The Tyranny of Discord

1The Way of Things

Sleep came to her as it often does to the poor and downtrodden: uneasily, if at all. This she was used to. Had it been up to her, though, she would have preferred the usual bone-deep exhaustion to the difficult and often frightening ordeal of waking up that had been her experience of late.

It was the same as the night before, of course. A dream, was it? She hardly knew. The images, the shadow of a dream, came to her during that fretful time between resting and waking, when the mind is restless but the body still unwilling to wake. The vulnerable time, which it took advantage of. The visions were cloudy, distant, as if unable to reveal themselves to her fully. Images of a figure black as night, with wings dark and powerful, and a flowing mane of starlight that billowed and flowed and seemed to coalesce into the dream itself, making the figure at once a part of her dream and also her waking mind. She could sense vague, shifting emotions emanating from this otherworldly being: resolve and conviction, but also a heavy consternation, fear, and anger. And every time, just as she would begin to be afraid herself, everything would vanish and she would wake in a sweat, panting and wide-eyed. So it had continued for more nights than she cared to remember.

Mourning Star sighed, stretched, and shuffled off the jetsam rags and blankets she had been drowsing under. A far cry from a bed, she knew, but she was thankful for the scraps just the same. They lined the hard wooden floor of her hermitage, which was a dimly lit, rather somber yet cozy attic above the orphanage she looked after. The tiny room was unburdened by the accoutrements of personality that may have constituted it as a home, but Mourning Star seemed untroubled by this. She was quite used to the prospect of not having a place to call home—a dry floor and a roof would suffice.

She blinked. The first rays of the morning sun had begun to trickle through the one small window, yellowing and worn, that was wedged into the mismatched woodwork. It looked westward, out over the slums and outskirts of the city descending down the hill, and finally, far off in the distance, to the heather that lay beyond and extended to the horizon.

The sun was warm and beckoning. Mourning Star yawned wearily as it slid over her, tickling a coat that was grey from head to hoof; plain and drab, yet strangely beautiful when the light touched it, as it seemed to glow a pale, vivid silver. Her mane was a tangle from her fitful sleep, medium length and dark as coal. The one marking she possessed was a stark sliver of white that began above her left brow and ended in a burst upon her upper cheek. Against the steel of her coat, it looked peculiarly like a falling star streaking through the pre-dawn sky, and thus was her namesake. Even her eyes brought no color to her body, as they were as deep a grey as the rest of her, but they were bright and honest and tinged with the light of a smile that was seldom seen upon her lips.

Lying there, with the sun gleaming warm against her, thoughts of her dream crept unbidden to her mind. The dark, imposing figure that radiated emotions as fierce and changing as the tides, the flowing mane that seemed to grow and engulf everything; when she gazed into it, she felt at once a deep sense of wonder as well as an encroaching, crushing loneliness. Even with the sun bathing her in its reassuring heat, it was enough to make Mourning Star shiver.

But she had languished abed for too long already. She shook her head to clear her thoughts of the last foggy dregs of the vision. She could hear the telltale sounds of the world waking up, rising up out of the city down below the hill, the marketplace that was surely already bustling with the frenetic activity of a new day. It was where she needed to be. With one last heavy sigh, Mourning Star forced herself up and out of bed, pausing only a moment to halfheartedly straighten the mess of her mane before descending the stairs that led from her humble abode to the main floor of the orphanage below. Not for the first time, as she contemplated the long trek that awaited her, she wished dreaming of wings could make them appear.

It wasn't really an orphanage, not truly. At least, that hadn't been the building's original purpose. In truth, it was just a ramshackle old house, with minor additions hastily erected in years past to try and best make use of the space available. Still, additions or no, it wasn't exactly roomy: Mourning Star figured it could probably hold eight or nine before things started getting uncomfortable. At the moment there were only seven, including herself and two others who, although they did not stay in the orphanage, helped her with chores, cleaning, and the general looking after of the place. The stairway adjoining her attic led to the kitchen, cramped and cluttered but otherwise relatively clean. Flanking the kitchen were a washroom and bath on one side and a room that was part playroom part den on the other. Posterior to these was where all the foals and young ponies slept, it being the largest available room in the house.

