Promethea: Ponified

by NotARealPonydotcom

Chapters

The Radiant, Heavenly City
The Judgment of Solomon
Misty Magic Land
A Faerie Romance
No Man's Land

The Radiant, Heavenly City

Promethea
IF SHE DID NOT EXIST, WE WOULD HAVE TO INVENT HER.

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Chapter 1

A small voice pleads in the desert,
A dread shadow laughs in the city,
A desperate student writes the truth.

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ALEXANDRIA, 411 A.D.

The sun of the New God beat down upon the desert town. A young colt and his dog sat in the dwindling shade of one of the identical houses that sat in the boundaries of the city. He looked up, and watched as the guardians of the New Goddess marched through the street. Dust was kicked up where they stepped, and they held weapons in their hands. The colt sighed as they passed, knowing what they meant to do. They were the sharers of the Holy Word, the words that left the lips of the New Goddess with whom they had met with and worshiped, feeding her the children of the unfaithful. Then she told them what they must do.

The band of colts trotted through the streets of the New Goddess's most holy of cities. She would never leave this place. They were sure of it. She gave them the sun, as she had for more than four centuries. They were eternally grateful to her, and could easily kill for her. Was it not good that they do this, in the name of the Good and Almighty Goddess that rose the Sun above their heads each day of their short lives? Some did not think so. There were skeptics, those that did not believe that this most Holy Lady was the Savior they had sought, the one that could lead them out of the darkness that the Old and Evil Gods had left them to die in. These were the ones the colts had come to eradicate. They approached the building as Her Sun set in the distance, forever untouchable by their mortal hands.

The old colt watched them approach, and finished the scroll he was writing. His long, aged beard hung from his face, as scraggly and dirty as his hair. He was dressed in rags, and there were spots of ink marked along them. At the desk he sat at, he had a view of all of the city's main street, and the desk itself was lined with scrolls of writings he had made in his days of glory, when ponies who were lost came to him for the guidance of the Gods who controlled the world, and their words were spoken through him. Now he was a traitor to the Queen Who Owns The Sun, and he would soon be stopped by those who wanted the world's happiness, and in wanting it the Goddess's happiness as well. The figurines of the gods he believed in stood proudly on his desk, and he rubbed each one with a different hoof, sighing as he watched the colts approach.

"Well, then," he said, and he stood up, looking at the figures of Great Thoth and Powerful Hermes one last time, "there is nothing for it. They are coming for me, as they came for beautiful Hypatia. Best go now, beloved daughter." He spoke to the little filly in the corner of the room, who had dropped the toy serpent he'd given her, and now stood in the center of the room. Without turning, he said, "All my love and all my gods shall be about thee as a mantle."

"F-father?" It was a question the filly knew the answer to, and she looked out the back opening in the house out into the desert, where she could not go, had been told never to go without her father. She looked back at him, and he took her hand, leading her to the opening. He held her close, and felt her tears on the rags he was adorned in.

"Father, you will be killed, I know it! Oh father, oh no, oh no..." She was crying now, and her father looked down at her. He could never look at her when she cried, and he resisted the urge to turn away. Instead, he bent down, and placed a hoof on his daughter's shoulder. He looked her in the eyes, and spoke with an honesty she'd heard many times before, when she was scared for her mother, and after she was gone.

"Be strong, child. We shall see each other in the western lands, a-and..." He faltered, and the filly saw a tear well up in his eye. He shut his eyes, and said, "Go. Go now, my love, or I shall weaken..." He let go of her, and stood up straight. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his gift to the world, the gift he and Hypatia had brought to the world, and said again, "Go."

The filly turned and ran. She felt the tears streaming down her face, but knew her father's promise would be kept, that his gods would protect her, that they would meet again, when he had dealt with the ones who had taken her mother from them. She ran, and the heat of the New Goddess's sun beat down on her neck. She ran, and left her father to do what he knew he must do.

After a minute, he heard knocking at his door. Turning, he shut the door behind him, and heard the sound of the Protectors of Harmony at his door.

"Come out, devil-worshiper! Come out and face us!"

He took up his staff, and walked to the door, steeling himself for what he knew would come next. He looked once more at the back door, then turned back to the one in front of him, and opened it.

The Worshipers of the Glorious Goddess stood before him, spears held to where the door had been. He prepared himself, holding himself up on his hind legs with his staff. The twin snakes twirled in an endless dance, circling a beam in the center from which he gripped it. He moved a hoof over the small crowd of guards, and spoke in a deep, unearthly voice when he did.

"He is playing some trick. My thoughts are all queer." He took a step forward, never looking away from the men as his voice rang in their ears. "No! We...we must ignore his bewitchments. Let's do what we came here for."

The old colt's visitors raised their spears in warning. One of them stepped forward, and said, "He...he is playing some trick! My thoughts are all queer!" Another stepped forward, brandishing his spear threateningly. "No!" he said, stepping next to his companion. "We...we must ignore his bewitchments! Let's do what we came here for!" The colts moved closer to the old stallion, who continued to speak in his gravely, unearthly voice.

"In Celestia's name make him stop. I'm going to be sick." He stepped forward again. "Take that, devil. Our thoughts are our own."

The leader of the group began to panic, and one of the colts behind him tensed up. The others raced towards the old colt, and behind them they heard the tense one speak. "In Celestia's name make him stop! I-I'm going to be sick..." The leader had had enough. Grasping the spear tightly in both hooves, he plunged it into the old colt's chest, screaming at him. "T-take that, devil! Our...our thoughts are our own!"

The old colt did not falter, though he was being cut open. He felt warm blood gushing down his body, and the pain was enormous. And still he continued to speak in that hollow, frightening voice.

"Again. Again. Dear Luna, let this be done with. See, he is yet smiling. There. Time claims him. Time, and the radiant, heavenly city."

The mob attacked again, and one of the colts doubled over as the old colt fell, a devilish grin on his face. The attacker threw up, and heard his comrade say, "Again! Again! Dear Luna, let this be done with!" He continued to vomit, retching at the sight of the smiling man soaking in his own blood. The leader of their group called out, "S-see! He is yet smiling!"

Finally it was done. The old colt lay in the dirt, his last smile still etched upon his face. The Keepers of the Sun Goddess's Peace stared down at the dead heathen, and the leader spoke up again.

"Th-there..." he said, and his voice was shaky. The other colts moved closer, drawn to their leader as though he were a welcoming fire. The leader stared at the corpse, frightened at what had just happened. He wiped his brow, suddenly overheated under the glow of the Good Goddess's Sun. Slowly, he spoke what each colt there knew he would say.

"T-time claims him. Time... and the radiant, heavenly city."

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PONYVILLE, 1999 A.D.

"You want dropping off where? Spiiiiiiiiiiike!"

The purple dragon looked over at Rainbow Dash, a shockingly indifferent look on his face. He had a small binder on his lap, which he been leafing through as the cab made its way through the city he called his home. He sighed, and didn't answer, instead looking out the window of the cab at the glowing neon lights of Ponyville as the cab flew through the air-streets. He watched other cars zip by, and looked at the large billboards advertising the usual products ponies wanted to hear about: sodas, the latest Elastagel product, etc., etc. Beside him, an annoyed Rarity glared over at the cyan pegasus who had just insulted her friend. Though the two were as close as Twilight and Spike were (or had been), they still had an argument at least once every day. Spike was beginning to think taking a cab with Dash had been a mistake.

Rainbow Dash looked angrily at the dragon across from her. She continued, stating loudly, "Not another interview for your term paper! I had mine finished, like, weeks ago. You are totally gay." She grinned at Spike egotistically, rubbing in the fact that she had indeed completed the important assignment all college students at the University of Ponyville had to complete by the end of the term. Her pride was bittersweet, however, due to the fact that Rainbow Dash was still in college, despite the fact that she was almost a decade older than Spike was. She'd gone back to college the same year Spike had started, and the two had immediately grown closer, becoming a well-known "friendzoned" couple at the University in a matter of weeks. The two were inseparable, which explained why Spike had chosen to take the cab with her that evening while she was on her way to a concert.

Spike turned to the pegasus, and said sarcastically, "Yeah, well, you're fat. If my term paper was a discourse on Weeping Griffon, I'd have finished weeks ago too!" He turned to Rarity and shrugged apologetically. She rolled her eyes in return and said nothing. The only reason she'd come along was to help Spike with his interview. His nervousness about it had caused her to decide to "pay him back" for all of the volunteer hours he'd given at the Carousel Boutique over the years. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Dash's continued rant.

"Oh, you douche! Weeping Griffon is completely the best! I mean, what was your paper on again? 'Prostitutia'? 'Prosthetica'?" She leaned back in her seat and flipped open her Weeping Griffon comic book, as if to demonstrate her point.

Spike growled, making Dash look up over the rim of the comic. He flashed his fangs, and said, "Promethea. The same name turns up in 18th century poems, early newspaper comic strips, pulp magazines and comic books. That's interesting! Weeping Griffon's just pointless!" To accentuate his own point, he flipped through the small binder on his lap, revealing several magazines, comic books, newspaper clippings, and even an essay on the topic, entitled "The Promethea Puzzle: An Adventure in Folklore." He shut the binder again, and looked back out the window. Again, Rarity said nothing.

Dash laughed, and without looking up from her comic book, she said, "There is no point! That is the genius of Weeping Gorilla." She gave the binder the briefest glimpse, and looked over at Rarity. Still speaking to Spike, she said, "So, who are you interviewing? And why is Miss Perfect coming along?" Rarity huffed at this, and turned her head to look out the window.

Spike looked over at Rainbow Dash, and said, "I'm sure you've heard of her. Her name's Zecora." At the sound of the name of Ponyville's resident shaman, Dash looked surprised. Spike continued before she could say anything. "She just happens to be the widow of the last guy who wrote the Promethea comic book." He looked out the window, and noticing the path into the Everfree Forest, he sat up. "Actually, her address is right near here if you want to drop me and Rarity off..."

Rainbow Dash turned to the driver in the front seat. "Hey, guy? Here will be fine. Then you can run me over to St. Mark's place." The cab driver nodded, and pulled over at the nearby curb. Spike and Rarity stepped out of the cab, and Rarity finally spoke, saying, "You're going to see that awful band The Limp? Ugh! How like you!" She turned, and began to walk along the road into the forest.

Dash blew a raspberry at her, and called out, "And how like you to dislike what me and Spike enjoy!" It was true. Though Spike had as much class as Rarity did, it was only when he felt like it. Usually he and Dash would listen to rock bands as they worked together on everything they did for school, and the two hung out almost twenty-four seven. At first, Spike had been worried Twilight would rain on their parade. But as time went by, and Spike saw less and less of the mare who had been his mother and more and more of the grumpy librarian who always had a glass of whiskey in her hand, he stopped caring what she thought. He was upset about Twilight's deteriorating relationship with him, but he was too busy with school. He leaned on the cab, and whispered, "You know, Rarity sounds like she's in stuffy princess mode right now, and I haven't spoken with Zecora in years. Given the choice, I'd rather be out with you tonight."

Rainbow Dash laughed and began to shut the cab door. She posed and said, "Aah, you only want my body, you jerk. Admit it. Listen, I'll see you in college tomorrow. Good luck finding out about Prolapsia!" She shut the door, and as the cab zoomed off Spike turned and yelled at it.

"Promethea!" He looked at the retreating vehicle, sighed heavily, and began to go after Rarity. He caught up with her, and asked, "What was with the attitude? You and Dash don't usually fight. In fact, you never fight." He scratched his chin, and Rarity looked over at him uncomfortably. Her friendship with Rainbow Dash had greatly improved over the past year, to the point where the cyan mare accompanied Rarity and Fluttershy to the spa occasionally. It was usually the three of them, her, Dash, and Spike, who would be seen at the most popular cafe in Ponyville, Le Cruz, sipping drinks and telling jokes. Tonight, however, Rarity seemed unhappy.

The white unicorn frowned, and said, "I suppose if I have any excuse for the way I acted, it would be because we have to visit Zecora of all zebras. I never liked her hair, and her location isn't very pleasant either." She gestured towards the Everfree Forest, a green backdrop untouched by the electronics of the city today. Zecora was the only one in Ponyville who still lived outside the large glowing area of the city, and she rarely came to town. When she did, she was unnoticeable, slipping in and out faster than Derpy Hooves could eat a muffin.

Spike shut his eyes tight, embarrassed that he forgot his friend's hatred of all things dirty, and they made their way along the road. As they entered the forest, Spike cracked an eye open to see if Rarity was still with him. He was relieved to see that the white unicorn was still walking with him, and he opened the binder he was carrying again. He handed a paper to Rarity, and said, "Here, read this. It'll keep you from thinking about the dirt."

Rarity chuckled and levitated the paper in front of her. It was the first part of Spike's paper on Promethea. She huffed and turned to him, ready to tell him off for trying to get her to read up on his obsession. When she saw the look on his face, however, she realized he wanted her help desperately. She sighed in defeat, and said, "Well, if I'm going to help you with this paper, I suppose I should know what exactly you're researching." She brought the paper close, and began to read.

THE PROMETHEA PUZZLE
An Adventure in Folklore

"Then to that diamond-beaded glade there came
A pageant throng of sweet imaginings,
Of Faeries, Imps and creatures without name,
A great frenetic bustling of wings.
About their Queen four nymphs-in-waiting stood
Girded in armour, each of beauty rare:
Cowslip, and Flax, and Jenny-in-the-Wood,
And sweet Promethea, with her plaited hair."

With these lines, some fifty stanzas into his epic sentimental fantasy A Faerie Romance, New England poet Charlton Hennet (1751-1803) makes his first mention of a character who has since then evolved into a fascinating literary mystery in her own right. Promethea, a handmaiden "with skin like polished betel-wood," is introduced as one of the four handmaidens to the Faerie Queen Titania (a straight crib from A Midsummer Night's Dream, to which Hennet originally intended his own poem as a tribute), but within a dozen or so stanzas seems to have completely taken over both the entire poem and the poet's imagination.

What starts out as an idyll with Titania and her faerie entourage at play in some Arcadian backwater of the natural world is quickly sidetracked into a long narrative that details an intense and (for the period) passionate romance between the nymph Promethea and "a mortal shepherd lad, with moon-calf eyes," in whose poetic nature one suspects Hennet intended an extremely flattering depiction of himself. Hennet, from such few descriptions of him as exist, appears as a somewhat unpleasant colt whose wife left him abruptly when she learned he had seduced a simple-minded servant filly in their employ. From there the tale becomes more grim and sordid still, although nothing of any substance could ever be proven. Afterward, Hennet would seem to have sunk into a deep depression, ending only with the poet's death from liver failure at the relatively early age of fifty-two years old. All this is a far cry from the moonstruck and sensitive young shepherd/poet that's described in Hennet's narrative, and yet one can't escape the feeling that in the unblemished innocence of his male lead, hopelessly in love with an immortal being from the Land of Faerie, Hennet was describing himself as he wished he'd been. His poem, overlong and often plodding in its rhythm, can almost be seen as a protracted and idyllic sexual fantasy in which Hennet sought solace from the bitter circumstances of real life.

The fact that in the first years of the twentieth century both Hennet and his work were in effect unknown makes the next incarnation of Promethea something of a puzzle to the modern literary historian. In 1901, in the Sunday color section of William Randolph Hoofst's Manehatten Clarion, a comic strip both drawn and written by the artist Margaret Haylor Case commenced a lengthy run that lasted until Case retired in 1920. Little Margie in Misty Magic Land was a sometimes saccharine but, more often, genuinely charming and inventive fantasy about a little filly called Margie and her strange adventures in the daydream world of her imagination, the Misty Magic Land of the strip's title. Here, she would encounter fairies, centaurs, ancient gods, and characters from folklore, such as the memorable serial which depicted Margie helping to depose a Jack who's grown tyrannical and taken over the enormous Beanstalk Kingdom previously inhabited by giants. Sequences including Margie trapped inside a giantess's sewing basket with its monstrous cotton reels and tape measure showed of Margaret Case's deft ability at conjuring a dreamlike atmosphere by playing with the size and scale of things and made her comic strip a minor legend in its field, still studied by aficionados today.

Case claimed that the Little Margie was in fact herself as a child, and that the infant's curious adventures (in quaintly-named regions of Misty Magic Land such as The Splendid Strand of Yawn, or Dogworm's Fuming Terrace) were no more than the cartoonist's childhood wanderings in the realm of fancy, transformed almost verbatim into a comic strip. If this is so, then it would seem that Margaret Haylor Case was not aware of the Promethea in Charlton Hennet's poem when she introduced a character of the same name and of a very similar nature to her cast of cartoon players in the fall of 1903. While lost in Baron Fireglove's Chuckling Orchard, Margie is eventually rescued by a brace of characters that would remain her companions for almost the rest of the newspaper strip's duration. These were a benign and often motherly fairy princess named Promethea, and a regrettable comic-relief sidekick named Chinky the Chinese Imp. Chinky, a grotesque and demonic racial creature complete with pigtail and gibberish dialogue ("Moo foo boo!"), while obviously offensive to contemporary audiences, was hardly out of keeping with the outlook of the times, in which racial minorities were cast, routinely, as degrading comic stooges and buffoons. Chinky can never be said to have developed as a personality during his lengthy tenure in the strip. The same is not true of Promethea.

As Case depicted her, Promethea emerges as a brave, compassionate figure with what at times would seem an almost melancholy air about her. In her earliest appearances, she patiently explains to Little Margie that she's had and lost a daughter of her own, and feels a great attachment to Margie as a direct consequence of this. There is even one sequence, puzzlingly out of character and never subsequently mentioned in any later episode, where Promethea grows angry and resentful of Little Margie's periodic returns to her natural family in the real, waking world: "Don't you think that I'd like to go there with you, now and then? I had a father once myself, you know, when I was a little girl!" This bewildering outburst is never explained, but it served to indicate the level of complexity and intrigue that Case brought to a supporting character with only a minor role to play.

Promethea's exit from the strip, some several months before Case opted for retirement in May of 1920, is just as striking and as mystifying. Announcing that she's "tired of people and their warlike ways," she says farewell to Margie and embarks, Chinky in tow, upon a journey that she says will lead her to a kingdom of her own. What kingdom this might be is not remarked upon, nor is her statement properly explained, when, in the seventeen years of her stay in Little Margie she has seen no warfare and other than Margie herself, very few examples of what might reasonably be called people. After Promethea's departure, much of the life, imagination and enthusiasm that Case had invested in the work seemed to have departed with her. Six months of pallid and lackluster stories followed before the cartoonist, sensing that the work had lost its magic, put away her brush and pen and settled for a retirement that was comfortable and uneventful.

The Promethea trail grows cold for a few years until the pulp boom of the 1920s, when again we find a character of that name and with certain common traits appearing in a serial narrative. Once more, it would appear as if the various creators who would engineer Promethea's next incarnation did so without knowledge of Charlton Hennet or the background character that had appeared in Little Margie, although obviously the latter cannot be entirely ruled out. This Promethea was the lead figure and the heroine of an occasional series of short fantasy novellas that appeared in the acclaimed pulp monthly Astonishing Stories, starting in the issue dated February, 1924. Other than in her name and in some details of appearance, this Promethea is very different from her earlier namesakes, being both a fierce warrior and amorous warrior queen constantly fighting to protect her lost fantasy world of Hy Brasil from various devilish and monstrous invaders, all originating in the demon-haunted territories beyond the country's boundaries. In the first published tale, A Warrior Queen of Hy Brasil, we find the plucky outlander Promethea as she fights her way up the from foot soldier to become the sovereign ruler of the vast and marvelous domain. Credited (as were all subsequent Promethea stories) to Marto Neptura, the tale portrays Promethea as a sexually knowing woman with a string of lovers in her past and a ferocious skill with swords and axes.

In fact, "Marto Neptura" was as nonexistent as Promethea herself, being merely an invented house-pseudonym under which a great number of nameless hack writers churned out what were usually (it must be said) both uninspired and uninspiring potboiler narratives of the "Spicy Fantasy" school. Here follows an example from Promethea and the Manigators, the eighth story in the series: "The rivulets of blood on her brown arms were like a scarlet lacework, fitfully illuminated in the staccato and infrequent dazzle of the lightning. With her firm breasts heaving, the beloved Queen of Hy Brasil forced her reptilian antagonist closer and closer to the chasm's edge. His terrifying jaws snapped tight together only inches from her muzzle as, with the muscles standing out on her long, tawny legs, she heaved the alligator-creature into the abyss below." Clearly, the fact that Promethea tales in Astonishing are still remembered fondly and are indeed quite collectible is not based on the literary merit of the stories. It's interesting to observe that both the poet Hennet and the nameless author of the Manigators yarn describe Promethea's skin as tawny.

In actuality, the enduring popularity of Marto Neptura's Promethea had nothing to do with the mythical Mr. Neptura and everything to do with the legendary Grace Branneigh, a pulp cover illustrator with a style that's been compared to near-contemporary Margaret Braydage, who provided painted covers for some fifty issues of Astonishing, including all fifteen issues in which the lead story was a new Promethea novella, creating a firm bond between the artist and the heroine. It hardly comes as a surprise that almost all the articles since written on Promethea in the pulps have focused in Grace Branneigh's contribution, leaving the actual stories and their content virtually ignored. Branneigh's Promethea conceals a number of intriguing elements beneath a pulp veneer. The cover illustrations, in their luminous depictions of the continent of Hy Brasil, portray a world that's hauntingly surreal and alien, with shifting, metamorphic rock formations beneath a swirling emerald sky that could never have possibly existed on our world, for all that the interior narratives insist that "Hy Brasil" is a real continent in Earth's primordial past. It turns out that the continent of Hy Brasil was once considered to be real, and is indeed depicted on the shipping maps of only a few hundred years ago. In many ways it would seem to correspond to Paradise or even Fairyland. Celtic mythology names Hy Brasil as Tir na Nog, the Faerie kingdom. Oddly, this almost brings us back to Hennet's vision of Promethea as hailing from the realm of fairies and folklore.

In 1938, the publishers responsible for Astonishing Stories were bought out by a group called Apex Magazines, who mostly published comic books. Combing through Astonishing's inventory for characters they might successfully transfer, only Promethea seemed to have any possibilities, and so in 1941 the character's fourth incarnation made her debut as lead feature in Apex's Smashing Comics, later graduating to her own book, titled simply Promethea (1946). This new Promethea, while loosely modeled on the pulp incarnation, was recast as a "science heroine" of the type in which the company specialized. Thus, Promethea now operates in contemporary Equestria, fighting crooks, spies, and the Neighzi menace. She has an FBI stallion as a boyfriend ("Dirk Dangerfield at your service, Princess!), and only returns to her other-dimensional kingdom of Hy Brasil for occasional adventures. The artist/writer for these stories, working on the strip from 1941 to his tragic death in 1970, was former Classics teacher William Woolcolt. Woolcolt was an intensely private colt who many later feminist critics of comics have applauded (with some reservations) for the genuine female sensibility which he imparted to the character.

Following Woolcolt's death, Promethea was handed to a young and radical new comics writer, Zeaser Shelley, for a revamp, ably assisted by a number of comics artists (including a memorable stint by artist Pony Craig Russell). The most noticeable change that Shelley brought to Woolcolt's character was to change her skin coloring from firmly Equestrian flesh- pink back to the "polished betel-wood" of earlier incarnations. This was almost certainly because, by Shelley's own admission, he was basing his Promethea upon his lovely and vivacious Zebrican wife, Zecora. Shelley brought a great deal of intelligence and fondness for experiment to his depiction of the character, and his death from cancer in 1996 led to a suspension of the Apex Comics series in a gesture practically unheard-of in the industry. Cynics, of course, were quick to point out the declining sales of the title as the actual motive for its cancellation, as apparently it's well known that books with a female title character have never performed well in the current male oriented marketplace.

So today, Promethea is in limbo- or perhaps in Misty Magic Land- with her adventures no longer before the public. Given the current popularity of simplistic post-modern characters such as the inexplicably celebrated Weeping Griffon, perhaps it's simply that times have moved on, and there is no longer a place for the romantic fantasy and play of the imagination that Promethea represents. We can only hope that she is merely resting in some corner of the Realm of Faerie, or of Hy Brasil, and that in the future, she'll turn up in a new game, some fresh twist to her puzzling history, a genuine piece of American folklore in action, of poetry in motion.

-Spike Emerald-Sparkle

Rarity blinked several times at the sight of the name at the bottom of the paper. She turned to Spike, who was grinning at her, and she stared in amazement at him.

"You wrote this?"

"Yep. Pretty good, right?"

The white unicorn looked back at the essay, amazed that the dragon had become so well-educated that he could write something of the caliber she had just read. He took it from her suddenly, and when she began to object he pointed out the house mere yards away.

"We're here," he said, and stopped in front of the door with Rarity when they reached Zecora's house. He hesitated, then knocked twice on the door. The two stood outside, and Rarity contemplated the essay she'd just read. This Promethea, whatever or whoever she was supposed to be, was apparently some sort of mysterious character that showed up several times over the course of the past three centuries. He'd also mentioned that Promethea had been the name of some ancient Neighgyptian girl who had disappeared almost two millennium ago. Now, it appeared that Zecora was their only remaining link to the legend.

She took a step back as the door to Zecora's hut-like home opened up. The zebra poked her head out, and Rarity instantly noticed the annoyed expression on her face. On dear, she thought, biting her lip. This isn't going to end well. Zecora stared at her for a moment, then turned to Spike, who was whistling nervously while she'd ignored him.

"Spike, you come to my home, I see. I also notice you've brought some company." Rarity recalled Zecora's mysterious ability to rhyme everything she said, and almost laughed at it. She must do it to hold onto the memory of her husband. How sad.

