Beyond the Sky

Chapters

Chapter 1: Chaos Within
Chapter 2: Aftershocks
Chapter 3: Ghosts

Chapter 1: Chaos Within

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is copyright Hasbro

Beyond the Sky
Chapter 1
Chaos Within

In Equestria there are two worlds inhabiting the same planet existing parallel to each other.

The first world existed upon the very ground itself. On the surface earth ponies worked the fields, harvested the crops and unicorns used their magic to create marvels the likes of which had never been seen before. Their cities thrived and expanded into ever-growing metropolises on the ground. There was however a second world which existed far above the surface. Upon the clouds, traveling between jet streams and currents was a world separate from the earth. It was ruled by Pegasus ponies, who shared many qualities with their earth cousins whom they existed with peacefully. There is only one other intelligent, speaking species in all of Equestria who shared the rapturous thrills of flight with the Pegasus ponies; a species of daring and cunning that for thousands of years had been the masters of the skies. Following bloody events of the last century their numbers had dwindled, but these predators that had once been known for savagery now coexisted with their vegetarian brothers and sisters of the sky.

They are the griffons of Equestria.

Darting through the clouds far above the surface two giant, powerful wings cut through the air with speed and precision. A griffon in flight was a sight of majesty that had always left spectators in awe. The creature which was half eagle and half lion was a species born in a land of magic as an intelligent, proud, and incredibly cunning predator. It was the birthright of all griffons to be regarded as the fastest, most graceful hunters of the sky, but they were not monsters. Feathers and pelt were always diligently preened and groomed, with proper posture whenever they were grounded. The reputation of a griffon depended on appearance, style, courage, and above all else the indomitable will of a champion.

This griffon however hadn't been raised within the Griffon Nation. She was different.

Her eyes were outlined by light purple feathers which managed to enhance the movements of her eyes which scanned the skies as if searching for her prey. Those yellow eyes burnt with passion, and youth, and they were always serious. She was young, and her eyes sizzled with arrogance, and impatience, but to her core she was a griffon through and through.

Spreading her wings the griffin caught an upward current, performed an inside loop before gracefully her wings to her sides. There was a moment of freefall before she stretched out her legs, landing gently atop a cotton white cloud.

Her name was Gilda and she belonged to the sky.

Gilda spotted two other griffons in the distance and waited for them to join her. Nomiki had gray feathers and was the largest of the group while Selene was the smallest griffon of the group, a similar color pattern to Gilda, only her feathers were black with red highlights at the top of her head and around her eyes.

“Would you mind going a bit slower? Not all of us are into the racing thing.” Nomiki said as she laid herself across the cloud. Her posture and chiseled features sometimes made Nomiki seem like a statue. Emotional responses were something she never seemed to share.

“If Gilda has some energy to burn let here burn it!” Selene grinned. “I’m always up for seeing what Gilda can do.”

“You’d think she’d tire herself out by now.”

“That wasn’t even half of what I got!” Gilda pounded her breast with a claw. “Watch this!”

Launching forward off the cloud Gilda began picked up speed before beginning to turn, rising into a chandelle searching for an element she could use to her advantage. Her mind was filled with variables and calculations geared towards her performance.

What do I have to work with…Hot air from west…A few small clouds…Jet stream about fifty meters up…Ah-hah! Pop won’t mind if I borrow one of his moves.

Focusing her eyes on a storm cloud above Gilda’s wings snapped out launching her into the air once more with great velocity. Spreading her wings to their full width the griffon began to spin, wings cutting through the cloud and carrying it along with her creating a vortex around the griffon. Lightning crackled around the edges of the cyclone but never came close enough to harm the griffon.

Her friends watched from a distance. What they saw was something that could never naturally occur: a tornado rising out of a cloud and crackling with electricity which leapt and crackled in all directions. Spreading her wings Selene let out a hawk-like scream: A traditional griffon cheer. Selene’s polar opposite, Nomiki observed with cool detachment and a face of stone, but her eyes showed her full investment in Gilda’s presentation.

After the vortex had climbed to a high of roughly five meters Gilda’s wings snapped to her sides and she dived through the eye of the cyclone she’d created, just barely getting her body through without touching the electrified body of her creation.

Once she was clear her wings spread once more and she shot straight up rushing beneath the watching griffons while letting out a loud shriek, frightening them as they’d been too preoccupied watching the spectacle to notice Gilda had ever exited the tornado. Realizing what had happened Selene cheered even louder as Nomiki nodded her silent approval.

Smirking, Gilda landed in front of them as the vortex behind her settled returning once again to its gloomy prior state.

Nomiki herself to quietly clap her talons together in approval, while Selene could hardly contain her excitement, flapping her wings rapidly and hovering just above the cloud.

“That was amazing! Like the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen! Just- Wow! Positively the coolest thing on wings!”

“Just a little trick I been working on lately,” Gilda brushed her shoulder to shake the water from her feathers, keeping a nonchalant demeanor. “Just a personal little spin on one of my dad’s big moves, no big deal.”

“No big deal?! Are you kidding me? That was totally wicked!”

“I have to agree with Selene on this: You continue to impress, Gilda.” Nomiki remained perched on the cloud, a simple grin breaking her typically blank expression. This was the highest form of approval any griffon could hope to get from the gray feathered artist who hid beneath a mask of indifference.

“Yeah, I do it better now than I did back then.” Gilda knew the other griffons would applaud her performance. After all, they had no hope of accomplishing anything like it, nor did they have any desire to compete with Gilda’s talents. It caused their praise ring hollow with the self-riotous Gilda who had once been placated by such petty compliments from her peers, but was beginning to find herself bored with the other griffons’ commentary. She wanted their approval, but she was finding that their praise carried less weight each time she heard it.

Nomiki looked to the north, “I’ve had enough high-flying antics for one day.”

“We were thinking of grabbing a bite to eat at the forest. Want to come with?” Selene flew beside Gilda, eyes wide with the excitement of a puppy waiting to be played with.

“It wouldn’t be much of a hunt without the best flier in these skies at our side,” Nomiki said, casually joining the group above the cloud.

Gilda hesitantly looked back and forth between her two friends, putting up a small smile.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to enjoy some time to myself. I’ll just hang around shredding the sky by myself.”

“You’ve been having lots of that lately,” Nomiki brushed the feathers of her head to the side. “We’ll leave it to you Gilda. C’mon, Nomiki!”

“Aw, we’ll hook up later!” Selene joined Nomiki. “Keep on rocking, Gilda!”

“Later…”

Gilda looked over at the other two griffons that had accompanied her left and let out a sigh once they were out of earshot. They were her friends, but they were too different. They couldn’t hope to fully understand what it was she needed now.

Back in the day Rainbow Dash had never been a spectator. Her new friends were everything Gilda ever thought she’d need: cool, griffons, predators, all the same as Gilda with one fundamental difference: they had no interest in speed or daredevil feats through the clouds. They watched, they cheered, but they never joined Gilda in the rush of adrenaline which was what fueled the female griffon’s entire existence. Whenever Gilda introduced a new trick Dash would always chime in something along the lines of “That’s cool and all, but watch this!” Gilda missed that. What satisfaction was there in best when the competition was so weak? There was no value to her victories if there wasn’t someone who could best her.

Gilda had never felt fully welcomed or comfortable around the ponies despite her father being a respected dignitary known for attending countless socials in Equestria. As far as Gilda perceived, there were some things that fundamentally made it near impossible for the two to fully coexist. Ponies were vegetarians, they frowned upon a griffon’s natural need to kill and feed on the flesh of other living creatures. Ponies also didn’t understand a griffon’s devotion to the individual. For the most part, griffons are solitary creatures with only a few acquaintances and eventually a mate whom they would spend their entire life. Relationships were unimportant to griffons, but a life mate once acquired would be a griffon’s entire reason for existence. Griffons only had it in their hearts to love one other individual with all their heart and once one dies they never seek another mate. Gilda’s true love was with sky.

Gilda however had found something more than an acquaintance in a pegasus filly while being a part of Flight Academy. Rainbow Dash was the only pony who had ever tested Gilda’s own abilities. When she came to Cloudsdale Gilda had believed herself as being invincible, a sky ace of unmatchable skill, and her arrogance was what had driven her actions. One day however one little sky blue filly with a rainbow colored mane challenged Gilda to a race. Gilda had laughed at the challenger, immediately accepting the challenge. The race was close up until the final stretch when suddenly the pony had found a sudden burst of speed and beat Gilda by two seconds (a landslide as far as Gilda had been concerned). From that day forth the two continued to test and challenge each other all through their days in academy: races, aerobatics, speed, endurance, they competed with each other in every manner imaginable and Gilda had never felt more alive.

When they had flown together the griffon’s heart was aflame, for she had found a challenger who had pushed her to the peak of her abilities. Her pegasus friend was a rival but she had also been Gilda’s longest friend. They were the hotshots, the crème of the crop at the academy. Nothing was going to hold them back from becoming the best of the best. When it all ended Rainbow Dash had informed Gilda that she was moving to a place of her own just outside a small town called Ponyville. Gilda, as indebted to her friend as she was, had no desire to leave the griffon quarters of Cloudsdale to live a life constantly surrounded by ponies. She promised Rainbow Dash that she’d visit her once she’d fully settled down in her own Cloudsdale residence.