Mourning Star glanced around. The curtains adorning the window above the sink were sheepishly trying to hold back the insistent sun, but the faded fabric did little to staunch the light streaming through them. She drew them back, and sunlight flooded the kitchen. She knew the warm rays would have most likely already woken her young charges, but she decided to check on them just the same. If she had to get up, she saw no reason to spare them the same.

“You look like hell, miss.” The matter of fact observation came from behind her.

Mourning Star turned, rebuke at the ready, but when she saw the young unicorn looking up at her, she relented. She sighed audibly. “Good morning to you as well, Sola. Tell me, wherever did you learn such subtlety? It certainly wasn't from me,” she finished dryly.

The pony that stood before her was a brilliant aquamarine. Though only a few years younger than Mourning Star, she was markedly small for her age. Her mane was teal splashed with white, and the color cascaded down her back like sea spray on a wave until it reached her long, luxurious tail. More often than not the hair would tumble lazily down over her face, partially obscuring the sandstone eyes that were perpetually wide and curious. Together with a rather soft spoken voice, this gave many the impression of shyness upon first meeting her, a misconception that never lasted long.

Solace's bangs dangled as they always did—wild and willful as ever—but this time the inquisitive eyes were wide with concern. “I don't need magic to know a pony ain't feelin' like herself,” she continued, ignoring the quip about her forwardness. “You least of all, Star.”

“Is it that obvious?” Mourning Star asked wearily. The only answer she received was raised eyebrows and eyes that, somehow, seemed to get even larger. She laughed despite herself. “Well, if I look as bad as I feel, I'm rather glad I can't see myself.” Solace opened her mouth to voice what were undoubtedly more worries, but Mourning Star held up a hoof, shushing her. “None of that, now, I'm fine. Really. I just haven't been sleeping well is all.” The young unicorn was still eying her as if trying to decide whether to believe her or not, so she added, “What about you? What brings you around here at the crack of dawn?”

“Just figured I'd check in,” Solace said. If she still had concerns for Mourning Star's dishevelment, she left them unvoiced. “Brother had to leave early, so I decided to come by and see if ya needed a hand rousin' the foals or gettin' breakfast started. I can't leave ya to run this place all by yourself, now can I, miss?” Solace and her twin brother Sojourn had been on their own for as long as Mourning Star could remember. Sojourn was mute, and so Solace had spoken for them both when they came to her, telling her of their plight. She had taken them under her protection when they had nowhere left to go, and since then she had been unable to get them to leave: even after they had come of age, they had insisted on staying and helping her look after the orphanage. She had been thankful for the help at first; now, she wouldn't have known what to do without their constant companionship.

“There isn't going to be any breakfast if I don't get down to market,” Mourning Star yawned. “It's past time I left. Look in on the foals for me while I'm gone, would you? I'm worried Starling may have a fever. Oh, I hope that's all it is, you know how difficult it is to get proper medical care in this-”

Solace was pushing her toward the door. “Star, I've got it handled. The little rascals won't give me too much fuss, I'll see to that.” She pawed distractedly at her overzealous mane, momentarily clearing it from her eyes. “And if ya see that brother of mine, tell him to hurry his horn over here and help me out. Why, he can teach the colts how to brood.” She grinned. The mane drooped nonchalantly back to its normal place.

Mourning Star grinned back, about to say that she would keep an eye out for Sojourn, when two small blurs streaked out from behind Solace. They were upon Mourning Star before she could blink

“I'm not sick, Miss Star.” The pegasus colt, Starling, looked up at her with baleful eyes. “I feel fine, I promise! Can we come down with you to mar-” The rest of his plea was drowned out by a sudden and terrible fit of sneezing.

His companion glanced at him smugly. “He's been doing that all night,” Sundrop, a bright yellow earth pony filly said, tossing her mane importantly. “I told him he should rest, but he wouldn't listen. I even offered to make him some soup myself, but nooo.”

“Your soup tastes funny,” Starling remarked, making a face.”

“It does not!” Sundrop shot back. “It's supposed to help you get better!” The pair fell to squabbling.

The last had been said with such maternal frustration that Mourning Star couldn't help but smile. This is what we suffer for, she thought. The foals under her care were her deepest treasures. She knew that there were some of her earth pony brethren who thought less of her for giving shelter to pegasi and unicorns, just as they did for her keeping of non-earth ponies as close friends. We have a hard enough time looking out for our own, they said. The wings and horns look down on us, smother us—why should we offer our help? Protect your own, ignore the others. Let like fend for like.

