything through the microscope, the thick piece didn't let any light through, but when she tried to test its reactivity, she stumbled upon something fascinating.

No matter what she threw at it, from acids to lyes, it remained inert. She theorised the material may be susceptible to high temperatures or pressure, but she had no way to confirm or disprove that possibility. That uncertainty had only piled up in the past few days, drawing the mare's nerves into a taut line. Redheart hated uncertainty, the odds mounting against Appleloosa General, and by proxy, her, making the mare seriously consider calling the nearest big city for support.

It didn't guarantee Canterlot would actually answer, but at the very least, it put Appleloosa on their radar, and that was a start.

Redheart closed her eyes for just a moment, a brief moment of respite the mare allowed herself in these trying times, only to be violently dragged from her tranquility by a low growling noise coming from behind her, followed by the clanking of carapace against metal.





I floated in the vast emptiness of my dream, patiently waiting for one of my alarms to ring, notifying me of anything of importance happening. Having enough time to ponder on important matters, my train of thought eventually carried me to reminiscing about my old body, something I really needed to think about if I ever wanted to inhabit it again.

Despite full-body reconstruction being way beyond me at that point, I understood the need of a point of reference, the free time I had allowing me to really think of what I looked like, and what I wanted to look like. I searched my memories for a shape that resembled me, confused when the search came up empty. Taking the task into my metaphorical hands, I tried to recall the last time I’ve seen myself, soon enough stumbling onto one from not too long ago.

I stood in a closed off cubicle, a bunch of differently colored plaid flannel shirts hanging off the nearest hanger. Royalty free music blasted through the speakers outside the enclosed space, periodically mixed with some sort of advertisement, be it a new collection or a final sale. This memory wasn't all that ancient, but it might as well have been from a lifetime ago. I sighed, turning to observe myself in the mirror.

Only to see nothing.

In place of a reflection stood a mass of black fog, shifting and popping in and out of existence. I craned my neck, squinting and moving closer to peer through the fog, only for it to mirror my actions, unsurprisingly, might I add. I looked down at my hands, billowing fog replacing my limbs.

It whirled and twisted, solidifying into a thick black layer that crept from the tips of my fingertips, pins and needles accompanying it as the substance covered me whole. I raised my head to look in the mirror, only to see a sight that was both familiar and alien.

Layers of thick carapace covered my body, not an inch of skin visible under the biological armor. Long, sharp spikes jutted out of my arms, extending past the back of my palm. It crept up my neck, several layers of hardened material protecting my vital points. Instead of a face was a set of armored plates layered atop one another, hard outlines of skull staring back at me with overgrown eye sockets. In a sense, it was perfect, nigh invincible and most likely quite efficient in combat.

The Apex.

I tilted my head and the mirror image followed, I knocked the carapace of my face, and so did the doppelganger. I took a cautious step towards the mirror, gliding the palm of my hand over the smooth, cold surface. The reflection grabbed my hand with a vice-like grip, harshly pulling me towards the silver surface. I thrashed against its iron grasp, but all my efforts were in vain, as each moment of resistance only brought me closer to my own reflection.

I was almost face to face with whatever was pulling me, when I felt a painful squeeze of my shoulder, dozens of sharp objects hooking into my flesh, going through the carapace like a hot knife through butter. I yelped as I was wedged from the creature's grasp with a sharp pull, my reflection uttering an aggravated howl, left with but a few plates of carapace to gnaw on.

I looked over the shoulder to thank my savior, only to be left at a loss for words once again. A gaunt, brown-haired figure wearing tattered pijamas stared at me with its sad, sunken eyes. Tiny black splinters peppered the figures arms and legs, subtly shifting as if in agitation. I looked at myself in stunned silence, struggling to process what was going on.

Was this my true appearance? Or was it the best I could picture myself after being alone for Lord knows how long? Was it just a memory? In any case, it was clearly a human.

The Human.

The monster in the mirror growled in anger, swiping at the surface, sending a spider web of cracks cascading from the other side. A horrible gurgling sound came from the ragged frame of my savior as the splinters threatened to slice his trachea to shreds.

I wasn't sure what it wanted to say, but a sickening choking noise was all I heard as its cloudy eyes bore into my soul, a strange mix of resentment and pity leveled my way. In a blink of an eye the world around me was rent asunder, shattering into innumerable little pieces. Whatever footing I had went with it, leaving me to plummet into the nothingness below, the scene from before dissipating into a long forgotten mirage, the surrounding darkness swallowing me whole.





I cannot exactly tell when I came to, for when I did my surroundings changed little, the only tell of me being in the waking world once more, being the myriad of little tingles, ready to follow my command. Among these uniform signals, one stood solitary, his unique properties reaching my mind after a moment's recollection. Right, ensure my survival first, think about weird dreams later.

Taking a deep breath, I fired the neural pathways of the creature, the now unusual sense of sight hitting me like a tidal wave. The ringing in my ears subsided as suddenly as it appeared, giving way to the drone of fluorescent lamps, accompanied by the clinking of glass and periodic groans of pain. Speaking of, pain was just as unpleasant as I remembered, although easily avoidable with a couple of safeguards installed.

It was almost laughable, the hastily cobbled together enclosure they kept my breacher in, the pitiful structure most definitely undeserving of the blaze of glory I designed this one for. A shaky step and a tentative strike successfully cracked the flimsy cage, as well as garnered the attention of a familiar mare. She turned sharply towards me, her sapphire blue eyes wide as dinnerplates.

"Clover Fields?" She asked, her voice uncertain as she no doubt noticed the scowl on the breacher's face, his sickly eyes boring into her own.

A hoof shattered the glass wall of the enclosure they kept my little breacher in, sending a myriad of shards raining down on the floor. The mare backpedaled towards the door, never breaking eye contact.

A deafening screech tore through the throat of the thing that used to be Clover Fields, the freshly made breacher galloping towards the mare, the flesh on his back pulsating, turning crimson as his blood pressure spiked.

Red Heart fell out of the room, slamming the wooden door in my breacher's face, the surface cracking as it met the thick carapace. Just as Clover Fields gurgled, the nitroglycerin charge ready to go off, I forced his pulse to slow, inhibiting the reaction before it reached critical mass.

I could've easily blown this door to pieces, but that felt like a waste of resources when more conventional means would have sufficed. An armored hoof tore a sizable hole through the barrier, revealing the form of an utterly terrified Redheart. Broken from her stupor by my advance, she shot to her hooves, galloping down the corridor.

I barreled through the door, sending bits and pieces flying through the pristine white corridor, and took chase. Blood pumped through my veins, muscles stretched and contracted, lungs yearned for oxygen in a sensation so familiar, yet so distant. I let myself get lost in the overwhelming wave of physical feedback, the rush of adrenaline giving way to the rush of the chase.





Redheart was never more terrified for her life than she was at that moment, running through the halls of her beloved hospital, a monster hot on her tail. That was all the creature was - a monster, something the mare kept telling herself as she rounded a corner.

Head spinning and lungs burning, she almost collided with one of the doctors, the stallion catching Redheart as she was about to collapse.

"Head Redheart?!" He helped the mare stay upright, holding her as she motioned him to keep moving, gasping for air. "What's going on, are you hurt?"

They hobbled into his office, the door shutting down behind them with a heavy thud. The stallion was about to repeat his question, when Redheart spoke. "Barricade the door, use everything you have." She got to her hooves, the two of them struggling to move a large book cabinet in front of the door.

Just in time, it turned out, as a moment later the whole cabinet shook under the weight of a heavy blow, the monster throwing its body against the obstruction.

"Major?" Redheart broke the stallion out of his momentary stupor, the stallion turning to face her. "Can you teleport?" He nodded. "How far?"

"Well-" The two of them flinched as another blow shook the bookcase. "At the very best? Maybe halfway through the town. But I can only get one of us there, it's not my forte..."

"Right." Redheart took a deep breath, ignoring the growls and screeches from outside the room. "You need to get as close to the train station as possible: hop on the first train to Canterlot, tell the Princess' we've got a situation on our hooves." He was about to protest, but the mare raised her hoof. "Don't worry about me, this is far more important. Besides, there's enough furniture here to block that door for good." He nodded shakily, a pine green aura enveloping his horn.

"Stay put, Redheart. I'll get help!"





A loud pop followed by the displacement of air brought me to my senses, my hoof stopping mere inches from the door.

They can teleport.

Of-fucking-course they can teleport.

I scanned through the memories of this particular breacher for the location of the train station and to my dismay, found the neural connections in his brain in the early stages of deterioration.