Gilda’s first time seeing Rainbow Dash since graduation had ended with disaster as the griffon had discovered that she’d been replaced by a motley crew of ponies with not a single flier among them. One in particular pony by the name of Pinkie Pie had seemingly gone out of her way to mock and torment the visiting griffon who wanted nothing more than a day in the sky. A griffon couldn’t be slowed by the life of those who spent their entire lives bound to the earth. But Rainbow Dash could. She’d rejected her old academy friend in an instant when push came to shove…Gilda had given one hell of a push that day.

Gilda at the time had believed it to be a bluff; a ruse meant to pressure the griffon into apologizing for her behavior towards the insufferable ponies which was something Gilda had no intention of doing. Griffons are absolute; they stand behind their decisions, and don’t show weakness to your enemies. She’d called that perceived bluff and had stormed off leaving Rainbow Dash with an ultimatum. Now close to a year later she still hadn’t seen Dash. She’d misjudged her friend’s devotion to those seemingly insignificant ponies.

Gilda nestled down into the cloud beneath her, resting her head off the edge. After a long morning’s flight and the accumulative impact of many sleepless nights Gilda’s body was beginning to rebel against her. Heavy eyelids fluttered and the cloud felt so incredibly comfortable beneath her, its malleable form perfectly fitting her body.

Looking down from the cloud everything on the surface of Equestria seemed so insignificant. Gilda had always seen the world from a hawk’s eye view never stopping to think of what life was like for those creatures forever bound to the earth. The very thought of living such a life sickened her.

Gilda wanted speed, she wanted the adrenaline that came with constantly facing death square in the eye, but she’d found over the past several months that she’d lost the motivation needed to reinvent herself. If she her wings were removed, if Gilda had to go on living without the freedom of flight she was sure she’d rather kill herself than live bound to the ground.

What gave Gilda purpose was her craft: the thrill of competition. She’d never held any jobs, nor had she ever actively helped her community. All that mattered to the griffon was continued practice of her art. Developing new tricks or pushing herself to her body’s limits was what brought her to catharsis. All of that seemed meaningless if she had no one capable of properly evaluation her skills!

Right now her body was telling her that for the moment she had reached her limits and sleep’s hand beckoned her with a seductive invitation. She’d done well and new a short nap wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, it was a freeing experience to sleep exposed in a singular cloud away from society. She’d often had such pleasure naps alongside Rainbow Dash in the years past.

As Gilda fell asleep a singular image crept into her mind: The image of a storm cloud with a rainbow pierced through it like an arrow cast from a celestial bow.

It was the first trick Gilda had ever given up the hope of ever accomplishing.

00000

“Wake up, griffon.”

When Gilda awoke she was still on the cloud, but something was different. All around clouds moved diagonally and vertically up and down instead of to the horizontal. Many of them had assumed a bright shade of pink and rained dark brown droplets onto the earth below.

Then Gilda felt something pulling at her paws.

“What the hell?!” Gilda found herself screaming aloud.

What had once been white was now a bright pink like so many of the other clouds around her. What felt to her paws and talon like cotton candy sucked and grabbed at the griffon like quick sand. It was thick as molasses and Gilda knew she couldn’t let it consume her!

Shrieking the griffon began to beat her wings trying to escape the surface but she couldn’t break free. Something was pulling her into the strange cloud which only seemed to grow in size each passing second. The substance felt to her paws like mud, and it pulled with a seemingly limitless store of strength. Gilda wasn’t simply sinking: it was pulling her in!

“This someone’s idea of a joke? Hah, hah, hah! Really fucking funny! Now get this off me before I tear your lousy throat out!” Gilda’s threats were empty, as tearing throats out was a far second on her priorities compared to getting free from the trap.

“I thought you were down with a good prank.”

The reply came as both a whisper and a hiss, seeming to creep into the griffon’s brain and excite in her such fear that she began her struggles anew. It was a voice that seemed to exist in her mind, filling her mind with poison, heightening her fear to an unbearable level.

I can’t allow my life to end like this! I have to escape. Have to get out of here right now! Think! Think! Got to use all my strength! Maybe I can break my legs free if I try hard enough.

Gilda’s wings flapped in long sweeping motions which only became more frantic as the material made its way past her knees. On one attempt Gilda put too much power into the motion and found the tip of her right wing trapped in the muck. Her struggle continued, her eyes wide with fear, but without her wings she knew there was nothing left she could do.

Gilda had heard hunters speak of animals who when caught in a snare would gnaw their own feet off if it offered any hope of life. With all four legs trapped the griffon couldn’t manage that even if she had the nerve to attempt. She was out of options.

Killed by a damned cloud…Is there a lamer way to go?

Tears began to well up at the corners of the griffon’s eyes as her neck began to recede into the mess. Griffons were told to face death bravely and without fear, but Gilda wasn’t able to contain her emotions. The event was so sudden, so unexpected, and she was so young that she couldn’t accept that this could be the end…but still, she sank all the same.

Gilda took a deep breath, expecting it to be her last as the sweet tasting device of her execution at last consumed her.

00000

“Wakey, wakey, Gilda!”

In an instant life returned to the griffon, all of her senses coming online at once.

Gilda awoke to the wide eyed face of a pink earth pony that Gilda immediately recognized as Pinkie Pie. Shrieking in both surprise and anger the griffon leapt to her feet. She smelt cake and frosting which was splattered across her feathers and coat from beak to tail. The location, Gilda couldn’t believe where was. Once more she stood in Sugarcube Corner, the place where she’d been humiliated, where she’d broken contact with Rainbow Dash surrounded on all sides by ponies of various colors and build.

“Uhhh…What happened?”

“Oh! You just took a nasty little bitty spill while playing pin the tail on the pony!”

“Oh…right.” Gilda placed a claw on her head, rubbing her forehead beneath her crest.

An all too familiar laugh filled Gilda’s ears.

“Bah-hah-hah, oh G, you can be such a klutz!”

“Dash?”

Gilda looked up. The sky blue Pegasus pony hovered over the floor looking down at the rattled griffon.

“The one and only! How hard you hit your head to forget that?”

“Heh, er, yeah…I guess that was pretty dumb of me.” Gilda knew this was the point in which she’d blown her fuse and gone on to really make a mess of things but this time around she felt confused instead of enraged. Right now she was too confused to feel much of any emotion about the pranks which she had sword occurred months ago. Had her departure all been a dream?

“You want another try at pinning the tail on the pony?” Pinkie Pie bounced up and down beside Gilda, offering the blindfold and pin.

“Ah-hah, ummm…I think I’m going to pass on that.” Gilda tried her best to smile, but what resulted as an awkward expression of confusion and of frustration brought on by the appearance of the earth pony.

“Okie-dokie-lokie! Guess I’ll go next!”

As another pony helped Pinkie Pie into the blindfold Gilda gently took a hold of Rainbow Dash’s right foreleg and pulled her to a corner of the bakery. She cupped her beak with a talon, hoping that none of the other ponies would be able to hear her.

“Dash, what’s this really about?

“What’s what about, G?”

"Are you mad at me over something? Is it because of how I treated Pinkie earlier?” Her spilled from her beak at a rapid pace, but she kept her tone to a hush. "Just tell me what the problem is and we can sort this out."

"Are you okay, G?" Rainbow Dash looked at her inquisitively. "You're acting kind of strange."

“Oh for the love of- You know what I mean! The pranks: I know you set them up and thus far I’ve managed to trip everyone of them, but could you please stop? I’ve had enough. Could you…let some other pony be the one to trip the pranks now? I’m really prank-ed out for one day.”

“Hah! You’re just paranoid G. No pony is out to get you! Just enjoy the party Pinkie put so much hard work into throwing for you!” Rainbow Dash pointed her left hoof towards the center of the room, forcefully turning Gilda's head to look in the indicated direction with her left foreleg.

Pinkie Pie, blindfolded and with the long needle used to pin the tail on the pony firmly gripped between her teeth was being spun around by her friends.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly, awfully wrong, but Gilda wasn’t sure what it was. Everything seemed to be just as she remembered it, but how could that be? Rainbow Dash was exactly how she remembered: full of energy, and constantly making wisecracks every time Gilda made a mistake. Pinkie Pie also was just as painfully annoying as Gilda had ever perceived her to be…

Pinkie Pie was let loose, walking up down dizzily trying to make her way to the tailless pony whose image had been tacked to the wall. Her comical antics resulting in multiple collisions with tables, the counter, and various other fixtures of the sweet shop which caused the ponies in attendance to giggle, but Gilda wasn’t the least bit interested in watching the game.

The longer Gilda observed the sweet shop and its occupants the more she began to realize that something was missing. First there was the various baked goods and candy that filled the shelf. They all looked perfectly edible, but when inspecting the labels Gilda realized they were nothing but blurred, incomprehensible scribbles.

Then there was the ponies themselves. All of them except for Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash possessed the same cheery expression without any variation. At first Gilda had dismissed this, but after a moment it had become disturbingly apparent that the suspicion was true. Immediately after this she realize aside from Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and the other ponies that now formed Rainbow Dash’s immediate social circle were the only ones possessing cutie marks. All the others were blank flanks. Gilda knew there were late-bloomers; all ponies got their cutie marks when they were ready, but this was five, ten, twelve mares and stallions without a single mark!

“Ah-hah! I think I got it!”

Intense pain shot through her body causing Gilda to shriek an avian cry of pain as Pinkie Pie shot forward, stabbing the needle deep into the griffon’s flank. Gilda tried to find the words to respond, or even acknowledge what had just happen so all that emerged was senseless babble which sounded like a bird stuck in a lion’s throat.