But fate hadn't deigned to see it that way, Mourning Star knew. Life didn't care if you had a horn when it struck both of your parents with disease. Life took no notice of your wings when your entire village burned down around you, leaving you destitute and alone. She would be uncaring, too. The others be damned if they thought her foolish. She would not turn a foal away and out into the cold because they had been born with graces she did not possess. She could show for a fact the friends simple kindness and empathy had won her: as unicorns, Solace and her brother (even despite their common birth) could have risen to heights undreamed of to Mourning Star, yet they had decided to stay.

Some ponies still spoke of a time when all were equal and valued according to their natural talents rather than their shortcomings, but if that were true, none were yet alive who remembered it. Still others claimed that the time before had been dark and empty, and that Discord had restored the natural order to Equestria when his reign began. The ruler-matron sisters, Princesses Luna and Celestia, had not been seen for generations. They had disappeared shortly after Discord's coming, and neither sight nor rumor of either had reached pony eyes or ears. Some said they had been ousted by Discord; others, that they had willingly abandoned their subjects and fled, never to return. Regardless of the motive, so much time had passed since their disappearance that few, if any, held any hope for their return.

But all of this was simply too much for Mourning Star. Maybe the sisters had existed at one point, maybe they had once even ruled over all ponies with nobility and grace, as the stories said. But they were gone, and could help her no more than the sun or moon themselves. She had more pressing worries of the everyday to attend to: food to cook, a house to clean, young foals to look after. She knew her place, yes, but she also was not going to let that stop her from helping a pony in need.

Solace was looking at her with eyes full of concern once again. As if to affirm she had guessed Mourning Star's thoughts, she said, “Star, miss, take care of yourself out there, ya hear?”

“You know me, Sola, I'm the very heart of caution.” She turned to the two foals who were still bickering beside her. “And you two balls of vexation, get back to your room and wake the others, if you haven't already.” Starling and Sundrop scampered away, still arguing.

“Miss,” Solace continued when they were safely out of earshot. “Are you sure ya don't want me to go instead? I've been hearin' rumors, and well, the edict...” Recently, there had been whispers of dissent and rebellion in this area of Equestria, and Equestrian High Command had issued an edict stating that no earth ponies were allowed to enter certain sectors unless accompanied by a pegasus or unicorn in good standing with the state. A travesty and an injustice, yes, both of which shouldn't have surprised anyone, Mourning Star thought. Earth ponies had learned long ago that it was simply better to obey.

“As long as Dawn meets me as usual, I'll be fine. But thank you for your concern, Sola. Now, I really need to be leaving. Look after the little ones while I'm gone, if you would.” She slung a rucksack over her back, one she hoped would be large enough to hold the provisions she planned to get at market.

Solace flicked her tail anxiously, but nodded. “Yes, miss, don't worry 'bout a thing.” She hurried after Starling and Sundrop as Mourning Star stepped out into the cool morning air.

Whatever altruistic and well-intentioned standards of morality she held for herself, whatever perception she had of the world and of the ponies she cared for and held dear, all of that shifted to an undeniable reality the moment she set her hooves outside the orphanage door. Whatever she was in life, what mattered more was what she was not, a truth made plain by the horn or wings that adorned neither her head nor her back. She was an earth pony, and in the economical and sociopolitical hierarchy imposed by Discord, that often meant restrictions, regulations, and consequences.

Equestria was divided by provinces, and these in turn into various regions, precincts, and sectors that separated the cities and towns therein. Certain areas, sometimes even entire provinces, were off-limits to all but those with the political sway or, more often than not, monetary means required to gain entry. Being a unicorn or a pegasus didn't automatically grant one economical or political status, but it did garner a certain respectability and vastly superior social opportunities. Thus, many of the wealthier and more desirable areas were populated mainly or exclusively by pegasi and especially unicorns. Even if one were born a pauper, or without any political standing or connections, a pegasus or a unicorn could, due to his or her innate social cachet, rise far and beyond these humblest of beginnings.

Not so an earth pony. But such was the way of things.