Great, my first breacher is a senile old stallion man.

Thankfully, the rest of my brood possessed the necessary information, rendering this particular individual of no use. Truth be told, I could've sent him to regroup with the others for a coordinated attack on the station, but his chances to reach the station were quite slim.

I've gotten too invested in that little chase earlier, burning through a critical amount of energy, leaving this one a dead man trotting walking.

At the very least, this one will go out in a blaze of glory... Well, more like in a mist of bone shards and chunks of soft tissue.

Eh, close enough.

It's a pity I never got to see that little mare's expression, seeing an explosion from this close must've been unforgettable.





Cutting the optical feed I felt the uncomfortable sense of vertigo assault my senses, the void of my solitary confinement surrounding me once again.

Funnily enough, I felt oddly disoriented, perhaps I spent too much time in that old man's head. Gotta act now, I'll make sense of this later.

I called out to my servants, ordering all available breachers to assault the train station, directing half of all available grunts to act as support, while the other half scouted the town proper, infecting everyone they could, all the while searching for a good place to set up shop.

Making changes on an individual level is beyond ineffective. If I automate the terraforming function and make the whole system self-sustaining without my conscious input, I could explore further avenues of mutation in peace.

Step one: make sure the train never leaves the station.





Major Fracture's lungs were on fire, the stallion galloping for his life through the silent streets of Appleloosa. This silence wasn't meant to last, and he knew it. He heard commotion, followed by screams and distinctly unequine howls coming from the hospital after he teleported, the sheer magical toll the spell took on his mana reserves making him lightheaded.

Still, he had to pull through, if not for Redheart, then for Appleloosa. Maybe for all of Equestria. He didn't like that thought one bit.

Fracture felt a shiver go down his spine, something deep and primal yelling at him to duck. He did so just in time, as no more than a moment later, something dark and heavy flew right where his head had been, missing the stallion by a hair's breadth. The unicorn heard his attacker hit the ground with a sickening crack, followed by one last breath.

Not slowing down, even for a moment, Fracture cast a quick look behind him, the view invigorating him further.

Around a dozen of vaguely pony-shaped things galloped towards the unicorn, their bodies teeming with thin black spikes protruding in odd angles. By Celestia's mercy he only saw a couple of faces, none of them of ponies he knew all too well, but what he'd seen would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Faces contorted with anger, teeth gnashing to the point of breaking, pink eyes leering at him with murderous intent. They weren't ponies any longer, more akin to some wicked creatures of Tartarus.

It's no wonder then, that Fracture had felt a second wind within him, just as the station reared its sign in the distance.

He clocked movement to his right, dodging a stallion barreling towards him with a well time burst of speed. He heard his attacker collide with a saloon to his left, the wooden structure collapsing on top of his attacker. A teal unicorn threatened to nip at Fracture's tail, but just as the opportunity presented itself the monster froze in place, its eyes going wide, a stream of blackish liquid pouring out of its mouth.

Major Fracture ran through the as of yet empty station, going straight for the driver's cab. The metal door of the locomotive shut close behind him with a heavy thud, the stallion coming face to face with a very confused enginemare.

"Drive! Straight to Canterlot, no stops!" He hollered, the mare struggling to come up with a rebuttal as a barrage of vicious hits assaulted the door.





As I hurled blood and bile onto the dusty streets of this backwater, middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere town, I reached several conclusions.

Number one: I needed more practice with changing points of view. While my lack of a vestibular system should've rendered me immune to the perils of vertigo, the sodded sensation simply refused to cease, even after I cut the link with one of my offspring, letting the poor mare hurl a mix of blood and breakfast in peace.

Conclusion number two: A better way to gather and assay incoming information had to be devised, I've had it with either being blind but knowledgeable, or overwhelmed with sensations. It took a moment to visualise several clusters of 'monitors'. each cluster separated by the type of 'unit' it was receiving the feed from. At that moment they were the only beacons I could physically see, however that worked, amidst the sea of black.

Still, it was a start.

It seemed I had finished just in time to see the fruits of my labour, so to speak. Juxtaposing the visual data with a mental map of the city, I watched as a group of breachers gathered around a number of columns supporting a railroad bridge over a deep ravine.

Perhaps, not all was lost.





Fracture's hasty explanation was cut short by a great tremor shaking the locomotive. The enginemare cast a glance out of the window, her eyes growing wide as dinnerplates. Before he could clarify the situation, she galloped towards the door separating the locomotive itself from the wagons, throwing it open and tinkering with something he couldn't quite see.

He watched as the wagon slowly drifted away from the locomotive, before being suddenly yanked downwards just as the train made it across the bridge. The bridge in question followed the discarded cargo, plummeting down into the vast ravine just behind the locomotive.

Major Fracture whispered his thanks to Celestia before exhaustion took over, the stallion letting himself rest, if for a moment.





Fuck-a-doodle-doo.

I would've taken out my anger on the ones responsible for letting the messenger escape, but seeing as the guilty party was out of my jurisdiction, this mortal plane be damned, the only person I could've pinned the blame on, was myself.

Conclusion number three: I had to reconsider my priorities.

The shared memory banks suggested I had about two days before that train reached Canterlot, a little over twenty four hours if they skipped all the stops, and a fraction of that time if they stopped at the nearest town with a telegraph station. Point is, I wouldn't have been able to fend off a full frontal assault, considering they probably had divisions specialised in magic, something I still had very little grasp on.

What I had, however, was a town all to myself and the freedom and imagination to craft something useful out of its denizens. For a precious few hours, these ponies were clay in my hands.

And by God, I was going to make most of it.





"What do yall mean you don't know when's the next train gonna be?" Applejack asked the exasperated ticket seller, the stallion clearly tired of answering the same question for the whole morning.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I don't know the full story. What I do know is that all communication by rail was cut with Appleloosa." He said in a tired voice, checking his timetable once again. "We'll be sure to notify you when the situation is resolved."

She huffed, frustration mixing with worry as she wondered what exactly was going on in Appleloosa.
> REM Sleep
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A wondrous array of constellations peppered the immaculately crafted night sky of Equestria, all the little ponies sleeping peacefully under its cover. Thegrand jewel of this cosmic tapestry bathed those few still awake with a cool, pale light, rewarding their questionable sleeping habits with a mesmerizing sight. Among those few still in the waking world, one was patiently waiting to hear her subjects' pleas, no matter the significance. It was a duty Luna's grown to appreciate, one that let her face her subjects in a more direct manner, rather than hiding behind the veil of sleep. 

Things were improving as of late, more and more ponies asking for her guidance each year, yet sometimes she couldn't help but feel a little bored. After all, her sister was getting ten times as many visitors, mostly for having a more reasonable timeframe for holding the royal court. Still, she appreciated the ability to help her little ponies even in this boredom, i.e. drifting off to sleep for a little dream walk.

The throne room giant wooden doors opened with a creek, a concerned lunar guard stepping into the throne room. "Your Highness!" She said with a bow. "A visitor requests your audience, he says it's urgent!"

Counting her blessing for a little excitement this session, Luna nevertheless felt a twinge of worry worm into her heart. "Then delay him no further." She calmly stated, the mare answering the unspoken question.

"He is... agitated, if not to say hysterical." She began, the doors behind him opening to show the offending stallion carried into the room by two thestrals, each standing at the unicorn's side. His eyes, wide from fear and bloodshot from lack of sleep, focused on the ruler of the night, his nerves soothing ever so slightly.

"Princess Luna, you have to listen to me! I know it might be hard to believe, but please-" He felt silent as Luna raised her hoof, the stallion fearing he'd be dismissed for his lack of proper etiquette, or his demands.

"Tell me everything, from the beginning." 

She did not utter a word as the unicorn relayed his, to be fair, quite extravagant retelling of the events. Partway through his story the stallion started shaking, only a glass of water and a couple of soothing words from Luna calming him down. Admittedly, the younger diarch wasn't as astute in her interaction with her subjects, but it seemed the mere fact she was near calmed the stallion. She listened closely to his story, as unbelievable and stomach-churning as it was, Luna heard worse things in times before her banishment. Entire villages burned to the ground to prevent the spread of a plague, bodies lying on the streets, nopony brave enough to dispose of them.  

She had hoped such tragedies were left buried in the past, but it seemed even Celestia's advancements in medicine left much to be desired. Or, perhaps it was a relic of old times, a malignant curse or spell, which complicated things. Our subjects had grown more astute in matters physical, yet more lackluster in arcane knowledge. Such horrific deformities... We must take this situation under control.