“Oopsie-daisy! My bad, Heh-he” she giggled. “Let me get that for you, Gilda.”

The pony slapped her hoof down on the needle and Gilda leapt in the air as electricity rushed through her body. Unimaginable pain cleared Gilda’s mind of all rational thought. When Pinkie was finished and removed her hoof from Gilda’s bloodied flank the griffon crumpled to the floor like a structure whose supports had simply given out beneath it.

“Oh Pinkie Pie, you’re such a hoot! That was simply shocking! Bah-hah-hah!”

Rainbow Dash cackled while Gilda regained her senses, pulling the needle from her flank before managing to stand up on all her limbs. She was still delirious from the shock, and her body ached all over. The parts of her mind that began to take focus were consumed with an overwhelming hatred for the pink earth pony standing not two feet in front of her. A primal, savage rage which griffons had long strove to banish erupted to the surface in an earsplitting shriek!

“You bitch!” Gilda’s mind wasn’t in control of her foreleg, or her talons when with lighting speed, and with claws fully outstretched, lashed out at Pinkie Pie.

Much to Gilda’s surprise her claws passed clear through without a hint of resistance. The smiling pony’s head looked at her unblinking and without the slightest indication of pain as it fell apart into four neat pieces exactly as Gilda had seen griffon chefs prepare bloody delicacies countless times when attending formal dinners with her mother and father.

Gilda looked in horror and back away stammering and looking at her bloodstained talons. She’d hunted before, she’d killed before, but never from rage, and never had she killed anything more than a rabbit. Nothing that smiled, nothing that spoke- she’d killed a sentient being in cold blood. Seeing the bloody stump of a neck where that jeering, mocking face had once been made Gilda want to vomit.

“I-I- I didn’t mean to do that. I would never- she stabbed me and I reacted. It wasn’t supposed to-” Horrified, Gilda turned to Rainbow Dash “I wouldn’t-”

Suddenly the griffon realized that the other ponies were all laughing uproariously. Gilda realized they’d been laughing the entire time from the moment the pony’s head had fallen apart to now.

“What the fuck are all of you laughing at!”

“Hah, just take a look behind you, G!” Rainbow Dash pointed a hoof somewhere behind Gilda, having hardly been able to contain her laughter long enough to utter the short response.

Gilda turned around and felt her stomach do a somersault as a new head seemed to sprout out of the bloodied stump with the same grin and bright blue eyes as before.

“No, no, no, no, no! That’s-”

“The old regenerating head trick! That’s a good one!” the baby dragon that seemed to follow the ponies around said while all the others continued to laugh.

“Classic, Pinkie Pie! Classic!”

“No, no, no – this isn’t real.” Gilda backed away into a corner. The ponies followed, quickly surrounding her. “This can’t be real.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” a male voice answered. “If you look at it in the proper light, of course reality is a matter of what you choose to accept as existing or not.”

In a flash of light a strange creature appeared before Gilda and the sweet shop now seemed to be but a painting which stared unblinking at Gilda, who could feel their laughter even in the silence.

“This goes back to an event which did in fact happen in your life so technically it isn’t real. But, reality I’ve found to be such a subjective term, as it is simply a matter of how you as an individual choose define the boundaries between fantasy and reality, my dear griffon.” The strange creature towered over Gilda. “Right now we are in a reality that defines your existence: your mind. All I’ve done is brought life to your memories and imagination…Of course, I’ve included a few of my own touches here and there to add to the flavor, but I’ve tried to keep it close to the book in my adaptation of your life.”

“What in the hay are you?”

The aberration laughed.

“Over an infinite stretch of time, crossing countless planes of existence which your simple little mind cannot even begin to comprehend I have been known as many things. In this world I am known simply as Discord and I know everything there is to know about everything and pony in all of Equestria. That includes you.”

“Discord? That’s nothing but a ridiculous old pony tale meant to scare young fillies. What are you really?”

Discord clutched his chest and looked away with an expression of mock agony

“Oh, must I be forced to preach to a non-believer! You would deny what you eyes see and what your body feels, griffon? My magic is a kind of magic you have never seen before and yet you try to deny my existence? For shame!”

“If you were divine why would you choose to walk around in such a stupid body? You look like something an over-caffeinated filly would scribble on her desk.”

“Oh-ho! Good comeback!” Discord laughed a moment at Gilda’s snappy retort for a moment before composing himself.

“I choose to exist in this world as you see me because there is no order to chaos, griffon. Some ponies long ago defined myself as being a draconequus, meaning dragon horse….But as you can see I’m an entire assortment of bits and pieces of other biological structures without sense or reason…Not that you’re one to talk, being half-lion, and half-eagle. Tell me: what biological sense does that make?” The draconequus laughed his sinister, glee filled laugh as his body seemed to stretch, allowing him to encircle the griffon. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t chaos in this precious world you live in.”

Had he created all of this? He controlled it all without seeming to do so much as bat an eyelash. Every time Gilda had seen unicorns, or even the two princesses of Equestria perform magic they had to show some concentration, some visible show of effort (most commonly being the glow of their horn) when they practiced magic. Discord had none of this. What could he do if he actually put effort into his magic? What she didn’t know terrified the griffon more than this dream world and more than the sinister body of her tormentor.

What can I do? How do I get out of here?

Gilda needed to get out of this place. Divine or not this Discord was a frightening figure. If she could distract him long enough perhaps she could find a way out of this hell he’d constructed from her memories. Perhaps one didn’t need to be omnipotent to utilize such magic, but it was still territory Gilda had no wish of exploring, nor did she wish to discover how far the creature’s power extended.

“You see, I’ve seen many worlds, but none quite so fun to toy with as this one. Ponies rule everything, griffons, dragons, and cockatrices run wild- glorious! This world is chaotic even without my subtle charms!” As he said the last two words he clutched a pony’s skull, which had appeared out of nowhere, all whilst twisting his elongated torso and limbs into a melodramatic pose.

“What is it you’re trying to do? Actually, scratch that. I don’t give a crap. Tell me what the fuck you want with me or let me go!”

“Oh ho ho! My, my, you are a spicy one, aren’t you, Gilda? So much anger, so much pride, but deep down there’s something beneath those sharp eyes and heart of fire. Deep down you’re just a chick crying for mommy and daddy, but you’re oh so good at keeping that weakness buried deep within.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me.” Gilda dug her talons into the floor, her lion’s tail flicking angrily behind her. She wished to let her primitive mind take control, to dive into her enemy and tear him to bloody shreds with her own claws and beak, but she resisted. It would undoubtedly be of no use to attack the devil.

“Of course I know you. I know everything! Twenty years ago two of the greatest griffon flight aces of all time, Captain Northwind of the Stormbirds married his lovely wife Zoe of the Sky Sisterhood. After two years of wedlock their joyous union brought about one fiery little chick by the name of Gilda who has tried her entire life to live up to the legacy of her parents.

“Your father, who has always been on good terms with the ponies of Equestria, sent you off to attend the academy in Cloudsdale, where he as a student had once set the academy speed record. There you met an ambitious filly by the name of Rainbow Dash where a most glorious rivalry and friendship was created. While there you were upstaged by Rainbow Dash’s first ever sonic rainboom which beat your father’s record and was a speed of which you were never able to best. This haunts you to this very day.”

Discord’s lips curled back unveiling a huge smile of pearly white teeth composed of mismatched teeth from numerous species. “That about sums it up, right?”

“Hr-umph! So you know some facts about what has happened in my life. Big deal. That doesn’t mean you know me.” Gilda was trying to be strong in front of the nefarious being, but he didn’t even acknowledge what she just said with so much as his body language.

“Tell me, Gilda, how does it feel knowing you’ll always be second best?”

“What?”

“Your friend, Rainbow Dash: has she not always been the fastest thing to grace the skies of your generation?”

“Yeah, well, no- I mean she was the coolest thing on wings, but she isn’t anymore. She isn’t that great.”

“So you’re claiming to be the best flier?”

“That is only the entire purpose of my life! Dash has speed and style but I’ve got what it takes to be a champion.” Gilda stood tall, trying to appear as strong as she could before the creature. “It’s in my blood to be the best.”

“Come now Gilda, you mustn’t be pleased being second to a pony. Your beak that tears, those talons that cut, and those wings that cut through the air are the marks of a predator. Are predators not supposed to be fastest? That is what survival of the fittest would imply.”

“Yes!”

“But you aren’t the fastest to come from your class. That honor went to one Rainbow Dash.”

“Pah! Big deal. I don’t care about the past.”

Gilda immediately realized there was no use in trying to lie to her host. He had apparently read her mind so she knew how he was about to respond.

“No big deal? My goodness! Weren’t griffons always the fastest? Your own mother and father used to be considered the greatest fliers of their generation. You were their only child. Naturally it was to be expected of you to carry on their legacy, but instead you were upstaged by your colorful little pony friend. When the dust settled you were left as number two while your friend carried all the praise and admiration of her peers. Then on top of that you lost her friendship when you decided that her new friends weren’t good enough for you. So now you’re a griffon without any drive forever to be left in mediocrity.”

The Draconequus grinned. He knew he’d hit his intended target and like a child standing over an ant colony with a magnifying glass he enjoyed watching his victim squirm. “Funny how things work out in the grand scheme of things isn’t it?”

“That’s not true! I’m still one of the greatest fliers in all of Equestria! Speed-shmeed, so what if she’s faster than I am? I’m ten times the flier she’ll ever be! Ponies will never match the air mastery that has been the birthright of all griffons!”