Mourning Star lived on the outskirts of a rundown city in a relatively poor region of Equestria. The orphanage sat atop a tall hill that funneled down into the market district and the surrounding slums; the rolling fields of heather that encircled the city were at her back, making for a quiet and peaceful (if unglamorous and difficult) life. The pittance she received by way of her “social work” was hardly enough to live on, especially with so many mouths to feed, so she subsidized it in any way she could. Solace and Sojourn kept a small textile business in addition to their work at the orphanage, which the foster foals often helped with. Mourning Star's friend, Dawn Chaser, worked at a nearby lumber yard, and would sometimes bring her scrap to help with the upkeep of the building. She even occasionally gathered the wild heather and other flowers that bloomed in her backyard and brought them to market to sell or barter with. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

The morning had dawned brisk and cool, but the sky above was clear and the sun shone down, bright and warm. As she reached a lull in the slope of the hill leading down from the orphanage, Mourning Star paused to adjust the rucksack, tugging at the straps one at a time with her mouth before checking to make sure the small and precious parcel of coin she had brought was safe and secure in the pocket closest to her breast. Satisfied, she set off once again.

Entering the city proper brought with it a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells, most of them jarring but not all of them unpleasant. The market was still out of sight, but the din made by scores of ponies buying, selling, and going about their business had only increased as the morning wore on, and now that she was closer Mourning Star could smell the telltale signs of the bustling center of activity. The scent of baking bread and pastries wafted through the streets and over the tops of buildings, mixing with an untold amount of fresh greens and vegetables, all of it over the faint yet distinguishable smells of the city: smoke, sweat, and dust.

In the distance she could make out two wooden structures towering high above the streets. Part insidious advertisement, part prideful propaganda, they stood heralding the entrance to the city square, leering down ominously at all below them. One depicted a group of pegasi and unicorns, majestic and resplendent: warriors, engineers, scientists, and leaders of every kind. They posed nobly on the backs of the earth ponies below them, who labored in mines and fields, upon the anvil and against the plow. Scrawled beneath their hooves were the words, “Each According To Their Right.” The other showed only a snow-capped peak, undercut by ostentatiously inscribed letters, which phrased: “Magic Moves Mountains; Wings Can Soar Above Them; You Must Kneel Before Them”. Mourning Star looked at them, remembering a time when she was but a young filly, and such displays filled her with shame and disgrace. Now, she simply turned away.

As she approached the lumber yard where Dawn Chaser worked, she could hear the steady rhythm of saws and the low, persistent scrape of wood being hauled to and fro. The scent of resin intermingled with the dust of pine, oak, mahogany, and others.

She had just settled back on her haunches to wait when a stern voice came from behind her. “Earth pony,” the voice growled. “What are you doing here? This area is off-limits to anyone without a labor permit.” Startled, Mourning Star turned to see a large unicorn glowering at her. He was armored in gilded steel that shined reflectively in the sunlight. Adorning helm and flank was a winged horn pointing to the heavens, etched in ebony and gold—a member of Equestrian High Command, Mourning Star realized.

She was confused. “This has never been an edict zone.”

“Never,” the unicorn agreed. “Until today. Now, I'll ask you again: what are you doing here?”

“She's waiting for me, sir,” a second voice called out cheerfully. Both Mourning Star and her aggressor turned. An impressive looking pegasus cantered up to them, smiling. He was tall and muscled, with a coat the color of sunset on the heather: lavender, gold, and crimson. The colors seemed to shift and dance together as he moved. His wings were large and powerful, and he shook his mane as he came to stand next to Mourning Star. It was jagged, rough-but-handsome looking, rust red streaked with gold. “You're early,” he said to her.

She raised her eyes to look into his. “You're right on time,” she answered, more calmly than she felt. “If only just.”

“And who might you be, pegasus?” the armored unicorn demanded brusquely.

“Name's Dawn Chaser, sir,” he responded hastily, offering his labor credentials for the unicorn to inspect. “I haul lumber at the logging yard.” He motioned to Mourning Star with a hoof. “I was meeting her here to escort her to market. Sir.”