By the time Fracture finished, he was so worn out Luna barely had to use her magic to pull him into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. As the two guards carried the unicorn to his guest chambers, Luna turned to face the remaining thestral mare.

"Night court is adjourned. Inform my sister on the current situation. Tell her to meet me in my chambers when you're finished." Having said that, Luna disappeared in a flash of white, leaving the throne room empty for the night.





Luna took a deep breath, sinking into the velvet sheets of her bed, making herself as comfortable as possible for the task ahead of her. She closed her eyes and drifted off into her place of power, one she'd grown to love over the course of her long life. The Dreamscape allowed her to see dreams, and while it was easier to read them the closer they were, with enough concentration, she could reach surprisingly far. It shifted and changed from time to time, yet Luna always felt comfortable. She navigated the nebulous space around her with practiced ease, weaving between dreams of ponies she wished not to disturb, sorrowfully passing by those of her subjects suffering from nightmares. Tonight, they had to be brave.

She expected to see a myriad of little black bubbles, each representing the nightmare of an individual, something  quite expected under the circumstances. What she found instead, gave her pause. Enormous, tumultuous and ever-shifting, the dream 'bubble' dwarfed even the dreams of dragons. The closest thing Luna could compare it to were the chageling hivemind, something she'd dealt with personally not too long ago. As Luna got closer, her suspicions of Chrysalis' involvement were quickly proven wrong. Whatever it was, it felt completely alien to anything she ever experienced in her time dreamwalking. 

As she stepped into the dream bubble, finding herself in the vast void with no points of interest, she understood the difference between whatever this was, and the changeling hivemind. The latter consisted of many individuals, however little authority they had, while the former only possessed one mind. Her entrance rippled across the 'dream', no doubt alerting the 'dreamer' to her presence. She remained calm, choosing to wait for the dreamer to make the first move, and react accordingly.

"Well, you look unique."

Luna heard from behind, turning to see something she'd expect last in a place like this. A tall, bipedal creature wearing what Luna supposed was casual attire, was peering curiously at the alicorn. "Horn, wings, and a weird mane to boot? Can't say I've seen something like you 'round Appleloosa." He craned his head, the black chitinous plate covering the side of his neck proving to be quite flexible. "I wonder, why would I make something like you up?"

Now, Luna knew that she should judge a book by its cover, but at the moment, she chose to believe that first impressions were quite important. And she wasn't liking the human standing before her one bit, and not because he differed a little from Twilight's descriptions.

"I doubt your imagination is good enough, human." Luna replied, circling the man. 

"A hallucination that bites back! I could get used to you!" The alicorn remained silent, noticing the curious gleam in his eyes. "By the by, you wouldn't mind giving me constructive criticism on my latest little project? Having a second opinion helps weed out bad ideas, you know?"  He stepped to the side, revealing a bulky silhouette the size of a bodybuilder yak, covered from head to toe in thick, black exoskeleton plates. Its muzzle was closed shut, just hard chitin where its eyes and mouth should be.

To say Luna was repulsed, was an understatement.

"Is that a-"

"It's a Smasher!" The man said with a smile, proudly presenting his creation. "Can you guess what's his gimmick?" Luna stayed silent, unable to avert her eyes from the creature. "Come on, three tries!" He huffed in annoyance when no reply came. "Fine, be that way. This thing's supposed to be a cavalry of sorts, gotta put something against pony tanks, you know? I think it came out rather well, shame I can't make every Appeloosean - Is that how you say it?- like this." He crossed his hands on his chest. "Takes a shitload of effort to make one." He raised an eyebrow as Luna stayed silent, her disgusted expression causing him concern. "Uh, you alright there? Christ, did one of the neuron clusters die again?" He facepalmed, approaching Luna. "I swear to-"

He didn't make it farther than a step when blue flames engulfed his body, freezing him in place as magic coursed through Luna's horn. She leveled a hateful glance at the man, meeting his surprised expression.

"Don't you dare to move, fiend. If you are responsible for the horrors in Appleloosa, you will experience the full wrath of The Moon!" 

"Wrath of the Moon?" His eyes hazed over for a moment, clearing as an epiphany dawned on him. "You're Nightmare Moon, aren't you?" He felt his throat tighten as the aura around him pushed harder.

"It's Princess Luna for you, wretch." She spat, keeping his throat closed shut. Contrary to popular opinion, you couldn't die in the dreamscape. She felt the man attempting to will away his constraints, but his mind was no match against hers, his will failing against her own. "Clear Appleloosa and all its residents of your scourge, and I may yet spare your life." Her intimidation seemingly worked, the man squirming for a moment, his eyes growing wide as the lack of oxygen caught up to him. His face turned a shade of purple, and just before Luna considered releasing her hold on his throat, his face smoothed into an impassive expression, his eyes hazing over.

His face split along a vertical line in-between his eyes, slowly peeling away to reveal rows upon rows on tiny, black needles on each side of the skull. His back erupted into a shower of tiny black needles and four insectoid legs, Luna releasing her hold on the creature out of shock. It fell onto the hard ground, stumbling to balance itself, it's center of gravity uneven. Its arms trembled as chitinous blades emerged through the palms of its hands, forming mandibles that constricted angrily at the Lunar Diarch.

In a blink of an eye, the Thing rushed Luna, crashing against a cobalt blue field protecting the mare. It threw its weight against the barrier, forcing Luna to pour more and more magic into keeping it operational. Each strike sent a pattern of web-cracks cascading over the field, each pulse of cobalt mending the cracks. A bead of sweat rolled down Luna's forehead as the Thing finally relented, stopping its assault on the mare. Despite the breathing room it gave Luna, things were far from over.

The spider legs it was standing on slowly lowered the body onto the ground, propping it up to stand on its own two legs, before receding into its back, the wound closing shut without a trace. Bones cracked and bent as its head and body righted itself to face the princess, the blades on its palms hiding under the skin. Finally, the maw splitting its face in two stitched shut, its cloudy eyes piercing Luna's soul for what felt like forever.

His eyes cleared, wide in panic, the man gasping for air for a brief moment. Having finally caught his breath, he focused on the Princess, searching for the right words. 

"You said I was human." He finally spoke, circling the mare. "I'll cut you a deal: You get me back to Earth, and I'll leave this place forever. Hell, I'll promise you everypony in Appleloosa will be unharmed. It will be as if I never even arrived." His expression turned grim, the man putting his finger right against the shield. "But if you even think of crossing me, every Goddamned inch of this planet will look like Appleloosa. Have I made myself clear?"

A flash of white light left the man alone again, pondering the answer.





Celestia took a deep breath as her sister finished her tale, finally taking a sip of one of the few brands of tea Luna enjoyed.

"And you are certain he is not human?" 

Luna nearly spat the tea out of surprise, managing to keep it down by nothing short of a miracle.

"Were you even listening to me? If Twilight omitted humankind's ability to shapeshift into horrific abominations during our last talk, I'd like to have a word with her. Even then, the carelessness with which that thing talked about reshaping our subjects..." A shiver ran down her spine. "I care not for its origin or species, it is vile and deserves no quarter."

Celestia hummed, setting her cup of tea onto the table. "He deserves to be punished for his wrongdoings, I agree. But have you asked why he did what he did? How or why was he transported here?" Silence answered her questions. "Lulu, I do not fault you for your reaction, I can't say I would've acted much better, but if we can resolve this peacefully, I believe it is worth a try." Luna conceded with a small nod, an uncomfortable expression on her face. "But that matter can wait, you need rest, Lulu." She offered with a soft smile, draping her wing over her sister's back. "In the meanwhile, I will order a containment team to lock down Appleloosa." Her expression turned grim.

"If diplomacy fails, we need to have a way of protecting the rest of Equestria."





I stared blankly at the empty space where, no more than mere seconds ago, stood the first person I've spoken to in a millenia. A new perspective on things, a new person brimming with thoughts, memories, loves and losses, a new friend, perhaps.

And I've fumbled the bag.

So overwhelmed with joy, I was blinded to the fact that bragging about inhumane experimentation on sentient beings made me look like a maniac. Christ, and I did it in front of royalty, no less! One of the two ponies capable of moving cosmic bodies, for fuck's sake! 

I took a calming breath, massaging my temples.

Maybe it was all just make belief. Just because every pony I assimilated came across had the exact same notion drilled into their stupid little brains, didn't make it the truth. Opium for the masses, and all that shit.