The zebra continued: "I suppose the two of you can come inside. There is much to discuss, and my abode is a perfect place to hide." Rarity looked over at Spike, who shrugged and accepted Zecora's invitation, stepping inside the house. Rarity followed after a moment, hesitant to continue on with him for obvious reasons.

The zebra shut the door as the two entered her home, and she turned to Spike. "Now then," she said, sounding unhappy for some unknown reason. She walked past him, and said, "I noticed the odd topic you had for this work. Why is Promethea the subject for it, what do you think is its perk?" She turned to him again, a strangely threateningly look on her face. Spike finally spoke for the first time since they'd entered the house:

"Ah, well see, it was because of these weird connections I found between all of these stories and comics and stuff. Promethea dates back to this epic poem written by Charlton Hennet in 1780. In his poem, she's a fairy handmaiden, not a warrior like your husband drew.." He trailed off, realizing the mistake of talking about Zecora's dead husband. Zecora simply nodded for him to continue, and he did after a small awkward cough.

"Ok, so she shows up about a century and a half later, in this old comic strip called Little Margie in Misty Magic Land, where she's this sort of fairy companion to the title character."

Zecora looked out her window at the city in the distance. Without looking at him, she said, "There is a coincidence in names. Or so they claim."

Spike paused, and continued when she didn't speak again. "Well, there were stories from the trenches of the Great Griffon War, about an angel coming to the aid of soldiers in need. They said she called herself Promethea..."

Rarity watched with only the slightest annoyance as Zecora did not move from her spot, only saying, "Those men were in shock. They could have easily seen a flying rock."

Spike coughed again, and said, "Wait, it gets weirder. In 1924, this magazine starts running these stories. The first one's is called Promethea, Warrior Queen of Hy Brasil. This Promethea runs a science-fantasy lost continent. A mare named Grace Branneigh does some amazing covers..." Again he was interrupted by Zecora.

"I do not mean to sound amiss, but I do not see where you are going with this."

Spike continued. "The magazine folds, hands its stories over to this comics industry. They make a new Promethea, this one a science-heroine. A colt named William Woolcolt writes it until he dies, and then your husband Zeaser takes over. While that's happening, there are all of these urban legends about people meeting Promethea..."

Zecora turned suddenly, and she raised a hoof to her face, rubbing her forehead. "Dear Spike, I understand your interest in this myth. But please understand what I mean when I say you know not what you are messing with." She led the two to her door again, a frown clearly etched on her face.

Spike blanched, and stuttered out, "Huh? B-but my term paper..."

Zecora gestured for them to leave, and Rarity wanted to spit in her face. She isn't giving Spike any chance of getting any information for his paper! Why would she do something when she can easily see how desperately he needs this? She felt a hoof push her slightly, and she huffed and stormed out of the house. Spike was less compliant, and Zecora had to push him out of the way of her door.

The zebra looked grimly at the disappointed dragon on her doorstep. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, and then she said, "I know that I may seem harsh, dear boy, but trust me when I say you need to drop this ploy. There is nothing in this folklore that is worth a do..." she began to shut the door, and her eyes glinted in the darkness of her hallway.

"...and you most certainly do not want said folklore looking for you." Then she shut the door, and left Spike and Rarity out in the cold.

Rarity began to walk away, and after a moment, Spike followed her. His mouth was open, and when he caught up with her she closed it for him with a hoof. He stared blankly ahead for a moment, as they made their way along the path back to the city, and finally he spoke.

"I don't believe it. Just like that. Out in the cold."

----------

ALEXANDRIA, 411 A.D.

The little filly made her way across the dunes of the desert as the moon of the Sister Goddess shone down on her, lighting the world around her dimly. She had stopped crying, and shivered as the cold sting of the desert night bit through her shirt. She looked up at the stars, then all around her, and she felt more tears coming to her eyes.

"Father?" She asked the night, as if expecting her father to appear out of the darkness. "F-father, it's getting dark and I'm scared." She walked up a dune, and continued to speak to the night, shivering as she spoke.

"Father? Father, please don't be dead. Please, please, please. I don't know where to go. I... WHURR..."

The filly had tripped, and tumbled down the dune she had been climbing. Dust and sand clung onto her body and clothes, and she shut her mouth and eyes tightly, trying to keep the dirt from entering her mouth. She stopped at the bottom of the dune, and a lizard turned its head toward her for a second, interested in the new presence in its territory. Sensing no threat, the lizard turned its head back up to the sky, ignoring the little filly's crying as she spat out sand that had found a way into her mouth.

"Daddy?" she asked the night again. No answer. "Daddy, you said. You said I'd be alright." She began crying, and wiped her eyes, covering them from the glow that was growing in front of her. She did not see it, and continued to cry. As the glow grew brighter, she said, "I'm all on my own, Daddy. Please save me. You said there'd be gods. You said they'd look after me."

The filly drew her hands from her eyes. Still she did not notice the glow, and for a moment she sat looking at the ground. "You promised, Daddy. You..."

She turned her head up.

"...promised..."

----------

PONYVILLE, 1999 A.D.

"AOW!"

Rarity covered her eyes as the spotlight shone down and blinded her. Spike was lucky enough to avoid the bright light, and shouted up at the floating platform that had shone it down on them.

"Hey! What's the big idea, trying to blind us here?"

He shielded his eyes, and saw five ponies on the hover-platform. Four colts and a familiar mare looked down at her, and one of them, a tan unicorn with an unmistakably iconic barber shop quartet outfit that matched the other unicorn's outfit on the platform, laughed.

"Ha ha! Sorry, little lady. Didn't mean to scare you there." Flim looked down at Rarity, tipping his hat in apology. The unicorn had a toolkit next to him, and he grinned down at her. "Please don't be alarmed. This is all purely routine." As if to prove a point, he stepped back and let a blue pegasus in an extremely recognizable flight suit take the floor.

"You may recognize us. We're Ponyville's resident science-heroes, the Five Swell Colts, and we're just out on patrol, as usual." Soarin smiled charmingly down at the two, who both knew exactly who the Five Swell Colts were. The team had been appointed by Mayor Mare a year before she'd left office, and they were extremely famous. Behind Soarin were the Flim Flam brothers, and in between them was Cranky D. Donkey, adjusting his wig and grinning down at them. It was not the colts, however, that made the Five Swell Colts so memorable to Rarity and Spike. It was their female member that they knew well enough.

"Cranky here had one'a his psychic flashes about ya, Rare." Applejack leaned against the rails of the platform Flim had built years ago, and tipped her hat back. "Ya'll wouldn't happen ta be bein' menaced by any other-worldly forces, would ya?" She asked the question both seriously and with a joking smile on her face, and Rarity frowned in annoyance.

"No, Applejack, we're fine! Please get that light out of my face!" The orange mare laughed, then nodded to Flim. The tan unicorn flicked a switch with his magic, and the spotlight shut off. She leaned forward again, and was about to speak when Soarin pushed her aside and started talking again.

"Hmm. So no extraterrestrial creatures bothering you? No government conspiracies, ancient demon cults, nothing like that?"

Now it was Spike's turn to look annoyed. Oh come on, my term paper isn't that weird! He shouted up at the five ponies, "No! I'm just having trouble with my term paper! I just messed up an interview, so I was going over to St. Mark's to see this band, The Limp! Anything weird about that?"

AJ laughed, and said, "Naw. Well, maybe the fact that Miss Prissy is with ya on yer way to a rock concert. That doesn't make sense." She laughed at the look on Rarity's face, and the unicorn was about to shout a very rude comeback when Soarin turned to Cranky.

"Crank, you've been a little "off" since the divorce..."

Cranky sighed, and adjusted his wig again. "Heck. Y-you know, I felt so sure..." He looked down at the floor, disappointed at being wrong for what appeared to be yet another time. Applejack turned to him and said, "Come on, Cranky. Ya'll was sure that Matilda wasn't cheatin' on ya, too."

Soarin turned towards Rarity again, leaving AJ and Cranky to argue. "We're sorry to have bothered you, Miss. Good luck with your term paper, kid." He nodded to Flim, who flicked several switches and punched several buttons with his magic. The platform floated away, off to wherever the Five needed to go to discuss their next move to help the city. Spike watched them go, then turned to Rarity. He grinned, and said, "Wow. The Five Swell Colts." He walked past her, and she began to follow. "Wait 'till I tell Dash. She'll hemorrhage."

Rarity rolled her eyes and said, "Don't hold your breath." The two laughed at her joke, and they continued on their way, unaware that Spike's shadow had not followed him when he moved.

Slowly, a large, black goop peeled itself off the wall, shifting its shape into that of a thin, jagged figure. The last bits of goo congealed back into it, and it began to follow the two retreating figures, making not a sound as it went.

Spike and Rarity made their way along the street, and turned into an alley that would lead to the sky-bridge that would take them to the nearest cab station. The alley was dark, and it made Rarity shiver. They moved up the steps, and Spike looked over at a poster on the wall showing the band he was planning on seeing in a few minutes. Then the shadow moved.

Spike spun around. There was no one in the alley besides himself and Rarity. The white unicorn looked past him, and called out hesitantly.

"H-hello?"

The shadow moved again, and Rarity heard its voice whisper in her ear.

"Hello."

Instinctively, Spike shoved Rarity out of the way as a hand materialized out of the wall, and it grabbed him instead. Rarity shrieked and ran, and after a brief struggle Spike pulled himself out of the hand's grip and ran after her. The shadow moved off of the wall, and sped after them. Spike dropped the binder as he went, sending pages sprawling everywhere. Meanwhile, Rarity was panicking, and she began screaming out a string of prayers.

"Oh sweet Celestia, Luna, Mother, Jesus..." She almost stopped when she said the last name, surprised that she'd used the name of a storybook character she'd read about during her time helping Spike with his studies on mythology. She had no time to swell, though as she heard Spike catching up to her and then passing by, as he listed his own prayers.

"What did I do?" He turned a corner, and saw on overpass that led over the city streets and airways. He sprinted toward it, and could hear Rarity rushing behind him. "I haven't done anything!" he shouted back to the shadow, which he could see slipping along at an alarming rate as it began to catch up with them. "I'm a college student! All I ever did was read books!" He heard Rarity stumble, and didn't dare look back. "What did I..."

A black hand rose out of the concrete and grabbed his ankle. "...do?" He finished his sentence just as the creature pulled him up by the ankle, and he saw a terrified Rarity hanging by her hind leg as the creature hung them over the ten-story drop through the city airways. It took on the shape of what appeared to be a scraggly thin version of Spike, and it leaned in close to his face.

"Wrong books." That was all it said, and before either of them could react it had dropped them and they were falling, falling down to the sidewalk below, and they made eye contact briefly, then began to scream.

Suddenly, a figure jumped from nowhere and grabbed the two, holding each in one fore leg. Or at least it seemed to be a fore leg, though much longer than any pony would have. The figure grunted as she lifted up the dragon and the unicorn into the air, stopping their fall as easily as Spike could eat a diamond. He stared in amazement at the mare, and after a second he said, "You... you can fly."

As if on cue, they began to drop, her non-existent wings failing as they plummeted toward the earth. She looked down, and said sarcastically: "Can I hell."

The mare shifted, moving Rarity impossibly down her back and into her other arm, where Spike was held, and lifted her free arm up just in time to grab the edge of an overpass. In the distance, Spike could see the creature they'd just avoided moving quickly through the air toward them, and was about to speak when the mare who saved them spoke up.

"Climb up! Climb up me onto the bridge, for Christ's sake! You think I can hang here all day?"

Rarity shook her head and began to inch up her savior's body, not bothering to question her word choice.

"N-no. I mean, okay. We're climbing..."

The unicorn made her way up the mysterious earth pony's body, and Spike followed closely behind, climbing up onto the overpass as the mare said, "Come on, hurry! That Smee is gonna be all over us!"

Rarity made it onto the bridge, and looked down at the earth mare who'd saved them. She noticed the strange outfit she wore, and how large she was in height. She looked to be the size of an alicorn, and she decided she didn't care.

"Please," she said, begging with the mare, "I don't know what's happening. What's a-" She never finished her sentence, and she turned at the sound of panicking bystanders. "...Smee?"

The creature had caught up with them. It stood mere feet away from Rarity, and she began to back up as it moved closer. Spike pulled her back, willing to protect her at any cost. The strange mare climbed over the balcony, breathing heavily.

" *hufff* Don't worry. *hufff* Don't worry, I'm on it..." She turned to the creature, apparently called a Smee, and stood on her hind legs, putting the other two up in a fighting position as the Smee approached.

"Okay." She looked like she was having trouble controlling her body, and she wobbled on her legs. "Okay, you creepy son of a bitch, come on! Come on, I dare ya!"

Rarity raised a hoof in defiance. "N-no. No don't..." But Spike pulled her back as the mare charged and slammed a hoof through the Smee, making it scream in agony. The two backed off, and Rarity heard Spike whisper: "Jesus..."

"*GROOFF* Fat SOW!" The Smee could somehow still move, even with the mare's hoof through its body, and it swiftly swung its claws upward, slicing through the pony's flesh like it was nothing. "Open you...like a FISH..."

The mare screamed in pain, and her blood splattered on the ground. Rarity covered her mouth with a hoof and resisted the urge to vomit. "Oh god! Leave her alone! You'll kill her!" she screamed at the thing, fighting Spike's hold on her as they watched the mare bleed onto the sidewalk. She stood up again, though, and grabbed the Smee in her hoofs, holding it in a tight grip as she walked over to the edge of the bridge.

"No he won't," she said, and tossed the monster over the bridge. In midair the thing flipped and shouted back at the mare: "Oh yes I w-"

A gush of black goo exploded from the Smee as a taxi barreling through the air struck it at lethal speeds. The goo fell through the air, and Spike watched as it splattered against the ground violently. Rarity watched with eyes wide open, and said, "Wow. You killed it."

The mare laughed. "The Smee? Don't be stupid. It's just winded. Come on. Let's get out of here." She turned, and Spike began to follow, calling after her: "Wh-where are we going?" The mare gripped her opened foreleg tightly, staunching the blood flow, and said, "Well, I don't know! Just somewhere we can hide up and delay the inevitable. Jeez, that thing cut me good." She prodded the wound, and winced. "Ow."

Rarity stood for a moment watching the retreating forms of her friend and her savior, then shook her head to clear it. As if noticing them running for the first time, she ran after them, desperate to get away from whatever had just tried to kill her and to try and get some answers.

The three ran for several minutes, moving from the large, public areas of the city and into the alleys. Eventually, the mare came across a large padlocked doorway, and kicked it open with a grunt. "There. That oughtta do it," she said as she stepped inside the building. It appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, and she pushed Rarity in after Spike when the ivory unicorn was hesitant to enter.

Once she shut the door, the mare said, "Okay. Okay, maybe it won't find us for a while. Luna, I must be nuts getting into this at my age." She peered out of a crack in the doorway, and Spike and Rarity sat and watched, shivering in the cold of the dark warehouse. Finally, Rarity spoke:

"L-look, what's going on here? Who are you?"

The mare paused, and turned, a grin on her face. "Who am I?" she said, and started to laugh almost uncontrollably. Spike blinked at her, more confused than he'd ever been in his life. Before he could speak, the mare continued to talk through her laughter: "Ha ha ha! Well, that's a good one." She shook with cold, and glanced at her wound before speaking again, this time without laughing.

"I'm friggin' Promethea, you idiot."

Spike and Rarity stared.

--------

ALEXANDRIA, 411 A.D.

"DON'T BE AFRAID. YOU WERE LOST, BUT NOW YOU ARE FOUND."

Their voice was of one, and yet the little filly could easily see the two beings in front of her. Both of them had "human" bodies, as her father had called them, and one of them had the head of an ibis. The other wore a crown, atop which were small wings that fluttered in the wind. They held out a staff, and around the staff twirled twin serpents, and the filly recognized the symbol as that of her father's staff. And so she asked:

"A-are you...? Are you one of my father's gods, come to keep we safe?"

They smiled down upon her, and said as one: "NO. I AM TWO OF YOUR FATHER'S GODS. I AM THOTH-HERMES... AND I CANNOT KEEP YOU SAFE. NOT IN THIS PRESENT WORLD."

She had stopped crying now. She wiped her eyes, and said, "Why not?"

"OUR INFLUENCE HERE IS WANING, OUR PRIESTS SLAIN BY THOSE OF THE NEW GODDESS. A DARK AGE IS COMING." They looked down at her, and one (the ibis, or perhaps the wing-capped, she couldn't tell) lay a hand on her shoulder. "ONLY IN MY WORLD, THE IMMATERIA, CAN I PROTECT YOU... AND THERE YOU WOULD NO LONGER BE A LITTLE GIRL. YOU'D BE A STORY."

Their hand felt warm on her shoulder, and she felt comforted by them. "W-would I still be alive? Would I be able to come back and visit this world?" She was scared to leave, but had nowhere else to go.

They smiled, and said, "YOU WOULD LIVE ETERNALLY, AS STORIES DO. AS FOR COMING BACK, WELL..." They took her hand, and led her toward the aperture in the world, guiding her to their home. "SOMETIMES, IF A STORY IS VERY SPECIAL, IT CAN QUITE TAKE PEOPLE OVER. WE'LL SEE. COME ALONG."

She went with them, and asked, "Is your world very far?" She now knew she was right to trust them, and walked happily toward the aperture.

They spoke: "NO. IT IS ALWAYS IN THE PLACE WHERE YOU ARE STANDING." They walked through, and paused to close the gateway. They asked her, "TELL ME, CHILD. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

She answered, putting her very meaning into the utterance of her name, as her father had told her to.

"Promethea."

And they were gone.

"See, Promethea was a real little girl who lived in 5th century Roman Neighgypt. Her father was a hermetic scholar... sort of like a magician. An Equestrian mob killed him... not uncommon back then... but the gods intervened, taking his daughter into their world of myth and fiction, the Immateria. Promethea became a living story, growing up in the realm that all dreams and stories come from. Sometimes, she'd wander into the imagination of mortals.

"Charlton Hennet, the poet. Margaret Case, the cartoonist and Grace Branneigh, the illustrator. Comics artist William Woolcolt and writer Zeaser Shelley. They channelled Promethea! Some of them, taken over by this powerful living idea, even physically became Promethea... either them, or loved ones that they projected her identity onto.

"Margaret Case, for example, became Promethea to help out in the trenches of The Great Griffon War. During the '20s and '30s, Grace Branneigh took over. See, anyone with imagination and enough enthusiasm for the character can bring her through from the Immateria, by thinking themselves or others into the role.

"During the 1770s, Charlton Hennet's housemaid, Anna, became his dream lover Promethea, transformed by the poet's imagination as he wrote A Faerie Romance for her. Zeaser Shelley did the same thing..."

The mare leaned back on a crate, and Spike's eyes widened as he and Rarity watched her change.

"...only with his wife."

Rarity gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand again. "Oh Celestia," she said, finally recognizing the mare whose stripes were reappearing before their eyes. "Zecora. It's you."

The zebra laughed, her accent returning and thus, Spike guessed, her rhyme. "Rarity, I pray to Zeus you play dumb to amuse me." She looked over at Spike, who was staring at her legs as the sandals that were once on her hooves disappeared. "Yes, I'm Zecora. I suppose it shows. I cannot maintain her form, you know how it goes."

She clutched her torn foreleg tightly, and continued. "You see, my husband, dear Zeaser, who made me that way. With him gone, I can barely stay in that shape. Since he died in 1991, it has been, for me, less and less fun. Promethea looks more and more like me, and I can barely handle a damned Smee."

Rarity stood, and pointed a hoof at the now fully-returned zebra. "Y-you changed back."

Zecora laughed. "Boy, the colts say you are as sharp as a tack. More like one that has been trampled flat. I do not see how they think you are the next Promethea, but perhaps dear Spike can be a good handler." She tilted her head back and winced at the pain in her foreleg, poking it with a testing hoof.

Rarity blinked several times, then turned to Spike. "Me?" She asked him, as if he knew, and he shrugged and looked back to Zecora for confirmation.

The zebra nodded. "Is it not clear to you? Did you not see what I had to do, just so I could protect you two? They must have known her next coming was imminent, as soon as learning Promethea's story became your intent. I warned you to drop it, but now you cannot stop it." She twisted, and began digging through a pocket in the cloak she was wearing.

Rarity stuttered again. "But... I can't be Promethea."

Zecora pulled out a small object from inside her cloak. "You had better hope otherwise, or you'll end up on the other side. We have perhaps half an hour before the Smee returns to collect its fee. Now," she turned to Spike, and held out the object to him. It was a pad and pen. "Mr. Spike, do you write?"

He stared at the pad for a minute, then nodded slowly. "Uh... Mostly poetry and essays, but..." He trailed off, and reached his hand out to take the pad.

Zecora smiled for the first time that evening, and said, "Write. Take flight. Find someplace to hide, and write her down here from above. Rarity is your inspiration, I can see. Now channel Promethea into her, before we are killed by that Smee!"

Spike blushed. It was true. Whenever he had written about Promethea, he had thought of a god-like version of Rarity. It haunted his mind, and he filled his fantasies with her, daydreaming in several of his classes. He took the pad and pen from Zecora, and began to walk away. He gestured for Rarity to follow, and she did, looking back to see if Zecora would be alright.

The zebra yelled after them: "Be quick! A Smee is a Semi-Mindless Elemental Entity. It would rape, then kill, then disembowel thee. Most likely in that order. Oh, and relax! It will be easier to do if you are lax!"

Spike and Rarity walked together for a minute. Then, when Zecora could be neither seen nor heard, the purple dragon sat down on a crate and clicked open the pen. He stared at Rarity for a minute, and without a word began to write furiously.

The Smee gathered himself from below the bridge. The bitch had hurt him! How dare she even touch him! He sent ponies scattering as he reformed, and he began to sniff for the mares and the dragon who had caused him so much trouble.

I am Promethea, and take my name
From he bound to a rock and plagued by birds.
In me burns his Celestial stolen flame.
I am the words made flesh, the flesh made words.

Spike looked up at Rarity and smiled as the words flowed from his mind down onto the paper.

Zecora sat at the door to the warehouse, waiting for her ending.

The Smee was coming. He sniffed, and followed the stench of brimstone and perfume to an alleyway, and turned his head this way and that, looking for them. He was coming.

I am Promethea, my father dead,
Martyred, his bones daubed red with Heresy
By those who would turn Gold back into Lead
And sour a world by their sour Alchemy.

He trudged along a bridge, stalking through the shadows he was made of. He smiled, for he could smell their fear. He was coming.

I am Promethea, God-adopted one
Reared in their immaterial hills and vales.
My tale is in the world of substance spun,
Yet is my substance in the world of tales.

He approached the building, and their stench grew. He grinned, and slowly approached. The Smee was coming.

I am Promethea, the child who stands
Between fixed earth and insubstantial air,
A thought who yet treads matter's rain-swept strands,
And mortals are the sandals that I wear.

Rarity felt lightheaded. Spike was now scribbling words intensely, lost in his world of poetry and fantasy. She tried to call out to him, but she couldn't speak.

I am Promethea.
From Mind's pure light
I stoop into Earth's gloom,
From Fable's day
Descending into Fact's cold weighty night,
From lyric atmospheres to mammal clay.

The Smee leaned against the door. It was slightly bent, and it looked as though it had been broken open. He listened, and heard the mare on the other side. He could hear her breathing, and it was heavy and ripe with fear. He grinned wildly, for he knew triumph them. The Smee had come!

Zecora heard the scratching, and prayed it was a dog.

I am Promethea, the rumored one,
The Mythic bough that Reason strains to bend.
I am that voice left, once the book is done...

The Smee burst through the door, sending splintering wood and shards of metal everywhere. Zecora shrieked, and hoped only that she had not guessed the Smee's intended schedule correctly.

I am the dream that waking does not end.

The Smee converged on her, and it gripped her face in its claw. "I told you I'd kill you. Where's the girl?" He tilted his head sideways, as though he were speaking to a child. Zecora felt tears dripping uncontrollably down her face, and she said in a hoarse voice, "You are wrong about this girl. There is nothing I could see in her. It is best that you leave. There would be terrible consequences for you if you failed, no?" Her rhyme had disappeared, and she hoped that he would not notice.

The Smee slammed her into the ground, and she felt her opened foreleg scrape against the dirt-covered floor. He leaned in close, and said, "Not what I asked. Where is she?"

The zebra shouted. "AAAAAAA! Who sent you? I-is it the Temple? Is it Jackal Faust or the Night Queen?" He grinded her face into the ground, and she pleaded: "Oh God. I'm telling you, the girl's not the one! She's some useless child, She's nobody! She's-"

"I am Promethea, Art's fiercest spark..."

The Goddess was coming.

"I am all Inspiration...all Desire."

The Goddess was near. The Smee dropped Zecora, who doubled over in pain. "Aww, God. Aww, Celestia..."

"Imagination's blaze in Mankind's dark..."

She was coming closer, and the Smee smelled no fear now.

"I am Promethea...

"I BRING YOU FIRE!"

She was there. The Goddess drew her weapon, and let it rain its wrath upon the Smee. He felt its burn, and screamed his fury and pain.

"MURRRHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKHHH!!"

The Goddess stopped, and the Smee stumbled backward. He looked at the flaming hole in his chest, then back up at the Goddess. She stood, glorious and white-coated, her dark purple braids pouring down the back of her head that was capped in a hat of gold. Upon her breast lay a plate of Holy make, and her skirt was of the same. Her robes flowed behind her, endless as was her beauty. In her hoof she held the staff, the staff of twin serpents, and it glowed and crackled with lightening. The fury could be seen in her glowing eyes, and the Smee knew it was doomed.

"Oh." He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm too late, then?"

He was met with more fire, and he heard her answer.

"Yes."

He fell, and found he could not stand. He lay on the ground, burning, as the Goddess stepped over to him, holding over his head the object that would be his end. As the fire consumed his hearing, he heard one last line from her lips.

"Much too little...and much too late."