The High Command unicorn was silent for a moment, eying both of them up and down. Mourning Star couldn't help but glance nervously at the long, spiraled horn that rested atop his head. His helm had been expertly crafted to fit the precise proportions of his head while leaving a space free for the horn to protrude. She didn't believe half of the things she had heard about the magical capabilities of the unicorns of Equestrian High Command, and the horrors they allegedly inflicted on foe and fellow pony alike, and yet... when he looked at her with those cold, impassive eyes, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of reverence. A reverence laced with an inexplicable fear and loathing. She shivered.

The unicorn seemed satisfied. “Apologies,” he said gruffly. “With the rumors we've been hearing of late, we've had to take some precautionary measures. Just be sure to keep her,” he jerked his head at Mourning Star, “under your wing at all times.” He paused, looking Dawn Chaser over once again. “Say, kid, ever thought of enforcement? The way you're built, hell, I could see you a part of High Command, if you've got the commitment. Besides, you may find you prefer it to hauling wood and... other dead weight.” He graced Mourning Star with one last fleeting, callous look.

“Yes, sir, I may just do that.” Dawn Chaser did well to keep his tone light, but Mourning Star felt him tense beside her. The unicorn moved aside to let them pass, and the two hurried on.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Mourning Star looked at her friend. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “If you hadn't shown up when you did, I...” He stopped her, one feathered wing touching her reassuringly. He didn't say anything, just looked at her and nodded, smiling. She smiled back. The rest of it would go unsaid. It was nothing new to either pegasus or earth pony. This was the world they had been born in, raised in, been made to understand to the best of their abilities. Generations before them had come to accept the same truth: that unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies were not equal. To Mourning Star, as to many others, the notion of fairness or egality did not factor into it. It was just the way the world worked.

There was one thing that made her uneasy, however. “That pony,” she said after a moments silence. “He was a member of Equestrian High Command, wasn't he? I've never heard of them coming to this province.” Even in the poorest regions of Equestria, crime was very low. If there was one thing never in short supply, it was a job in enforcement or security. Indeed, it was one of the few ways that a low born pony could hope to establish himself. To see a member of the elite so close to home riled her.

Doubtless, Dawn Chaser had been pondering the same thing, judging from his furrowed brow and concerned expression. “He mentioned rumors, and ones to give High Command a fright, at that.” He looked at her quizzically. “Could it be?”

“What else would it be?” The quietest whispers of rebellion had been circling for months, like a great wolf prowling the embers of a dying fire. As soon as Mourning Star heard something, the rumors would be gone, melting like smoke, like the wolf into the black forest beyond, only to resurface in another place. Truly, an uprising? She shook her head, disbelieving... and pain lanced through her. She fell, crying out. She saw eyes like stars, a coat of dark, satin night... and then it was gone, replaced by Dawn Chaser's worried face looking down at her, his voice calling her name.

Mourning Star rose shakily to her hooves, heart thumping in her chest. She had only to see the look on Dawn Chaser's face to know he already understood, but she said it just the same. “The dream. The one I keep having,” she whispered, breathless and still unsure of herself. An echo of the pain was still there in her head, pulsing innocently. “It's never happened while I've been awake.” And there's never been pain before, she almost said.

Dawn Chaser was studying her closely. He was the only pony she had told about the dream. He had been her closest friend since she was just a filly, and he a colt, and was her font of strength whenever she needed it. Still, it also meant he knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something—his expression suggested he thought that now. But all he said was, “Come on, let's get you to market. Maybe we can find something to help you sleep.”

The city square was astir with activity when they arrived, the business of the day already well underway. Ponies cried their wares from a hundred different storefronts and stands; others milled about freely, accosting would-be patrons with sight and smell and sound. Children tore through the streets, laughing and screaming as they weaved between carts and stands, dodging the angry swipes from store owners who cursed them as they passed. A throng seemed to form and disperse, ebbing and flowing as ponies bought, sold, bartered, and bargained, moving from one transaction to the next without any sort of direction. Nearby, two pegasi were entertaining a group with aerial twists and turns; a unicorn called to her foal halfheartedly, then turned back to the eager-eyed pony who was showing her his fine jewelry.

Mourning Star and Dawn Chaser went about their shopping, haggling when they could and sighing grudgingly when they could not. Somehow, though, the money held. They bought flour, grain, fresh greens and oats, and what Mourning Star hoped would be enough nails to fix the leaking roof on the southwestern corner of the orphanage (it had been leaking for weeks, Solace kept telling her), with the addition of some wooden planks and scrap provided by Dawn Chaser, of course. They had enough left over that Mourning Star bought some ribbon for the fillies to tie into their manes and tails, and she was stewing over something for the colts when Dawn Chaser offered to bring over some extra wood and give them whittling lessons. Mourning Star smiled, knowing that would delight them.