Still, I couldn't help but ponder on what happened during our confrontation. She held me in the air, squeezing the life out of me, and just as my vision went black...

I was staring at the most terrified expression I've seen on a pony, and that's saying something. Made me feel like a right asshole, too. And then I threatened her, made an ultimatum...

God, I'm a fucking idiot.

I couldn't get the scene out of my head. What could I, a man who mere moments ago was overwhelmed so thoroughly, have done to not only break free of her grip, but terrify a supposedly thousands-years old ruler out of her mind?

I thought I recalled cracking of bones, and squelching of twisted flesh, and then...

I thought I couldn't afford to think about it at that moment.

If the royal sister weren't goddesses, they were still rulers. If one knew about me, then the other knew too, which meant I had to brace for retaliation, immediately.

A neural cluster allocated for management of ground forces informed me of the successful reconfiguration of the first Smasher, a welcome thought, after a dozen failed attempts.

Perhaps, my threats weren't all bark.
> Sleep Paralysis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I managed to keep my breakfast as the feeling of wind blowing against my mane mixed with the warmth of sun creeping up my legs, soon reaching my neck, encompassing what felt like a hug. I had to squint to observe the vast expanse of desert ground, sparse vegetation consisting of shrubbery with a few trees that looked suspiciously similar to mountain laurels thrown in. Despite the relatively barren landscape, considering what I was accustomed with, I couldn't help but break into a smile. The ground was pleasantly warm as I approached one of the bushes, letting my legs brush the twigs, a tickling sensation spreading from the point of contact.

As I spit out a handful of the gunk that no doubt took hold inside the houses and basements of the rural town, I could help but admit that I missed this. The feeling of simply being, stretching my muscles, feeling the wind on my skin, simply breathing was akin to a luxury I almost forgot. I hummed a tune I wasn't familiar with as the black liquid sizzled and dried under the bright sun, the chimeras in the back of my mind purring in dissatisfaction.

Another failure. It seemed that no matter how much I changed the cells, they remained all too susceptible to ultraviolet radiation. I sat down amidst the bushes, getting comfortable for a moment. What else could I do? Growing the 'dermal' layer of calcified chitin took time, something I might not have. If I could somehow re-purpose the host organism's cells to work for me, maybe I could've made a literal dermal layer over the sprawl, which would've, in theory, protected the thing from UV radiation.

But that meant I had to engineer a virus, something I had no idea how to do. In the back of my mind, I felt an uncertain purr of the chimeric 'operating system' that took care of most of the biological functions and chemistry of the bodies my mind inhabited. It wasn't the sound of protest, rather an assurance that without a great risk to my continued existence, such a feat was all too risky to undertake. Not only would it require to more or less terminate my bacterial cells to avoid friendly fire, or at the very least leave a 'backdoor' to allow infection, I had to find a permanent host to anchor myself to, a body that had to be tough enough to withstand the changes that would follow.

Furthermore, to allow the sufficient range of variability, something required to adapt to the world around me, I would need the ability to access the non-coding regions of the host's DNA and replicate them, in a controlled manner, if possible. This would invariably lead to massive restructuring of the body, with no guarantees regarding the host's survival. Yes, the possibilities that would've opened to me were great. Complete assimilation of the host's, and possibly other bodies, mimicry and control of the form and function of living creatures, far beyond the hormonal prodding that I was doing to the infected ponies right now.

The possibilities for evolution were staggering, but so were the risks. The chimeras rumbled in the back of my mind, reporting to 'look into it', but as a last resort.

I felt a certain allure to having a permanent body, not having to forcefully thrust myself into another mind, but having my own, not merely piloting a borrowed body, but being fully in control of one. Not having to resort to being a quadruped. Why? Maybe I was being sentimental. Or maybe, it was because without doing normal, 'human' things I would be no better than the infected roaming Appleloosa right now.

And still, I wished for a human body, not a pony or griffon or whatever mythical creature roamed this planet. Why? Because I was human? That wasn't true, not completely. My biology wasn't human, even the mind that I shared with chimeric constructs wasn't all human. But did I want to be?

Yes. Even if I would never be completely human again, I wanted to have a human body. Just for some peace of mind.

I shook my head. I had to shelve the idea of insulating the sprawl against UV radiation. On second thought, that particular weakness wasn't much of a concern, as I found the underground spread of spike-like protrusions was sufficient enough, If only Appleloosa had a sewer system... but I realized that I needed something better to up-end the sisters.

With the military might of an entire nation at their beck-and call, they would simply overwhelm me. As much as I could throw at them, I would run out of bodies sooner or later, and that's not counting they probably have something to counteract the infection I'd try to spread. In a full-on frontal assault, I predicted I would last no more than a week, give or take a day.

Another possibility was the use of a weapon of mass destruction of some kind. They may not have nukes, but what their kind lacks in technology, they make up for in arcane sciences. This town didn't have many talented spellcasters, but I'd bet half of my neural network that Celestia can incinerate this little podunk with but a thought. Or, at the very least, cover the whole town with a dome and let me starve, these ponies were still alive, after all. These problems were solved by hiding a decent amount of material underground, waiting out the strike/siege, and continuing on with my plans.

All of the above hinged on my perception of Celestia, based on human preconceptions of political figures ringing true, but I also had to consider other options. From the accumulated memories of the townsponies, princess Celestia appeared in a different light, a pony who cared deeply for her subjects, wished nothing but the best for them, and vehemently defended their safety and wellbeing, a person who, I believed, would take great offense to squandering the life of even a single subject.

If the former assumption was correct, then I was golden. I could request negotiations as her forces approached, using the more pony-like of my infected as a messenger, while showing off my potential with smashers and breachers. I could propose to her a deal: her very personal bio weapon to wield as she pleased, subordinate and conscious of friendly units, deadly and loyal... To a point.

If she agreed I could bide my time, and when the opportunity presented itself, break out into the bigger world, spreading to do as I pleased. And even if the negotiations failed, I could hide in some deep, dark hole and attempt the restructuring of my body, a risky undertaking, but a worthy one in the end.

If the latter was correct, I was, for the lack of a better word, up a sheet creek without a paddle.

Still, my deal with Luna wasn't all bullshit. I could in theory resurrect the dead ponies, I could even restore their personalities, each archived neatly in my neural network. The catch was, that I needed the ability to replicate their cells, something that my current bacterial body refused to do, the best it could do was influence the body of an infected subject to cause the production of their cells, but I was pretty sure that would produce a cancer-ridden host, rather than a resurrected pony.

In that case, she'd decimate me with the might of a thousand suns, which would, again, prompt the aforementioned change.

So I had to change... or I had to change.

Lovely.

I rested my back against the hot, sandy ground, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, the sun's rays breaking through my eyelids, turning my vision a shade of orange.

What was it that I wanted to do, beyond ensuring my own survival? I had an extraordinary ability to terraform the environment, coupled with an exceptional control over infected organisms, not on a cellular level, for the time being, but as a substrate for my own cells, all the while influencing its biochemistry. How many problems would be solved by such an ability? How many illnesses wiped from the face of the earth, acres of land saved from desertification through terraformation, scientific breakthroughs fueled by hundreds of minds working as one?

Such a gift, as sudden and, perhaps, unwanted, as it was, could not be squandered. Did I want to use it to help ponies? It was a tough question, for sure. I could begrudgingly admit that I was indebted to them, at the very least, morally. My actions were horrific, unhuman, they suited my condition quite well. And yet, my mind was human, a part of it, at least. I understood the pain that I caused, knew that It was wrong, but also knew there was no other way. If I could forge an alliance, or at the very least bargain for a truce with the Diarchy, I could repay the ones who guaranteed my survival with the least I could do: give them their lives back.

But a lasting, continued cooperation? I chuckled inwardly. Was I going to help the species whose rulers were capable of simply outliving their opposition, incinerating their enemies with the might of the sun, or freezing them in the cold, lunar light, monitoring their citizens through their very dreams? No, they were going to be fine on their own.

I turned over and layed on my stomach, purring as the sun warmed my aching back.

At the same time, Luna knew I was human, which implied humans existed here, or ponykind was capable of traveling to a place where they did. Perhaps I could offer aid, either in exchange for this information, as unlikely as the Diarchy was to reveal it to me, or as means of lulling them into a false sense of security, the latter being a more likely option.

I sighed, feeling the chimeras rumble in the back of my mind, reporting intruders approaching the town perimeter. I dearly wish I could lay under the warm sun for just a little longer, but the voice of reason triumphed instead. I stood up, the protective carapace bursting from under the skin, covering vital organs of the body I was currently inhabiting.