Then he was only flame.

The Goddess stood, and watched the Smee burn out, leaving a black mark under a pillow of smoke. Then she turned, and walked to the dying zebra she had just saved. The dragon, the one who had brought her back, who had returned her to the material world, came running to her side, and he helped the zebra up. The Goddess stood before her, and spoke:

"Zecora... I must get you to a hospital..."

The zebra looked up at her, and was in awe. "Y-you were incredible," she said, and knew only praise for the Goddess. "You were better than I ever was. Hell, you were even greater than Grace Branneigh."

The Goddess bent down, and the dragon watched her pull the zebra into her forelegs. Then she turned, and nodded to him. He walked over to her, and put an arm around her waist. He gripped tightly, and waited for her to be ready. Then the Goddess looked down at the zebra and said, "You've lost a lot of blood. Don't try to talk."

And still the zebra spoke, her voice returned with her rhyme: "B-but I have to tell you so much. There is so much you must know, so much I can tell, if not for my crutch. You must know of your foes, those who would see you dead. There are those before you must know of, like poor Margie Case with many tears shed. The Immateria..." She could barely speak, and was silenced by the Goddess.

"Hush, Zecora. There'll be time to tell me later, when you're well." The Goddess looked down at Spike, who nodded once, and she took in one hoof the Caduceus, that which was her wand. "Now that I'm back, I have all the time that there is in the world."

And Promethea rose into the air, taking with her Spike and Zecora, rising high above the city streets, her staff pointed skyward, her endless smile looking up to the heavens. A glow radiated around them, and as she moved through the air she spoke again.

"Time, and the radiant, heavenly, city."

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Next: The Judgment of Solomon!

The Judgment of Solomon

Promethea

The Temple wants her DEAD...
They've put out the hit from HELL!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

A new champion arises,
A demonic threat is dispatched,
A deadly battle is joined.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Baby... *koff* I know just how this feels."

She'd given up the rhyme, her spirit as exhausted as her body. She only held tightly to Promethea as the godly mare flew through the city.

"What's in your head right now, everything, every moment's like stained glass. It's... *koff* It's all right now, and full of this heroic fire as if all of existence was alight, and... *koff koff* Oh, god damn...and all the stars are... *koff koff koff*"

Zecora went into a fit of coughing, and Promethea looked down at the dying zebra. She shifted her grip on Zecora, and Spike gripped tightly into her robe. He was desperately trying to keep from falling down into the streets of Ponyville below, and hoped that they would reach a hospital soon.

The people looked up, and saw a glimmering form shooting across the sky. Many ponies dropped what they were carrying and stared up at the shining figure, and felt as though they knew what it was, who it was, and they stared and gaped and gazed until the star was gone.

Promethea looked down at the zebra, and said, "Don't try to talk, Zecora. You're hurt. I'm going to get you to a hospital. But you're right about how we feel." She spoke as if there were two people in her, and it was true.

"We... I feel full of something. It's... meaning. I feel full of meaning."

The Five Swell Colts looked up and saw a shooting star, except it wasn't a star, it was a mare, and she was flying without wings. And Applejack thought of her placement as the female of the group, and felt angry. And Cranky thought that he'd seen her before, hadn't he? And Flim looked up and thought well isn't that swell! A flying unicorn! Pretty good magic! And his brother thought the same. And Soarin looked up and thought he saw his mother, but dismissed it as fantasy. They looked up, and saw a star.

"Yeah. *koff koff* Yeah, I know." Zecora pressed into Promethea, shutting her eyes. "But it's confusing, right? Inside you, it's like... *koff koff koff* I-it's like there's two of you, but somehow there's only one? There's.... *koff* There's Rarity, but there's somebody else too, and she... *koff koff koff* Oh, Jesus... And she might not recognize a modern hos... *koff* hospital."

Rainbow Dash looked up at the glow, and sipped her drink. The sound of the music added an effect to the glow that made her shiver. Crazy special effects, dude. She felt as though the glow was something she knew, and she squinted at it. A purple shape revealed itself for only a moment, and Rainbow Dash jumped back at bit.

"Spike...?"

The city unfolded before them, and Promethea smiled. "Don't worry. Some symbols always mean the same thing..."

The hospital rose up out of the glow of the city. Spike sighed with relief, glad that he wouldn't have to hold on for much longer. They approached, and he saw nurses and doctors grow wide-eyed and stop what they were doing. As they approached, he heard them mutter to each other.

"Oh my Celestia, look at that..."

"She'd flying. Without wings. Wow."

"Are those snakes moving?"

"KYRE ÆSCLEPIUS! Hail the God of Healing!" The voice that came from Rarity's throat, or what had been Rarity's throat, sounded somewhere in between her own and Zecora's. It was strong, vibrant, and above all, intimidating. She landed on one of the platforms that was used for airship landings, and said, "This mare is hurt."

The nurses stared at her for a moment, unsure if she was real or not. The idea that a god-like mare had just flown (without wings) into the hospital with a dragon wrapped around her waist was not something they imagined was possible. Then they saw Zecora.

One of the nurses turned to the receptionist at the nearby desk. "Come on, get a C.A.R.E. Pod up here."

When the pod-like contraption had arrived, Promethea held Zecora's unscathed arm tightly and helped her towards it. She spoke to the nurses as she went: "She has been wounded by an unclean thing. Her injuries may be infected."

Zecora was still trying to hold a conversation with her, and Promethea heard her say, "Listen...*koff* Whoever sent that Smee that got me...*koff* they're gonna send other stuff. Especially..." She went into a fit of coughing, and the nurse near the Pod took her hoof. "I-if you could place her in the Pod..."

Promethea obliged, and the nurse began to lower the bay door on the C.A.R.E. Pod. Before she did, though, Zecora reached a hoof out to Promethea, ignoring the nurse's protests.

"...especially now! Especially now, while you're still dazzled by it all. There’s...*koff koff* There's worse...*koff*"

The nurse took the opportunity to shut the Pod when Zecora went to cover her mouth. The zebra leaned against the viewing window of the Pod, and as it drifted upward along a rail system Promethea heard her say:

"There's worse things than Smees. *koff*"

-----------

"You could have made the friggin' triangle bigger. That's all I'm saying."

The two colts stood in the center of the large room. One looked down at the triangle etched into the floor, and scowled at the eye in the center. The one who had spoken was staring at the desk in front of the two, and he observed the burning incenses that surrounded it. His attention focused on the old colt in the large chair that sat on the other side of the desk. The colt looked annoyed, and he raised a hoof in warning.

"Shut up. I'm Benneigh Solomon. I run you people. You do what I say and I find you work, okay?" He lowered his hoof, and leaned back in the chair. "So let's get acquainted. Tell me your names, your ambitions..." His wrinkled face wavered in the smoke of the incense. "That kinda thing."

The colt in the center of the room with a tie shrugged, and said, "My name's Marchosias. Used t'be a Dominion, y'know? In twelve hundred years, I hope to return to the Seventh Throne." The one in sunglasses spoke, the scowl he'd given the eye on the floor still showing on his face.

"My name's Andras, and there's thirty posses backin' me up, sucker." He stepped forward, to the edge of the triangle they were in, and said, "So, what's this job?"

Solomon leaned back in his seat, and opened a drawer in it. He pulled out a cigar, and shut the drawer behind him. Pulling out his lighter, he spoke as he lit it. "Well, sometimes I do contract work for this outfit, the Temple. They just fumbled a hit in Ponyville..." He struggled with the lighter. "They used a Smee..." The flame went out, and he cursed under his breath. "And now they want me to fix it."

The colts laughed. The one in sunglasses said, "A Smee, huh?" He looked to the other one, and he smirked and replied, "Classy."

Solomon took a long drag on the cigar, having finally gotten it to light. "Yeah, ain't it?" He puffed the smoke out his nostrils. "The hit's tricky: Some kinda recurring walk-in from the other side. Her name's Promethea." He looked up at the two colts, searching for any sign of recognition. He saw none.

Andras said, "Means nothing to me. You want we should whack just her, or the host body as well?"

Solomon took another drag on his cigar. "The host's a young mare. She's got a handler too. Yeah, kill her and the handler, and completely annihilate the walk-in. Not even fairy dust left, okay?"

Marchosias nodded. "I think we're on the same page, Mr. Solomon."

Andras raised both hoofs in an approving gesture. "Ponyville? Hey, we're already there!"

Solomon shut his eyes and puffed on the cigar. "Good," he said, and turned to the colt standing just behind him. "Well, Ernie, that went rather well, don't you think?"

The colt looked over his sunglasses at the empty room, which his boss had been talking to for the last five minutes. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, Mr. Solomon. But, um, I was kinda wondering..." He walked around to the triangle, which had turned black in the time it had taken him to get to it.

"...who you were, uh, you know. Who you were talking to."

---------

This is TEXTure™. Digital Update: Ponyville tonight.

Promethea and Spike dropped from the hospital floor down to the street. Spike's eyes were screwed shut, and he hoped he could find some better way to hold onto her. The ground approached, and Promethea lightly touched down on the cold sidewalk. Spike let go of her, and they began to walk, to where, neither of them knew. Overhead, they heard the sounds of the 24/7 digital newscast that dominated Ponyville's airwaves. Looking at a nearby holo-screen, Spike saw flashes of video clips from tonight's top stories.

News just in of a FIREFIGHT on 5th Avenue between PV's premier science-heroes THE FIVE SWELL COLTS and celebrity omnipath THE PAINTED DOLL....
Early reports suggest that FLAM has been wounded. Also, APPLEJACK and CRANKY are apparently no longer SPEAKING to each other.

The screen flashed to a band performing, and Spike almost stopped to watch, continuing on only to follow the deity he'd brought to the world as she made her way along the street.

Weatherwise, expect these showers to continue throughout the night. PATHOGEN levels are tolerable to good.

This is TEXTure™.

ENTERTAINMENT: Tonight's hottest spot is TROTSKY'S on St. Mark's Place, where Whinnglish Invalid-Rock sensations THE LIMP conclude their Ponyvillian tour.
If you're under twenty, chances are you're either THERE or KNOW somepony who is!
The Limp's ironically non-ironic lead singer MONTELIMAR SKYES recently caused controversy by describing new LIMP album "FIST & SHOUT" as "More beautiful than Celestia."

Promethea turned at the corner, and found what she was looking for. She walked over to the telephone booth, Caduceus in hand, and Spike followed her, pulling out his wallet to pay for the phone call he was sure she was going to make.

In other news, less than a year in office and Ponyville's first Multiple-Personality-Disorder MAYOR is already mired in SEX SCANDALS...
...Mayor SONNY BASKERVILLE is currently stalling any investigation by demanding separate hearings for each of his forty-two personalities.

This is TEXTure™. Digital Update: Ponyville tonight.

Spike drew out a bit to pay for the phone, and promptly dropped it in surprise as the snakes adorning the Caduceus suddenly drove their heads into the telephone booth. A large discharge of electricity struck the booth, and it began to vibrate wildly, jolting as the blue energy passed through its circuits. Spike stared in awe at her abilities, and after a minute he bent down and picked up the dropped bit.

On the restaurant front, everyone is talking about chic new Celestial Park hangout BORGIA'S. In an old-fashioned atmosphere, diners enjoy a sumptuous five courses, plus antidote...

Promethea picked up the phone and, in a voice more like Rarity's than the one Spike had heard before, spoke into it.

"Hello?"

----------

♪♫SHE MADE ME FEEL A TOTAL FAILURE, HER BOYFRIEND STEPPED ON MY INHALER... UH-HUH.♫♪

Rainbow Dash covered her ear with a hoof as she tried to hear the voice on the other side of her cell phone. Staring up at the stage before her, where The Limp was expertly failing to keep her interested, she listened to the voice on the other line. It sounded familiar, but she was not sure if she knew who it was.

"Yeah, what? Yeah, this is she. Who's...?" Her eyes widened as the caller told Dash their name.

"It is not! Rarity? Well, what are you doing that voice for?" She turned away from The Limp, and nopony noticed or cared. They were all focused on the skinny, tall unicorn stallion that was shouting into the microphone floating in front of him (though many of the colts in the crowd were focused on the mare playing bass off to the right, standing on her hind legs and wearing nothing save several strips of duct tape covering her breasts and womanhood").

♪AND WITH I TRIED MY HEART TO POUR OUT SHE HIT ME AND IT PUT MY JAW OUT.♪♫

♫♫I SAID "OW".♪♪♫

"What do you mean "something's happened"?" Rainbow Dash began to walk away from the stage, squeezing the blaring music out of her ears. "Can you get over here? Where are you?"

♪♫♫♪AND ON THOSE LONELY ADOLESCENT NIGHTS I'D WEEP INTO A PAIR OF STOLEN TIGHTS...♪♫♪♫

"A phone booth near the hospital? Rarity, that's miles away!" She made her way to the back of the concert hall, and leaned against the exit door, already knowing where she was headed. "Well, yeah, I can meet you out back, but you'll take forever!"

♫♪♫♫MY ONLY COMFORTS IN THOSE TORTURED HOURS WERE FROM TOWELS I'D BORROWED FROM THE LADIES SHOWERS...♪♫♫♪

Rainbow Dash opened the door and stepped outside, thankful for a break from the ear-busting music she'd been listening to. The door shut behind her, and she removed her hoof from her ear, now able to properly hear the voice coming from her cell phone. She listened to Rarity's rant, and after several seconds of silence she said, "Yeah, okay, I'll be outside. But only because this band sucks worse than gravity. They..." She paused, and looked at her cell phone. The call was still on, but the sound of Rarity's voice was no longer present.

"Rarity? Rarity, don't hang up! Don't..."

The line went dead. Rainbow Dash angrily snapped her phone shut and slipped it in her compound-saddlebag. "Damn! What a bitch!" The pegasus leaned against the exit door, looking down at its handle-less surface. She turned, and stared down the back alley angrily.

"Well, if she thinks I'm waiting out here longer than ten minutes, she can kiss my flank! Who does she think she..."

There was a blue glow, and suddenly a pair of snakes were staring Rainbow Dash in the face.

"...yeep?"

Rainbow Dash turned and unfurled her wings, ready to blast into the sky.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA! It's She-Ra! Holy Luna! Save me from She-Ra! I'm..." She was silenced by a pair of purple claws as they wrapped around her mouth and pulled her backwards.

Promethea walked around to the terrified Rainbow Dash, and she said quietly, "Rainbow Dash, be quiet. I'm..." She paused, as if unsure whether she should continue. "I'm Rarity. In a way. Something's happened to me." She turned away and shook her head, and Dash heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear.

"Dash, its Spike. I can vouch for her. I made her this way. Now, when I take my hand away, please don't make any noise. Do you understand?" She looked down, and recognized the hands holding her mouth shut. She nodded, and let out a muffled, "Mm-mmk."

Spike sighed with relief. "Good." He released Rainbow Dash, and the pegasus turned and punched the dragon in the arm. "Ow!" He rubbed his arm and looked at her, annoyed. The mare smirked and said, "That's for making me think I was about to be raped." She turned to Promethea, who was watching them with a mixed look on her face. Dash backed up into the wall of the alley, still shocked by the deity's appearance.

Promethea spoke up, acting like she'd already been having a conversation before Dash saw her. "Now, I can't explain this. You'll have to trust me. I've fused, somehow, with... I don't know. Some sort of living story." She stepped towards Dash, who was still staring at her in shock. "I've become the character Spike was writing his term paper on." She turned, and covered her face with a hoof. "I'm Promethea."

Dash looked to Spike for confirmation that Promthea's story was true, and when he nodded she turned back to the fairy-like mare. "A-and this is a problem how, exactly?" she said, and her composure returned. She began to joke, smiling cockily. "I mean, you've finally got the curves you've always complained about not having, and you're all special effects and everything. It's like you're living in a fairy tale!"

Promethea laughed. "Yes..." She turned to Dash, a solemn look on her face. "...but I don't know how to shut the storybook. Not before I get to the part with the wolf."

----------

The reflection in the glass of the phone booth was not of a colt, but Marchosias did not care. He examined the damaged machine, and he hissed in pain when his foot touched the glass. He watched the blue stars that had appeared fall, and mumbled, "Hrrrmn. Well, she's definitely been here."

Andras's voice sounded behind him. "Yeah, no problem. We'll find her. Needs be, I'll wring the air until it bleeds information." The shade-wearing colt was looking up at a TEXTure™ screen, watching The Limp flash on the screen. He checked the time, and shouted back to his partner, "Hey, you know it's 1999? Hell, that makes it nearly, twenty, thirty years since anyone called us!"

Marchosias nodded in agreement. "Uh-huh. I like how things look now. It's nice." He looked over to Andras and the TEXTure™ screen, and listened as the news story was announced over the city.

...TROTSKY'S on St. Mark's Place, where English Invalid-Rock sensations THE LIMP conclude their Ponyvillian tour.
If you're under twenty, chances are you're either THERE or KNOW somepony who is!

Andras smiled when he heard the last announcement. "Hmm. This sounds like the right location..."

Marchosias walked out into the street, looking back and forth. "Good. Let's take a cab."

Andras groaned, and trotted down the staircase, ignoring the alien shadow he cast upon the sidewalk. "Huh! Well, where's the finesse in that? We could go as a cloud of wasps..."

Marchosias ignored him, and stuck his hoof out when he saw a taxi approach. "I just want to see what they're like to ride in." He yelled out, "Taxi!" and when it stopped he walked towards it. The driver stuck his head out the window. He looked to be in about his forties, and had a startlingly gray beard and mustache, a combo that accented his light teal coat. He smiled and said, "Sure thing, fella. Where to?"

The driver did not notice their shadows.

Marchosias scooted into the taxi, and Andras went in after him. The shaded colt said, "Somewhere called Trotsky's. In somewhere called St. Mark's Place."

The driver's smile didn't disappear, and he said cheerfully, "Yeah, I know it." He adjusted his mirror, and began to drive to the colt's intended destination. He looked in the mirror, and observed their faces. After a moment, he said, "So, you guys from outta town? I gotta say, you look like serious characters. I mean, no offense..." He coughed, and said, "...you look like underworld types, am I right?"

The two colts looked at each other, and Marchosias was unnerved by the grin on Andras's face. He turned back to the cab driver, and answered, "Uhhh...yes. Yes, we're underworld types. From out of town."

The cab driver was still cheery. "Ha! I knew it! You just got that aura, you know?" The cab zoomed along, and Andras looked away from the window and to the back of the driver's head. His answer was eerily unsettling.

"Heheheh. I love this."

The colt in shades put a hoof on his head, in a way that looked like some sort of meditation pose. "Y'know, Cash Cab, you've got quite an aura yourself." Marchosias knew what he was doing, and hated it, but he said nothing.

The cab driver looked unnerved. "Uhh...How'd you know my name is Cash Cab? And what do you mean I got an aura?" The look he was getting from his passenger was strange.

Andras leaned forward in his seat, and looked over the rim of his shades. His eyes were beady and dark. "Oh, you know..." He began to speak in a completely different voice, and he smiled as he spoke.

"Don't, Granpa. Please, you're hurting me. Oh no. Oh please don't..." His companion looked over at him with an annoyed look on his face. "Andras, come on. This guy's not even on our list."

Cash Cab said nothing.

Andras leaned further in his seat, and placed a hoof on the shoulder of the front seat. "No?" he said, and he was still grinning. "Well, he oughtta be. Ain't that right, Cash? I mean, Jesus Christ, your own granddaughter! And she's what? Six?" He leaned closer. "Seven?"

The driver's hooves were shaking on the wheel. "Oh Celestia. Oh dear Luna."

Marchosias pointed at a glowing sign in the window, not wanting to be distracted from his goal. "This is St. Mark's Place right up here. You can drop us off."

The cab pulled over, and Marchosias stepped out and began walking speedily towards the staircase that would lead to where he hoped the girl was. Andras stepped out of the cab, and he drew something from his pocket. He turned to Cash Cab, who was staring straight ahead with a look of shock and horror on his face. Marchosias turned when Andras did not join him, and he heard a distant, "Yeah, sure," from him.

Andras leaned over, and spoke through the open window of the cab. "Listen, Cash Cab, being from "outta town," I ain't carryin' any cash, but I want you to take this." He gave the pistol to Cash Cab, who took it in his hoof without looking at Andras. The colt leaned in closer and said, "You know what it's for, right?"

The cab driver looked down at the gun. He answered very slowly, as if coming to a sudden realization.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I guess I do. Thanks."

Marchosias yelled at his companion. "Andras! I said leave it!"

The colt turned and shrugged helplessly at his partner, and watched as he trotted up the stairs. He followed, ignoring the sound of the gunshot behind him and the sound of something wet splattering against the windshield.

----------

"So you just wrote a poem about Promethea and Rarity became her?"

Spike nodded, and looked over at Rarity, or Promethea, or whoever she was at the moment. "That's right." He turned back to Rainbow Dash, his face suddenly alight with inspiration. "Do you think if I want to make her Rarity again I should right about her?"

Rainbow Dash frowned and tilted her head in thought. "I dunno," she said. "Maybe if she just acted more like Rarity..." Her face lit up, and a devilish grin appeared on her face. She trotted over to Promethea and grabbed her hoof. The cyan mare began dragging the godlike unicorn towards the concert hall. Before she could protest, Dash spoke up:

"Come on! Let's go watch The Limp, so you can hit on some really ugly colt then fall down drunk!"

Promethea slid out of Dash's grip, and looked angrily over at the giggling Spike still standing beside the dumpster he and Dash had spoken at. She said angrily, "Rarity doesn't act like that!"

Dash rolled her eyes, and gestured for Spike to follow. He did, and listened to what Rainbow Dash had to say.

"Yeah, right. Look, I got a pass-out stamp on my hoof. If I press it on yours..." She did so, and several blue stars fell from Promethea. Dash drew her hoof back and examined her handiwork. "...it'll look like you got one too. You too, Spike." She repeated the process on Spike, and the two were ready to be smuggled into the concert.

Rarity hesitated, not only unhappy about having to go to a rock concert in a filthy place such as Trotsky's, but worried that her appearance would draw suspicion from other ponies present there. "But what about how I'm dressed. A-and this Caduceus..." She didn't bother asking herself how she knew the word, and listened to Dash's reasoning.

"Look, everybody's going to think you're a drug side effect or maybe some new fad, so relax. You can cover your magic wand thing with that cloak or whatever." She approached the door that was missing a handle, and knocked twice. Turning to Rarity and Spike, she said, "Now, try to act normal..."

Promethea and Spike had time to glance at each other before the door opened and a large, foul-smelling colt opened the door. Dash flashed him her best false smile, and said, "Hi, fat hippy guy. You checked me and my friends out a while back, remember?" She raised Rarity's hoof, showing the stamp off to him. "Look, we got stamped..." Spike lifted his own hand up, and the hippy stared between the dragon and the godly mare that was in front of him.

"Uhh... Yeah, sure, I guess. Come on in." He watched Promethea as she and Spike walked in after Rainbow Dash, who kept her false smile on until the sound of Montelimar Skyes’ voice penetrated her ears.

"YEAH, CHEERS. TA VERY MUCH. THIS ONE'S CALLED "BEAT ME LIKE AN EGG (BY FABERGÉ)."

Dash brightened at the sound of the band beginning a new song. She grabbed Spike's arm with a hoof, and pulled him closer to the stage, leaving a skeptical Promethea behind.

"Oh great!" Dash said. "They're still playing! Come on, you gotta see this Montelimar guy! He is so lame!" Spike began to protest, but he was already being dragged away by the determined pegasus. He looked helplessly at Rarity, and she raised a hoof to stop them. She could only manage an "Uhh..." before she paused, and turned. She could feel something approaching, and the fur on the back of her neck stood up on end. Underneath her robe, she gripped the Caduceus tightly, and prepared for whatever she knew was coming. What was coming, at the moment, was waiting to be let in by the ticket master.

"There's the client. Has to be, that stink of myrrh everywhere. Plus, she's made us."

"I don't like that she's going into that music hall. Too many innocent bystanders."

"Ain't no bystanders in a war, Marchosias. Get over it, y'know?"

"Andras..."

Andras stepped up to the fat colt at the door. "Hello," he said, taking note of the pleasantly foul smell of the colt's clothes. "I'm Andras. I'm from the Howling. If you'd move your carcass for a moment, I need to see that lady you just allowed in."

The colt laughed, and crossed his arms, blocking the doorway with his massive frame. "Mister, I ain't never heard o' your band. You want in, you gotta go through me."

Andras shrugged, and said, "Yeah, well, that's a plan." And with that, he ran through the ticket check.

The colt's body hissed and seemed to evaporate at parts as Andras charged through him, passing through the flesh of his body as though nothing were in his way. The colt fell on the ground, and several ponies could hear his screams over the sound of the band playing.

♪♫♪ON A BED OF SATIN AND BROCADE,

PAN MY HEAD WITH A GARDEN SPADE...♪♫♪

"EEEEEEEE! OH CELESTIA! OH MY CELESTIAAAA!"

♫♫♪TIE ME UP WITH FLAX OR BETTER STILL,

WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE, ROLL ME DOWN A HILL...♫♫♪

Promethea turned at the sound of the screams, as did Spike and Rainbow Dash. The deity's glowing eyes widened, and she said, "Spike...Over by the door..."

Rainbow Dash looked over Spike's shoulder, and tilted her head in confusion. "Jeez. What's going on over there? Who are those two colts?" She and Spike stared confusedly at the colts who were trotting slowly towards them, specifically Promethea. The fairy mare herself was staring not in confusion, but in terror.

♪♫♫♪HAVE ME DUFFED UP BY A PORTUGUESE THUG.

MAKE ME BLEED OVER MY PARENT'S BEST RUG...♪♫♫♪

"Colts? You mean you see two colts?" Promethea took a step back, clearly intimidated by the presence of the two who had just caused some sort of commotion. Rainbow Dash and Spike looked at her, confused even more by her statement.