Discord’s response was once again only one of laughter. Each time he laughed Gilda could swear it felt more as if he was forcing his being into her soul.

“Point taken, my feather headed friend! Who needs speed when you have such style and awesomeness at the tips of your talons?

There was a moment’s pause as the draconequus took a moment to contemplatively scratch his chin.

“Oh!” Discord punched his avian fist into the open palm of his feline paw. “But what does that matter compared to a holder of one of the six Elements of Harmony? One who attended the Grand Galloping Gala and won this year’s young flier’s competition (which you were of course absent from). My, my, that seems more impressive than your little air ballet.”

Gilda’s talons clenched, digging into the surface beneath her. She knew it had only been a matter of time before Discord would get around to teasing her passion, but the words still caused her blood to boil.

“In fact, all of Rainbow Dash’s new friends hold one of the six elements. No wonder she was so quick to drop you. Why settle for second fiddle when you can be a part of the greatest power in all Equestria? Attend parties with the Princesses? Who would need a former school yard hotshot as a friend when you can have all of that? You were a dead end and Rainbow Dash abandoned ship before she got bogged down by your pettiness.”

Gilda didn’t know how to respond to that other than to turn her head away.

“Does that make you mad, griffon? Knowing that you’ve been beaten out by a simple group of ponies for your one true friend’s affection? Did Rainbow Dash know about your feelings for her? Does she know how miserable you’ve been since that day when you last saw her, when you rejected her?”

“I’ve had enough of your talk!”

“Have I ruffled a sensitive set of feathers? Oh my! You mean to say that she never knew? Oh, this is even better than theater!” His echoing laughter filled the space around her. “Your amour-propre it would seem relied oh so heavily on the praise of a single pony. Every other being on this plane simply isn’t cool enough to satisfy your pride. How the mighty predator has fallen. When your races first walked the earth your kind would have no doubt taken great pleasure in feeding on the flesh of these docile vegetarians, but now here you are, a griffon lost without the comfort of a little pony’s companionship. Hah!”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? How do you know all these things?” Gilda couldn’t control her primitive mind any longer. The beast within was released and she surged forward with the intent to kill.

Discord snapped his fingers vanishing before the griffon could touch him. Gilda, puzzled landed on all four legs, looking left and right for the draconequus.

“Language, language, my dear child! Is that how you speak to the true master of Equestria? Didn’t your parents teach you better?” Another snap and he’d teleported in front of Gilda, his eagle left hand pinching Gilda’s cheek and shaking it vigorously. “Mommy and daddy wouldn’t approve of their little Gildy-wildy speaking with such vulgarity.”

“Shut up!”

“Why, there once was a time when with a single snap of my fingers all Equestria would bow before the glory of chaos!”

“I am not a pony! And if you’re so divine than what do you want with me?”

“I must admit, I get nothing but my own satisfaction toying with you, griffon. Your mind is just so ripe with passion, anger, obsession – it’s irresistible! See, chaos is a specialty of mine. With so many conflicting thoughts and emotions at work within you I couldn’t help myself. I had to experience it for myself…”

Gilda looked away from the cruel jester trying to find something else she could focus on. This world was not real, it was a distortion; an abominable recreation of a place she only half-remembered.

“You are not afraid of me. In fact you find my form to be comically misaligned, but there is fear in you, griffon. Fear of that which transcends physical form.”

Discord moved close, bringing his equine forehead an inch away from the stylized crest of feathers atop Gilda’s head, his bright eyes burning through Gilda’s heart and soul.

“All I am to you is a joke. A cruel joke, yes, but a joke nonetheless. You fear an aspect of my being, but it is not my physical presence. It is what I represent. All your life you’ve been mortified by the unknown, by variables outside your control, and that’s the idea that I represent: Chaos.”

Discord’s eyes widened and he cocked his head towards something unperceivable to Gilda.

“Oh for the love of…So very sorry, I’m afraid I’m going to have to step out for a little while; seems that some ponies don’t understand the meaning of divine right.”

Without warning a rubber balloon was stretched over Gilda’s head, constricting her neck and blocking all her airways.

“I’ll just leave you to your friends. Arrivederci!”

A snap and a flash of light and he was gone again, and Gilda was once again in the recreation of Sugarcube Corner.

All around her the ponies laughed as Gilda frantically tried to remove the choking rubber from her head. The griffon clawed at the balloon but found that she couldn’t cut or tear the material no matter how hard she tried. It filled her beak, blocked her nostrils and only seemed to tighten with each passing moment.

As her world began fading to black the only thing she could focus on was the ponies’ laughter. It echoed through her mind long after all her other senses had been silenced. All her failures flashed before her eyes. Every disappointment, shortcoming, and regret she'd ever had all were accounted for in those dark moments.

Then, in a flash, it was over.

Chapter 2: Aftershocks

Beyond the Sky
Chapter 2
Aftershocks

Quiet, serene, it was the place where every pony knew your name, and they were always glad you came. Some pony once told Gilda that when describing the small town of Ponyville. A paradise for those who wanted to escape the cities where one could only awake to the smiles of her neighbors; where every day was a song. That was the Ponyville that so many travelers had described.

The griffon saw none of that. To Gilda the settlement had come to represent something else: Failure.

Gilda despised the weak, perceived apologies as an admission of defeat, and lived by the motto of “Either you’re with me or against me.” The thought of defeat was hateful, and embracing those who failed in the fire of competition would only be a celebration of mediocrity which would dull her talent. But, despite all these convictions, Gilda sat perched atop a cloud outside the quaint settlement of Ponyville.

She wore a gray bomber jacket around her torso with sleeves that reached to her talons. The jacket, which was constructed from high quality leather, had two iron shoulder boards at the top of each sleeve, with a bronze emblem of an eagle at the end of each board giving her appearance a mixture of punk and military. It was a common article the griffon wore when travelling long distances both for appearance and to carry any small possessions she had in the pockets, which were all sealed by chrome zippers.

From this height Gilda had reckoned that she was five or so miles away from the edge of the settlement, but her eagle eyes allowed her to make out everything in explicit detail. An observant griffon would be able to spot her with ease, but she doubted any pony could spot her, even if they were looking for her. Equine eyes couldn’t begin to compare with those of a griffon.

The rainbow trail in the distance took the shape of an inward circle.

Gilda sighed. Coming back here was more painful than her confrontation with Discord a week prior. The torture she had endured at the hands of Discord had all been a fabrication. When she had woken in a bed at Cloudsdale General Hospital she realized that the devilish entity was but a trickster who had brought the pain to her mind but not her body. The words of the malevolent trickster stung her ears and wounded her worse than his virtual torture. She’d tried to ignore those words of Discord; tried to drown them out in drink, drug, and rock music, but the force which drew her back to the site of her defeat an unstoppable storm surge that breached all her defenses. This had been building within her for close to a year and it only took to draconequus’ sharp tongue to bring her to the breaking point. Her resolve to stay far away from Ponyville had been broken by one bad day.

The rainbow colored trail weave through the cloud, all the while the observing griffon paid close attention to the mare’s movements. Erratic, spontaneous motions brought life to the pony’s flight, enchanting Gilda as they always had. She flew sporadically, without concern for safety or traditional technique which was the staple of what many considered a great flier. That unpredictability, that raw determination to be the best was exactly what Gilda thought made Rainbow Dash one of the greatest fliers of their generation. It was also why Gilda had cared for the pony as much as any griffon had ever cared for a pony.

Gilda hated the mare for this; hated that the mare warranted such incomprehensible feelings within her body and mind. An overwhelming part of her wanted to unveil her presence in the sky while the other violently implored her to leave and never turn back. She had laid it out at the bakery that Rainbow Dash would have to come back to the griffon. Not the other way around. To make her presence known to the pegasus pony would be a display of weakness –collapsing under the pressure of their separation- and that was the one thing Gilda refused to show any pony.

Gilda knew that she could be insensitive, confrontational, arrogant, and all around bitch on most occasions, but that had never caused any lasting problems. To win one had to be willing to rise to every challenge and when she saw competition for Rainbow Dash’s attention she took what had seemed to be the greatest. She’d picked a fight wagering her own coolness against what she’d seen as a useless assortment of earthbound ponies.

This loser has nothing on me, Gilda had thought before crippling Pinkie Pie’s flying machine and sending the earth pony spiraling back where she belonged: the ground.

Needless to say, Gilda’s plans hadn’t worked out the way she had thought they would. Rainbow Dash accepted these ponies as her friends, embraced them for their differences, then rejected Gilda for the qualities which the griffon had so long believed the two of them had in common.

In the junior flight academy Rainbow Dash beat Gilda’s, and her father’s student speed records. Despite this the griffon had remained close friends with the mare…Until the Ponyville incident. This now weighed heavily on the griffon’s mind. She hated these ponies. She hated them because they were of the sky, but she despised them because of how happy Rainbow Dash was when they were around.

Gilda’s connection to pony society reached back long before she was hatched. Her father, Northwind was born on the streets of Stormhenge, the griffon capitol, an orphan. Taken under the wing of the state Northwind was drafted into a program meant to further integrate pony and griffon society. He became one of the first griffons to live in Cloudsdale attending the Junior Fliers Academy where he set numerous academy records for speed and aerobatics. Despite all of these accomplishments he would be on record as stating the greatest accomplishment of the experience was the chance to becoming so intimately familiar with his pegasus pony classmates. “They are my brothers and sisters in the sky,” he would often say when asked. “And it shall always be an honor to fly by their sides.”