No corpses this time.

Hopefully.





"Are you certain this is the right way, sister?" Celestia asked cautiously as Luna's horn glowed with a steady flow of magic. "We don't know what the spell would do to him, if it works at all. Such cruel spells were seldom used in the past, and rarer still today."

"What choice do we have?" Luna retorted with a genuine question. "Do you wish to throw our ponies at it until it is overwhelmed, and risk having them succumb to this plague?"

"I wish to have a civil conversation with him, to reach a compromise." Celestia pressed. "Nopony is beyond redemption, proven their misdeeds are reversible. And from what he told you, his are."

Luna frowned. "We must prepare for the worst, sister. Even Discord, for all his infuriating tomfoolery, never stooped to murder. As cruel the spell is, it should prevent the creature from causing further harm. You will have your conversation."

"And I believe it will be a fruitful one." Celestia said with a hopeful smile.

"But if it's as uncooperative as I suspect, then we will do what is necessary to protect Equestria, together." Luna looked intently at her sister, her voice assertive.

"Together."





Captain Lucky Leaf watched the husk of a quaint little town, the bird's eye view granted by his chariot allowed the unicorn to plan his next move. His company consisting of a hundred ponies approached the frontier settlement an five hours ago, and as per the Princess' orders, were working on erecting a force field around the area. Coming to their aid was the master of defensive spells, Prince Shining Armor of the Crystal Empire himself, in what now was officially an international operation. While the area was undoubtedly smaller than Canterlot, it proved to be a unique challenge owing to the multitude of spells embedded into it, a good dozen of them responsible for scanning those attempting to pass for illnesses or deformities.

Oddly enough, her Lunar Majesty specifically instructed not to enter the town, stating it was a quarantine operation first, and a search and rescue second. He kept his doubts to himself, following her orders to a tee, and yet wondering why the townsponies' safety was basically a non-priority. He shook his head and motioned the pegasi to land, watching as the menacing black spikes jutting out of the ground and buildings at odd angles grew closer and closer. He stiffened as the shambling black silhouettes grew clearer, the ponies not differentiating from their patrol paths ever since his company arrived.

He dismissed the pegasi as he dismounted the chariot, giving the colts and fillies a much needed rest. He scanned the immediate area for their shield expert, quickly finding his target standing at a minimum safe distance from the barrier, intently watching one of the shamblers. His horn shimmered with a light cerulean aura as Lucky Leaf approached him, the crystal captain's concentration unbroken when the stallion addressed him.

"Sir!" He offered with a salute. "The shield looks nominal from up above, no breaches or strains." He paused for a moment, wondering if the stallion was paying attention to him, continuing when Shining nodded, his eyes on the shambler. "No aggressive behavior from the shamblers thus far, although my earth pony specialists detected seismic activity within the shield's borders, uncommon to this area." A worried expression graced his features as his de-facto commander remained silent. "Is... Is something wrong, sir?"

"Son, come take a look at this." Lucky Leaf kept his protest to himself, he wasn't that much younger than Shining, after all, following his command instead. "Do you notice anything odd." Leaf squinted and surveyed the street before him, noticing nothing out of the ordinary, as applicable as the word was in their situation. Among the stumbling patrols, he noticed one stallion standing still as stone, not a single muscle twitch to betray his stoic posture.

"That's the stallion we met upon arrival, sir." Leaf began, gauging the Captain's reaction.

"Notice anything different?"

Leaf cocked his head to the side, noting pony's eyes were darting from one pony in his field of vision to another, a shiver running down Leaf's spine when the stallion made eye contact with him.

"It's just watching, sir. From what I can remember, it hadn't moved from its spot ever since we arrived."

"Now that's where you're wrong, he wants us to think so, but take a closer look. You see the way the shamblers are moving?" Leaf followed the Captain's lead and noticed that every shambler, at some point of their patrol, walked close to, if not directly behind, the one who stood still. He stood silent for a good minute, making a straight line from the standing stallion to somewhere deeper into the town.

"They're... Covering his tracks." Leaf's brows furrowed as he watched the stoic stallion, a little warily this time. "But why'd they do it? How's he commanding them?"

Leaf heard a ragged sigh from his fellow unicorn, Shining's voice weary as he continued.

"Changelings operate in a hive-mind consciousness. Essentially, a Queen issues commands straight from the hive to her generals, who are usually closer to the action. These generals, in turn issue orders to the drones." His voice was practically dripping with venom when he finished. Leaf didn't question where the Captain obtained this knowledge from, very few dared to ask what he'd seen and felt during the Siege of Canterlot.

"You think 'lings are responsible? Sir?" His mind caught up that he was talking to his superior, the stallion hurriedly throwing in the formality.

"I'm not sure." Shining shook his head, still eyeing the odd pony. "But we can't rule it out. What I do know is that it looks a hell of a lot like them. And I don't like it one bit." Shining finally broke eye contact, turning his head to face Lucky Leaf. "I want one of the candies to look into this, get a second opinion. Celestia knows they're still familiar with how it all works. Dismissed."

"Sir!"

Shining watch Lucky Leaf trot away, and once he turned, he could've sworn the thing stood a little closer.





The chimeras rumbled as they felt another intrusion on the host's mind, hurriedly mobilizing the defensive systems they erected ever since the last time a guest showed up unannounced. It was a terrific solution, as simple as it was natural. Without an explicit command from the host, any interlopers would be forced to wade through a labyrinth of disjointed memories, cobbled together from dozens of minds, a system that got more secure the more minds the host accumulated.

An immune system for the mind, of sorts.

To say that the chimeras 'watched' the two alicorns arrive into the mindscape would be a lie. They didn't have eyes or ears, after all. A more apt comparison would be that they experienced it, the visual and audio interpretation wholly reliant on their host, who was currently greeting the two visitors with open arms, however applicable the analogy was.

Their disapproving purrs were silenced by the host, and the chimeras obeyed, for such was their purpose. The white one, known as Celestia, the Lady of the Daybreak, the Princess of Equestria was wearing a mask of politeness, no doubt practiced to perfection in all her years of ruling. While the danger she possessed was clear to the host, he still thought she possessed a certain beauty and grace once attributed to deities, and couldn't help but admire it. She radiated a sort of confidence that one only experienced as a child, comforted by their mother after a hard day at school, or an injury of some kind.

In stark contrast, the deep blue alicorn, the one that evoked titles as Mother of the Night, and the dreaded Nightmare Moon, lived up to her reputation with a stellar consistency. The host was wary around her, not quite ready to follow the chimeras' advice to shut the mares out of his mind, but entertaining the idea. She was definitely a fighter, the fact more evident when compared with her sister. Was Luna the better, or more experienced fighter? The host didn't know for sure, but the brutality of ancient history was definitely fresh in her mind, and it showed.

"Ah, your Highnesses! To which do I owe the pleasure?" The host spoke with a slight bow, choosing to approach the situation in a more diplomatic manner. He noted that Luna wanted to speak up, but held her tongue out of respect for her sister.

"It is my duty as a Princess to look after my subjects." Her voice was pleasant, but neutrally so. "I couldn't stand idly by when I came across your... intrusion."

"Ah, that." The host chuckled in an attempt to appear amicable. Unfortunately, the chimeras were unable to assist him in the matters of social etiquette. "I believe I must apologize, Princess. My arrival was as hectic for me as it was for the townsponies, and I want to say I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience I caused. Is there anything I can do to mend my relationship with ponykind?"

Luna once again held her tongue.

"You have caused far more than an inconvenience, from what I heard." Celestia's tone remained calm, but the host didn't miss the accusatory note in it. "I'm not sure what your customs are, but for ponies murder is a grave crime, one not taken lightly."

"Oh, I must assure you that my kind's customs are very similar to yours!" He turned to face Luna, an innocent expression on his face. "Why, during our last meeting, your sister identified me as human, so you must be acquainted with our culture to some level."

"That she did. But I'm afraid it isn't as close to us as you'd assumed. " Celestia parried. "I don't believe I've caught your name? It's awfully stifling to be restricted to pronouns, don't you agree?"

The host paused for a moment, trying to recollect his past.

ERR
MEMORY NODE DAMAGED
RECONSTRUCTION PRIORITY: LOW

"I... I don't know." He surprised himself with his honest reply. "But I suppose you can call me James. It's easy on the ears."

"James." Celestia rolled the name around in her mouth, appraising its owner. "Do you understand that for us to show leniency, you must be true to your word." She took a step closer, before lowering herself onto the ground and into a sitting position, now on an eye level with the host.