Spike spoke up. "Uhh...Well, yeah." He turned back to the colts, and then back to Promethea. "Why? What can you see?"

♫♪♫DO SOMETHING VILE WITH A COLD CHAIN MAIL GLOVE,

TORTURE ME WITH YOUR LO-O-OVE!♫♪♫

Andras held his sword high above his head, and the wolf he was riding stalked forward. His crown glittered atop his owl-like head, and his wings unfurled, sending a chill through the nearby crowd. There was no colt, there was never any colt, only this demonic creature that had shaded himself to look like one. Marchosias stood beside him, and flames flew from his nostrils. The ox-headed demon rose up, his serpentine tail twirling behind him. Only Promethea could see these demons, and for the first time since she'd come back she felt fear.

The owl-headed creature flexed his sword-wielding arms, and spoke in a voice only she could hear. "LISTEN, LADY, LET'S NOT MAKE THIS ANY MESSIER THAN WE HAVE TO, OKAY?" He gripped the sword tighter in his hands. "NOBODY WANTS A BIG SCENE."

Spike and Rainbow Dash stared at the two colts, still not seeing the dangers Promethea could. Rainbow Dash leaned towards her, and said, "Rarity? What do they want? Are they...?" She didn't finish, and Promethea pushed her back, away from the monsters she saw.

"Get out of here, Rainbow Dash. Get everybody out of here. They're demons." Promethea began to draw out the Caduceus, and Spike wondered how Dash would be able to get people to leave with The Limp still playing.

♪♪♪TORTURE ME WITH YOUR LOVE, OH YEAH,

TORTURE ME WITH YOUR LOVE...♪♪♪

Promethea turned to Spike, and waved him away from the demons. "Don't even touch them. They're from a place much denser than here. You'd fly apart like steam..." She stepped forward, her eyes locked on the two in front of her. Andras squinted underneath his sunglasses, and said, "Hey... Hey, what's she got under that robe?"

♫♫SMEAR ME WITH GOO FROM A CRUCIFIED DOVE...♪

The robe fell away, and two glowing snakes hissed at the demonic creatures before them.

♫♫♪ TORTURE ME WITH YOUR LOVE...♪♫♫

"Uh-oh." Marchosias stepped back, almost coming in contact with one of the crowd members. "Caduceus. She's packing heat."

Andras seemed all the more terrified at the sight of the weapon, and he stepped behind Marchosias, staring almost fearfully at the snakes spun around the staff Promethea held. "Screw this!" he shouted. "Solomon said she was a walk-in! Caduceus? Hell, that's god stuff!"

Marchosias placed a "hoof" on his partner's chest, keeping him in check. "No...maybe just a demi-goddess. We can still take her if you don't lose it..." Then they played their hand.

♫♪TORTURE ME WITH YOUR LO-O-OVE!♫♪

The owl's sword filled with flames, and he swung at Promethea as the ox spewed more fire from his nostrils.

♪♫♫MAKE ME DRESS UP IN MY SISTER;S CLOTHES,

THEN ATTACH ELECTRODES TO MY NOSE.♪♫♫

Promethea jumped into the air, and flipped over the barrage of flames that came at her.

♫♫HOLD ME DOWN AND HAVE YOUR WICKED WAY.

BEAT ME LIKE AN EGG BY FABERGÉ...♫♫

A colt in the crowd shrieked with pain as he caught fire, burned by the flames intended for her. The commotion was finally drawing the audience's attention away from the band. Montelimar Skyes was no longer the center of attention, and now began to take notice that a fight was breaking out.

♫♫RUN ME OVER IN A PETERBILT TRUCK,

FIND SOME SAILOR THAT YOU'D...♪♫

He stopped and stared out at the fire breaking out in the crowd. He squinted at the sight of a mare being thrown around the audience. The band's keyboardist pointed, and said, "Dave? There's someone kicking off in the audience..." She trailed off at the sound of somepony screaming, "EEEEE! FIRE! I'M ON FIRE!"

The singer turned to her with an annoyed look on his face. "Don't call me Dave." He turned back to the audience, which by now had taken full notice of the battle going on in the back, and was either cheering for a side or running from the steadily growing flames. Skyes spoke into the microphone. "UHH...BROTHERS AND SISTERS, BORTHERS AND SISTERS, WHY ARE WE FIGHTING?"

Promethea landed near one of the enormous speakers placed around the concert hall, and leaned up against it. She brandished her weapon as Marchosias approached, flames still shooting out of his nose. "Why are we fighting? What do you want with me?" She moved out of the way as a fresh burst of heat shot out at her and hit the speaker, sending bits of super-heated metal and molten plastic everywhere.

"IT ISN'T PERSONAL. A GROUP CALLED THE TEMPLE WANT YOU DESTROYED. THEY CONTACTED THE GOETIA THROUGH A MAGICIAN CALLED BENNEIGH SOLOMON. WE DO WHAT HE SAYS, OR HE BINDS US IN TORMENT FOR A CENTURY OR SO. I MEAN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO IN MY POSITION?" The demon didn't seem to have a problem telling Promethea any information they had, and it struck Rarity as strange. The deity dodged Marchosias's hand as it bubbled in between the hoof of his disguise and the hand of the ox creature.

"AAAA!" She felt a small burn as a bubble of dark substance burst on her skin. "What does Goetia mean?"

Andras appeared, and fire burst from his beak. Rainbow Dash ran out of the way, watching the colt breath flames at their friend. Taking Rarity's advice, Rainbow Dash began shouting. "RUN! Everybody get out!"

Andras looked at the pegasus for a moment, then turned back to Promethea. "You ask a lot of questions, bitch. Too bad the rules say we gotta answer 'em." Another burst of flames, and Promethea guarded with her robe. "Goetia means howling. It's the chittering of a billion insects in the night. It's what it sounds like where we live." More fire, and Promethea grunted as it pushed her backwards.

"Unngh! Damn you..." she said, feeling her body drain of its energy. Rarity was not used to such intense physical movements, though her passionate work as a dressmaker did keep her from becoming lazy and fat. She looked up, and saw that Andras was nowhere to be found. She began to turn, but was too late as a gush of flame caught her in the back. Andras was heard laughing behind her.

"HEHEH. BEEN THERE. DONE THAT."

Rarity was tired of being hurt. She'd been chased through the city, thrown off a bridge, burned by demons, and, worst of all, she had been forced to go to a Limp concert with Rainbow Dash. Now she was done, and Promethea took full reign of her body.

The deity drove the Caduceus backward into Andras's face, and the demon shrieked as it burst into flame. He backed away from her as she turned, and Marchosias met him and stared at the mare before them. Andras held his face in his hands, and screamed his fury.

"AAAAAA! LOOK! LOOK WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! AAAAAA!"

Marchosias looked between his companion and Promethea, and said, "YOU'RE NOT A GODDESS. YOU'RE NOT A DEMI-GODDESS. WHAT IN THE WORLDS ARE YOU?"

The being before them stood in front of the flames, and they illuminated her body in a frightening backdrop worthy of any comic book cover.

"I'm Promethea," she said, and held the Caduceus out. "There's nothing else like me." She began to draw lines in the air, and blue energy began to make a shape in the sir. The demons backed away, afraid of whatever she was making. Andras screamed in pain, flames still covering his face.

"I am the Holy Splendor of Imagination."

Montelimar Skyes wiped the corners of his mouth and stared out at the warring figures at the back of the hall. His eyes were wide, and he was ignoring the flames that were slowly consuming the stage. He stuttered as he said, "Those blokes. I...I can see sort of... well, animal shapes. There's a... What do you call a cow with wings?" The Limp's drummer was the only other pony left on stage, and shouted at him as he took up his drumsticks and ran towards the exit. "Dave, that joke's in bad taste. Now for Celestia's sake, come on! The place is on fire!"

Lines connected with curls, and Promethea's rage shone on her face and in the lightening that came from the Caduceus. The demons backed away further.

Rainbow Dash and Spike stopped after they saw that most or all of the ponies who had been at the concert had run away. Dash turned around, and saw the dazzling spectacle before her.

"Rarity?" she asked in voice that would have put Fluttershy to shame.

The glyph was completed. Promethea gritted her teeth, and drew the Caduceus away. She spread her arms out, and the pentagram let forth a shower of blue rays of light. The demon's skin bubbled and sizzled in the glow of the gram, and they shrieked into the night.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Andras turned as the world around him burned with Holy fury. "AAAAAH! Oh you bitch! You bitch, you cow, you whore, you..." He could not rage enough, and Marchosias silenced him.

"Andras, shut up and take it like a soldier! We have to get away from that thing before it unravels us!" He scrambled away, and stood up. Turning to his partner, he motioned for him to get up, and said, "Help me open a door to the Immateria!"

Rainbow Dash came running up, in awe at the spectacle she had just witnessed. Spike walked up after her, looking around nervously at the flames that were still present and growing ever nearer to them. The cyan pegasus ran up to her, and began to fawn over the heroine.

"Celestia, Rarity, that is just so cool! How'd you know how to do that stuff?"

Rarity turned to the mare, a confused look on her face. "I--I don't know, I just..." Her expression changed, turning to one of anger, and Promethea yelled at Dash: "I thought I told you to flee this place, mortal! Why have you disobeyed me?"

Spike looked up at the sudden change in Rarity's voice. Split personalities? That makes sense. His attention was drawn to the two colts who were now standing easily on their hind legs and drawing strange symbols in the air with their hooves as Rainbow Dash answered, "'Mortal'? Moi?"

Andras gripped his chest in pain, and gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. "Solomon told us she was a walk-in! Just some Indian spirit guide or something! I tell ya, he made a serious error of judgment..." His curses turned to those against the colt who had hired them as he remembered that he was the reason the two demons were in the situation they were in. "I'm going to roast him on a bonfire of his own children! I mean it!"

Marchosias didn't look at him as he spoke. "Andras, if we don't open this gate, we'll be ashes!" The scribbles in the air began to take on a wider shape, and the demon's intent was almost complete.

Promethea turned angrily to Rainbow Dash as Spike walked up to her, trying to warn them of the monsters' activities. "Mortal, I shall not tell you twice! You must..." Her face changed, becoming softer as she spoke, though with the same strict tone Spike and Dash had heard many times at the Carousel Boutique. "Rainbow Dash, she's right, you have to..." Back to before. "Flee this place, or..."

Rainbow Dash raised a hoof and pointed it accusingly at Promethea. "Whoah! You listen, Rarity Seamstone!" Spike drew a sharp breath, hesitating to interrupt the two's argument. Last name. She serious.

Rainbow Dash continued, an outraged look on her face. "Maybe you got the worms on a stick and that stupid hat, but you are not the boss of me!" She backed up, and Spike's eyes widened when he saw where she was headed. Rainbow Dash's face took on a slightly crazed look as she continued: "Besides, this is my dream! It has to be, because your dreams are all boring and mushy and about dancing with some Prince Charming under the stars!"

Spike finally spoke up as Rainbow Dash backed away further and further. "Dash... Behind you..."

Rainbow Dash said, "Huh?," and turned.

An aperture was swirling behind her. Dirt, ticket stubs, cigarette butts and drinks all were sucked in as the two demons Promethea had fought stood on the threshold of the portal.

Andras raised a fist in vengeance. "'PROMETHEA.' I'LL MAKE SURE I CARVE THAT IN FOOT-DEEP LETTERS ON THE DIAMOND GATEPOSTS OF HELL. WE'LL MEET AGAIN." Then they turned, and were gone into the portal, to wherever they were needed or otherwise.

Rainbow Dash was falling, she slid against the ground, and felt herself being drawn into the vortex. Promethea stared at it, and said, "They've gone! They've..." Then she heard Dash's scream. The pegasus was trying to fly out, but her wings only pulled her in further. She began to panic, and yelled, "Rarity! Rarity, help me!" The portal sucked her in more, and she screamed to nopony in particular, "AAAAA! Oh jeez! Oh jeez, I gotta wake up! AAAAAAA!" She reached her forelegs out desperately, and Spike reached out to grab her.

Promethea's eyes widened, and she reached out with her staff. "Rainbow Dash! The Caduceus! Grab the Caduceus!"

The pegasus stared at the snakes on the Caduceus, and they stared back. She looked up at her friend as she slid into the aperture, and said, "You're...

"...kidding..."

Rainbow Dash swirled with the rest of the world as the aperture captured her, and she fell into it, becoming part of the background to a painting Rarity could not recognized before the entrance blurred and began to recede. The deity and the dragon watched it shut, and the world was suddenly silent, save for the distant sound of the news.

This is TEXTure™. Digital Update: Ponyville tonight.

This just in: the LIMP'S Ponyvillian tour ended in CHAOS after a FIRE and reported HOMICIDE at Trotsky's on St. Mark's Place...
Limp frontcolt MONTELIMAR SKYES is said to be "distressed" by the incident, and is to receive mental and spiritual COUNSELLING.
In other new, FLAM of the FIVE SWELL COLTS has been taken to SOUTH TOWER HOSPITAL after a disastrous confrontation with THE PAINTED DOLL.
The Doll himself has reportedly been killed in an EXPLOSION, the FOURTH such apparent demise this YEAR.
Meanwhile, one of Mayor SONNY BASKERVILLE'S multiple personalities, a shy albino named "DOUG", has confessed to charges of MOLESTATION.
Doug maintains, however, that he himself had first been molested by ANOTHER personality called "BIG RUDY." The case continues.
Up next: WEEPING GRIFFON MANIA. Is the popular GLOOMY GRIFFON a cause of teen SUICIDE? A bereaved mother speaks OUT.

This is TEXTure™.

"Rainbow Dash?"

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Next: Misty Magic Land

Misty Magic Land

Promethea
in Misty Magic Land

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Chapter 3

A mentor lies wounded,
A friend lost, endangered,
A new world is unveiled.

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South Tower Hospital, Ponyville, 1999 A.D.:

Flying ambulances passed by the top of the hospital. Lights glared out at the world from the forty story hospital. Bridges extended out to other streets and overpasses around the city. The bridges were for those who could not afford a taxi or were otherwise not a pegasus. Ponies walking to and from the hospital on these bridges were mostly those who had family members in the hospital. The others were a mix of fans of either creeps who enjoyed looking at dying ponies, or fans of the most popular resident at the South Tower hospital: Flam of the Five Swell Colts, who at the moment was being checked on by doctors as his fellow suit-wearing science-heroes waited outside.

Applejack frowned at her hooves. Her attempts at keeping the team safe from the Painted Doll had been all for naught, and she couldn't remember a time when she felt any worse than she did at that moment. To her left, Soarin sat uncomfortably close to her. She knew how he was inclined toward her, but she didn't have time to deal with his stupid little fantasies, or her own, for that matter. She looked up as the doctor as he entered, wiping sweat from his brow.

She stood up from her chair immediately, almost knocking Soarin over as she went over to the doctor. "Well, Doc? How is he? How's Flam?"

The doctor removed his mask, and sighed. He shrugged and said, "I'm sorry. It's still too early to say. Your friend took three of the Painted Doll's hollow-points in his chest. He's critical..." He was going to say more, but the mare turned away from him and pointed an accusing hoof at the donkey sitting in the furthest chair from her.

"This is yer fault, Cranky! Ya'll should'a predicted what the Doll would do!" Her rage was stifled by Soarin, who put a hoof on her shoulder. "Jack, leave it..."

The mare turned on him and shoved a hoof in his face. "Keep outta this, Soarin! Yer leader, ah'm the muscle, Flim's the mechanic, Flam's the genius, and Cranky's supposed ta be our psychic!"

Flim, who had been silent the entire time, stood and looked at Cranky, who was looking down at his hooves, downcast. The mechanic placed a comforting hoof on his shoulder and said, "Crank, pal, I gotta say, maybe Jack's right. Maybe you're losing it..."

The donkey did not look up, but his voice was not as sad as Flim had expected. "N-no. I'm sensing stuff right now..."

The people outside were staring up at the sky.

"Something...Something's coming."

As if on cue, the doors flew open, and Promethea came flying through. Spike came walking in after her, having let go of her outside moments ago. The two paid no attention to the four ponies in suits who stared at them in a mix of confusion, awe, and outrage.

Applejack did not recognize the mare as her friend, and seemed to ignore the fact that Spike was there. "Who the hay is that?" she asked, talking to nopony in particular and still expecting an answer.

Soarin readjusted his tie, and stared at the mare. "I-I don't know. She looks like some kind of science heroine. Maybe she's from out of town..." He stared at her backside, mesmerized by her movements. When AJ noticed this, she smacked him in the face.

Cranky adjusted his toupee, and squinted at the mare as she passed by. He recognized the dragon, but in the chaos of the preceding events that night he could not remember where. "Uh..." he stumbled with his words. "Haven't I...That is, didn't we meet you somewhere already?"

The mare didn't even look at him, and neither did Spike. They continued on, and she said, "I doubt it. Please excuse me, but I'm here to visit a sick friend." As they moved on, Applejack stared at her retreating form, and said, "Hmmph. Well, really."

Promethea approached the main chamber of the hospital, an enormous cylinder that reached up through every floor of the hospital. A nearby nurse noticed her, and said, "Uh, excuse me, Miss? Were you looking for...?" She trailed off as Promethea took Spike's hand (they'd discovered he only needed a single grip on some part of her to fly with her) and began to rise up the cylinder of the main transport room. The nurse watched them go, and there was nothing she could say. She didn't need to say anything.

Promethea rose up through the hospital. She somehow did not need to be told where Zecora was. She already knew where to look. Ignoring the startled looks of other ponies in the cylinder, she sped up the length of the tube-like room.

Spike refused to look anywhere but up as they rose, and occasionally stole a glance at Promethea. That's Rarity. Somehow. His thoughts were jumbled and mixed around due to the events of the night. Surprisingly, he was thinking about not just his own future, but his future with Rarity. What happens once we save Dash? I'm sure that Zecora knows how to get Rarity back, but then what? Do we just put tonight behind us? He frowned, realizing that as dangerously close to death that he'd been throughout the night, he didn't want Rarity to stop being Promethea. I haven't been able to talk with her as a friend for ages, and this could fill in all of the gaps that have been made between us. As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t find any comfort in his own thoughts.

"What in hell...?"

The guard held up his weapon as Promethea and Spike stopped flying up through the cylinder and towards the room he was guarding. He clearly had not seen her when she'd dropped Zecora off at the hospital, and he was prepared to fire at the radiant mare as she approached. "Listen, you better back off! I got orders this patient gets no visitors..."

The nurse next to the guard recognized Promethea from her previous appearance at the hospital, and motioned for the guard to lower his weapon. "Harry, it's all right. I was here when this lady brought the patient in earlier. Just let her through, okay?"

For a second, it looked like the guard would still not allow the two to pass through unharmed. Then he lowered his weapon hesitantly, and nodded them through.

"Hi." Zecora's voice was weak, and when Promethea first entered the room it seemed that she was not there. Then the deity noticed the pod in the middle of the room. In it lay the injured zebra, who despite the reliability of the hospital was looking worse than when Rarity had left her there.

Promethea stepped towards the pod, and Spike walked over to the computer screens near it, curious as to what Zecora's condition was like. "Are you all right?" she said, frowning at the sight of the injured zebra. "Can you talk?"

Zecora nodded weakly. "Yes. Yes, I am alright. The doctors plan on grafting Clonemeat on me this night." Rarity smiled, glad that the zebra had regained her rhyme for the moment. She watched as Zecora tilted her head curiously. "It is strange," she said, smiling oddly, "seeing somepony else as one who I have been. Promethea looks better on you than me, to my surprisingly great chagrin." She blushed, coloring her cheeks an unnaturally dark shade of red.

Promethea frowned. "I'm not finding it very funny. I don't know how to revert to Rarity, and these things the Goetia attacked me, and now Rarity's friend Rainbow Dash is gone, and..."

Zecora started to sit up, but winced with pain, and lay back on the cushions of the C.A.R.E. Pod. "Whoah. Excuse me if I heard you wrong, but you said the Goetia came along?"

Rarity nodded. "Yes. Their names were Andras and Marchosias. They said that Goetia means 'Howling.'"

"Dear God. There is somepony out there who must really want you gone. The two demons, were they banished, have they returned to their spawn?" Promethea nodded, and Zecora sighed with relief. "How did you banish them? Let me guess... the pentagram got you out of that mess?"

Rarity nodded. "The five-pointed star? Y-Yes. I just seemed to know what was needed."

Zecora nodded knowingly. "Promethea knew. Her actions played out through you. You'll find her personality and Rarity's to be flickering back and forth at first, probably. It is important you do not become insane, understood? There's always the chance that you could."

Spike looked up at Promethea. She didn't seem to be having any trouble with being two ponies at once, and the concern was pushed to the back of his head. He looked at Zecora, and noticed a strange exhibition of effort into making her rhymes. She seemed to be grabbing words out of the air and fitting them together, and he feared that she would soon begin talking gibberish.

Rarity glanced momentarily at Spike, and he looked away from her. She drew her attention away from him again, and said, "Yes, but how do I stop being Promethea? And what about my friend Rainbow Dash? She was just sucked into nowhere..."

Zecora tried to sit up again, but stopped this time, remembering what had happened to her the last time. Her eyes were wide when she spoke again: "Wait just one minute. You're saying a civilian was caught up in it? Where in the world did this battle unfurl?"

Promethea stepped to Zecora's side. "At a rock concert. The demons opened a gateway to escape through. Rainbow Dash... Rarity and Spike's friend... was sucked through after them."

Zecora looked over at her in a panic. "Oh great gods. Listen to me, this has become a tragedy. Your friend... Rarity's friend... is close to her end. She's fallen into the Immateria, the world of imagination, and..." She turned over suddenly, facing Spike. The dragon jumped back in surprise as she finished her rhyme.

"...She's in Misty Magic Land."

A deafening silence rang out in the room. After a moment, Promethea moved towards Spike, who in turn stepped back and leaned against one of the many machines in the room. He looked shocked, and spoke before Rarity could.

"But that's where she... where Promethea's from. How do I get there? Do I open a gateway like those demons did?"

Zecora laughed, and said, "No, that was physical magic you saw. It's usually brutal, necessary, and raw. You and Rarity (or Promethea, if I may) should be able to make it in through the mind's pathway. This way is also used to change back to Rarity. It is easier to write to focus its power," she said, and gave Spike a nod, "but imagination is what matters in one's darkest hour."

Spike noted again that she was having trouble making rhymes again. The note was pushed from his mind, though, as he suddenly felt something rising up under his foot. He looked down and jumped back in surprise as the floor began to push up a round object up into the air. As he watched, he heard Rarity speak:

"So I just imagine this Immateria place and it springs up around me?"

"Of course. Imagination is part of the Immateria, you see. It's the part that is closest to the physical world, and getting there is quite easy. Every vessel for Promethea had a way of getting there. Margaret Case had a catchphrase to yell: "Misty Magic Land, arise!" was her ticket inside. Grace Branneigh had a painting to project herself into. It was of Hy Brasil, and was very beautiful, too."

More effort. Spike was now observing the objects rising out of the floor, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He held onto the machine he'd backed into tightly, and the voices around him were distant.

"Uh... So if I were to imagine, say, these pillars that are rising from the floor. Just as an example...?" Rarity sounded distantly worried, and she looked like she was unsure of her sanity at the moment.

"Ah, yes, the pillars. Snakes and stars adorn their tops, do they not? You're getting the hang of it now, do not stop! All you have do is believe in the pillars more than you do in me. Imagine they are the ones that are real, and the hospital is your imagination, a ghost, a-" Zecora went into a fit of coughing.

Spike was now sure of two things: the world was falling away from him, and Zecora had lost her ability to rhyme. He stumbled toward Promethea, who gently took his hand in her hoof and looked down at him with a smile. He smiled back, and suddenly felt less dizzy. He looked over at Zecora, and was shocked to see her disappearing into the background of the hospital. "Zecora?" he said. "Zecora, you're fading away..."

Her voice was distant now, and he heard no rhyme. "Good. I can see you fading away. That is what must happen. As Promethea, you are made out of imagination. That is why you can make this journey bodily. You are where you think you are." She turned towards something they could not see, and Spike heard, "Spike, however, is flesh and blood. He can only visit the Immateria in his mind."

Spike's eyes widened. That was why he'd felt so strange: he was having an out of body experience. He yelled at Zecora's evaporating form as Promethea looked around at the blue grass growing where tile floors had been moments ago. "Wait! Why didn't you tell me? I could have just-" But Zecora couldn't hear him shout. He was only a spirit now, and he gave up after several attempts to draw her attention.

Rarity spoke while looking out at the world growing about her. "But I... I don't know anything about this place. I need you to explain it to me."

"Sor...ity..not how...works...can't...th you..." Zecora's words faded to nothing, as did her form and the rest of the hospital, and Spike wondered how he would get home. Rarity turned at the sound of her mentor's voice fading.

"Zecora? Zecora, where am I? I'm..." She stopped at the sight of her full surroundings.

"Oh. Oh my soul."

Several unnamable suns shone brightly in the lavender tinted sky, and eyes and mouths dominated the areas where clouds would be. Stone heads lay just beyond the area where the pillars ended, with matching hands pointing upwards to the sky. Red trees formed a line in the distance, and they made a sharp backdrop on the blue and purple colored world around the two visitors. Waves of tall blue grass fluttered in the breeze, as did the enormous flowers that floated through the air. Butterflies fluttered around, colored the same scheme as Rainbow Dash's mane. Along the wall of pillars, bushes of white tulips stood, and Spike swore he saw pigeons fly out of the flowers once or twice.

A large feather fell onto Promethea's shoulder as she began to walk through the fantasy land. "Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia, I know this place. I..." She paused, and Spike saw her facial expression shifting again. She was changing between Rarity and Promethea again, and he noted that it was getting more frequent. He placed a hand on her shoulder and dusted the feather off. She looked down at him, and he said, "We. We know this place."