Returning to the griffon nation Northwind was given the rank of Captain, took command of an aerobatics squadron, and became an official ambassador between griffons and ponies. He married fiery female griffon, Zoe. It was a romance born from an undying love of flight: speed and intense aerobatics. Zoe didn’t always share Northwind’s affection for ponykind, but approved of his profession nonetheless. Eventually the two aces had a chick of their own they both agreed that it would be best to set her on the path of her father and attend the academy in Cloudsdale.

Gilda had been at odds with the ponies the moment she’d arrived. She had been raised by griffons, unlike her father, and didn’t come to accept the residents of Cloudsdale as an adoptive family. All except for one sky blue pony with a rainbow mane and tail. The one reason she didn’t return to the griffon nation as her father had done upon his graduation was a single pony.

Rainbow Dash was the focus of the journey. If not for her Gilda would have left Cloudsdale without a batting an eyelash. Because of Rainbow Dash she refused to leave even now.

Above Ponyville the griffon continued to make notes of Rainbow Dash’s every move. She reckoned she was five or so miles away from the edge of the settlement, but her eagle eyes allowed her to make out everything in explicit detail. Gilda had always been quick to exploit the advantages that came with being a griffon.

In the town Rainbow Dash landed in front of the library before disappearing inside, much to Gilda’s surprise.

Egghead! Gilda scoffed. Three years ago the two of them had TPed a library. If Gilda were down there now she would have had undoubtedly managed to provide a fair amount snarky commentary for the notion of a reading Rainbow Dash…But alone she had nothing to say.

Gilda watched the library to see if Rainbow Dash would come out again, but it seemed whatever she was doing was going to take awhile. Gilda had no intention of waiting to see how long that would be.

Pulling on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses from her jacket pocket Gilda turned her back to Ponyville. She’d killed enough time here. It was time to get back to Cloudsdale. The griffon flew away using the cover of clouds until she was certain that there was no chance of being spotted by any local pegasi. Too many had been present at Sugarcube Corner that day and Gilda was sure if she was spotted everypony in the tight nit community would soon know she’d been there.

Why couldn’t you have just stayed in Cloudsdale where you belonged?

00000

Far, far away from Ponyville, near the border of the pony population is a sight that few ponies have ever seen. The Great Coal Mountain stands out amongst the fields as a pinnacle as a strict overseer watching any who were within a hundred miles of its summit. The face of the mountain looked over the border, its face obscured by smoke and cloud. Gothic towers and smokestacks rose from the side of the Great Coal Mountain. There, on the mountain and built upon the very clouds that surrounded it was a city. This was Stormhenge: the first line of defense for the Griffon Nation.

Above the clouds a white headed griffon, whose crest was highlighted by shades of royal blue, flew in from the south. His travels had begun in the capitol city and he’d flown for two days and nights. He wore a regal vest baring the red and gold colors of the griffon nation which wrapped around his front, fastened with polished brass buttons.

Carved out of the side of the mountain was the maintenance dock for the griffon air corps spectacular airships. Forged from iron, fueled by coal, and lifted by the power of steam the gunships were the pride of griffon engineer’s ingenuity. Such vessels had formed the backbone of the griffon nation’s defensive capabilities for five centuries.

Coming up on the airship dock he singled out the largest ship in the dormant fleet. On its side the vessel read R.A.D. Hurricane. When he landed a group of engineers immediately saluted.

“Good morning, Captain, sir!” The lead engineer was a griffon with a sandy colored head and black circles around his eyes. The members of his crew referred to him as “Wrench” and he had a fatherly smile despite his relatively young age of twenty-three. “Come to check up on things with the fleet?”

Beside the engineers lay a disassembled long gun. A large bin was filled with a gummy substance of a revolting blend of pink, and mold with colors of white, blue, and green mixed in. All the griffons around it wore gloves over their talons.

“That is part of why I’m here, yes.” The captain straightened his red jacket. Gold bars on his shoulders played with the light in gentle yet striking ways. “At ease…Tell me: How are the ship repairs coming along?”

“Canons were gummed up with…candy. Chocolate and cotton candy, mostly…Damnedest thing I ever saw. It would be like a chick’s wonderland if it weren’t such an awful mess to clean up. We have to disassemble, clean and reassemble just about everything with moving parts for every ship in the First Fleet.”

“How long should that take?”

“For the Hurricane I reckon it’ll be another week.” Wrench scratched the top of his head as he reflected on all the damage reports he’d been through. “Entire fleet won’t be up until the end of the month.”

The captain nodded his head. “I received a summons from the admiral and from what it read I am running a few minutes late. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

“Of course not: Anything for you, captain.” Wrench smiled. It wasn’t everyday you got to speak with the leader of the Stormbirds.

00000

Major Despina straightened her Cardinal red jacket before she took carried the teacup into the Hurricane’s conference room. Her salmon colored feathers sported a yellow highlight across the top of her head like a candle flickering in a cool night breeze. She was well-groomed and met all standards of a proper griffon officer. Her buttons were polished, her uniform ironed, and all pins were perfectly positioned according to the book. By choosing not to physically stand out from her colleagues in both posture and appearance she was an ideal officer. As a secretary to the Admiral of the entire Griffon Air Corps she was, in a word: Perfect.

The Hurricane’s conference room was spacious, without windows, being brightly lit in shades of orange and gold by a furnace at the back of the room and a chandelier of ten candles above the center of a great oak table. Four griffons were assembled in the room, eying maps, going through papers- two of them were talking about the latest sky race winners, but they were all dressed in their cardinal dress uniforms.

One stood out among this group. He was old, his feathers drooped, but his eyes sparked from the back of the room with the spirit of innovation. Wearing the red uniform over his breast, heavy with the numerous medals and other service awards he’d acquired over a fifty year career Admiral Storm Claw served as the perfect embodiment of griffon military tradition. Major Despina was proud to be his aide.

The door opened and another griffon wearing a leather jacket entered the chamber. Admiral Storm Claw rose to greet him.

“Captain Northwind! I’m pleased that you’ve managed to join us. I know with the Canterlot aerobatics Festival coming up you and your squadron has plenty of preparations to make.”

“My team is professional; I trust them to get along well enough without me for a day or two.” Northwind pulled up a chair.

“Commodore Skyward was just beginning his presentation regarding the recent string of events which has rendered our warbirds dead in the sky.”

“You need not halt everything for my sake.” Northwind’s response had both gratitude and sincerity. “I assure you, I am caught up with the situation.”

“I only pause to allow the admiral to exchange his greetings.” A sneer could almost be found in Skyward’s expression, but he was well trained in concealing his personal emotions- at least in front of the other officers. Recent events had left the commander of Stormhenge’s fleet in a less than amiable mood.

Skyward rose from his seat, sweeping his foreleg in the direction of enlarged pictures posted on the wall displaying pink clouds, machines jammed, and burning factories. Every griffon in the room waited in silent anticipation for what the commodore had to say. Such serious demeanor and posture only came from one who came from a family who had served the Griffon Air Corps diligently for centuries.

“It is undeniable that the source of our problems was magical in nature. As a result our airships have all been put to dock with their canons incapable of firing until we’ve had a chance to retool, refit, and clean every last piece. There is only one way such a great magical force could have been created: a fully organized push on our borders by Princess Celestia.”

Whispers quickly began circulating the table as the other officers spoke to their peers.

“Northwind is our ambassador on such matters. What have you on the matter, captain?” Admiral Stormclaw delicately lifted the teacup to his beak, not the least bit alarmed by Skyward’s fiery words.

“I am…May I have your permission to comment on the commodore’s claim, Admiral?”

“Permission granted.” Stormclaw returned the teacup to the table beside several classified scrolls.

“Commodore Skyward, I assure you that this accusation against Princess Celestia by Commodore Skyward is misplaced. Acting as ambassador for these past twelve years, and having lived beside them for my youth I have no reason to suspect any of what you claim has any accuracy. To think they’d want war with us is in a word: ludicrous.”

Northwind said this with respect, without the slightest hint of malice, but it clearly struck Skyward as a personal attack against his character, if one were to judge his expression of indignation.

“Of course you’d say that: You were practically raised by them!” Skyward grinned sarcastically at the aerobatics leader. “I believe your judgment is compromised by your affinity for the ponies. Thus, it has no bearing in this council.”

“Commodore, Northwind has been a dependable ambassador of peace whose record is unblemished unlike other griffons in this council.” Vice-Admiral Irene had perhaps the most frightening red eyes a griffon could hope to possess, but her voice came out strong and soothing to the ear. The feathers of her head were gray, and her uniform sported brilliant gold patterns along the length of the sleeves which were not standard issue.

“He was raised by the pegasi of Equestria because our people willed it. I signed the document which put him in pony care.” Admiral Stormclaw leaned forward over the table, tapping his claws on the wooden surface. “In his adult life Northwind has more than proved himself as an ambassador for our diplomatic interactions and the face of the griffon nation.”

“Thank you admiral, but I don’t need you to come to my defense if the commodore here wants to play hardball.” Northwind turned his head to the general, eyes focusing to a harsh point on the other griffon. “All reports I’ve received from my acquaintances and colleagues spread from Cloudsdale to Canterlot –griffons and ponies- have informed me that they faced the exact same ordeals our people did on that disastrous day. They are still recovering from the event, same as we are.”

“My sources also confirm Northwind’s analysis, Skyward.” Vice-Admiral Irene put the parchment she had been reading from back on the table in front of her. “The ponies faced many of the same or similar incidents on the same date.