"Can you truly undo what you have done to my subjects?" She raised a hoof when he was about to speak up. "Be honest." A small, but genuine smile graced her features.

"I-" He took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks at the exhale. "I need time." The host replied, his arms supporting his head. "I can do it, but it's not an easy process."

Finally, Luna couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Sister, do you honestly believe this cur?" She protested, her patience at its end. "I've seen what this fiend was capable of, the extent of his modifications." The host noticed a a shiver of anger rock the Lunar Diarch's body. "He is playing you for a fool, the both of us!"

The chimeras noted the situation was growing dangerous, notifying the host of the possible need to retreat. As usual, he ignored them.

"Oh, and you're an expert on biochemistry manipulation all of a sudden?" He snorted. "Funny, I can't remember any of the books on Nightmare Moon's brief coup that mention any of that!" The host's momentary satisfaction at getting under Luna's skin was replaced by intense fear as her horn ignited.

"YOU FILTHY MISCREANT! YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A TONE!" Luna spoke in something the locals called 'Canterlot Voice', and it was very surprising to the host. Finally, the chimeras' warnings were taken into account as the dream slowly began to distort, the security systems in place taking their time to fully come online.

"Sister, please!" Celestia hissed at her sister, the latter biting her tongue. "James, please refrain from insulting-" She noticed the panicking expression on the host's face, their surroundings growing blurrier by the second. "James?"

"Sister!" Luna bellowed, looking around with a concerned expression on her face. "The dream is collapsing, the thing is trying to leave its own dream, to trap us within it!" Her horn flared once again, burning brighter than before. "We must cast it now, or we might not get another chance!"

Celestia bit her lip as the dream crumbled around them, the host reduced to nothing more than a silhouette.

As the golden-blue light flashed across the dreamscape, the chimeras felt a multitude of things.

They felt the scream of their host, as scream of pain and fear. They felt three sapient presenses disappear from the dreamscape. And finally, they felt an unfamiliar absence, an absence that indicated they failed in their primary purpose.

ERR
PRIMARY HOST CONSCIOUSNESS NOT FOUND
ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH NEURAL LINK
ERR
NON-VITAL FUNCTIONS RELEGATED TO AUTOMATED ALGORITHMS
ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH NEURAL LINK
ERR
ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH NEURAL LINK
ERR
ATTEMPTING...





I was alone. For the first time since turning into... whatever I was, I found myself to be completely alone. No memories of other ponies to rifle through, no pesky chimeras to bother me with this or that, telling me what to do.

On second thought, I probably should've listened to them a bit more.

Ever since Moonbut ripped me from my body, I heard nothing but my own thoughts, an odd experience, I had to admit.

Ah, speak of the devil.

The world around me, consisting of a black void, mind you, rippled and bent, a sea of stars apparating on the 'night sky'.

"Wow, so subtle Moonbut, I really wonder who this mysterious presence could be!"

She faded into a corporeal form, her hardened features not filling me with confidence.

"Jest at your own peril, beast, for you are at our mercy now."

"And what do you want me to do? Surely even someone as thick as you must understand that I cannot fix your subjects from here!" Surprisingly enough, Luna paused, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm not sure how our posterior relates to the conversation, but I assure you we can be very convincing." I really didn't like her smile.

"And what about Appleloosa? Think the chimeras are going to take my disappearance lightly?" It was her turn to be confused. "If you think you've won just because you're separated me, you're sorely mistaken." A toothy grin split her mouth.

"We don't have to return you in one piece, now do we?"





Lucky Leaf shouted orders as powerful earthquakes shook the entire camp, ponies running around in a panic. The seismic activity took him by surprise, as well as the rest of the camp. Furthermore, the unicorn guard tasked with keeping up the shield had to double their efforts as the shamblers suddenly made a move to break through. The stallion focused his own magic, pouring himself into the spell.

THUD

THUD

THUD

THUD

He opened his eyes to see a massive figure, easily the size of a Princess, covered from head to hoof in black chitin, approach the barrier.

It emitted an ear-splitting roar, rearing its front hoof to strike the barrier.

A powerful migraine pierced the Captain's cranium, his vision growing dark.
> Reformed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure, Twi? If Princess Celestia says it's important, then maybe we all should go?" Applejack offered, a little unsure of what to say. "I don't doubt her word, don't get me wrong, but don't you think it's a little weird she specifically sent for you and me?"

Twilight chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking the situation over as the two walked to the Ponyville train station, stopping right under the train schedule board. Most of the trains were either canceled or postponed, barring the few that coursed from Ponyville, to Canterlot and beyond. On one hoof, it was a rare occurrence that Twilight went on an adventure without her friends, map decisions notwithstanding. On the other hoof, the letter was labeled beyond top secret, and the Princess made it clear the information was on a need to know basis, so the less ponies knew the details, the better.

"I think she knows best. And she keeps everypony's interests in mind." It's been a few days since Celestia sent the letter, granting Twilight a bit of time to prepare for the trip and gather her thoughts. It was a bit of a hassle to explain to her friends why they couldn't go without saying too much, just confronting Pinkie gave her one hell of a headache, nevermind convincing Rainbow to stand down. "Surely she deserves the benefit of the doubt, don't you think?"

Applejack looked crestfallen for a moment, but nodded in agreement. "I just hope it's nothin' serious. I can't help but think it's all connected with the Appleloosa blackout..." Applejack sighed as the two friends settled into their seats, the last minutes before the train's departure bringing a small crowd into the station. "I'm worried sick about Braeburn, haven't heard from him ever since this whole commotion started..."

Twilight could only sympathize with her friend, despite the foreboding feeling gnawing at her heart as the steady rumble set the locomotive into motion.





"Luna, my decision is final." Celestia's voice hardened as her eyes scanned over another document, that particular one highlighting the importance of restorative agricultural forestry. An important matter indeed, perhaps, for another time. She filed the paper into the 'to be done' folder, her attention on her dear sister.

The young alicorn wore a pensive expression, feeling the need to protest, but knowing better. She rested in a comfortable, if a little overly soft velvet chair, feeling like a foal in the middle of a scolding.

"I disallow you from visiting James on your own. And until you find yourself ready to apologize, I will not take you into his dream with me."

"Apologize?" Luna's voice was low as she spoke, as if she couldn't believe her ears. "I should apologize? Not the abomination that thought killing and transforming ponies was a reasonable course of action?"

"He apologized, Luna. Perhaps if you had listened, you would've heard. Besides, your sincerity is not required. There may come a day when we have to release James from his prison, and I would rather have him on good terms with us when the time comes." Celestia stood up from her working place, moving to exit her study. "Now excuse me, sister, I have duties to attend to."

As the doors shut behind the Solar Diarch, Luna found herself wishing Celestia screamed at her, instead of speaking in an even, disappointed tone that left the younger sister questioning her decisions.





I took a long sip of a carbonated drink out of an aluminum can, the branding unrecognizable under layers upon layers of scratches. The taste was distantly familiar, appealing and just a tad bit nostalgic. I set the can on a coaster of a sizable sofa, laying down and stretching my whole body, chill autumn air swirling in my lungs.

I looked at the evening sky through the thick canopy of a towering oak tree, my gaze lazily drifting over the rolling hills towards a quaint little settlement down below, distant silhouettes bustling about the town's square. Skyscrapers and big city lights were visible just on the horizon, a winding asphalt road full of vehicles connecting the two islands of civilization via a much smaller gravel pathway.

I was acutely aware that the scene was conjured from my memory with little to no alien influence, yet I couldn't recall the significance of the sight before me, if it had any. A tranquil atmosphere enveloped me like a tight blanket, a dreamy sigh escaping my lips. I closed my eyes and basked in the stillness of the moment, trying in vain to shake off the feeling that my blissful rest was not meant to last.

In a blink of an eye, the sun grew brighter, its rays hotter, more intense. The leaves danced in a frenzied whirlwind, stirred by the flaps of mighty, millenia old wings. All background noise was drowned out by the jingle of magic, stupefying and mesmerizing. The faint smile that tugged at my lips faded as I once again regretted being right.

"Forgive me for not bowing, your Highness, I'm afraid I can't be arsed at the moment." The approaching sound of shuffling grass came to an abrupt stop.

"Worry yourself not, James. I believe our extraordinary situation allows us to ignore titles." Her voice was careful, but otherwise kind and nonthreatening.