She nodded, and the two strolled through the grass. "It's... it's like a recurring dream that I..." A shift. "That Rarity had when she was nine, or something." She frowned, and said, "Or...or maybe she just dreamed she had that dream. Or she dreamed it once, but in the dream she remembered dreaming it before..."

Spike began to feel dizzy again, and lost. He wanted to agree with Rarity or Promethea or whoever was standing next to him, but at the moment he'd lost his thoughts and was trying to find them in the blue fields around them. He managed out an "Or..." before the sound of something else shouting at them drew his focus back to the situation at hand.

"Hey! Hey, you!" The voice was focused on Rarity. "Stay focused, you stupid bitch! You're losing it, and if you lose it here..." The voice paused, and Spike cleared his mind with a shake of his head to make sure he was actually seeing the girl in front of him.

It was Sweetie Belle. Or, it was Sweetie Belle in a red cape. Or cloak. Whichever. She had a picnic basket attached to her saddle basket, and had a hoof raised up waving at them. He turned back in to hear what she was saying.

"...well, then you've really lost it. Hell, you could even go crazy." She raised an eyebrow at Rarity's expression, and said, "Know what I'm sayin'?"

Rarity stepped towards the filly, an awed expression on her face. "S-Sweetie Belle?" Before the filly could answer, Spike suddenly pointed at her, recognizing who it was from the red cloak over most of her body. He stammered out, "Oh man. Y-You... You're...? I mean, you're..."

The filly put her hoof in his mouth, and said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get over it, okay? You're in Misty Magic Land now, and you gotta hang on to your clarity." She opened the picnic basket and, to Spike's great shock, drew out a carton of cigarettes. Without looking at either of them, she lit one with a burst of magic. "You were losin' it back there." She stuck the cigarette in her mouth and took a puff.

Rarity gasped at the sight of what appeared to be her sister smoking a cigarette, when she was barely over the legal limit. "Sweetie Belle, what are you doing? You don't smoke!" The filly looked at her annoyingly. "Hey, sister, you wanna know two things. One: I ain't your sister, I'm-" she paused, before mumbling out her name, "Little Red Riding Hood. And Two," she sprung back to her former self quickly, "you probably want to check up on that last bit of info." She turned, and Spike followed, ignoring the shocked look on Rarity's face.

The purple drake caught up with the filly as she moved away from the deity. "But... I mean, you're exactly the way I imagined you," he said, and she looked over at him with a strange smile. "Well, duh!" she said, and turned back to Rarity, who had finally started walking towards them. She called out to Promethea, "Listen, you're here looking for somethin', right? So, do you want me to help you, or do you just wanna stand round here all day?"

Rarity remembered why she and Spike had come to this the strange world in the first place. "I-I suppose I'm here looking for a friend of mine. She got sucked into this world by accident."

Red nodded. She started walking, and Spike and Rarity followed her. She pointed ahead and said, "Uh-huh. So it's like this perilous quest thing, yeah?" She gestured ahead of them again, and Rarity saw a forest in the distance. "Then you'll be wanting the Dark Woods, right over there. I'm going that way myself."

Spike looked over at the filly, confused. "But how do you know that's where she'll be lost?"

"Oh, come on! Where else do kids get lost in stories? You ever hear of anything titled "Fillies in the Supermarket?" Red looked at Spike with her strange smile again, and said, "She's in the Dark Woods. Trust me." She turned her head forward and said, "Jeez, four years admiring the bastard and he picks my best friend." She spoke louder. "You really aren't as smart as you look, y'know?"

Spike stared at her. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? He dismissed it, and said, "Well, couldn't she be in some other Dark Woods?" Something about the way Red had said it made him want to capitalize the name.

"There's only one Dark Woods. I mean, I oughtta know." She nudged the basket on her back. "Five hundred years takin' this friggin' basket to my friggin' grandma." She sighed. "Plus, they're a lot further away than they look, you notice that?" The trees had indeed gotten bigger as they went, and know Rarity could see large mushrooms next to the trees.

"Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. They're bigger, too." She looked up at the trees that towered hundreds of feet above their heads. She looked over at Red, who was refusing to look at Spike anymore for whatever reason. "What I don't understand is why you should be the one to meet me."

Red looked over at her, ignoring Spike completely now. "Because you were thinking about me, dummy. You even sorta mentioned me..." She stopped, and Rarity and Spike did as well.

Rarity looked at Red like she didn't make sense. "But I haven't thought of you or mentioned you in...oh." Her face lit up for a second, and Spike remembered when they'd thought of her as well. "Oh wait," she said. "Yes I did. I told Rainbow Dash I was stuck in a fairy tale and wanted to get out..."

The filly in the red cloak nodded, puffing on her cigarette. "'...before the part with the wolf,'" she finished. "Yeah, well..." She stuck her thumb behind her, and the trees were torn back suddenly.

"...so much for that, huh?"

An enormous black wolf towered above them. Steam blew from its nostrils, and foam was pouring from its jaws. It clawed away the remains of the trees, and noticed the three figures below. Red was reaching into her basket, looking for something, while Promethea and Spike had grabbed each other, and were now holding each other in fear of the monster before them.

"Oh God!" Promethea yelled, and Spike shook in her arms. "Oh God, look at it! I'm... I'm frightened! Wh-why am I so frightened?"

Red shuffled through her basket, and said, "Because you’re facing the unvarnished idea, without any adult defenses like distance or irony or whatever. You're seeing it like a child sees it." She seemed bored, and Spike was sure she was crazy now. She looked up at them, and said, "Plus, it's a fucking big wolf. What's not to be afraid of?"

Before Rarity could say anything about the use of language Sweetie Belle (as she still saw her) had just used, the wolf bent in low. All she could see ahead of her was a wall of black and yellow, and it spoke in the voice that parents use for the villain whenever they tell their children bedtime stories.

"LITTLE PIGS, LITTLE PIGS, LET ME COME IN!"

Red pulled out what she was looking for, and Spike stared at it. In her hoof was a gun. He had not known what to expect from this girl, but a gun was not it. The cloaked filly turned to the wolf, and said, "Not by the fucking hair on your chinny fucking chin-chin, you fucker!" He was shocked by her use of foul language, and was about to say something when the wolf spoke up again.

"HO-HO! WHY, THEN I'LL HUFF..."

Red fiddled with the gun, looking over it for something that was not there. "Fuck! Where's the safety on this fucking thing?"

Rarity noticed what she was holding for the first time, and seemed startled by it more than Spike had been. She let go of the dragon and said, "Y-You've got a gun! But that's..." She shook her head clear, and Spike could see the change in her face. "Listen, Rarity drew a doodle of Little... of you, just after this movie Reservoir Diamond Dogs came out. It had you holding a gun, and this caption saying "Let's go to Grandma's!"

Red continued to fiddle with the gun. "Hey, I knew that! Shit..."

"...AND I'LL PUFF..."

Promethea looked worriedly at the wolf, which seemed to be filling up with air. "But..." she said, "I mean, the doodle wasn't really that funny, so Rarity threw it away..."

Red was beginning to get angry with the gun. "She threw a piece of paper away, maybe. Ideas ain't that easy to get rid of. Oh, and incidentally, you draw guns like a girl." She began to slap the gun with her hoof. "Goddamn piece o'..."

"...AND I'LL BLOW YOUR HOUSE IN!"

A raging wind burst forth from the wolf's snout, and it propelled Promethea, Spike, Red, and everything around them backward. Promethea and Spike screamed, and Red yelled a list of profanities that Rarity hoped only the look-alike of Sweetie Belle said so commonly. As they were shot back, she heard Red say, "Eughh... Dog breath..." and couldn't help but wonder how she had come to look like Sweetie Belle in the first place.

She had not time to ponder, though, as she found herself slammed into a tree. The Caduceus flew past it, and she heard the snakes hiss in protest. Spike went flying above her, and he landed on the tree higher up. The purple dragon fell on top of Promethea, while Red was blown into the dirt next to them. Once they'd regained their wits, the three stood up, and Red dusted herself off, ignoring the nosebleed she had received from the fall.

Promethea retrieved her staff, and after looking back where they'd been blown from, she said, "I-Is he coming after us?"

Red shook her head, and fixed the disheveled cloak back over her form. She took up her picnic basket and said, "Nah. He knows the rule. He'll wait for me over at Grandma's. I better go haul the old bat out of his digestive tract. You go find your friend." She turned and began to walk away, and spoke to Spike. "Listen, if you're weirded out by how I acted earlier, it's probably best you know that the pony I look like is the one who made me this way. So it's partly your fault." She started to jog, and said, "Your friend'll be somewhere nearby. These woods go on forever, but actually, they ain't that big." She tossed aside the gun and broke into a gallop. She yelled back to them: "Listen, this gun is crap. I gotta find a kindly woodsman with an axe. You take care now!" And she was gone.

Spike blinked. Sweetie Belle? Rarity's sister? Of course he hadn't noticed, and he pushed the thoughts away, now ready to focus on the task of finding Rainbow Dash. He and Promethea walked through the Dark Woods, and Spike found that they were not as dark and scary as the name made them out to be. The sound of birds chirping above them combined with the shining lights from above the treetops gave the forest a more serene feel, and Spike felt almost as though he were in the Everfree Forest. Hey, from what I know, this could be my imaginings of the Everfree Forest. His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of somepony (or something else, he decided to think) sobbing was heard from behind a large tree.

"Oh Celestia. Ahuhuhuhuh. *sniff* Oh Celestia, I wish I was dead..."

Rarity and Spike rounded the tree to find none other than the pegasus they'd been looking for. She was sitting in a clearing on top of a rock, and Spike was shocked to see his best friend crying her eyes out.

"Dash...?"

The cyan mare didn't look up. She sobbed, "It's so sad. It's all so sad. I...Ahuhuh. Ahuhuhuhhuhuhuh..." Rarity went over to comfort the mare, but Spike didn't move. He was staring at what he could only guess was the source of her sorrow.

She gets the kids and the house. I get the car.

Gilda stood in front of Rainbow Dash, and it appeared that they had been conversing for a time. Once again, however, Spike ad to look again at the griffon in front of them. Though it appeared to be Gilda, there was an identifiable trait that was the opposite of what he imagined Gilda would do: the tears pouring down her cheeks. In another second, Spike had recognized who Dash was sitting in front of.

He approached, staring daftly at the scene before him. Rainbow Dash was biting her wing, and he could see bite marks on her hooves as well. Through gritted teeth, he heard her say:

"On Celestia, we're all so unhappy. I understand that now. Ponies are in so much pain. I never knew. I never knew..." A fresh wave of sobs erupted from the pegasus, and Spike finally spoke up.

"Dash? Dash, it's me, Spike. And Rarity's here too. Well, Promethea/Rarity, but that counts." He looked back up at the creature before them. "Dash, that person you're talking to. It's Weeping Griffon..."

Rainbow Dash nodded sadly. Rarity was staring at the Weeping Griffon, and Spike was worried for her. Dash said, "I now. And I understand what he means now. He isn't funny. He isn't f-funny at all." She turned to him, and he could see the tears springing from her eyes. "He's us! He's us, and he can't stop c-crying..."

The griffon was bawling, and Spike saw a thought bubble pop up next to her.

I guess people change.

Rarity spoke up for the first time. "Rainbow Dash, listen, he's just an idea! It's just that you're experiencing it naked, at full strength, without any emotional filters. She's a symbol..."

Dash turned to her and put a hoof on her shoulder. "Yes. He's a symbol of humanity. That's all we are, don’t you see?" She bit her lip. "W-we're the griffon that weeps!" Her tears sprang up anew, and she sobbed into Rarity's shoulder. To Spike's dismay, he saw that Rarity was beginning to sob softly, and he looked back at the Weeping Griffon in anger. "Hey, cut it out!" All he got in answer was another thought bubble.

Everyone said I should get Windows '95.

Spike grabbed Rainbow Dash's shoulder and shook her. "Dash, he's just a commercial icon who spouts self-pitying catchphrases! He isn't...H-he..." The dragon felt a sudden pang of sadness, and looked up at the Weeping Griffon. "Oh Celestia," he said, and felt tears in his eyes. "Oh Celestia, that poor griffon..." He began to cry, and it was the four of them sitting in the clearing, sobbing.

Why do pets have to die?

I like country music. It tells the truth.

"Y-You're right, Dash. You're right. All those generations of living beings, crushed by this terrible sadness..."

"What's the point? What's the point of anything?"

Some days are better than others.

Rarity cried into her robes. "I--I wanted to get you out of here, but I failed. Everything fails. We're all so useless..."

"I just want to sit here until I die."

What do you mean, you need more space?

Spike looked up at the Griffon, and suddenly felt empowered. "N-no. No, I have to get up. I--I know it's pointless, but..." He began walking towards the Griffon, when Dash threw her arms around him.

"NOOO! Don't leave me! Everybody I ever loved left me! They all left me, those bastards..."

The garage thinks it's the clutch.

Spike walked until he was directly in front of the Weeping Griffon. Rainbow Dash lay on the ground behind him, and she was pounding her hooves into the ground. He stood in front of the Griffon, and with a sniffle he stopped crying.

"I have... to believe... there's hope... I have... to believe... there's happiness..."

I hate my body.

In one swift motion, Spike swung his arm upwards in an uppercut, and slammed his fist into the Weeping Griffon's chin. With one final thought bubble (Can we hear that Radiohoof track just once more?) the griffon fell backward, and Spike felt his inexplicable sorrow being lifted off his shoulders. Behind him, he could hear Rarity's sobbing stop, and Dash's pounding slowed dramatically. He turned, and saw Rarity staring at him in amazement, wiping the tears out of her glowing eyes.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Where did you get that strong?"

He blushed and scratched behind his head, embarrassed. "Uhhh..." Before he could answer, Rainbow Dash shot up from the ground and turned to Rarity.

"Ha! You probably thought that Spike just hung around libraries all day like his mom does. Or, used to, that is."

Spike stopped blushing and shoved Dash forward. "C'mon, you ingrate. We'd better get out of her range before she overwhelms us again." Dash nodded, and she, Promethea and Spike moved on, leaving a stunned Weeping Griffon lying flat on the ground.

If only I understood what women wanted...

Dash wiped at her eyes. "Jeez, my eyes! They feel raw. And my throat. I just couldn't stop crying..."

Promethea nodded knowingly. "This is a place where fictions and symbols are all that's real. Their intensity is undiluted."

Dash looked up at the godly mare. "Yeah.Th-That's Prosciuttia talking again, right? A minute ago you sounded like Rarity."

Spike scowled at the cyan mare, amazed that after actually meeting the deity she still did not know her name. "Promethea," he corrected, and she rolled her eyes at him.

Promethea spoke up again. "Rarity Seamstone is my newest vessel, thanks to you." She gestured to Spike, who scratched his spines and said, "Hey, don't worry about it!" She smiled and turned back to Dash. "Our psyches will align and synchronize, given a little time."

Rainbow Dash laughed. "Hey, don't worry about it. Multiple personalities are real big right now, what with the mayor being, like, forty different guys." She looked around the forest nervously, and Spike could have sworn that he saw fear in her eyes. "So," she said, "you gonna click your heels and get us out of here?"

Promethea laughed. "I fear that it is not so simple. What Rarity must do..." A switch. "...What I must do, Rainbow Dash, is imagine our way back to Ponyville." She turned to Spike, and said, "This is all so strange. When we get back, I imagine we'll have to do quite a bit of studying on Promethea together. I have to know just what she is, exactly." She did not seem to notice Spike's love-struck look.

The purple dragon's mind was racing. Rarity wants to work with me. Together. On Promethea. He suddenly realized he was thinking like the little kid he'd been back when he and Twilight Sparkle had first moved there. He thought of the library, and the sad day when Twilight had quit her job as librarian and the two had moved out to a large apartment. He cleared his head, and listened as Rarity said:

"You'll help us do the research, right, Rainbow Dash?"

No answer.

Spike turned around. "Rainbow..." He trailed off when he saw what was keeping Rainbow Dash silent.

"GRANDMA WASN'T HOME."

The wolf reared its head back, and in its paw was Rainbow Dash, clearly frightened and upside-down. Spike jumped back as Rarity jumped forward.

"Leave her be! You aren't even a real wolf! You're just a big blob of scary stuff to frighten children with!" With this as her battle cry, she drove the Caduceus into the wolf's eye. It screeched, and Dash fell from its claws. Spike caught her, and began to run away from the apparent battle. He turned, and was shocked to see Rarity flying towards them. The wolf was almost on tip of her.

"NNRGHH... ALL THE BETTER TO STOP YOUR HEARTS, MY DEARS..."

She scooped the two up in her arms, and Spike clung to her desperately. She flew faster, and yelled, "We have to get back to reality right away! Please, I need the two of you to concentrate!"

He heard Dash yell, "CONCENTRATE? WHILE FLEEING IN TERROR? ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Spike shut his eyes and thought of the city he'd grown up in. He thought of the scientific miracles that had made him (or rather, kept him) in a form that could live happily with ponies without worry of growing too large or otherwise dangerous. He thought of the South Tower Hospital, where Zecora was lying in a C.A.R.E. Pod, and where they had...

His eyes shot open as he remembered that he was quite possibly still lying on the hospital floor. There was a chance that he was in his apartment, a chance that the ponies at the hospital had taken him home to the empty apartment. He had an idea, and shouted, "Do you know where my apartment is?"

Rarity yelled back, "Yes. Why?"

He explained the situation and his plan, and Rarity agreed. Then Spike screwed his eyes shut and thought of the loud purr of taxi engines instead of the pounding of enormous paws behind him. He imagined the smell of flowers and blossoms to be the smell of pizza and exhaust. He heard Dash and Promethea shouting.

"Oh gosh! Everything's flowing like water! It's like this rushing current..."

The sound of paws was fading.

"Did I just say 'Gosh'?"

"Don't let go, either of you! We're right on the shoreline of reality here, and the undertow is terrific..."

"AAAA! Pro-lifea! I'm slipping!"

There was smog in the air around him.

"Just hold tight! Hold tight, we're almost..."

And then Spike was torn from the grip of Promethea, and he was flying down a street, then through a doorway, up an elevator shaft, down a hall, and then...peace.

Promethea and Rainbow Dash burst through a portal of blue onto a bridge. She landed gently, and Dash slid off her back. The ponies around her backed away, and she paid them no mind. She began to walk at a speedy pace towards the apartment complex nearby. Spike had told her to imagine them back there, and she had done the best she could. Now she was going to find Spike, to see if he had guessed correctly, and that he had been brought home by the hospital workers.

Rainbow Dash followed closely behind her. "W-We're back! You can slow down now." She chased after Promethea, who was switching rapidly between herself and her other self.

"No. I'm not completely back. Rarity's not back. I have to find Spike so that he can change me back into her!"

"Yeah, well, that makes sense! You completely rule and have a flawless body and tattoos and stuff, so you want to be this desperate, ignorant dressmaker..."

Promethea rushed up the steps leading to the apartment complex. To her relief, she could see Spike coming down in one of the glass elevators. "I am not desperate!" she yelled, and waited outside the apartment building at an empty viewing platform. She could see the entire city from her spot, and she turned from the view to Dash, who was impatiently tapping her hoof on the ground. "And what do you mean, 'ignorant'?"

Rainbow Dash whistled and looked up at the elevator, where Spike was now exiting and heading towards the front door of the building. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Listen, I can help you think about Rarity while we wait for Spike. Okay?"

Promethea hesitantly nodded. Dash began pacing back and forth, rubbing her chin with a wing. "Well, she's about as tall as me, and lives with her sister, who is this total nympho called Sweetie Belle." She quickly changed the subject at the sight of Rarity's death look. "I think Rarity got laid about four times, if you count that thing she chased after at the Grand Galloping Gala that one time..."

Rarity rubbed her forehead, feeling suddenly lightheaded. "Blueblood. Oh Celestia, I remember..."

Spike came running up, with the same pad of paper and pen that had changed her into Promethea out and being used. He glanced up at her occasionally and said nothing. Dash continued talking. "She pretends she knows what's hip to get guys to like her... She's got this disfigurement on her neck. She’s gay..."

Spike faltered.

Rarity covered her mouth with her hand. She felt faint, and could see what looked like colored steam coming off her. "I am not gay! Celestia, is my scar really that bad?"

Spike continued to write furiously, ignoring Dash's words and writing his own views on her.

"Yeah," Dash said, "it's immense. Luckily, it's mostly covered by your enormous hair, and the rest blends in with your fur..." She trailed off as Promethea disappeared in a cloud of steam. "Uh... Jeez. You gotta tell me that diet. You're evaporating."

Spike saw that he'd done enough, and he watched his (and, unfortunately, Dash's) work take effect.

"Th-That's supposed to happen, right? I--I mean, are you okay?" She watched Spike rush forward as a figure fell out of the steam. The pad and pen clattered to the floor, and Rainbow Dash saw the words "I am Promethea" scribbled on the paper. As he caught her, the cyan pegasus picked up the items and trotted over to them. She placed them next to Spike, and as the fog began to lift over the figure in his arms Dash squinted at her.

"Propanea?"

A star fell out of the large purple curls of Rarity's hair as her deep azure eyes clouded over in exhaustion. She smiled at Spike, and he held her tightly in his arms as she began to black out. Her hair fell across her face, and her outfit was wrinkled and wet with sweat as she managed to weakly mumble one word before the ivory unicorn fell unconscious.

"Promethea."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next: A Faerie Romance

A Faerie Romance

Promethea

Being an Epicke on the Realms of Fantasie in the words of Charlton Hennet, privately imprinted in the City of Boston, entytled
A Faerie Romance

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4

An old epic is illuminated,
A sly mage encountered,
A search for answers begins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

South Tower Hospital. Ponyville, 1999 A.D.:

"I don't understand his. Why is her body rejecting the grafted Clone tissue? It should be exactly the same as her own."

Nurse Redheart looked up from her work, syringe in hoof. The nurse across from her was looking at the area where she'd grafted on the Clonemeat, which was swollen and blue. The makeshift flesh did not seem to want to attach to Zecora's, and the zebra was sweating profusely under the influence of several doses of sleeping medication. She was hesitant to take the medicine, but after braving the first graft she'd gulped down the medicine, and was now knocked out cold.

Nurse Redheart looked back down at the pale zebra, and readied her syringe. "I'm going to have to give her antibiotics to check the rejection process..."

The other nurse looked up at her worriedly. "That's going to boost the risk of infection..."

Nurse Redheart shrugged her off, and injected a green fluid into the zebra's foreleg. "We don't have a choice. If her body continues to reject itself, Zecora is dead." The two continued their work in silence for a minute, unaware that they were under observation.

"Hmmph. Well, I gotta say, this don't look too friggin' good."

Zecora looked at her front hooves, and saw she was see-through. She looked back up at the nurses, who were beginning to reattach the Clonemeat onto her wound, and said, "In fact, this looks friggin' awful. I wonder what the girls have to say about it?" She turned away, and only half-listened to the conversation between the two nurses nearby.

"But... Look, I don't know, there was that funny black infection in the wound when she was brought in..."

"Yes, but the infection vanished. I mean, it didn't clear up, it just... I don't know. Evaporated or something. Like it was never there..."

Zecora moved around the hospital room, searching for something she knew she could find. Finally she saw it: a door that had not been part of the room before. She approached it, and opened it up. Her immaterial body felt the breeze of its home brush through her mane.

"Maybe I oughtta go ask 'em. I haven't been across to visit in a while..."

She stepped through the doorway.

"...but I guess I still know the way."

She was no longer a spiritual projection, and she was no longer in the hospital. Now she stood in a blue-grass meadow, where a soft breeze blew flower petals in the sky. She watched eyeball clouds move across the sky, and turned at the sound of a voice.

"Zecora. We were wondering when you'd show up. Do close the door. You're letting in the awful smell of antiseptic..."

The voice came from a godly mare, not unlike how Rarity had looked as Promethea, and not unlike how Zecora looked now. She wore a lightweight armor plate, and around her waist was a belt, on which a sword was sheathed. She wore a cloth over her head, held in place by a golden band around it. Her legs were covered by plates of bronze, and she wore sandals on her back hooves. Two pearly wings ruffled in the breeze behind her, and they moved with the wind. She was standing next to several other mares, each with their own godly stature.

Zecora shut the door behind her, and stepped over to the mares. "Sorry," she said, glad for the break in her rhymes that being Promethea always gave her. "Hi Grace. Hi Margaret, Anna, Bill. Hi, Margie. Boy, I'll tellya, have I had a rough night!"

The group of mares sat around a large lavender pool, and each held a chalice in their hooves. One mare floated beside Grace, staying in mid-air despite her being a unicorn. She wore nothing, save a thin, flowing cloth that spiraled around her body, covering what it needed to. On her head was a helmet of war, positioned on top of her head without covering her face. Underneath her sat a little filly, one who looked more like a comic book character than a real pony. She smiled playfully at Zecora and waved before turning her attention back to the doll she had playing with.

Next to Margaret lay a mare who wore a more covering outfit. She wore a night gown, trimmed up to her hips, and a golden brace around her stomach. She wore stockings on her hooves, and her magic held her chalice up to her lips as she took a sip of whatever was inside. Along with the stockings, two long hoofboots were worn on her hind legs. She had on a small tiara, made of what appeared to be gold. The mare raised her cup in greeting to the zebra.

Past her sat a mare unlike the others around her. She seemed more humble, with only a long cloth wrapped around the necessarily covered areas. This one, unlike Margaret's, was limply laid across her body, and she had no flashy golden plates on her body. Her only jewelry were several braids in her hair, mere stars in a waterfall of dark mane. On her left cheek was a tattoo of an ankh. She made no movement of greeting, but smiled at Zecora.