Admiral Stormclaw leaned forward, crossing his forelegs, interweaving the digits of his talons together in a contemplative manner. “Your accusations are less than compelling, commodore.”

“An elaborate ploy, but still a ploy cleverly conceived to catch us off guard is all I see. They wish to show up our steel, steam, and gunpowder with their sorcerer ways!” General Skyward pulled a scroll from beneath his desk. “Our airships, our weapons, all have advanced over the centuries, but we are never going to be safe. My fellow griffons, two princesses once again rule over Canterlot. Their magic could very well be doubled by this in spite of this Luna’s thousand year absence. Remember that in The War Celestia alone was their key to turning the tides of war against us. With two Princesses in Canterlot imagine the destruction that could be unleashed upon our fleet in the event of war.”

Nervous chatter spread throughout the room and Northwind swiftly rose, the room falling into silence as soon as he did.

“Princess Celestia is not a soul of violence like you, Skyward. Of this I am sure. The princess regrets what the previous war forced her to do and hopes the events never are repeated.” Northwind clasped a talon over his breast which to griffons was meant to display the highest degree of honor and integrity. “If Celestia was behind this I’d tear out my own heart with my talons and allow the vultures to descend upon me if this were found untrue. ”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain. Please cut the melodramatics and tell us why you believe this.” The Vice-Admiral was known for her bluntness.

“Perhaps a fringe group of unicorns could have –however unlikely- caused this mess we’re now stuck with, but it does not have any connection to the princess or any other member of their ruling class.”

Skyward rolled his eyes. “So you’re willing to accept this…preposterous description of an omnipotent being who just decided to take the planet for a joyride?”

“I do.” Northwind said this with the utmost conviction. “The existence of a strange, all-powerful being known as Discord exists in the eldest of historical records. Why debate it? An attack with candy is not a military ploy, but is clearly the work of a trickster, which by all accounts is what Discord was always portrayed as.”

“We’re to allow fairy tales to become a basis for our international diplomacy?” Skyward laughed. “Are we taking this story seriously?”

“Perhaps,” Admiral Stormclaw raised a talon, “you could inform us as to what he believes to be the proper course of action.”

“It’s very simple: Raise the fleet.” Skyward straightened his uniform and spoke with renewed zeal. “Move our airships from dock in Stormhenge to patrol our border. Let every pony remember we exist and we are strong! Their farms continue to cut into our hunting grounds, and the bulk of their population seems to ignore our presence. Let us remind them of who we are! I’m not asking for war, Admiral. All I wish is to remind our neighbors that we are not defenseless whelps who can be made a mockery by an application of sweets. After this incident we cannot afford to appear weak. We are griffon!”

“That doesn’t accomplish anything.” Northwind shook his head. “Needlessly worrying countless griffons and ponies with a military presence does nothing but lead to fear, and unease. Think about it: If Princess Celestia moved a battalion of her troops on our border you know exactly how we’d react. It would be chaos.”

Skyward sneered, turning his attention to the admiral.

“Admiral, I beg my pardon for asking this, but: why is the captain here? I fail to see how the leader of the aerobatic squadron has a place in a meeting on internal military matters. He is an ambassador, but he doesn’t know how to run an army.”

“Northwind is our chief diplomatic tie with the ponies of Equestria. He knows the ponies, he knows their Princess. Northwind’s own daughter lives in one of their cities, and was hospitalized as a result of the recent incident. If that wasn’t enough to turn him against the ponies than I must conclude that he has no reason to doubt them. That is why he is here.”

“What does this have to do with-”

“Must I repeat myself, Commodore? If anyone should be raising concern as to our alliance with Celestia and the rest of ponydom he has a far better reason to be angered by this current predicament yet he remains calm and collected. What has actually happened? Some guns are jammed and some ships are in dock: we haven’t had to use such weapons since the diamond dogs attacked out eastern mines fifteen years ago. What are the odds of something happening within the next two weeks that we’d suddenly need to call upon our guns?”

“You can never be too cautious, Admiral.” Skyward knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with his pitch and resigned back to his chair.

“There is a difference between cautiously calculated safety precautions and staging the alarms for war.” Vice Admiral Irene combed her regal, cool gray feathers with a graceful sweep of her right talon. “If the ponies wanted war we’d have known it by now. We haven’t spotted so much as a patrol of ponies on our borders.”

Admiral Stormclaw nodded his approval to the Vice Admiral’s statement before turning his attention back to Skyward. All the while Despina began to sketch an image of the Vice Admiral’s pose in her notebook. Something about her profile struck Despina at that moment.

“Contrary to your statement, Commodore: I believe it is quite easy to become too cautious, Commodore. If this was a preemptive strike they would attack, not give us time to retool our vessels. We will write off our misfortunes as an unfortunate, yet ultimately harmless enterprise caused by an individual with a sick sense of humor.”

“If that is your wish, Admiral…”

“Now, as for the matter of the fleet…”

Northwind who had remained composed and silent for the entirety of the previous exchange remained in silent suspense.

“I feel this disaster has given a chance to finally retire some of the fleet.” Admiral Stormclaw clapped his talons together once and the sound echoed through the room. “Our oldest ship, the Starwind has seen her time and has reached an end. She is the last ship to have served in the Sky War between our forces and those of Celestia. Rather than melting her down, myself and the royal family have decided to remove her canons and put her in the care of Captain Northwind and the Stormbirds.”

A round of applause went around the room. Irene personally patted Northwind’s shoulder while the Admiral provided a gentle clapping of his talons.

“I had no idea...I mean…Thank you, Admiral.” Northwind bowed his head. He seemed legitimately humbled by the experience, but he kept professional restraint. “I will see to it that she is properly taken care of and promptly put in use once she’s out of dock. I’ll see her shining the Old Red and Gold as soon possible.”

Despina smiled. For a griffon most infamous for his daring, and numerous victories in aerial athletics Northwind had an incredibly polite demeanor; not at all representing the hothead connotations which had long been associated with the Stormbird aerobatics squadron. Northwind was indeed a down-to-cloud griffon. A sketch of the near-blush that had crossed his face upon receiving news of the Starwind now appeared in her log beside the dismissive expression of Vice-Admiral Irene.

“This is absurd!” Skyward couldn’t contain his malcontent, although he had tried for all of thirty seconds. “We are attacked without warning and this board’s first course of action is to further weaken our defenses for the sake of an air show? Admiral, I must protest!”

“In my experience I’ve discovered that an air show can be one of the most effective methods of diplomacy. Every being can appreciate a spectacle while only a very few get off on the thought of war.” Northwind cast a sincere smile in the commodore’s direction. “Even applauds a healthy dose of derring-do.”

“Attacked seems to be putting a bit of an overly melodramatic spin on cotton candy,” Irene chuckled.

“I discussed this in detail with the King.” Stormclaw pushed his now emptied cup of tea to the side. “A griffon warship has not been to Canterlot since the Sky War. Now, on the 75th anniversary of the Sky War a griffon Air Corps vessel will once again take dock in Canterlot, but this time it shall be under the banner of peace. It seems only fitting that you, our chief diplomat in-charge of coordinating the Starwind’s new purpose.”

Despina returned with an envelope sealed with the royal seal. She set it down in front of the Captain who made no move to pick it up. Up close his eyes seemed to suggest that he wasn’t entirely there. He was a part of this meeting but only to give an apposite response to the admiral’s summons. He spoke with such clarity, such fire, yet in his eyes she could see he was dissimulating; creating a face for the other griffons, while concealing something else which took a precedent on his mind. It wasn’t excitement for the Starwind, although there certainly was that in his expression, but something he was burying that grabbed Despina.

The major quietly returned to her location at the far end of the table, trying not to look too long at the captain. It wasn’t her place to judge what was going through his mind at this time.

“Captain Northwind, this letter has been signed by our king and is addressed to Princesses Celestia and Luna in Canterlot. Contained within are all the details on the Starwind project approved, and signed by the King. It is also important as this will be the first time in over a thousand years that our kind has had contact with this Princess Luna. I trust that you will leave a good first impression.”

“I am a first and foremost a gentlegriffon. What is my timeframe for delivery?”

“It is to be delivered to their hoofs within the next three days. If you accept we wish that you’d begin your journey this afternoon. I will see to it that the Stormbirds are told the reason for your departure. Are you up to it?”

Northwind didn’t need any time to think it over.

“It would be my honor to accept this task. I had reasons to journey in the region as it was so this only speeds things along.”

“Yes, I was aware you’d have other reasons. Just be sure to deliver the letter before checking in on your daughter, Northwind. Family is forever, but letters are best delivered ASAP.”

“Understood, Admiral.” Northwind slipped the letter into an interior pocket of his jacket before he snapped a salute.

Daughter? Despina watched the captain leave. His daughter was rarely talked about amongst griffons so the major never had thought of Northwind as a father. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that his daughter –was it Gilda or Gertrude? - had never returned to the griffon nation after leaving for Cloudsdale, except for the occasional visit. Back when she was coming of age many griffons had expected the daughter of Northwind return to the griffon nature to join the Stormbirds, to lead side-by-side with her father, but she’d chosen to remain with the ponies of Cloudsdale for whatever reason. No one was quite sure why.

The girl must really love ponies, Despina figured.

“Peace is not an infinite variable, admiral.” Skyward had waited until the captain had left before he added in his last thoughts on the matter. “The time will come when we must defend our home with force again.”