"Alright, Celestia- Can I call you Celly?" I rose up from the sofa, putting a pillow behind my back and propping myself into a sitting position. "Using the full name is such a mouthful, you know?" My eyes opened to notice a surprised expression on the Solar Diarch's face, that, in any other situation, one would consider cute.

"I-"

"Right, Celly it is then." I clapped my hands, rising from my seat and stretching my sore limbs. "You know, I gotta hand it to you, Celly, you surprised me." She arched an eyebrow in response. "I've actually debated whether or not I should let your sister and you into my mind pretty heavily. To make a long story short, I anticipated two possible outcomes. Numero uno: you turn out to be the kind and benevolent leader your subjects think you are, I cure the ponies of Appleloosa, and we come to some sort of consensus." I pushed the sofa behind me with my right leg, the furniture sliding far enough to give me ample place to pace back and forth.

"Numero dos: You don't give a damn about those cuddly cutie patooties, and thusly, wouldn't have any reason to keep me alive." I could feel her need to speak up, either to dissuade my fears or defend herself, a need that she suppressed, ever so politely. "But you see, I had a way out of that situation too: A loyal, intelligent bio-weapon that would give Equestria an edge would surely be too good to pass up, thus my existence would be secured once more." I expected to see indignation, revulsion, perhaps anger written on her features. Instead, I only saw an ever-annoying mix of worry and pity.

"You know what I didn't expect? You distracting me long enough to let your sister rip me out of my body, all the while playing the role of a good cop. Yeah, you think I'm dull enough not to see through your act? Now my body is left without a leader, a voice to guide it. Easy pickings for those goons of you to burn to the ground. And me? I believed you! Hell, I apologized!" A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "You've got me on a silver platter, ready to pick my mind apart, neuron by neuron, memory by memory." I approached Celestia, the mare assuming a catlike loaf position on the grass. "And that's why you surprised me, Celly." I offered her my hand, not expecting a hoofshake in return. "You're more human than I thought."

She wore the same pitiful look on her face that urged me to pummel it into mush as she stood up, her voice bringing little consolation.

"I am sorry you see it that way. But I assure you, what had transpired, was a mere accident, nothing more. My sister jumped to conclusions, and let her temper get the best of her. It was not my intention to separate your soul and body." I clenched my fist and dug my foot into the soil, the couch sliding towards me on que. This holier that thou hag was still insistent on keeping up appearances? Fine, It was her choice.

"Alright, I'll play along, Princess." I spat the last word with enough venom to kill a Smasher. "Since you're willing to chat, why don't tell me about Appleloosa? I do so love the smell of napalm in the morning!" An uncomfortable look on Celestia's face only spurred my interest. "Come on, don't be shy. I assure you I will immensely enjoy seeing all my accomplishments being turned to dust." I sighed, not too enthused about her indecisiveness. "In all seriousness, I really want to know how pony napalm, or whatever substitute you use, does to my carapace. So if you'd be so kind-"

A golden glow encompassing her horn produced a decently sized screen, depicting a bird's eye view of Appleloosa, a shimmering dome covering the town. Tiny black figures were concentrated on one side of said dome, seemingly trying to break through.

"We weren't sure what effects your removal would provoke, and I'm afraid we've stumbled on a worst case scenario." Celestia began, her expression grim. "Ever since your mind and 'body' were separated, we've been registering magnitude four earthquakes, coupled with increased activity from infected ponies." She fell silent for a moment, fighting past the lump in her throat. "They took the ground teams by surprise, and there were... casualties, but the situation is under control, for now."

"That is... Fascinating!" I took a deliberate step towards the screen, trying to take in as many details as possible. "Without a centralized intelligence to command them, I expected the infected to grow catatonic.... You said they're trying to breach the perimeter. I presume the infected are coordinated?" An incredulous expression on her face answers my question. "Unbelievable... They're running the show for me, with acceptable results." I smiled, beside myself, and muttered. "Gotta give 'em a raise or something."

I turned on my heels to face the befuddled princess and clapped my hands.

"Right, I believe we can come to an agreement. You return me to my body, I calm the boys and girls at Appleloosa down, and we have a nice, long talk. You know, like adults." I couldn't quite read her expression but I felt the atmosphere change. A chilly breeze brushed through my hair, and I once again figured that I underestimated Celestia.

"The spell requires both casters to be reversed." She spoke curtly, her horn shimmering with the might of the sun. "I will consult with my sister, but the choice is, ultimately, out of my hooves." I couldn't help but avert my eyes from hers, wilting a little under her piercing gaze.

"Goodbye."

A wave of heat washed over me as she disappeared, somehow leaving me even less certain of my future than before.





"So you're tellin' me he's... Under this thing's control, or somethin'?" Was all Applejack could say as she struggled to process what Princess Celestia told her.

"From what we've gathered, yes. Before Jason was transported here he had control over every infected citizen of Appleloosa."

"You've brought him here!?"

"We brought his mind, Applejack." Celestia corrected the agitated farmer, calming her down somewhat. "He cannot infect anypony in his current state, be not afraid."

Applejack raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I see a problem, then. If he can't do anything, why don't we just concentrate on healing the ponies he infected?"

"Ever since we've moved him here, his 'body' has been lashing out at everypony around it without rest. If we do not return him, within the next week his forces will overcome the barrier, either from the ground forces constantly assaulting it, or the underground growths snaking their way beneath it."

"And you want me to talk some sense to him before you get him back. You want me to reason with the monster who, for all I know, has killed my cousin?" Celestia recognised the look Applejack was giving her, it was one from a long gone era of grand conquests and bloody battles, when entire families lost their sons and daughters to merciless campaigns.

"I'll do it. But you better give that thing a good whooping after you're done."





Luna was hard to surprise. The mare lived a long life, fought in more wars than was polite to mention, and was quite proficient in spotting trouble if it was coming her way. Most of the time, anyway. A millennium of exile was regrettable, if avoidable, and ultimately left the Princess of the Night a better ruler. At a great cost, yes, but the point still stood.

Now, standing before her sister, accompanied by Honesty and Magic, she found herself questioning her instincts.

"You want me to... Accompany you into his mindscape?" Luna wondered aloud, going over Celestia's offer in her head. "Mere hours ago, you forbade me from visiting that wretch without your explicit permission." The words weren't meant to hurt Celestia, but were nonetheless a jab at her sister's commanding nature. "Pray tell, what brought on this change of heart?"

"I believe James isn't too far gone, but his attitude during our conversation worries me." The two smaller ponies were rapt at attention, hanging on the diarch's every word. "He is cynical, assuming the worst of his opponent, thinking his displacement was a clever trick, not an accident. Worst of all, he congratulated me on this success. Either something happened that made him this way, or it's simply in his nature."

"He's dangerous either way." Luna concluded, shaking her head. "If you wish to see young Applejack try to persuade him, I will not stop you. Yet I fail to see the need for my participation. Surely, your dreamwalking hasn't deteriorated that much over the years?" Luna, of course, suspected why her involvement may be necessary, but seeing as her opinion on the matter was well known to her sister, she chose to disregard the possibility of returning James to his body as a viable option.

"That's where I come in!" Twilight's excitement could only be matched by her nervousness. "Back when Discord was due for reformation, I had a backup plan in case Fluttershy wasn't successful." Twilight descended into her own explanation, manifesting a worn tome out of thin air.

"Back then, I found it too... Questionable for use on live subjects, but when Pr-Celestia notified me on what was going on, I deemed it suitable. The amount of raw magical energy the spell requires is staggering, but I believe it's well within the capabilities of three Alicorns." In her tirade, the fledgeling alicorn didn't see the troubled expression on Luna's face. "Of course, the Elements of harmony should work too, and perhaps they'd be more secure, but I'd advise not involving any more ponies than necessary. If this 'James' is as dangerous as you say, we can't afford to take any chances."

"A forced reformation spell?" Luna shook her head, her doubts continuing to linger as the conversation progressed. "IT sounds... Extreme, even for my tastes. What are the conditions of the one the spell is cast upon?" Twilight rubbed her chin, looking a tad bit unsure.

"The answer is... complicated. From my analysis, the spell matrix indicates a system of incentives and punishments to influence the decision making process of the subject. A carrot and stick situation, as it were." She teleported the book away, secured somewhere even Discord would have a hard time accessing. "For the purposes of successful reformation, the subject is subservient to the caster or casters until the magic is dispelled."

Luna stood shocked, unable to trust her own ears. What Twilight suggested was mind control, something made illegal long before Sombra used what little mentions of its techniques remained in literature to unleash its terrifying power over the unsuspecting crystal ponies.