Zecora recapped the events of her night. "First, there's this new Promethea with a teenage handler, then I get in a slapping match with a Smee, and now I think I'm dying."

Grace Branniegh sighed, and offered a spare chalice to her. "You poor darling. Have Hareball and Meadowsweet fix you a drink and then you can tell us all about it." She spoke in a slightly Whinnglish accent that made her voice sound almost identical to Rarity's. "What's the new girl like?" She grinned. "Flat chested and neurotic, I'll bet."

Zecora took the cup in one hoof and laughed as two glowing fairies flew down with an urn and poured a dark pink liquid into it. Moons and stars fell with the liquid, and Zecora ignored them as they sank into the drink. "Uh, well, yeah, pretty much," she said, and stepped over towards the pool in the center of the clearing. "But I'll tellya, Grace, she's good when she gets into character. She just about vaporized that Smee." She took a sip of the drink, and stared at it in surprise. She took another sip, shrugged, and turned back to the other immaterial mares.

The mare lying down in the grass sat up, and said, "Oh, Zecora, honey, Grace was just being catty. We're sure she's fabulous."

Margaret Haylor Case gently levitated downward, and hovered over to Zecora, still keeping her hooves off the ground. "Bill," she said, "You think everything's fabulous. So, Zecora, does this new vessel have a name?"

Zecora nodded, sipping her drink again. "Yeah. Her name's Rarity. She's this young, hip fashion designer, and the whole reason she got sucked into this thing is because of her friend, this college kid named Spike. I'm just afraid I'm gonna croak before I've shown her the ropes." She sipped her drink again, and said, "Say, this is pretty good. What is it?"

Grace turned to her. "It's a liqueur made from moonlight and cream of chameleon. Anna imagined it into existence the other day, didn't you darling?" She turned to the humbly dressed mare, who was bent over the pool now, stirring the lavender waters with her hoof.

Anna nodded. "That I did, Mistress Grace." The waters in the pool swirled, and she said, "This new lass sounds to be as young as I. We should look in the Star Pool and see how she fares." The waters began to show a picture, and the filly standing next to her put a hand over her mouth. When she spoke, it sounded as though she had only just learned to speak.

"oh. you are being nosey. this is a fine thing, i do not think! oh!"

William Woolcolt stood up and walked over to the pool. She stopped next to the filly and said, "Shut up, Margie. Can you see anything, Anna?" As she spoke, Little Margie stepped back once and bowed her head.

Anna pointed into the pool, where a picture was beginning to clarify. "Mayhap I can, Mistress Bill. As it grew in focus, the five mares (and Margie) could see two mares lying in a large bed. One was a brilliant white unicorn, with long purple locks of hair splayed all across her face. She lay spread out across the bed, and was facing the other mare next to her. This one was a pegasus, colored like the sky, and had a rainbow-colored mane, with matching tail. She was curled into a ball, and her face was mere inches from the unicorn's. Anna pointed at the unicorn.

"Is that the girl you spoke of, Mistress Zecora?"

Zecora looked over Anna's shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, that's her. Last night she handled one Smee, two Goetic demons, and a rescue from the Immateria. Guess she's sleeping it off."

Margaret looked worriedly at the slumbering mares in the pool. "So, is that mare her companion, the college student? Spike, correct?" She appeared to be anticipating a certain answer, and Zecora gave it to her.

"Nah. Spike's a guy. Dragon, I mean. I don't know who that is... wait. That's who she rescued last night. Rainbow Dash. It's gotta be."

Grace spoke up. "She only fought two Goetic demons? Darling, that's nothing."

Bill silenced her with a hoof to her lips. "Shush, Grace. Let's see what she does..."

The five stared into the pool, and events played out for them as clear as though they were there.

---------

Rarity felt a hoof on her waist. She rolled over in bed, and opened her eyes at the exact moment that Rainbow Dash did. The two briefly lay still, groggy and unsure of the world around them. Then they noticed the positions they were in.

"EUGGHH!"

The two pushed each other away, and they fell off of the unfamiliar bed. Slowly pulling themselves up, Rarity and Rainbow Dash looked at each other menacingly from opposite sides of the bed. Rainbow Dash finally stood up and stretched her wings out.

"God, you are totally an enormous filly-fooler," she said, looking around for the blazer she'd worn the night before.

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Oh, you wish, dear." She raised a hoof to her mane, and her eyes shot open wide when she felt its uneven bunches and tangles. Her eye twitched, and she began to frantically look around the room for her styling equipment. It was at that moment that both of the mares noticed that they were not in Rarity's home. In fact, they were in a room that neither of them recognized. They looked up and down, and saw nothing that could give them a hint as to where they were until they noticed the purple form lying flat at the foot of the bed.

Rainbow Dash trotted over to Spike, while Rarity tried to fix her hair desperately. The cyan pegasus pushed her hoof in his face, and he stirred, when he didn't wake up, she turned around and lifted her tail up. For a moment, Rarity thought that Dash was going to sit on his face. Then she saw the rainbow tail crack down a centimeter away from his face, and the purple drake's eyes shot open. With a yelp, he forced himself away from the mare, puffing several blasts of smoke in a panic. When he saw the look on the mares' faces, he growled at them. In a deadpan voice, he said, "Ha ha. Let's see if I ever help you while you’re unconscious again."

Rarity turned to him, confused by what he'd said. "Spike, dear, what do you mean? My head is full of pop rocks right now. Do you remember what happened last night?" She looked around nervously, and caught sight of herself in a nearby mirror. She winced, and said, "While you're at it, would you mind telling me where the restroom is?"

Spike rubbed his spines, and noticed he was still holding the pen Zecora gave him. He yawned, and said, "Yeah." He yawned again, and Rainbow Dash butted in.

"You're Propellea. Holy cow, Rarity."

Spike grimaced at the mispronunciation of her name. "'Promethea.' But yeah, holy cow, Rarity. You were amazing. I was lucky enough to get brought back home, and when I found you guys you changed back. You fell unconscious, and I brought you up to our apartment. I set you up in the guest bedroom, and then..." He looked around the room, noticing its untouched look. "...I guess I fell asleep, too. Jeez, last night was a blur. Y'know, I woke up with this pen in my hand? The one Zecora gave me?" He stretched, and pointed to one of several doors leading out of the room. "Bathroom's over there."

Rarity zipped past him, threw open the door, and slammed it behind her as she ran up to the mirror. Rainbow Dash laughed and said, "C'mon. Let's go get breakfast." She trotted over to the other door, and Spike followed behind her, letting Rarity attend to whatever business she had with the bathroom. He opened the door just as a purple unicorn rounded the corner, levitating a plate with two cups of coffee on it.

Twilight Sparkle looked up, her eyes groggy and still full of sleep. "Urrgh. Morning Spike," she said. Her face became even darker when she saw who he was with. "Oh, and your little pal. What time did you two get in last night?" She seemed to not care that they'd just come out of the guest bedroom together and that Rainbow Dash was loosely wearing a blazer as her only cover.

Spike smiled automatically at her. "Three. Rarity's here too." No response. He coughed, and said, " We got in about an hour before you did." he looked at the floating tray. "Are both those coffees for you?"

Rainbow Dash grinned mockingly at the lavender mare in matching bed robe. "Morning, Twi. You look great."

Twilight turned to look at the cyan pegasus, purple locks of hair splaying messily across her face. "Drop dead, you little moron." She moved over to her bedroom door, and the knob glowed bright purple. "Spike, my coffee's none of your business, okay?"

Rainbow Dash stifled a laugh as Twilight opened the door a crack and the sound of a colt's voice from the other side called out. "Hey, Trixie, where's that coffee?"

Twilight scowled, and said, "It's "Twilight," and I've got it here Seth, you jerk. For the love of Celestia..." She slipped inside the room, and the pegasus and drake were left to their own devices.

Spike moved into the kitchen, slightly depressed by the encounter with his surrogate mother. He and Twilight had grown extremely distant though they lived in the same apartment. Twilight had gown "rather attached to the nature of alcohol" as Rarity had put it, and now she seemed to be bringing home a new colt every week. He sighed, and Rainbow Dash tried poorly to help him.

"Y'know, Spike, your "Mom" is a vast whore. I sort of admire her..." She trailed off at the sight of Spike shooting her daggers. He'd given up on trying to figure out how somepony who had been one of Twilight's best friends several years ago was now able to insult her like she was an enemy long ago, but Dash's words still managed to anger him to an extent every once in a while, and for that Dash was kept away from Twilight. Not that she minded.

"Yeah, whatever." Spike turned back to the kitchen counter and brought out a box of cereal. He began pouring some into a bowl, and he heard Rarity coming out of the bathroom. Looking up, he was amazed at how effortlessly she put her hair into its iconic style. Not wanting to talk about Twilight with Rarity any more than he wanted to with Dash, he quickly changed the subject.

"This Promethea business is scaring me, Dash. I have to find out more about it."

Rainbow Dash noticed Rarity entering the room, and grabbed the box of cereal from Spike's hands. "That'll make things more..." She paused as she poured her cereal into a bowl. Rarity sat down at the table, tuning into the conversation taking place. "...I dunno. More real. We oughtta just forget anything happened..."

Spike shook his head and sat down next to Rarity with his bowl. "There's real… things… trying to kill Rarity and me, Dash. Others before me have coped with this." He turned to Rarity, who had been staring at him since he'd mentioned being killed. "You gotta be like them," he said, and she shook her head, unbelieving.

"What," she said, pushing away the cereal box as Rainbow Dash sat down, "you mean dead?"

Spike put a hand on her hoof comfortingly. "I'm serious. We'll finish breakfast, then go to the library. I can maybe find more material on Charlton Hennet and those guys..." He turned back to his cereal, and began to eat. "Now, eat your Achocalypse Pops."

Rarity gagged at the sight of Spike eating the cereal, and got up to make some toast. "Not on your life, Spike..." she mumbled, and could have sworn she saw him smile as he ate.

Eventually, they finished their meals, and before Rarity had time to ask about the whereabouts of Spike's caretaker she was rushed out the door and out of the apartment complex. Dash hailed a cab, and the three stepped inside and headed towards Spike's old home.

"I had forgot just what a whirl and dazzle there is in the mortal world."

"And I like the way these girls are. They seem not so cowed by things as I once was."

Grace looked over at Anna, a sarcastic look on her face. "Anna, darling, back in your day, you'd be beaten if you answered back. These scatty little bits of fluff have had life rather easier..." She turned back towards the Star Pool.

The five Prometheas were watching Rarity, Dash and Spike as they made their way towards the library. The drake and pegasus were keeping themselves entertained by imitating their fellow college student's attitudes (Rainbow Dash unofficially won when she did a startlingly good impression of Applebloom and pretended to seduce Spike, at which point the dragon pushed her away and mumbled that he didn't want to play anymore). Rarity was staring out the window, a slightly depressed look on her face. Bill smiled down at the image of Spike looking over at Rarity with a concerned look on his face. "Well," she said, "I don't think this Spike character is 'scatty' at all. In fact, I think he's rather cute. And just look at the way he treats the new girl! I think he has a crush on her!" She giggled, and Grace rolled her eyes.

Margie gripped her doll. "oh! they are rude, that is for sure. yes. oh!"

Bill looked over at the character in annoyance. "Margie, why don't you just shut your little hole? I think Rarity is very sweet. She's..." The image of the three exiting the cab outside the library caught her attention, and she watched as Rainbow Dash headed towards a building labeled "Cafe Khaddaffi." "Oh, look, Miss Smart-Flank is going to get donuts."

Margaret sighed in relief. "Good. She got on my nerves."

Zecora peered over at the retreating form of the pegasus. "Yeah. I think that was Rainbow Dash, the one Rarity rescued from the Immateria." She watched as Spike and Rarity walked toward the library, making idle chit-chat as they went. "See how they head straight for the library, to check things out? It's that Spike kid. I toldja he was smart..."

Margaret watched the two enter the library. "He'll have to be more than smart, Zecora. We've notched up a great many enemies over the centuries. If he wants to protect this girl, he'll have to fight them with her. They'll all be gunning for them for her first few weeks, during her transition period, when she's at her most inexperienced." The image focused on Rarity as she split up from Spike, moving down an aisle of autobiographies while Spike looked down a comic books section, scanning for what the mares assumed was an issue of Promethea. "She's like a baby crab," Margaret continued, "fresh-hatched upon the tideline. She has to run for the safety of the ocean before the gulls get to her."

Rarity was now standing in front of a section of books, and her eyes scanned the shelf. Zecora turned to Bill, who was kneeling beside her, and said, "The Temple already tried twice. I wonder who'll be next? I mean, I thought maybe the Night Queen. She always gave you and me a hard time, Bill."

The kneeling mare scowled. "Oh, I'll say! That sulphurous slut got me killed, you know! Still, I hear she hardly leaves the underworld these days..." She watched Rarity's eyes light up at the sight of the book she'd been looking for, and with her magic she pulled it out of the shelf and moved over to a table. Margie, who was taking in the conversation between the mares very slowly, whispered, "hum! i do not like bad fairies. no sir! huh!"

Grace smiled down at the child. "Margie, darling, as much as we all love you, if you don't keep quiet, I shall disintegrate you." The figment was silenced, and Grace turned back to the Star Pool, observing the unicorn at the library table as she opened her book, which Grace almost instantly recognized. "Oh, look, Anna. It's your story the new girl's interested in."

The humble mare nodded somberly. "Aye. Aye, so it seems." She sniffled, and said, "I-I cannot say I like it when my tale is read. The pain of it is too fresh. My baby, and how she was took from me." Rarity opened the book, and Anna stared at the portrait on the inside of the first page. "And him. I loved him, sisters, that I did."

Her hand distilled the waters of the pool, gliding over the image of a handsome, stately stallion in a suit. A tear dripped off of Anna's cheek and fell into the pool as Rarity began to read the book.

"I loved him."

--------

I am alone. I stare into the table's woodgrain and dare not look up. I say the words once more. I am alone.

My wife has gone, my Emily.

So too has Anna gone, my mistress, and with her my muse, likewise departed. I shall say it yet again:

I am alone.

Today is New Year, first day of a bright new century I fear I am not long for.

More than twenty years ago, we came here when this place seemed full of hope.

Hope and Inspiration...

"Master Charlton?" Anna walked across the field, to where a colt was staring at a piece of parchment blankly. In one hoof was a quill, and the earth pony was twirling it around as he bit his lip in frustration. He looked up when his name was called again.

"Mistress Emily says I'm to call you for your supper, beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting." She spoke gently, as though one wrong word would bring about some unnoticeable force's wrath down upon her.

The colt shifted, and stood up. "Oh, don't you worry, Anna. You've not interrupted anything of consequence." He stretched, and looked down at the pages he'd dropped. "I'm fifty stanzas into this confounded piece, and nothing interesting has happened." He took the papers in his teeth, and he and Anna began walking back towards the house in the distance. She looked over at Charlton, and said, "Oh, do not say such things, sir! What you read to me about the shepherd boy fair tugged my heart."

Charlton smiled through the papers, and with expert clarity replied, "Why, bless you. Sadly, I'm having rather more difficulty imagining the fairies my poem's supposedly about." He turned, and his grin faltered at the sight of his wife standing impatiently outside. When she saw him and Anna approaching, she put on her best false smile.

"Ah, Charlton, there you are!" The three ponies entered the house, and Emily led them to the dining room table. "Look what a feast I've made for us!" She gestured proudly to the meal of many herbal dishes before them. Then her sarcastic smile returned, and she continued: "You're surely hungry after your hard work?"

Charlton scowled at his wife's disapproval. Sensing the coming argument, Anna backed out of the room, towards the kitchen. "I-I'll go and see the gravy doesn't burn..." She was ignored, and when she was gone Charlton said, "Emily, it may not look as if I'm doing much, but writing is hard work." He sat down with his wife, who had already sat herself at the table and begun serving herself. Anna walked in with the gravy, and neither of them noticed.

"I'm certain that it is..." Emily said, stabbing at a daisy with her fork. "...but surely one as practiced as yourself might do it with his eyes closed?" She looked up at him, and there was no smile on her face. "In fact, now I think of it, I'm sure I've often seen you work that way." She finally acknowledged Anna's presence, and said, "Anna, dear, would you pass the gravy?"

--------

Charlton slept. He had sat in the clearing for hours, thinking and imagining, but everything turned to dust when he thought of it. His fairies crawled at his heels, begging to be taken from his sickly mind, and he'd given up in a fit of anger. The pages lay in his lap, and he was bent into an awkward position against the tree he was laying back on. In the glow of the afternoon sun, Charlton Hennet slept.

Then to that diamond-beaded glade there came
A pageant throng of sweet imaginings,
Of Fairies, imps, and creatures without name,
A great, frenetic bustling of wings.

The clearing slipped into a cover of mist. Charlton's eye opened a crack, and he watched as several glowing forms emerged from the woods in front of him.

About their Queen four nymphs in waiting stood,
Girded in armor, each of beauty rare.
Cowslip, and Flax and Jenny-in-the-Wood...

The group moved through the clearing, and Charlton did not move. In the center was a grand being, clothed in fabrics unknown to the waking world. Behind her were four mare-like creatures, each radiating in their own beauty. The first three ignored him, each keeping close to their Queen. The fourth, however, looked directly at Charlton, and smiled. Her hair was in braids, and her pointed ears poked through the waterfall of it. Her eyes were surrounded in dark tattoos traced around her eyes in a familiar fashion. She wore only a robe and a golden necklace, and Charlton recognized her in a second.

...and sweet Promethea, with her plaited hair.

"Good day to you, Master Charlton," said Anna, and Charlton's eyes opened wide.

"UHWHAAA...?"

He looked up at the clearing, and saw that the fog was gone, as were the fairies that had passed through it. The memory lingered in his mind, though, and he stuttered out: "A-Anna?"

---------

June 7th, 1779:

Charlton kissed his wife goodbye. He watched the chariot go, and after staring at the horizon for a moment, he walked back into his house. Anna stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a platter in her hoofs, and she smiled at him.

"Well, Master Charlton, with Miss Emily away to see her parents in New Hampshire this next week, perhaps you'll get some work done."

He picked up a quill, and looked thoughtfully at the stanzas on the pages he'd written. "Actually, Anna, I've already made great progress..." He pointed the tip of his quill at Anna. "...and it's thanks to you."

Anna faltered, and the platter almost fell from her hooves. She looked up at Charlton, and stammered: T-To me? Why, sir, whatever do you mean?"

Charlton stood up on his hind legs in a poetic stance, and held the poem in front of his face. "Well," he said, "I've partly based the leading faerie upon you, after this sort of daydream that I had. Here, if you'd like, I'll read some to you."

She was ready to return.

Charlton turned to the fireplace and struck a pose as he recited:

Promethea, the shepherd understood, had with her glamours captivated him;
With lips, with skin like polished betel-wood,
With ocean eyes, where in a man might swim.

Her smile ethereal, magnificent, her lyric movements, her fragility...

She was beginning to show herself.

Her gentleness, her orchidaceous scent enraptured him, enslaved him utterly.

Phantasmagoria, made somehow real,
Yet delicate, perhaps to disappear
At his impetuous touch, his need to feel
Her summer-jasmine breath close to his ear.

She was there.

"Charlton..."

The earth pony turned.

There stood that which he had written into the world, and Celestia did not, could not know of her beauty, for she would surely have cast her out of the world, perhaps to the moon as Nightmare Moon had been. She radiated sapphires, and a distant smile was etched on her face as she raised her arms to him.

"More words."

"Words

bring me

through."

Unchained, the poet shepherd's tongue took flight.
Such verse and poesy from his lips there poured...

Charlton felt her hands circle his face. "A-Anna? I-Is it you?"

As might lend substance to this sulph of light,
Oh goad the very Heavens to applaud.

Her robe was gone.

"No."

She raised in realms of Fancy, had ne'er known
Another's flesh, nor that warm, mortal thrill
Of passion. How they loved! Each sigh and moan
Would halt the world, or bid all the time stand still.

Each kiss endured while mountains were to dust.
Whole lives passed 'twixt each measured bedboard creak.
So lost were they in their transcendant lust
That they knew not the hour, nor day...

Pages fluttered as the glow surrounded the lovers, and words flew from story into reality as they made love.

...nor week.

Emily scowled at the sight in the bedroom. She said nothing, and awaited their waking.

Embracing Heaven, Earth slips through our hands.
Worldly affairs fragment, and fall away...

Charlton ran after the chariot as it raced away. His wife had said nothing, only waited for him to wake. Anna stood in the doorway, and wondered whether or not he could love her now.

We reached that place which no man understands
Where reason falters, and blind love holds sway.

He held her in his arms, and imagined Emily. And of his muse.

Winter came quickly. Soon, spring was preparing to show its green face, but the world was still covered in a cloak of snow. From the house, moans of pain could be heard. There was a mare screaming, and no one to hear, save one.

Anna breathed heavily. She gripped the blankets around her desperately, and whimpered out, "M-Master Charlton? Was it ever...AAAA!" She looked over at him, eyes glazed over slightly from pain. "W-Was it ever me you loved? J-Just for a little...AAOOW...a little while?"

Charlton laid a hand on her bulging stomach. "H-Hush, Anna. The baby..."

She gripped his shoulder. "The baby. The baby's wrong. Y-You can't...AAOH...you can't...make children...with a story. Did you..." She looked into his eyes with such sincerity it scared him. "Did you love me?"

He could not answer. It would kill her. "A-Anna..."

She asked again. "Did you... AAAAA!" Her screams echoed through the house, and Charlton saw a low coming from between her legs. "NNAAAAAAAH!" She twisted in pain, and Charlton's eyes widened as he saw what was coming out of his lover.

"Anna, it's coming. Oh dear Luna, the baby. It's..." He stopped, as the glow intensified, and suddenly it came forth. But it was not a baby.

Anna let out one final scream that Charlton did not hear. He could only hear the cries of unspoken ideas, see the glow of brainstorms and inspirations, as the child that made its way into the world came out in a fury. The thing was not a pony, nor was it what Promethea had been. Charlton held it in his hoofs, and he whispered, "Oh Celestia. Anna... the baby, it's... it's not baby! It's only half real, Anna! It's..." He stopped, and the child fell apart in his hands. Blue mist floated out of the room as Charlton lowered his head towards Anna's, hearing no breathing, feeling no heartbeat. She was not with him anymore.

"Anna?"

I only made one grave, which some found queer, but there was only Anna to be buried.

After all, we did not have a child. Rather, we had the dream of one...

...and that dream, why, it vanished. Melted quite away.

Save for these wretched, ill-kept journals, I have written not a word since then. My muse. My muse is gone.

I see the fairies only when I drink now, which is all the time. My love is not amongst them.

It was not Anna that I loved. It was the fantasy I'd spun about her.

Now that fantasy had fled, I sometimes doubt it ever truly happened, and was not instead some dream of mine.

But things are ever thus with faeries...

...and romance.

I am alone.

---------

The library was in darkness. No one was there, save two. Rarity did not notice, absorbed in the tragic tale of Charlton Hennet and his affair with Promethea. She only looked up when she heard the only other voice in the library.

"Rarity."

It sounded almost identical to Spike's. She looked around the darkened area, and could see nothing save the silhouettes of bookshelves and tables. She dropped the book she had been reading on the table, and tried to spot Spike, or Rainbow Dash, or anypony else.

Rarity questioned the darkness: "How...How did it get so dark? Where did everypony...?" She trailed off at the sound of the mysterious voice from earlier.

"'How did it get so dark?'"

From the shadow, a shape moved. Rarity did not notice. The figure was that of what appeared to be a pony, but something was off about it. The shadow moved through the aisle of bookshelves, its face pointed upward, its legs never moving. Rarity did not see him, and called out, "Who...?"

"'Where did everypony go?'"

The figure slid in front of Rarity suddenly and she screamed in shock. It proved to be a colt, his eyes shining as brightly and green as Spike's. His head was still tilted upward, and his stark white coat was only shown off by the fact that he was standing on his hind legs. His forelegs were covered in several brooches and bands, each with a jewel surrounded by some form of animal, be it bird or lizard. He smiled up at the ceiling, and said, "Either phrase would work nicely on a tombstone, wouldn't it?" He grinned, and brilliant white teeth gleamed at Rarity.

The white unicorn stared up at the colt. He was not a unicorn, and yet there was something that let him use whatever spell had taken the ponies out of the library and darkened it. She was worried, and was hoping that Spike would somehow break through his spell and find her. "Wait a minute..." she said slowly, trying to stall him from whatever he was planning to do. "What's happening here? Who are you?"

The colt finally looked down, though past her and down at the table. He began to sing as he pulled a chair up at the table she was sitting at.

♫♪Did you ever see a dream walking?♪♫ Well, I did.♪

He sat down across from her, and finally looked up at the startled unicorn. He grinned again, and continued to sing as he stared at her.

♫♪Did you ever hear a dream talking?♪♫ Well, I did.♫

He looked at her childishly, and said, "You're Rarity Seamstone, isn't it? You're the new beauteous cutieous with a Caduceus up your gluteus." He extended a hoof in greeting. "I'm Jackal Faust."

Rarity's mind was racing. "I--I don't know what you're talking about. I...wait a minute. I've heard of you." She recalled the list of names Zecora had spoken of when she'd first become Promethea. "Ze...uh, a friend of mine. She's spoken of you before."

He laughed. "Z-Stripes? Complimentary, I hope?" His hoof was still extended, but Rarity didn't dare touch it. He was still smiling, and she felt the fur on the back of her neck stand up at the sight of his teeth. "She's going to die, you know. In three days time." Laughing at her reaction, he tilted his head back, and said, "Your dragon friend thought I was crazy when I told him that too." He giggled, and looked back down at the unicorn across from him.