In a relatively uncrowded corner of the marketplace the two found a cream-colored earth pony selling her produce. “Apples,” she cried. “Cheapest bushels in the region!” Mourning Star approached her, and she turned. “Buy some apples, ma'am? I have corn as well, and fresh greens.” The mare's smile was kindly, and the prices reasonable, so Mourning Star dug into her rucksack for the coin. She thanked the pony, and turned to go. She looked up and froze.

Standing before her was a pegasus as white as snow. A blood red mane flowed down his back, trimmed with the same brilliant whiteness as his coat. He was garbed almost entirely in cloths and leathers the color of pitch. Scars covered his body, some relatively new, others jagged and faded by time. Upon his head rested a helm not unlike that of the High Command soldier they had seen before, only this one's steel was black and lusterless, the horn cresting it a long dark terror. It covered nearly his entire face; the only features left unhidden to Mourning Star were his lower jaw, where a particularly vicious laceration traced upward until it disappeared beneath the helm, and the bright ice-blue of his eyes, eyes that beheld nothing but her.

“Mourning Star, is it?” His voice was low and gentle, but commanding. It was tinged with a cautionary kindness that held hidden the promise of anger if provoked. He sighed deeply. “At last I have found you.” He extended a hoof and a wing toward her. “Now, if you would be so kind as to come with me.”

He sounded almost tired, Mourning Star thought, but there was something in his appearance and manner that scared her to death. She shrank back, unsure.

The scar on the pegasus' jaw twisted as he frowned. “Please, do not make this more difficult than it has to be.” He took a step forward... and then stumbled back, as if struck by a physical force. A dark blur leaped from the corner of Mourning Star's vision, and suddenly there was a unicorn between her and the pegasus, guarding her and raising his horn threateningly towards the other. His coat was the dark blue-purple velvet of dusk, his mane a lightning bolt of white, as luxurious and untameable as his sister's. “Sojourn!” Mourning Star gasped. He blew air through his nostrils tumultuously, acknowledging her, but kept his gaze locked on the threat at hand. She looked around quickly, suddenly noticing the stark silence, and saw to her fear and dismay that the square was nearly deserted, the ponies of the market having fled at the first sign of trouble. Dawn Chaser laid a protective wing upon her, and went to stand with Sojourn.

The pegasus had recovered. “Not only wings, but horns defend you as well, young pony?” He grinned broadly. “How touching...” He raised his powerful wings above his head, feathers scattering the sunlight with their brilliance. At once there were figures in the square where there had not been seconds before, arrayed all in black and circling toward the three ponies that huddled close together in their fear and desperation. Unicorns and pegasi all, they stalked closer, hemming them in. “I shall say this one last time,” the white pegasus said calmly. “You and your pegasus and unicorn friend are to come with me.”

“RENAULT!” The word was pure malevolence. It echoed through the streets and off of the buildings and stores, causing the gathering in the square to look about in surprise. All at once, a hundred different ponies appeared from the alleyways and on the tops of buildings surrounding the market. Earth ponies, pegasi, and here and there even a unicorn glared with grim hatred at the soldiers in black, all of them ragged and life-worn. Mourning Star looked up, and beheld across the plaza an earth pony mare flanked by a pegasus mare and unicorn stallion. The earth pony radiated a malice as palpable as heat, aggrandized by her coat the color of flame, her mane a sunburst. All of it was directed at the ponies robed in black and to their scarred leader. “We will permit you to spread Discord's terror and malcontent no longer. Begone at once, and we may let you live.”

The square was deathly silent. After a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, the white pegasus inclined his head in the direction of the mare. “Zhevalla. A pleasure, as always.” He swept his gaze across the ponies who stood in defiance of him and his. “So, the rumors are true,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but all listened, and all heard, in those streets as reticent as the grave. “The oppressed seek to sever their shackles. And such an impressive array of force.” He sighed, long and deeply, and again to Mourning Star it appeared as if he were tired, so very tired, as though those beautiful wings of his carried the burden of the world. “Yet it will not avail you. You will fall, just as the rest.”