"And how long would you leave James in such a state, before deeming him 'reformed'? What would he do, after you release the hold on his mind, if that ever happens?" With each question, Twilight's mood sullied even further, her enthusiasm curbed. “However harsh it may sound, but I believe death is more merciful."

"Can't say Ah like the idea of killing anypony, but what Twilight suggests is downright heinos. Ahm no genius, but it doesn't take one to know the spell just ain't right." She sighed, shaking her head. "Just lemme talk to the feller, Ahm sure we can find a middle ground of sorts."





I swayed back and forth as a pleasant electronic tune drifted through my mind, one I no doubt enjoyed a long time ago, and now couldn't recall anything about. The wave of nostalgia convinced me it was time for a change of scenery, the world around me dissolving into nothing but the black expanse of void, white dots flying past me with enough speed to smudge into thin white lines. A little unconventional, sure, but going to space is every kid’s dream, right? And what little visual stimulation there is, it’s still better than the timeless nothing I was in for God knows how long.

“Aaaaand now I’m uncomfortable. Lovely.” There was little to no reason for speaking out loud, of course, apart from feeling a little less lonely. “Never thought I’d miss the chimeras, nosy little fucks. ’You can’t do that, the biology is incompatible.’ ’Growing a second horn won’t increase the energy output!’ ’DO NOT LET THEM IN!’” I sighed, the memory of our meeting leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “Should’ve listened to them on that one.”

Seeing as nothing took my mind off things better than work, I focused on more productive endeavors. Such as getting out of the unpleasant predicament I was in, and back into my own ‘body’. Would it have been harder for the sisters to rip my consciousness out if I had a permanent body? Would that kind of bond somehow protect me from outside intrusions? I didn’t know for sure, but I had to admit the thought was eating me up inside.

“Whoa nelly! This feels mighty weird!” The southern twang behind me started a chain reaction of reference points in my mind, flashes of memories helping me pinpoint the speaker. However, before I could voice my findings, I couldn’t help but express a more natural, knee-jerk reaction.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” A very manly shriek left my lips as I gracefully landed on my rear end, the ground surprisingly hard, considering its void-like consistency. My eyes darted between not one, not two, but four ponies now inhabiting my very crowded consciousness. “Is this an intervention? Cause it’s getting real crowded here.”

“Darn right it is, ‘bout time somepony set ya straight!” The orange one replied with a scowl, thumping her hoof on the nonexistent floor. She probably thought she was very intimidating.

“I’m surprised you know what that means. It’s a pretty long word, after all.” I stood up with a groan, the thought of carrying a conversation with the group swiftly souring my mood. “What, Celly’s niceties didn’t work, so now yall are gonna pummel me into submission?” I expected Moonbutt to object, maybe throw a fit or try to buck me to death, but to my surprise, it was the purple horse that took offense.

“That’s Princess Celestia to you!” She pawed at the ground, a cute gesture, to be honest. “What gives you the right to speak to my friends in such a way? You should be grateful we’re giving you the time of day!” I rolled my eyes, really wishing I was doing something else at the moment.

“Really, I should be grateful? I’m not the one having trouble with an entire town going ballistic.” I noticed the earth pony’s eyes glistening with worry, my eyes narrowing on the mare. “Huh, I thought you sounded familiar. You got relatives in Appleloosa?”

“Yeah, Braeburn’s mah cousin. The name’s Applejack, by the way.” Her expression turned hopeful. “Have you met him? Is he alright?” I sucked air through my teeth, wracking my brain around, trying to remember what happened to the guy.

“Eh, fifty-fifty. I’m pretty sure he was alive the last time I checked, but it’s been a little while, and I had more important things to worry about.” Her worry turned into anger as I continued. “But fret not, if he is dead, I’m 90% sure I have his consciousness saved in a nerve cluster somewhere.” I glared daggers at the two taller alicorns, momentarily letting the farm mare out of view. “At the very least, I had it saved. Now that I’m missing, I’m not sure to what lengths chimeras might go to ensure their survival. For all I know, he’s as good as dead.” I felt something jabbing me in the chest, the somewhat painful sensation prompting me to look down.

“Don’t ya dare talk ‘bout mah cousin like that. Other ponies’ lives aren’t yer playthings, James. And unless ya want yer butt handed to ya by the Princess’, ya better mellow out, shut it, and start listenin’.” How Applejack said it all with a straight face, was beyond me. Her attitude, however, wasn’t.

“Now listen to me, you inbred piece of meat, and listen closely. I’ve spent a millenia in the cold silence of the space between stars, and I won’t allow anyone to speak to me in that tone. I don’t give a shit about your cousin, hell, I don’t give a shit about your entire fuckin’ family. And you know why?”

“James.” Moonbutt’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks, because it was the last voice I expected to hear. “Stop before you say something you will regret.” I wasn’t sure what riled me up more: the sympathy in her voice, or the pity in her eyes. “You don’t have to lash out. You can still get out of this-”

“Release me.” I crossed my arms on my chest, my attention on the Lunar Princess.

“We can’t. Not after what you said.” My eyes grew wide at Celestia’s words. “You’re clearly unstable-”

“Why are you here then? To taunt me? Dangle freedom before my eyes, just to rub your victory in my face?”

“We have an offer, James.” The purple one began. “We all need you to return to your body, but since we can’t trust you to do what’s needed, we came up with a different solution.” I didn’t like the tone of her voice, like she was talking about a lab experiment. “The spell’s quite complex, which leaves little room for errors, but once cast, it will ensure absolute compliance.” Paradoxically, I felt my heart skip a beat as she stepped closer, a dangerous glint in her eyes sending a shiver down my spine as I involuntarily took a step back. “Once we see that you’ve changed, we’ll release the spell, and everypony will be happy.”

“Jesus Christ.” For a moment, I thought the conversation was all in my head, which it couldn’t have been, really, I’ve been out of my head for a while now, because of how utterly insane the mare sounded. “You’re out of your fucking mind, aren’t you?” I shook my head, the sound of blood rushing in my ears growing louder. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather stay here ‘till I croak, than be your lapdog.”

“You misunderstand me, James.” Her voice didn’t change, which was the worst part. “It’s not an offer you can refuse.” A lilac glow engulfed her horn, the steady hum of magic permeating the mindscape.

“And you’re gonna allow this?” Celestia shied away from my gaze, a vivid gold color joining the lilac as magic pooled around me.

“I... I can’t allow you to hurt my ponies any longer, James. I wish it didn’t come to this.” Celestia didn’t even look at me as she said it.

“Could’ve fooled me, Princess.”

“Twilight, Sister, have both of you gone mad?” Once again, Luna surprised me. Her face was a mask of confusion and revulsion with a hint of terror. Her eyes darted from one alicorn to another, bewilderment in her gaze. “Do you wish to equate yourselves to Sombra? The fate you threaten to impart upon him would make the Tyrant King blush!”

“Come on, Princess! You’ve seen what he’d done, this is our best chance!” Twilight’s voice gained an edge as she sensed Luna’s indecisiveness. “The spell needs all three of us to work! You have to help, now!”

“Luna, please.” Celestia’s voice seemed to have tipped Luna’s emotional scale, a deep, midnight blue aura trailing up her horn. I swear, Luna looked like a kicked puppy as she prepared a fate worse than death for me.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Her eyes were so impossibly old.

“It’s the thought that counts.” As my final moment grew near, I turned to look at my soon-to-be-captor, not a shred of doubt or sympathy in her eyes. “Listen to me, Sparkle, and listen well. No matter how long it’ll take or how hard it will be, one day I will be free again. And when that day comes, you will suffer. Everything you love, everything you hold dear will crumble before your eyes, and you’ll be powerless to stop it. And it’ll be all your fault.”

Just as a stream of white hot magic engulfed me, I heard her speak.

“Duly noted.”





Something was wrong, I wasn’t alone in my head anymore, or the one in charge. Something was burrowing in, clouding every thought, making it hard to think. I had to-

Painpainpainpainohgodpleasestopit

Don’t think. Just do. Someone else will do the thinking. But was it right? It couldn’t be-

nonononononostopitpleasestopit

A head-splitting migraine erupted out of nowhere, scrambling that train of thought. Don’t think, just don’t think and it’ll go away. My brain was leaking out of my ears and when I find that purple bitch I’ll-

stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopi’minhellidiedpleaseletmedie

I’ll fucking kill her.

The pain was too much, and for once I was grateful for the darkness that engulfed me.