She glanced at his hoof for a split second, then began to stand up. "If you've harmed a single scale on him..." She couldn't finish her sentence. The colt was laughing, and she began to feel her fears creeping up on her. She desperately wanted to find Spike and see if he was alright, or Rainbow Dash so she would know the world hadn't ended outside. She got up and laid her hooves on the table. "L-Look," she said in as confident a voice as possible, "I don't know what's going on, but I don't want to be a part of it. A-And I don't know who you think I am, but this is unsettling and I'm going to leave now." She took a shuffling step away from the chair, and Faust's hoof moved towards hers.

"Oh Rarity..." he said, and she stopped and looked down at him. He grinned back up at her, and she didn't notice his hoof moving closer to hers. "Rarity, Rarity, Bo Barity. Banana-Fana-Fo Farity. Me, Mi, Mo Marity. Rarity..." He laid his hoof onto hers, and she couldn't stand anymore. She fell back into her chair, and as she faded out she heard his voice.

"...Let's cut the crap."

"You've revealed me. Clearly, you have much art."

Promethea was floating above Rarity, who seemed to be catatonic. A cloaked figure that could not be a colt rose above the form of Jackal Faust. A bright green halo of flames rose circled around his head. In his hooves was a staff, thin and multicolored. Atop it was a golden dog head. He was much older than the strange colt that had come to Rarity, and somehow Promethea knew why. He smiled at her.

She continued, unfazed by his entrance. "I think I know you from before. You are the magician. The snake-handler. The juggler. You introduced yourself to me when I was Bill, and then when I was Zecora..."

"Yes. You know, I always like you when you're at this stage, when you've not yet clearly defined who you are. I thought I'd come and introduce myself to the new girl before she's had time to become prejudiced against me."

Promethea raised the Caduceus, and the snakes hissed at the figure. "You mean you thought you'd see how big a threat Rarity poses before she's experienced enough to spot you coming. I take it that youthful, pony-like appearance is merely a glamour you molded for the occasion?"

"Oh, allow an old jackal his vanities. After all, she is a very attractive young mare; your handler had already convinced me of that. And I'm Jack. Jack the Faust. I like to look my best. I like to keep up appearances."

"Were you hoping to seduce her?"

"Oh please! Give me some credit. I have succubi for that! To be honest, I just wanted to see her before she ends up insane or gutted up on an altar somewhere. Though the drake said he wouldn't let that happen to her. Sweet kid. I like him.

"I mean, you do know how many enemies are gunning for her, don't you? There's a magician called Benneigh Solomon. I hear he's flying into Ponyville specially to see you. You ought to watch out for him. He sent those demons..."

"Yes. So they told me. He works for the Temple."

"Only on a freelance basis. The Temple would never admit to employing a magician. It's against their religion. Still, they want you dead. They think you're going to end the world."

"Why would they think that?"

"Oh, you're so sweet when you're in this amnesiac inbetween state. I almost forget how much I hate you the rest of the time. They think that because you are going to end the world, dummy."

She gripped he weapon tighter. "But...That's not true!" She wanted to believe her own words desperately.

The figure stretched out his hoof, and a green orb appeared in it. "You really can't remember anything, can you? Now, personally, I think ending the world's a great idea! Any real magician would agree." An image appeared in the orb, and Promethea saw a dying colt lying in a patch of dirt, blood leaking from his chest. On his face was a smile, and Promethea could almost recognize him. She did not lower her guard, and Faust said, "Promethea's father certainly did when he unleashed his dying curse upon humanity. That's you, by the way."

Promethea dropped the Caduceus.

Jackal Faust grinned, and pale yellow teeth showed their faces to her. He curled back his hoof, and the image faded.

"Ah. That's better. I see I have your attention."

Zecora leaned over the edge of the Star Pool. "Jackal Faust! Goddamn! This is screwed." she turned to the kneeling mare beside her. "Bill, you or me should have spotted him earlier, the amount of trouble he gave us!"

Bill shrugged. "Well, don't look at me! You can see yourself, he was using a glamour! I've never had any resistance to glamours!"

Grace looked over Bill's shoulder, and squinted at the glamour of Jackal Faust. "Don't keep us in suspense, darlings! Who is he?" She turned to Zecora. The zebra shuddered at the memories of her battles with Faust.

"Jack's a magician... Or at least, he is these days." She looked down into the Star Pool, and watched the two spiritual beings conversing. "He's manipulating Rarity, misdirecting her. You heard what he said about ending the world..."

Margie put a hoof to her mouth. "oh! he is bad. yes!" She was silenced when Margaret said, "Be quiet, Margie. Grace, this is serious. Too much knowledge might unbalance her..."

Grace nodded and turned to Margaret. "Yes. Yes, it might, rather. And an insane Promethea is too dreadful to contemplate. Do you know, I absolutely hate magicians."

Margaret was not impressed by Grace's sense of calm at the situation. "What are we going to do? He's snared her at her most vulnerable. And he claims to have gotten to her handler first."

They turned at the sound of Anna's voice calling out to them. "Sisters, look here! A new image is forming..."

The five gathered around the pool again, and saw that Rainbow Dash had finally entered the library with a bag of donuts in her teeth. Grace grimaced at the sight of her mane, and said, "Oh, it's Little Miss 'My head's so wide I need indicator lights tucked behind my ears!' What's she doing?"

Margie looked over Bill's shoulder, and licked her lips at the sight of Dash's bag of donuts. "um. she has donuts. i am hungry for sure!" The mare she leaned on frowned, and her eye twitched for a moment. "Would somebody shut this little figment up before I club her?" She felt Margaret pull the child away, and she shook her head in disbelief. "Jeez..."

Rainbow Dash made her way through the library. She trotted over to the computer station, and after failing yet again to open up her "WonderFanz!" account, she scanned the library data banks and then the Internet for whatever she could find on Promethea. To her surprise, she found that several thousand connections could be made to the name, and her face lit up to the point that she dropped her bag of donuts. She bent down to pick it up, and held it in a hoof while she sat down and pulled one out. She looked back at the screen, and grinned.

"Wow! Tons of stuff! I gotta print some o' this..." She set up several articles and stories to print, and chomped on a doughnut while she watched the papers slide out of the auto-copier. After they were done she picked them up in her mouth and set off to find Rarity. She walked through the aisles with an uncharacteristic grin for a pony who had claimed that they'd rather die than do research at a library. Dash looked around past the books on the shelves, hoping to spot a green scale or purple curl to tell her where Spike and Rarity were. She reached the end of the aisle, and stopped at the sight of Rarity sitting at a table with somepony neither of them knew.

"Rarity?" The question was muffled.

Jackal Faust looked up, and his charming demeanor from before was gone, as were his charming looks. He was no longer the young, startlingly handsome colt who had approached Rarity. He gritted his teeth, and mumbled, "Oh, for Set's sake..."

Rarity seemed groggy, and looked confusedly over at the creature on the other side of the table. He was no longer a colt, but a jackal as his name stated. What was more, he was ancient, looking to be older than Granny Smith. There was no hair on the top of his head, and what was there was unflattering and stringy. There were wrinkles all down his face and neck, and he seemed more evil than his previous self had.

Rarity blinked slowly, and said woozily, "Uuuh...What? What...What did you do with that handsome young colt...?" She seemed to be exhausted , and Dash was worried she would pass out.

Faust got up and slammed the chair into the table. He looked angrily at Rarity, and said, "He was a glamour, you vacuous little bimbo. This whole thing was a waste of my time. I hope Benneigh Solomon's boys cut you to pieces!"

Rainbow Dash trotted up to the table and set the papers down. "Hey you leave her be!" she shouted, and Faust looked at her with immense sarcasm. He pointed a claw at Dash and said, "Up yours, gidget."

Faust turned to Rarity, who still looked slightly delirious. "And as for you, you're gonna get exactly what you deserve! I coulda had things real sweet in that Beanstalk Kingdom if you hadn't bitched everything up!" He spit on the floor, and gave them his parting words.

"Screw you, lady. Screw you!" He turned and walked away, now using his cane to assist himself with his limp. He merged with the crowd of ponies in the main chamber of the library, and disappeared behind a group of studying teenagers.

"Well, he sucked."

Turning their heads, Rainbow Dash and Rarity caught sight of Spike coming around the corner. He had several books tucked under his arms, and scratched his head. "Sorry about leading that guy to you. He was nice enough when I talked with him." He stopped next to Rarity, who was rubbing her forehead with both hooves. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Rarity was about to answer when Rainbow Dash butted in. "Oh man, when I walked in, he was, like, totally having sex with her!" She ignored Spike's eye-twitch, and she turned to Rarity for confirmation. What she got was a dirty look.

"He was not having his way with me, Rainbow Dash." She stood up from the table, this time keeping her hooves off of every surface of it. "He was just touching my hoof. I-It was some sort of mind trick he was doing." She turned and looked at Spike. "H-He said a lot, and it was all sort of..." She paused, looking for the right word. "...frightening. Everything was dark, and it was like the library was deserted..."

Rainbow Dash pounded a reassuring hoof on Rarity's back, drawing another angry gaze from the unicorn that went unnoticed by Dash. "Aw, he was just some maniac wino." She put a hoof on the papers she'd printed. "Hey, look what I got!"

Spike picked up the papers as Dash began listing some of the things that she'd found. The three began to head to the exit of the library, and Rarity looked like her head was hurting. Dash didn't notice.

"There's all kinds of stuff about Promethea that I found on the Net. There's this Prench lesbian writer did this thing, "The Book of Promethea," and there's this black metal band called Hecate Enthroned..."

As soon as they stepped out of the library, Rarity turned towards the nearest shuttle stop, and Spike called after her. "Hey! Where are you going? Don't you care about this? I mean, this is sorta all about you!"

Rarity turned, and Spike could see the soreness hiding behind her azure eyes. "At the moment," she said, her voice slightly raspy, "I do not care. I am tired from being jumped by a magician, or sorcerer, or whatever he was, and I want to go home and relax. I cannot do that, though, as I have to attend to my store today and do my job, while you can go off to your college and read that while you ignore your mathematics lecture." The shuttle pulled up, and she blew a sarcastic kiss at him. "I bid you adieu, Spike." She did not bother to acknowledge Rainbow Dash.

As the shuttle pulled out of the stop, Spike turned to Rainbow Dash, who seemed nonplussed by the sudden change in Rarity's emotions. "Ah, she's just having an "I'm older than they are, and they're going to turn out better than me" moment." The look on Spike's face made her shut up, and she changed the subject. "So, this black metal band..."

"Rainbow Dash..."

She held up a hoof. "No, but, like, they have this number called "Promethea My Darkest Mask of Surreality!!".

Spike stopped her, and said, "I think I want to follow Rarity's lead and take a break from this Promethea stuff. It's killing her already, and I don't want to end up the same way. Besides," He lifted the stack of books he'd checked out, "I've got homework to do. So let's just do something normal and go to the University."

Rainbow Dash nodded, and looked jokingly at him. "Going to University's normal?" She laughed, and Spike smiled, glad she was easily letting go of the matter for the day. The two headed towards their college, and Spike asked, "By the way, Dash, didn't you say you were gonna bring donuts for us?"

The pegasus stopped in her tracks. Her mind showed her an image of the bag of donuts lying on a chair at the computer station as she trotted away with her papers. For a split second, Spike saw a look of absolute rage on Dash's face. Then it was replaced by one of oblivion. "Nope! Thought I was the only one who wanted some!" She laughed loudly, and continued to head toward the college. Spike smiled, and followed after her, listening absently to the news as he went.

This is TEXTure™.

Mayor Sonny Baskerville: Nuts or what?

The SLEAZE ENQUIRY into Ponyville's first multiple personality disorder MAYOR became more COMPLEX today.

A new personality called "The Squealer" claimed that all 42 personalities, including HIMSELF, were an elaborate SHAM.

This is TEXTure™.

"Hmmmm..."

Grace studied the images in the Star Pool until they faded. "Well, she seems to have survived..."

Margaret nodded, and floated behind Grace. "Well...yes. It was a lucky break, though, her friend coming back like that."

Zecora nodded. "Yeah, and Jack was only messing with her. Anyone else would have just shot her. She's helpless without guidance. Faust was right: Benneigh Solomon's friends from the Howling will pulverize her." She suddenly looked furious. "God, how many lives did Promethea's dad screw up?"

The Immateria began to fade, and the zebra felt woozy. She heard Bill behind her. "Zecora, honey, you're just upset. Promethea's existence is necessary..."

Zecora shut her eyes to block out the blending colors. "Right," she said. "Is that what you told yourself when poor crazy Red Zone blew your head off? In case it's escaped the attention of you ladies, I'm the only one here that being Promethea hasn't killed!"

The dizzy sensation faded. Zecora opened her eyes and found herself back in the hospital room. The sound of machines beeping and humming filled her ears, and she could no longer smell. She felt sweat dripping down her face, even though she felt like she was in an ice field. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, and managed to mumble out a word before sleep overcame her.

"Damn."

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Next: No Man's Land!

No Man's Land

Promethea
Weapon for Liberty

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Chapter 5

A past Promethea arrives,
A symbolic landscape explored,
A spiritual journey begins.

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Ypres, 1915:

Eyes that could not see stared out at the small patch of roses sitting very plainly in the field of war. They alone had been left unscathed in the blackened fields of the battles fought there. The body of the stallion lay near them, stuck in a cluster of barbed wires. His blood left a darker crimson stain on the ruby petals of the roses, and they had been his last sight in the world. He had almost been able to drag himself out of the wire and to the trench mere feet away from where his corpse now was. There was only one pony left in the trench, and at the moment he wished he wasn't

"Hello? Hello, lads? Come on, who's awake?"

Deep Waters looked around the trench at the limp figures lying near him. He was painfully trying to keep himself oblivious to the fact that he was the only one alive there, and he quietly joked to himself more than the bodies around him. He gripped his rifle tensely, listening to the sound of gunfire rattle off from a distance. He thought of the paint dripping down his leg, no longer the cutie mark he'd painted on the day before he'd left his mother and sister to fight in the War. There was nothing he'd had to cover up, and when he'd given his name he'd used a false one to match the false mark.

And so Sure Shot was accepted into the Equestrian Military forces, and left to fight in the trenches of one peaceful Griffon countries like Ypres. Now that he was there, though, he realized that he'd been very selfish to leave his mother waiting for him to come home. He could not handle knowing that he would not see her again, and looked around for something to draw his attention. His gaze ended up falling on one of the bodies of his fallen comrades, and he attempted to keep himself busy enough to avoid the inevitable truth.

"Come on, you lazy buggers."

No answer.

"Hairy? Chalky? Come on, wake up and I'll make us a cup of tea, how's that?"

Silence. Deep Waters turned to another colt, and saw the remains of his jaw hanging off his face. There were already flies gathering around his body, but he blocked them out.

"Lads?"

Nothing. He was alone.

Deep Waters began to sob, and reached into one of his uniform pockets. He drew out a picture of a slender young mare, leaning back in a jokingly prolific pose. Her hair cascaded across her chest, and though it was in reality a deep and vivid blue, it appeared dull and gray in the photo. Deep Waters stared at her, and after a moment said deliriously, "Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia, Sissy. I'm in a mess. I'm so sorry, Sissy."

He held the photo to his chest and began to cry. He continued to speak through his tears.

"I wish I hadn't left you and Mum, Sissy. I wish I hadn't been so uncaring; I should have listened to Mum. But now..." He paused, hesitant to let the truth escape his lips. Then he broke, and the words came cascading from his lips as quickly as his tears did. "...Now I'm done for, Sissy. I'm going to die, and so is everypony else out here. Oh Celestia, Sissy, how did I get into this? We're all done for."

He lowered his head to look at the photograph, his vision blurred by the tears that warmed his cheeks against the cold, uncaring night. Then, without warning, it appeared as though the photograph spoke to him.

"No. God's Universe is not itself unkind. There is love, and there is comfort..."

Deep Waters looked up at the angel before him.

"...and soft, sweet wings that gather up the fallen."

She held in one hoof a staff, which glowed brightly in the darkness before dawn broke. In the other she held a shield, engraved with markings that he could tell were Greek. Her head was adorned with a helmet of war, and from it cascaded a dark wave of blue that reminded Deep Waters intensely of his sister. A cloth wrapped around her body, and as she floated down to the trench it billowed like a veil, though there was no wind to move it. There was a solemn look on her face, and she moved next to him.

"You're brave friends are dead. I've come to take you home."

Deep Waters stared silently at the angel as she moved down to his hind legs, where an open gash resided on his right hoof. He felt no pain as she handled it with a gentle touch, and he felt a sudden gloom set over him.

"I--I've gone on already, haven't I? I'm dead, and you're an angel. I--I've heard of chaps who've seen 'em..."

She smiled gently, and shook her head. "You're not dead," she said, using pieces of her endless cloth to bandage his wound, "but your foot is wounded and infected. We must get you to safety, swiftly."

Her touch was gentle, and Waters felt calmed by the smile she gave him when she looked up from her work. "And I'm not an angel. Not exactly. My name's Promethea." She stood up on her hind legs, and asked, "Can you stand?"

The colt got to his feet. "Y-Yes, if you'll help me." He was stunned, and as the two made their way up the trench he said, "I...I can't place your voice. Sometimes you sound like a Hayrab, and sometimes like a Yank."

She held onto him as he limped onward, and replied, "I'm a little of both."

The angel looked out at the dying soldiers around them, and Deep Waters could see tears forming in her glowing eyes. "Dear, Gracious Gods. All of these stinking holes full of corpses. Foals, like you..."

He did not know how she knew he was underage, and at the moment it did not bother him. "W-We're colts. I'm eighteen." He looked guiltily down at the blackened ground, and added "Well, almost..." He looked back at the angel, and said, "We're doing this for our country. A-And God's with us. I mean, isn't he?" He knew he had mistakenly used the word the angel used instead of Celestia, but he didn't correct himself, and neither did she. "You'd know, wouldn't you? This is what God wants, isn't it?"

She glanced at her staff to see if it was floating with her, and looked back to the horizon, where the sun was beginning to show its face. She shook her head, and said, "No. This is what God's trying to help us up from." She gripped him, to make sure he did not fall from her grip, and comforted him with her words:

"Come with me. We have long, dark miles to tread before dawn..."

-------

"...and according to the soldier, she said, "Come with me. We have long, dark miles to tread before dawn."

Spike shut the book he had been reading from, and looked up at Rainbow Dash, who was staring intently at the picture of the soldier. He and Dash were discussing the history of Promethea as much as they could during their passing periods, and they hastily stepped off the escalator as they reached their floor. He continued to talk as he put the book away into his knapsack.

"Then she helps him back behind his own lines. I've read a lot of similar accounts, but this one is the most detailed..."

Rainbow Dash pulled a book from her saddlebags and held it with her wings as she and Spike made their way along the hallway. "Yeah," she said, looking at the cover of her own book intently. "Jeez, Spike, this Promethea stuff. When you look at how much there is about her..." She glanced at her overstuffed book bag uneasily. "I mean, it's sort of creepy."

She gestured to the papers she'd found at the library earlier that day. "All this stuff I found on the Net, like some woman at a church service who suddenly started testifying, beginning, "I am Promethea..." She showed Spike the cover of the book she'd been staring at. "Then there's this Womanly Hearts book, which we actually had in the library here at college."

Spike looked at the pale pink cover nonchalantly, then noticed a pony staring at them from across the hall. He recognized her as Sweetie Belle, and when he waved to her she started and galloped away without saying anything. As she rounded the corner and disappeared, Spike recalled the words of the figment he'd conversed with only yesterday. Oh. That explains it. Audibly, he blurted, "Shit."

Rainbow Dash looked over at him, surprised. She pulled the book away from him, and said, "Humph! Well, jeez, I didn't know you hated pink books."

Spike shook his head, angry at his mistake. "No. No, that's not what it was." He looked up, and then back down when he saw Dash's accusing look. "Womanly Hearts. Who's that?"

Dash opened up the book and said, "She's this Prench chick who wrote this book, "The Book of Promethea," and it's translated from Prench by somepony called Rosetta Stone. It's sort of like the book conjures this ideal lover, this imaginary goddess." She opened the book with her wings. "Here, listen to this...

"First of all, Promethea is a woman. I can describe her as such and I will do so. It will be hard because she has a simplicity that defies description. But at the same time she is a heroine of infinity."

Dash shut the book and looked over at Spike, who was staring off into space. "Sound like anypony we know?" she said with a grin.

Spike blinked slowly, then looked down at Rainbow Dash's book, which had been put back in its saddlebag. "Wow. That's beautiful. And this is a mare writing this?"

Dash flipped her hair back and looked over at him. "Well, like, yeah. I mean, the author happens to be a lesbian. But, like, so what?" She threw up a hoof to make a point, and stared Spike down accusingly again. "I mean, Luna, this is 1999! You know, Spike, sometimes you can be real homophobic!" She waited for an answer, smirking.

Spike tried to process what she was saying, but two and two didn't add up in his head. "Huh?" he asked. "I thought I was an enormous homo..."

Dash laughed, and said, "Nah, that's Rarity's thing!" She giggled and didn't notice his eye twitch. "You're just an enormous homophobic lady-killer wannabe jerky-jerk." She laughed at his annoyed blush, and changed pace as they made their way towards their next class. "Anyway, I'm taking this book home just out of curiosity, so you better not make fun of me."

Now it was Spike's turn to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You hate reading. Especially all that dirty Daring Do fan-fiction." He savored the appalled look on Rainbow Dash's face at the mention of one of the few secrets they shared that both of them had promised not to tell anypony else about. She looked ready to slap him, and had her hoof raised when she saw their Ancient History professor staring them down.

"You got off lucky this time, jerk," she whispered in his ear as they entered the classroom. They found seats near the back of the class, and Spike smirked at Rainbow Dash's flushed face. "Maybe I am. But enough of that. I just wish Rarity had at least taken something with her before she stormed off like that."

Dash sighed, relieved that their previous topic had been dropped. "Yeah, well, you heard her. She was tired of Promethea, and when Rarity gets tired of something..." She made a tossing motion with her hoof. "...in the trash it goes. Just like-"

"Miss Dash!" The pegasus jumped at the mention of her name, and she pulled her textbook out at the sight of her professor giving her a dangerous look. She saw that Spike had already done so, and whispered, "Asshole," before they began the professor began his lecture for the day.

-------

Rarity was exhausted. She could feel it in her bones and saw it in her eyes every time she looked in the mirror. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy a romance novel while sipping a cup of tea, wearing her most comfortable and soft robe and sitting in her favorite squishy armchair. But that was not going to happen, and the thought of how easy it would be to drop everything and obey her pleasurable desires made her groan.

There had been work. More work than she'd hoped for. Coming back to the Carousel Boutique, Rarity found that Hoity Toity had left an order for her. The number of zeroes on the dress quantity list had made her despair the hours that would follow, but the sight of the number of zeroes on her up-front pay check had given her the strength to accomplish the large orders. For the third time that day she wished that Spike did not have college, and she was lost in a flurry of cloths, gemstones, and pins until she had completed her dresses. She sighed in relief as the last gemstone fell into place, and set the dresses into her storage area before she collapsed into a chair, panting and sweating. She looked over at her clock, and saw that she'd spent 10 hours on the dresses. Good lord, she thought. My whole day, gone. At least I have enough time to shower before I can meet Spike at the University so we can get to the bottom of this Promethea issue.

She had just begun trotting up the stairs when a buzz on her wall informed her that somepony was Wall-Calling™ her (Wall-Call™- Call from home anywhere!). She leaned against the banister, groaned, and eventually mumbled, "Yes, yes, answer it."

The face of a colt Rarity did not know appeared in the center of the room. The image flicked around to where she was facing, and the colt smiled at her. "Rarity Seamstone?" She nodded heavily.

"I’m from the South Tower Hospital. There's a patient here under the name Zecora who knows you, and..." He looked uneasily off screen, and continued hesitantly. "Well, you should come right away."

Rarity shot up, her exhaustion pushed aside for the moment by a sudden rush of fear-filled adrenaline. "Oh Celestia. Zecora." Without saying anything to the head of the colt floating in the middle of her room, she shot down the stairs and shut off her lights. The Wall-Call™ shut off as well, and Rarity hastily locked her store and set of for the South Tower Hospital.

She burst through the doors of the hospital several minutes later (thanks to a rather shaken-up cab driver whose friend and colleague had committed suicide the previous night), and immediately asked the mare at the head desk where to find Zecora. She galloped through the halls of the hospital, and stopped short to thank the colt who had called her as she passed him by.

When she rounded the next corner, she sighed with relief when she caught sight of the elevator doors ahead. She passed by room after room, and didn't slow down when Cranky D. Donkey poked his head out from one of them. He seemed to recognize her, and called to her as she passed.

"Hey! Hey, I know you! We saw you last night! A-And that woman who was here earlier! She's got something to do with you..."

Rarity looked at him as she went, knowing fully well who he was talking about. "What?" she said, pretending she had not heard. "Look, I am here to see my friend. She's sick. I have to go..." And she rushed on.

"Yes..." Cranky watched her go, confused at the thoughts rocketing around his skull. "Yes, that's pretty much what she said."

-------

Rarity stepped into Zecora's room, and gasped at the sight of the dying zebra. She was pale, her gray coat now ghostly and kept noticeable by her black stripes. All of her golden rings had been removed, and Rarity tried not to stare at the strange sight that was her bare neck. Zecora was covered with a white sheet, and her eyes opened very slowly when she heard the unicorn enter.

"Oh Celestia. Z-Zecora? What's wrong?" She trotted next to her C.A.R.E. Pod, and the grin on the zebra's face scared her.

"Complications, my friend," she said, her voice weak and barely understood. "It seems I'm close to the end. That son-of-a-bitch Smee got to me." She chuckled, and Rarity was amazed that she could keep up her rhyme, even if she used a more modern term in it.

She moved closer to the Pod and leaned over, trying to comfort Zecora with a smile. "Listen to me, Zecora. You're going to be okay..."