“You would do well to take us seriously,” the mare replied. “Especially outnumbered as you are. This does not have to come to bloodshed.”

“Zhevalla,” the pegasus chuckled, shaking his head. “We have not come to absterge your little coup. High Command shall see to that. We come only seeking her,” he pointed at Mourning Star. His eyes narrowed. “But know that if you interfere, I will not hesitate to sweep you aside.”

“You would find that difficult, I think.” The mare took a step forward. “If you believe we will stand aside and let you terrorize innocent ponies at your will, your presumption deludes you.”

And it was in that moment, as the ragtag band of ponies and the stoic, unflinching assailants in black faced each other, bristling and poised to tear each other apart, that Mourning Star's head burst open, arcing with unimaginable pain, and a white blindness consumed her...

She fell far, far away from herself, past waking and sleeping and into the space between. Minutes passed like seconds. Seconds seemed days. Time had ended. The white that engulfed her turned to black, then to grey, and every shade in between. Some part of her deep down inside knew what was happening, but she fought against it, afraid. But the emotions came as they always did, one by one, pulsing over her and through her, and there, inside of the fear and the desolation and the helplessness, the image she had learned to expect in her dreams. It spoke to her in a language foreign and yet familiar, with an incomprehensible amount of words, and yet none at all. It had a voice, but was silent. The words, the images, the feelings, all came to her through that intimate connection of dream that connects the mind to the beyond. The black silhouette appeared, shifted, the mane of starlight looming above her, below her, surrounding her and everything that ever was or would be. And the eyes. The eyes that pierced her to her center. Come, the eyes said. Come quickly.

Something akin to recognition alighted within her. A whispered tale half-remembered, a soothing dream forgotten since she was young. She knew this pony... or had known her, or was yet to. Then why could she not remember...?

Where, was all Mourning Star could think. How. Why. Who... are you?

The eyes glittered, the figure smiled, and Mourning Star awoke to chaos.

Her senses were besieged. Her head swam, her eyesight flashing red and silver stars. In the distance she could hear fighting, and the screams of the injured, the ceaseless cries of the dying. Some were distant, some were much too close. She tried to shut everything out—sight, sound, smell—curling up with dread. There was a voice, a voice that kept calling her name. She struggled to raise her head and open her eyes. Dawn Chaser was hovering above her, calling out her name again, and again, and again. Sojourn's face came into view, the sandstone eyes he shared with his sister full of desperate resolve that turned to elation as he saw her wake. She leaped up and embraced them both, crying her relief. “Dawn, Sojourn, where are we?” she asked, fearful and breathless.

“At the bottom of the hill, almost home, Star,” Dawn Chaser said. “We were so worried—you weren't waking, we didn't know if we could get you all the way up to the orphanage. Thank goodness you're all right!”

“What happened?”

“Rebellion,” he replied, his face pale, his voice quaking. “It has to be. The moment you blacked out, the black ones and the townsponies set on one another. There was an instant of confusion, and Sojourn and I grabbed you and got the hell out of there.” He took a breath, shaking visibly. Sojourn stared hard at the ground, eyes fixed and searching. “There were others that joined, as well. City enforcement, or just another part of the rebellion... I couldn't say.” He shook his head. “It was chaos. The white pegasus, the one that mare called Renault, he disappeared as soon as the fighting started. We didn't see what happened to him, but it looked as though he and his ponies were fleeing, letting the others fight amongst themselves. We were so focused on getting you out, on all of us getting out... Star, I...” His voice echoed with trepidation. Mourning Star had never seen him like this. She touched him with a hoof to calm him. “We were in the backstreets, alleys, trying to stay out of the way. A soldier—not from the town or High Command, one of those dark ones—burst out a back door. He tried to corner us. Sojourn threw him against a building with his magic, and I didn't even know what I was doing, I didn't even think, I... Star, I killed him...” She didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think, so she just embraced him, holding him close. Then she remembered.

“My dream,” Mourning Star said, her eyes wide and her voice fast with the recollection of her revelation. “The figure in my vision. Dawn, I think I know who it is.”