“And I hope to be long dead when that day does come.” Stormclaw combed his crest. “When the days of reason, and diplomats such as Northwind fail is the time when griffons like you will carry us, Skyward. But until that day comes you’d best learn to shut your beak.”

00000

Upon returning to Cloudsdale Gilda immediately made her way towards the markets. Her body was aching all over from the full day’s flight and she hadn’t had so much as a morsel the entire day. It didn’t matter what food she found she was going to eat it.

Putting her sunglasses back in her breast pocket Gilda approached the first vendor she saw.

“Hey!” Gilda took the apple seller by surprise. The sea foam green pegasus mare seemed to have been daydreaming in the corner of her stand when the griffon arrived. “Any pony alive in there?”

“Oh- hello, I was just…Welcome to Organic Air: Bringing the freshest from below up above!” The mare wore an apron around her front with the symbol of a pegasus flying through the clouds with a trail of fruits and vegetables behind its tail. With nervous posture, and unsure inflections in her speech the mare was clearly not used to being around a griffon.

“The name’s on your sign.” Gilda pointed a claw above the mare’s head.

“Oh, right: so it is. Ummm…” the young mare trailed off.

“What’s your name?”

“My name? Merry Cloud.”

“Mare-y,” Gilda was silently laughing as the sales pony undoubtedly had no idea why the griffon had just pronounced her name in such a fashion. Word games had become a favorite form of ridicule in the griffon’s sarcastic arsenal over the past year. “You’re new, I take it.”

“Yes, it’s my first day. I’m still getting my hoofs in ground– cloud…You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I gotcha…” Gilda’s eyes scanned the shelves behind the counter. She placed her talons on the counter and began gently tapping her razor sharp claws against the surface. “What do you have for sale?”

“Um…apples?” The mare’s eyes warily watched the griffon’s talons.

“I know they’re apples! What kind?”

“Sorry, sorry! How stupid of me. We have…Granny Smith…Gold and Red Delicious; all fresh from Sweet Apple Acres!

“Hmmph, that’s in Ponyville, isn’t it?”

“Yes...or just right outside Ponyville, I think. Some folk reckon they’re the best apples in all of Equestria!”

“Aren’t all amazing things coming from Ponyville now?” Gilda’s bitter sarcasm didn’t escape the mare, although she didn’t understand why the griffon chose to take that tone when speaking of the small town. “I’ll take one of the red-whatevers.”

“One Red Delicious, coming up!” The mare reached a hoof towards a basket beside the counter when Gilda slammed a fist onto the counter causing her to jump.

“No!” Gilda pointed a claw up to the top shelf behind the mare. “Top shelf, that bright one in the center: I want it.”

“Oh?” Merry looked up hesitantly, her wings twitching with unease.

“I am all awesome and only accept the best.” Gilda ran a claw through the feathers atop her head; her wings were spread out in a regal fashion. “That one up there looks like a winner.”

“Well, if you insist.” The mare flew to the top of the shelf, mumbling something about how the customer was always right. She reached a hoof for an apple that seemed to reflect the most light.

“Not that one! The one in the middle…”

“Where?”

“Don’t you know what middle means?”

“I do.”

“Then stop wasting my time.”

Merry moved her hoof to the left.

“No! More to the right... Left! Up a bit…Yes!”

Merry placed her hoof on the apple, warily looking back at the griffon. Gilda nodded in approval and the mare sighed in relief.

“Is that going to be all?” The mare returned, placing the apple on the counter, a bit frazzled by the unexpected demands of the griffon.

Gilda took a hold of the apple, pulling it close to her eye as if she were examining a fine gem. “Hmmm…seen better but I think this will do.”

“That’ll be two bits. Have to say I don’t think I’ve ever met a griffon with a tooth- err, beak for apples.” The pony smiled kindly.

Gilda dropped the coins on the counter, letting them roll so that the mare had to jump to keep them from slipping off the counter and into the clouds below. Reaching into her pocket she retrieved her sunglasses. “I’m not like most griffons.”

“Have a nice day!”

“I will.”

“Bitch…” Merry Cloud said under her breath as the griffon left the stall.

Gilda took a bite of the apple as she began to walk away from the stand. Merry’s soft spoken comment couldn’t escape a griffon’s ears, but it didn’t upset her. In fact it brought a smile to Gilda’s beak. The mare hadn’t noticed the two additional apples Gilda had slipped into her jacket as she’d been frantically searching for the mysterious “best apple” on the top shelf.

Ponies were so easily bilked.

Walking through the markets Gilda thought over her options. Given the sun’s current position Gilda reckoned she had three or so hours left to be burned before nightfall. Nomiki and Selene had said they didn’t want to do anything today; she’d exhausted herself flying to Ponyville and back. Not much she could think to do so heading home seemed like a good idea. There she could put on a record and maybe read the latest issue of Sky Ace Magazine.

“Gilda!”

Who the fu–

Gilda turned around, lowering her aviators, finding herself beak-to-snout with a gray pegasus stallion.

“What do you want?”

The stallion’s tail and mane (slick with gel) was jet black and his eyes were a bright yellow which seemed to shine like searchlights. He wore an unbuttoned crimson tailcoat which only partially rested on his front and had remarkably decadent tails which trailed along his back to his flank. Beneath the unbuttoned coat could be seen a black velvet vest fastened by silver buttons.

“I thought that was you. How could I ever forget such stylish feathers or that butch aura of confidence?” He spoke fast as if he was racing to spit the sentences out, but his voice was infused with a charismatic swoon, holding a posture of cool determination. “Do you remember me?”

“Can’t say I do…”

“We went to in academy together! It has been ages, hasn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah…it has.” I have no idea who you are.

“Flight Physics, fourth row, second to the end- you remember, don’t you? I remember you were in the back row with Rainbow Dash. I know you Junior Speedsters lived in a separate world from the rest of us, but we did meet on several memorable occasion.”

“That was you? Yeah, yeah, yeah…I can remember the slowpokes.” I have never seen you before in my life. Gilda tried to smile.

“You two graduated with top honors in aerobatics?”

“Totally. They finally acknowledged pure awesome.”

“Splendid! So I do remember you!” He clapped his hoofs together. “I was never really much of a flier, you know (of course you know) but I did love watching you two go at it. You two were a spectacle! Both the best fliers of a generation together: what an irresistible rapport.”

“Thanks…I guess?”

“Still flying I take it? I’m an art dealer now, you see, so do understand this is a most sincere compliment when I say in flight you two were finer than any piece in my auction house.”

“Well, don’t think you’re getting me to go look at artsy-fartsy exhibit. That gallery stuff isn’t up to my speed. Only cracked eggheads who think they’re something great hang around art galleries.” Gilda herself wasn’t sure if her comment was serious or not. It simply was what she’d said without any thought.

“Oh-ho-ho-ho, your sarcastic wit is always a delight! Of course I’m not trying to con you into a sale- even if I do have some wonderful work done on canvas and a few sculptures for sale that I’m sure would suit your lifestyle. ” The stallion wrapped a foreleg around Gilda’s front, leaning against her in a jovial embrace of affection which the griffon did not share. “I attended the young flier’s competition –as a spectator, of course! - and was blown away by Rainbow Dash’s performance!”

“Yeah…I heard it was something else.” Don’t remind me. Everyone in Cloudsdale was talking about it for weeks! And all of them wanted to know what I thought of it.

“Goodness gracious, it was something else! They called it a Sonic Rainboom, can you believe it? Oh my, such a delight! Positively smashing! I’d never seen anything like it– you see I was far more concerned with studies so I wasn’t out in the cloud yard that day when she first managed the feat. I beat myself up for years ‘Oh how could I miss one of the greatest feats of all time!’ but then I was able to see it performed on such a grand scale- the suspense, the build-up, the rescue of that unicorn- Bravo! It came together with pure éclat!”

“That’s Dash for you…always rising to the occasion.” Please kindly shut the hay up and leave me alone.

“Now, I was in attendance for the entire show, read the entire list of participants but… I couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t one of the participants in the competition! After Rainbow Dash performed so fabulously I was hoping so very much to see you join her in the arena- in fact when for the final batch they said that due to time they’d have two come out at once I remember saying to myself ‘Oh that must be Rainbow Dash and Gilda- those two are inseparable!’ Imagine my surprise when it was Rainbow Dash and a unicorn with some sort of wing enchantment who came out…why weren’t you in attendance, Gilda?”

Gilda felt the tendons in her neck tighten. She’d been dreading that question the instant the stallion had begun talking about the competition. Every pony who knew her from Academy and Junior Speedsters managed to work their way to the Young Fliers Competition.

“I could have but I figured ‘Hey, I’m of mature age- why do I need to compete in a young flier completion? Winning that would be the same as if I went back to the academy and beat the snot out of all the students at a game of dodge ball: sure I would win but there’d be no satisfaction in it.” You damn phony. He can see right through everything I’m saying.

The stallion brought his right hoof to his chin in a speculative manner, as if coaxing some information from a distance memory. “Mmmm, I suppose that is understandable for someone of your skill. Yes, quite understandable! I just had figured with the Princess being in attendance that the competition had greater merit, but your stance is very commendable.”

The truth was that the competition, coming up so close behind Gilda’s break off with Rainbow Dash, had compelled the griffon to avoid meeting her former friend. She’d never admit to it, but the she had dropped out solely to avoid meeting with Rainbow Dash, which would have been unavoidable had she attended. Then the thought of talking to Rainbow Dash after what had happened was even more frightening than the prospect of losing.