"Jackal Faust doesn't think so, and neither do I. I saw him tell you that I was going to die. I watched your confrontation with the other Prometheas behind me. We-"

Rarity interrupted her, falling into a chair as she said, "Other Prometheas? Zecora, if you were watching, then you must have heard what Faust said, about Promethea..."

Zecora nodded weakly. "... ending the world. You need not worry about Faust, dear girl. Promethea is not going to end our world. He was messing with your head, as magicians do. There are worse things to worry about, things coming for you." She reached out and took Rarity's hoof in hers. "Benneigh Solomon is coming your way, with an entire army of demons at his command. Once he gets here, he'll turn you into sand. The Immateria is your only way. You have to go, to get away. To learn to deal with what's in store. The others can teach you more."

Rarity couldn't hear her. The world around her was spiraling, and blue swirls were filling her vision. She was slipping, falling into a void she couldn't describe. The only thing that connected her to the world was the hoof holding hers, and yet it seemed to be the cause of her sudden detachment. Through the fog she heard Zecora's voice, distant and dream-like.

"Yes. You just have to let go of reality. This is what Jack Faust did, no? The Laying On Of Hands? Just let go. You're almost there. You're almost..."

She was gone.

Rarity blinked slowly. She was sitting on a stone head, looking out at a fallen temple under a radiant red sky. A stone hand leaned against the head. Next to the stone figures lay a river of some unknown pink liquid that ran down to a reservoir, where purple bushes buzzed with the sound of bees that pollinated enormous roses. Bits of dandelions glided through the breeze that passed through the scenery, and as Rarity watched them float by she saw that they weren't bits of dandelion fluff, but actually bubbles. It was at that moment that Rarity realized she was going insane.

"Oh Celestia. Celestia, it's different every time." She held her head in her hooves and shook it violently. "Okay, I'm imagining this. I am sitting in the hospital right now, imagining this..." She looked up, half expecting to be back in Zecora's room. Instead, she found herself hearing voices behind her.

"Debatable."

"Debatable? Why, it's practically intractable!"

Looking up, Rarity saw two birds floating down towards her, cawing out what sounded like words, though garbled and almost indiscernible. No, she thought, looking at their heads more closely. Not birds.

"She's clearly sitting here, imagining a hospital, yet she claims the complete reverse!"

"I agree! It's worse than intractable! It's unfalsifiable!"

One of the creatures landed on the index finger of the broken hand, and the other rested on the ring finger. Rarity saw that they were indeed something other than birds, and backed away a bit at the sight of their heads. Though their bodies were bird-like, their heads were that of humans, and aged ones at that. The creatures smiled down at her with crooked, broken smiles, and Rarity felt slightly disoriented as one cawed and the other said:

"In fact, it's very near ineffable!"

Rarity took a step away, and found the edge of the stone head. "Wh-What are you?" She asked, and one of the creatures flew down to her.

"We are supreme deities of the cosmos!" said the one atop the stone head. The other flapped down and landed on the stone head's eye, and said, "We can prove it! We have lovely numbers, and we talk back to front!" He looked up at her questioningly. "Do you have anything to trade?"

Rarity blinked. She'd forgotten why she was there. Or how she was there. Or where exactly "there" was. Wasn't “there” a relative term, after all? She stammered, "T-Trade? I--I don't remember. Is that why I came here...?"

The creature grinned up at her, showing off its broken set of teeth. "Of course it is! You must recall, we made arrangements with your aunt. All the important balloons were truncated. Hurry up and decide! It's impeccative!" The bird-like creature smiled up at her, and she was about to answer when another voice rang out from in front of her.

"Vermin, be gone! I'll not have Pandeliriums in this place!"

The creatures head turned, and it cawed questioningly. In front of them was Promethea. Or at least what Rarity thought was Promethea. She wore nothing, and a cloth floated around her radiant sky blue body. Her mane flowed from her helmet like a waterfall, a blue color that melted into her coat with ease. Around her crackled a fierce blue energy, and she spoke in a demanding and strong-willed voice.

"I think you heard me. Leave, or burn!"

The Pandeliriums had seen enough. Frightened, they cawed, and flew away to leave Rarity with the strange impression that she'd forgotten something. She looked over at the Promethea in front of her, and said, "Good lord. What we're they?"

The mare watched he creatures fly away. "The Pandeliriums? On, they're just distractions. Gibberish, fluttering thoughts to lead the mind astray. You have to be stern with them. I'm Margaret, by the way. You must be Rarity."

Rarity nodded, and slid down the stone head to the ground below, and stepped onto the path that stretched endlessly in the direction of the horizon. "Er, yes. Rarity Seamstone. I guess you're here to meet me because..." She trailed off, not quite knowing the answer.

Margaret floated ahead down the path, never touching the ground. "...because I'm the one who you thought about most recently. Yes. The rules are surprisingly simple, once you know them." She gestured down the path, and waited or Rarity to catch up to her. "I'm glad you came, Rarity. You need counseling. You need advice."

Rarity trotted down a long set of stone steps. Watching her hooves to see that they landed where they were supposed to, she said, "Yes, that's what Zecora said." She looked up at Margaret. "Okay, firstly, I am sitting in a hospital imagining this conversation, right?"

Margaret smiled as she floated down beside Rarity. "Well, yes. Your body is sitting in a physical location, and this is all in the imagination. Not your imagination, though. The imagination."

Rarity did a double take. "'The imagination?' You make it sound as if there's only one of them."

"There is. There's a material world, and there's an immaterial world. Both worlds exist, but in different ways. For example, chairs exist. So do the ideas of chairs."

"Yes, but... well... everypony's imagination-"

Margaret cut her off. "Dear, please, try to use everybody from now on. You'll find that there are far more sentient beings in all the worlds than ponies."

Rarity shrugged. "Fine. Everybody's imaginations are separate, aren't they? I mean, everyone has their own private mental space..."

Margaret nodded as they passed several chairs growing out of the ground. "Of course they do. Just like their own house is their own private physical space. But the territory outdoors belongs to everyone."

Rarity pondered her words. "But if your mind behaved as though it were a place, then every time anypony- anyone, sorry- followed a trail of thought..."

"...they'd be walking a pathway in the Immateria. Ponies are amphibious, Rarity. That means they live in two worlds at once: Matter and Mind..."

They passed the stone path, and walked through a blue-grass field. Rarity looked up at an enormous rock formation shaped like a cone, with green, flowery ice cream atop it. Margaret continued, and Rarity listened as she observed the scenery.

"Yet many people only notice the solid world they have been conditioned to think of as real..." She gestured to the world around them. "...While all about them diamond glaciers creak and star-volcanoes thunder."

Rarity looked at her strangely. "But what about ideas? Why do some ponies have better ideas than others?"

Margaret turned to her. "People, dear. Try to be more general. Have you ever wondered why ponies have cutie marks? Have you ever wondered how those three diamonds came to adorn your flank?" She watched Rarity look down at her cutie mark, and shook her head. "It's because pony-kind is the most in touch with imagination. Cutie marks are the small bits of immaterial soul that latches onto a pony when they find the skill that brings them the closest to their own immaterial enlightenment."

She looked out at the Immateria. "Ideas grow like flowers here. Some are common ideas, found everywhere. But if you want the rarer ideas, the most exotic blossoms, you have to travel further. Artists, scientists, philosophers...They're the pioneers of these territories."

"But you're saying that anybody could explore this place if they wanted to?"

"Yes. That's why Promethea's enemies find her so threatening. It's what she represents."

"What do you mean?"

Margaret looked down at Rarity as they climbed a tall purple hill. "I mean Jackal Faust told you that Promethea was intended to end the world. In a way, he was right."

She gestured out to the world that lay before them. Rarity gasped at the sight. It was the sort of sunset that she had dreamed of countless times, one where she would climb the hill to an expecting lover, a prince or royal of some sort, and be swept up in his hooves and be loved as one could only dream of. She was brought back to herself as Margaret spoke again.

"Promethea makes people more aware of the vast immaterial realm. Maybe tempts them to explore it. Imagine if too many people followed where she led?" She smiled slightly. "It would be like the great Devonian leap, from sea to land. Humanity slithering up the beach, from one element to another. From Matter..." She paused, and swept her hand across the landscape of the romantic scene. "...to Mind."

They began to make their way down the hill, and Rarity listened to Margaret speak as she watched the image of the sunset and perfect meeting fade in her mind, quite literally.

"We have many names for this event. Some call it "The Rapture." We call it "The Opening of the 32nd Path." Your dear Princess Celestia calls it "The Day the Sun Does Not Rise." We call it the Awakening, or the Revelation, or the Apocalypse. But "End of the World" will do."

Rarity blinked at the sound of sarcasm in Margaret's voice when she mentioned "Dear Princess Celestia". Not only did these Promethea-related characters seem to not recognize Princess Celestia's authority, but they seemed to have the utmost disrespect for her. She chose to address the matter at a later time, and instead asked, "Er, but... The end of the world. That's bad, isn't it?" She looked up at Margaret, who was in turn looking out at the scenery before them.

"Is it?" she asked, and Rarity followed her gaze. To her shock, she saw that the world had changed around them. Where blue-purple grasses had once stood were now skulls, piled up and glistening in the now rising sun. In the distance stood flag poles, and she saw that some had dismembered cadavers spiked on them. In the background were symbols, such as the grand flag of Equestria and that of the infamous Neighzi Party, along with a stallion who looked remarkably and frighteningly like Twilight Sparkle's brother, Shining Armor, saluting to nothing in particular while observing the onslaught that occurred in the foreground.

In front of the two stood what appeared to be soldiers. These colt, however, were almost completely covered by their helmets, and the only thing sticking out of them were their legs. The two sides galloped at each other, and Rarity turned away before she could see the inevitable slaughter that would happen. Margaret watched blankly, while her companion shook beneath her.

"'The World' isn't the planet, or the life on it." She grew angrier as the fighting in the distance continued, and Rarity eventually turned to it, covering her mouth at the sight. "The world is our systems, our politics, our economies...our ideas of the world!" She gritted her teeth and pressed a hoof to her chest. "It's our flags and our banknotes and our border wars. I was at Ypres. I was at the Somme." She reached her peak of rage, and in fury burst out.

"I say end this filthy mess now."

Then she calmed herself, and Rarity looked over at her worriedly. She tried to change the subject, and said, "Jackal Faust... H-He said Promethea was her father's dying curse upon humanity..."

Margaret looked depressingly out at the war zone before them. "Curse? Promethea wasn't his curse upon existence." She smiled hopefully. "She was his gift to it.

"Promethea is imagination. What other comfort did the poor boys who died here have?"

Rarity looked over at Margaret, shocked at the truth behind the war field they were looking at: this was Margaret Haylor Case's imaginings of the Great Griffon War. She watched Margaret carefully as the floating half-mare continued.\

"What else, except Woolfred Owen's poems, or the Angel of Mons...

"...or Promethea?"

She flew onward, and Rarity tried to ignore the crunching of skulls under her hooves. As soon as I get back to the real world, I'm going to the spa to get my hooves re-done.

"If you'd heard them," continued Margaret, "all those boys. There was nothing I could do. They were calling for their mothe..." She faltered.

"F-For their muh..."

Tears that glowed a brilliant blue dripped down Margaret's cheeks, and when Rarity put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder she stopped, rubbing her eyes silently.

"Please excuse me. It's silly, really. I was just a cartoonist. My only concerns were my art, my deadlines, and my paycheck. Then Promethea happened to me, and all of a sudden I felt responsible for the problems of the world, for every avoidable disaster and plague. When the Great Griffon War erupted, it felt like a personal failure..."

Rarity looked over at her. "But... Wars simply happen. How is that a failure on your part?"

"Because Promethea is imagination... and because war, all war and conflict, is naught but the failure of imagination."

Margaret gestured up to the sky, and Rarity saw yet another intimidating image. This one was of four humans, each with their own deformities or style, riding four large steeds that could not be called ponies for all the bits in Equestria. Rarity recognized the picture from one of the ancient mythology book that Spike had brought with him when working at her boutique.

"The Four Horsemen don't cause the Apocalypse," Margaret explained. "After all, they've been riding for centuries, hanging over our heads. They merely symbolize what life on Earth is already like. They show us why we need an Apocalypse. Ponies and other species alike must imagine a way to rise above the perilous material situation that they have created. That's why Promethea is necessary."

Rarity watched as Margaret floated u to an enormous rose growing out of the field of skulls, and said, "What you're saying is that Promethea is the world's ticket to where we are now, the Immateria. And this is, in a way, the Promised Land." She ignored the sounds of gunshots behind her. "So, why are there people trying to kill me?"

Margaret brought the rose down, tensing the stem. "Here, climb onto this." Rarity obliged, and sat down amongst the rose petals. As she did, Margaret explained: "There are some people with a vested interest in keeping the world as it is, because that's the world they have power over. You see, in the Immateria, there's no rent, no tax, no property. There's no real estate, no boundary fences..."

She stepped into the rose, and the stem snapped back up straight. The force of the snap sent the rose flying into the air, and with it the two mares, floating along through the sky.

"...no limits."

They floated along, moving from the red-soaked battlefields to a more relaxed area. Margaret pointed down to several windows below them, and Rarity saw different pictures in them as Margaret spoke:

"It's important that you understand how measureless in power and splendor are the territories which you represent. In truth, the beauties of the solid and material universe are but a part of the rich spectrum of existence."

Rarity looked in the first window, and saw a field of corn leaning in the breeze. In the center of the field was what at first appeared to be a crop circle. After a moment, though, she realized it was a symbol, a circle with a large X through it.

"The one-tenth of an iceberg that is visible above the tideline of reality. Matter is that part of being that has crystallized, where the mind's light has petrified to concrete substance."

The next window was a deep purple, and Rarity saw a crescent moon shining above two figures. Looking closer, she saw that they were lovers, holding each other in a timeless grip of love and romance. What was more, one was a drake, and looked suspiciously like Spike. More disturbing yet, the other appeared to be none other than Rarity's sister, Sweetie Belle. Rarity looked over at Margaret, but the Promethea's face showed no acknowledgement of the couple.

"Beyond substance is imagination, the moonlit realm of dream and fiction, sexual fantasy and the unconscious mind. These Lunar attributes, imagination and romance, are the gem-crusted gateways of the Immateria."

Rarity looked away from the two lovers, gagging slightly at the thought of them together. Weakly, she said, "Just the gateways? I thought that dreams and imagination were, how to say it, 'the whole deal'?"

The window now changed to a bright orange, and when Rarity hesitantly looked over the rose's edge, she saw a symbol that looked familiar. It was a large circle with what appeared to be horns sticking out of the top of it. Beneath it was and arrow, which in turn pointed down to a wall of equations that would confuse even Twilight Sparkle. In the middle of the hailstorm were the forms of two strange creatures. One had the head of an ibis, and one was a man with a winged helmet on. In between them was a single rose.

"No," said Margaret. "They're just the way in. Beyond the Lunar sphere lies the Mercurial domain of intellect and science, of magic and of language. Civilization's most precious gift, communication, has its wellspring here. Still, intellect isn't everything..."

Rarity thought momentarily of Rainbow Dash before saying, "So, the Immateria... It's a map of what's inside people, not just the universe beyond them?"

Margaret nodded, and Rarity looked down at the window beneath them. Now it was a deep emerald, bearing a symbol (♀) that Rarity recognized from a self-help book she'd once bought. The symbol of the female, if I recall. Beneath that was another famous painting that Rarity herself had shown to Spike, who had almost immediately lost interest and headed towards older works. It was a woman standing on an oyster shell, covering herself with the long locks of hair cascading down her back.

"The worlds inside and outside us have the same structure, the same pattern. Journeying beyond even the intellectual idea of shape or form, we next traverse the rich Venusian landscape of emotion."

They continued onward, and the window changed to a brilliant gold. A bright, shining sun shone up from it, and beneath it were crosses standing above the ground. Beneath that were a rich assortment of animals, and Rarity recognized a Cockatrice among them.

"Passing that, even more rarefied, more tenuous even than feelings, love or joy or sorrow, lie the golden, Solar reaches of the living soul. This is the burnished fleck of self within each individual, the highest human plane within the Immateria. Beyond lie the transhuman realms of forces absolute and universal.

Rarity was suddenly rocked violently as the air around them grew stormy. "Whoah! Th-The weather feels like it's getting rougher!"

Red flashes from below made her look down at the window, and she saw that it had changed to a deep, angry red. Underneath another symbol (♂) was a scale, and next to it stood a long, shining sword.

"We're moving through the stern and Martial stratospheres of universal judgment, tilting in the very balance of the cosmos." Margaret gripped Rarity's arm as the rose swayed frantically in the storm. "Hold tight, Rarity. Hold tight..."

Rarity saw dark clouds bearing down on them from above as the world grew dark and stormy. Lightning flashed above them, and Rarity shouted over the fury, "AAA! I'm slipping! Where did all of these rain clouds come from?"

Margaret pointed below, and Rarity hesitantly looked over, careful not to fall off the edge. Lightning illuminated the window, which also glowed blue. Beneath a symbol that looked something like a number 4 (or perhaps a crescent with a 2 in it) were indiscernible shapes that hid behind the clouds that raged about them. Rarity heard Margaret's voice through the storm:

"Past universal judgment are the sheltering, Jupiterian skies of universal mercy, where the gods of storm and lightning play."

Gods of storm and lightning? wondered Rarity. But that's what pegusi are for! They control weather! Before she could point out Margaret's mistake, she felt the rose begin to tip as they headed for something dark and abysmal in the distance. Somehow she managed to hear Margaret's voice as the rose tipped.

"Beyond that is the chasm at the far edge of existence, where..."

The rose flipped over.

"Damn! It's no good. We're tipping over..."

Rarity tried helplessly to grab the rose as it fell, hoping it would somehow keep flying if she flipped it back over. Nothing changed, though, and in a panic she yelled, "Margaret! Margaret, we're falling!"

The immaterial mare shouted to her as she fell down through the clouds. "Don't worry! Remember, this whole journey is through your imagination! You can't be hurt! Your body is-"

Rarity found herself losing consciousness as she slid completely off the rose and fell into the blackness below. She heard Margaret calling to her, but she couldn't hear what she was saying. She let herself sink into the blackness, sure that she would wake up any moment.

"-somewhere

else..."

------

Zecora was asleep when Nurse Redheart walked into the room with her assistant. At the sight of the unconscious form lying on top of the zebra, Redheart momentarily panicked.

"Uh-oh," she said, rushing to the limp form of Rarity and pulling her off of Zecora. "What the hell happened here?" She sat the unicorn up in her chair, and found that while she was alive, she showed no signs of waking up. Her assistant stood for a moment, then said:

"Isn't that the fashion mare who came visiting the zebra earlier today?"

Redheart nodded. "Yes, and she's unconscious. Celestia, I hope it's not that weird infection that's killing Zecora." She gestured over to a strange contraption in the corner of the room. "Get me a Squealchair over here..."

Her assistant nodded, and brought the contraption over. Turning it on, it released an almost silent squeal (hence its name). As he moved it, he said, "Sure. Y'know, this whole Zecora thing is creepy. You see that science heroine who visited her? The Hayrab woman with the snakes?"

"Yeah," said Redheart. She began to pull Rarity off the chair, and found she was heavier than she appeared. "It's the millennium, I guess. Crazy times." She grunted trying to pull Rarity onto the Squealchair. "Help me lift her."

The two nurses pulled Rarity onto the chair and moved her into what they assumed would be a more comfortable position. "There you go," said the assistant. "Boy, she's out like a light. You think she's on dope?"

The question was perfectly normal for anypony living in Ponyville. "Could be," said Nurse Redheart. "We'll stick her in a side-ward downstairs and keep an eye on her." They turned the chair towards the elevator, and made idle chit-chat as they went in.

"Incidentally, you hear any more on the Baskerville case?"

"What, the mayor? Yeah, I saw it on TEXTure how one of his multiple personalities, "Little Sonny," also has multiple personalities. Go figure."

"Man, multiple personalities with multiple personalities. The mind's a peculiar place."

The two nurses stepped out of the elevator and began to push Rarity down the hall towards a side-ward. As they passed a main hallway, they did not notice the donkey staring distantly at the unicorn on the Squealchair.

"...reported seeing The Painted Doll haul himself out of the Hoofson this morning, so he survived. I just hope Flam does, too." Flim looked over at Cranky, and was not surprised to see that the donkey had been looking off at something else. "Cranky? Are you listening to me, pal?"

The donkey didn't answer immediately. Something was happening to the mare in the Squealchair as she was wheeled out into the hall. For a second, the hospital was gone, and Cranky saw instead a vast, vibrant blue ocean, shining brightly in the light of twin suns. The mare was resting on a boat made from a rose, and the image was all together impossible. Then the world was back to the way it should be, and Cranky found himself hearing Flim repeating his last words.

"Listening to me, pal?"

"Uh. Yes," said Cranky, unsure if he was. "Yes, of course. I-I'm sorry, Flim. I was just noticing that young mare they brought out of the elevator. We met her last night, before the firefight."

Flim looked over at the pale unicorn being wheeled around a corner. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She sure gets around, doesn't she?" He nudged Cranky coyly, and the donkey was about to respond when he heard frantic footsteps from behind them. Turning, he saw a familiar-looking dragon racing towards them, backpack in tow.

Spike slid to a halt next to Cranky, and turned to him. "Hey," he panted, exhausted from what appeared to have been a run from his school. He continued, "Listen, do you know where Zecora is? Y'know, the zebra? I got a call from the hospital in the middle of a lecture, and I have to get to her ASAP."

Cranky shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know who that is. But," He paused, unsure of whom exactly he was speaking to. "We saw you last night, didn't we? You were that college kid, and you had that mare with you. The term paper guy, right?"

Spike nodded. "Glad you remember. What about it?"

Cranky gestured to the corner the two nurses had just taken Rarity around. "I just saw that same mare getting carted off to a side-ward by two nurses. She was unconscious, and the nurses seemed worried it was some kind of infection." He felt a sudden pride erupt in his chest for his psychic gift, and felt only the slightest bit worse when he saw Spike's face drop.

"Oh shit. Rarity." The drake rushed off, yelling his thanks behind him. He sprinted down the hall, tripped momentarily on a medicine cart, and was gone, disappeared around the corner after the nurses and their cargo.

Flim stared at the corner for a moment, then chuckled. "Kids these days. Strange aren't they? Almost alien."

Cranky stared at the spot where Spike had tripped. "Yes..." he said, thinking about the unconscious mare in a side-ward somewhere. "Strange..."

------

Rarity felt warm. The sound of the beachfront made her smile in her sleep, and she felt the warm waters cooling her hooves as they drifted along with the current. She felt herself rise up, and was rudely awakened by the smashing of her boat into the sands of a sparkling beach. After coughing up several gulps of seawater, Rarity pushed herself up and looked around.

"Margaret? Margaret, where are you?" She called out her companion's name, and heard no answer. Deciding she was on her own for the moment, Rarity made her way along the beach, stopping to lean on some rocks that led up to a plateau.

"Look, you can get out of this," she told herself. "It's just your imagination. You can just open your eyes, right?" She nodded, agreeing with herself forcefully. "Okay, on three: One, Two..." She shut her eyes and opened them again.

"...Or, of course, we have Plan 'B.'"

After searching the area thoroughly, Rarity found the only way to go was up, and began to climb up the rocks towards the plateau above. She grumbled as much as she could along the way, almost grateful that no one else was there to tell her to stop. When she reached the plateau, she congratulated herself by stretching her legs out, savoring the soft pops that told her that her muscles were un-knotting themselves. She looked out at the ocean, and said, "Well, after that imaginary climb, I imagine I'm almost exhausted."

Her smile faded as she realized that no one was there to help her continue her journey. "This is terrible," she said to no one. "This whole thing, it really is the worst. Possible. Thing." She allowed herself the dramatics, even though she knew they were pointless alone. "They say they want to teach me about this." She waved at the imaginary world around her. "Well, 'How to Get Home' would be a great start."

She looked out at the ocean again. "Okay, Rarity. Think hard..." She turned and began to head up a more step-like pile of rocks, and spoke to herself for company. "This isn't one of the higher levels of the Immateria that Margaret talked about. Everything is shifting and changing too much." She looked over at a nearby seagull, and watched it flap its gloves and take off, right on time, according to its watch. "I'm still in the dream-like region. Perhaps Misty Magic Land, or somewhere."

Her thoughts began to give her panicky situations, and she felt her heartbeat speed up. "Oh God, what if I get lost? M-Maybe that's what happens to depressed people... o-or crazy people."

She stopped. Did I just say "God?" Her mind had told her to say it, and it came out unconsciously. "Oh God, this place is getting to me already," she said, and she yelped when she realized she'd said it again. "Maybe I am going crazy. Maybe that's what happens to people who get to places like this. They wander out of the safe and sane areas of their mind, and they wind up somewhere bad and wild and..."

She looked up at the plateau stretching out before her. Or what she had thought was a plateau.

"...and, uh..."

Rarity was staring at an iron gate. Along the sides of it were the decapitated heads of countless creatures, some recognizable, others strange and alien. Above the gate was a stone archway, created by the stone tongues of two gargoyles facing each other. The gate itself, though, was what caught Rarity's attention. At the top of it, the gate had several words scripted onto it:

TRANCIPALITY OF HY BRASIL

Next to the gate, on the stone wall, was something that made Rarity afraid to continue, even though she knew this was her next stop. A sign was nailed into the wall, and it stated:

NEPTURA'S PROTECTORSHIP

Beneath it, scribbled in blood, were the words:

TRAVELERS TURN BACK!

Rarity gulped, and stood staring at one of the heads for a moment. Then, after several inner arguments about whether or not this was really happening, she trotted up to the gates, daintily opened the gate, and shut it politely on her way in.

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Next: AMAZING GRACE!