Whatever Dawn Chaser may have felt at her news was lost on his face as he looked past her, exhaustion leaving his eyes and horror taking its place. Mourning Star turned to look. Partway up the hill, Sojourn knelt next to a small, crumpled body. The teal mane was matted with dirt and blood. Dawn Chaser gave a cry and ran to help him.

She was in bad shape. There were cuts and bruises all over her body: a long, dreadful gash that traveled from her left flank down her back leg. Blood trickled freely from a dozen different wounds, some minor, some not. Caked blood covered her brow and ran down into her face.

“Solace, sweetie, it's Dawn and your brother. Wake up!” His face was frantic, Sojourn's an impenetrable mask of sorrow. “Please, please wake up...” And suddenly, Solace gave a cough, bringing up blood and dirt and dust, and then she was hyperventilating, wide eyes darting everywhere, fearful and searching. Relief washed over the faces of both pegasus and unicorn.

“Dawn,” Solace whispered hoarsely. “Dawn, where's my brother?” In an instant, Sojourn was there so she could see him. “Sojourn, please, forgive me. Dawn, tell Star I'm sorry, tell her I'm so sorry...” Her voice broke, and she began to weep uncontrollably.

“It's okay,” Dawn Chaser soothed. “We're here now.” He turned back to Mourning Star. “She's alive!” he yelled, waving at her.

As for Mourning Star, she had not moved since she had turned to look up the hill. Her eyes were oddly dull, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear her vision, unbelieving of what they saw before her. Slowly, slowly, she started forward up the hill, eyes fixed to the distance.

Dawn Chaser looked at her strangely. “Star, are you okay? Come see Solace, she's hurt, she-”

He stopped. He had seen Sojourn, face set in iron, staring up the hill in the same direction as Mourning Star. Deliberately, he turned and raised his eyes, and that was when all hope fled. “Oh, sun and moon, no...”

The orphanage was ablaze. Flames ate greedily at the rafters and wooden siding, charring them as it swirled and crackled. The building and the whole yard around was festooned in a beautiful orange glow, radiating light and heat and shimmering in the sun. The windows and doors had all been covered, nailed down tightly, with crisscrossing beams reinforcing any weakness. The timber cracked and part of the roof fell into the red bloom, swallowed up and devoured by the eager maw of fire.

Mourning Star fell to her knees. There was no sound but that of the burning wood and the wind in the distance, drifting through the heath. No tears fell from her eyes. They just looked, and watched, and saw, and the light that once shown within them slowly waned as their embers fed the insatiable fire before her.

A shadowy figure ascended the hill slowly behind the ponies who watched as the building burned. He came and stood next to Mourning Star and stared into the flames with her. “Your transgressions, and atonement,” the pegasus named Renault said quietly. He was covered in a cloak of velvet, dark as the night sky. He raised his head and the cloak fell back, but his face was still obscured by the obsidian darkness of his helmet. The cold blue eyes reflected the fire they gazed at. “It would appear that the cost was steep indeed.”

Mourning Star did not bother to turn to him. “Why...?” Her voice was a strangled whisper. “They were children,” she said. “Just children...”

He looked to her, frowning. “Do you think that exonerates them?” he asked quietly. His voice was sad, kind, and tired. It resonated with pity, but it was the pity of one so removed from loss that it held no more meaning than an empty word. There was no empathy to be found in that voice. Around them, the dark pegasi and unicorns under his command came and formed a circle surrounding the ponies, watching silently as the orphanage burned. “Is any one life more precious than another? Did their lives hold value greater than your own? Even you, an earth pony, are you worth less than any of these here? Than me? Young or old, innocent or guilty, it makes no matter. It isn't a question of right or wrong, of morality, or of hows and whys, little pony. It's simply the way of things.”

Mourning Star slowly raised her eyes to his. She gazed into them for a long time, and he back, patiently. There may have been something in the look that passed between them, something there, some spark of understanding or rage or regret at the injustice, at the unfairness of what the world may have made of both of them... but then it was gone, and there was nothing, and she turned back to watch the smoke rise.

Renault lowered his head and turned to his retinue. “Take them,” he said. The shrouded soldiers moved forward. The flames feasted ever higher, licking the blue, blue sky, where the sun shined down brilliantly, giving every impression of ignorance of the pony far below who looked in turn from the frightened faces of her friends, to the scarred pegasus in black, and to the immolation before her, and did not understand.