“Heh, uhm, I’m kind of busy so I’m going to wing it - things to do at home and all.” An insincere smile formed across her beak.

“By all means don’t let little old me hold you up.”

Gilda didn’t need to be told twice: she was gone in an instant, not looking back and already praying that she’d never run into the stallion ever again.

Hate. Gilda hated that stallion. She didn’t know his name, but she hated him. For no real reason other than his complete acceptance of her. His seeming refusal to call her excuses into question, or throw out an accusation against her character was unbearable. He had to know that his blind acceptance of everything she said was causing her to squirm in unease. No pony had their head that far in the dirt to not acknowledge such blatant lies.

Gilda no longer wanted to fly about the town. She just wanted to be home.

00000

Griffons lived on the outskirts of Cloudsdale. They got well-enough along with ponies, but they still naturally felt safer when amongst their own kind. Gilda’s house was a small tower of enchanted white and black clouds just on the edge of the griffon quarter. Large pillars in the front created a sweeping archway for the relatively small house.

This was her home but Gilda didn’t feel secure in it.

Inside the humble dwelling everything had a way of reminding the griffon of Rainbow Dash. Gilda’s records whose music crackled with guitar chords, pounding bass and drums always sent her mind spiraling down a path of recollection. Once they’d sit around the dorm and listen to it for hours. So many times Gilda had wanted to smash the record player, but was stopped when she remembered that it too was a gift…from the one pony who’d ever given the griffon anything.

Gilda retrieved a bottle, popped the cap with a claw and took a long drink. She didn’t know why but she was shivering from the encounter with the stallion.

The walls of her common room were covered in pictures, posters, and other prints. One of her parents, posters for the Stormbirds and the Wonderbolts, her diploma from the academy…Every other image was of Gilda and Rainbow Dash from their earliest days in the academy all the way to graduation. A photographic chronicle: Night Mare Night costumes, Wonderbolt rally seats, wearing their Junior Speedsters uniforms, proudly displaying their Ace awards at graduation, and other memories that were timeless representations of joy, and fulfillment.

Gilda placed a claw on a picture of her and Rainbow Dash posed outside their cabin at Junior Speedsters Camp. She found herself reciting the chant: “Junior Speedsters are our lives…” Her eyes scanned the rest of the wall. “Sky-bound soars and daring dives…”

Turning she passed through a dark gray door into another room.

Gilda’s bedroom’s spacious nature was highlighted by the fact that there was little more than a bed, a bookshelf, and a bedside table. On the bedside table was a picture of the two Junior Speedsters together. In it she had a foreleg wrapped around Rainbow Dash and they both radiated with the most effusive smiles they could have managed. In that image there was captured that youthful energy that Gilda so desperately yearned for now. They’d been invincible then before reality began to interfere; for a brief moment in time, immortalized in that single frame a griffon and pony were all the other needed to be happy. Looking upon it Gilda felt both the calming embrace of a fond memory and the fury brought on by mare’s rejection of her.

The picture was taken the day before Rainbow Dash had left Cloudsdale for Ponyville.

On the wall overlooking the table corner was a poster of Validus: A mountain that reached above the clouds. For centuries no pony (or griffon) thought it was possible to fly to the top of the mountain – let alone climb it, but brave ponies and griffons shattered the myth. Hundreds of years ago the first aerobatic teams of Equestria trained and competed there. It was isolated from society, a place where only the strongest survived.

“Junior Speedsters it’s our quest,” Gilda looked at the mountain’s face, taking another swig from the bottle. “To someday be the very best.”

Two hours past, and twice as many bottles of the powerful elixir were emptied. Gilda was alone, lying stretched across the floor of her common room in a drunken stupor. When she’d gotten home she hadn’t intended to drink herself into a shell of her true self, but it had happened nonetheless. The encounter with the stallion had made her feel so unclean, dirty…pathetic.

This was a time when Gilda least wanted to be reminded of Discord, yet his words were what found their way into her head.

Are predators not supposed to be the fastest?
How does it feel knowing you’ll always be second best?
Who needs a former schoolyard hotshot?

“Shut up!” Gilda turned to face the wall, shut her eyes, and covered her ears. Night had come over Cloudsdale.

You’re a dead end.

Gilda swore she could see the malevolent jester’s face in the walls, though her vision was clouded by exhaustion and drink. His distorted face smiled toothily at her, and an icy chill made its way up her spine. All the pictures were staring at her: laughing! Rainbow Dash was laughing at her.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

You mean to say that she never knew?

With a shriek Gilda lunged, tearing the photos from the wall, shredding each image bit to bit.

“I don’t need you! I don’t need you!” The griffon repeatedly told herself until there was nothing left but a pile of scraps left on the floor. It didn’t matter if they were framed or not, she made sure to get to each picture she could get her talons on. When it was over, her talons were blooded where glass from shattered picture frames had cut her.

Gilda slid into the corner, exhausted, her chest heaving.

“You fucking flip flop!” She could feel a single tear collecting at the corner of her eye.

For the next four hours Gilda slipped in and out of consciousness. When she awoke with enough of her senses active to realize where she was her beak was planted at the foot of the dresser. With little more than a groan she managed to sit up on her back legs, warily rubbing her head with talons.

Above her was the poster. It remained untouched out of all the images that had been destroyed this night. Resolute and strong the poster was a beacon in the night.

Validus was more than a mountain: it was a symbol of what Gilda strove to stand for. Now stared back at her mockingly reminding her of how far short she’d fallen from her goals. Gilda had intended to go there with Rainbow Dash someday. It was going to be so awesome. It would have been just the two of them, camping out in the most famous location in flight history. Those plans had changed that day in Ponyville…

Or had they?

She had wasted so many opportunities to prove herself, but now Gilda approached the poster with renewed interest. The Tower of Champions, they had once called it. Those who journeyed through wind and ice, breathed in the air of the peak, and pushed their wings to the limit returned from Validus as the best who had ever lived.

The answer to all her problems, it seemed, had been staring her in the face this entire time. She would train as none but the greatest fliers in history had done before. When she returned she’d be renewed, reborn: that was the dream promised by Mt. Validus.

Why did she have to let her actions be dictated by a single pony? That’s what had happened: Gilda had allowed emotions to weaken her. She was a griffon! If she died today no pony would ever remember a griffon by the name of Gilda, but if she conquered Validus, then returned to Cloudsdale as a champion of the sky…She’d be redeemed! No one would question her again…not even Rainbow Dash.

It was settled: She would go to Validus, peak of champions, and wouldn’t return until she was the best flier in all of Equestria. She could do whatever she wanted and she would triumph…

No matter the cost.

Chapter 3: Ghosts

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned by Hasbro

Beyond the Sky
Chapter 3
Ghosts of the Past

Celestia’s sun was like a sunflower hovering above the land spreading its warm, radiant glow. Throughout the forests below a cool morning breeze swept across the land, causing the morning dew to fall like beads of light. Small woodland creatures emerged from their burrows, birds from their nests, all answering the beckoning call of the morning’s light. This could be seen as epitome of tranquility and beauty to most to most, but not to Gilda. She flew miles above, drifting over the clouds which were to her as beautiful as the greens of spring to those who inhabited the earth below.

Gilda hadn’t carried much when she left Cloudsdale. She’d set out for Validus after sobering up and catching a few hours sleep. Her jacket was all she wore, and it carried everything she had required. Pockets full of small possessions, some bits, and that was all. Her connections to the city which she had called her home for thirteen years was little more than memories which she now wished to leave behind. Even her current friends didn’t matter to her as she hadn’t even bothered to leave behind a note of her departure. By the time Celestia raised the sun she had left Cloudsdale far off in the distance without a single regret. No one would know what had become of her until she returned to them as a champion of the skies.

Junior Speedsters Camp was where Gilda found her mind wondering off too as she sailed high above the surface of Equestria. Then everything was simple: Gilda and Rainbow Dash against the world. Those had been the days when optimism sailed boundless, unrestrained, and it had seemed like there was no limits to be set on reality. Life so seldom seemed to follow the path laid out by one’s dreams…or relationships. Only those who persevered could triumph in the end, and Gilda would be damned before she let herself become another complacent citizen of Cloudsdale wasting her life away reflecting on what could have been.

Up here there was a beauty exclusive to those with wings. In was an empty expanse with little life where an individual could fly for hours without encountering another being, or so much as a bird. To many that was frightening, as a desert might be to those below. But to those who challenged it, who mastered it, the expanse was a paradise unsoiled by society. A hunger for freedom was at the heart of all true fliers and the sky was their buffet.

Keeping her mind and wings sharp, dipping and diving, performing flips and barrel rolls, all while staying in the current Gilda stayed on her course. Nothing too complicated for one of the griffon’s talent, but enough to keep awake; to keep her mind active. On her life it had never been a question for Gilda as to what she was destined to, but how she’d achieve it. When one is born the child of two of the greatest fliers of a generation it was a given that the child should be the best.

After several hours of aerobatics in the current above the clouds is where Gilda had found her freedom. It carried her eastward, allowing her to spread her wings and soar without ever having to put much effort into her movement. But something didn’t feel right. Tilting her wings ever so slightly she began to descend, bursting through the thick blanket of clouds which had been beneath her.

When she had left the countryside had been dotted by busy roads and of cities but now as she looked down below her everything was beginning to become an indescribable blur of farmland. Gilda tried to find a landmark; a hill, crack, canyon, valley, or even an awkwardly twisted tree, but nothing rang a bell. The entire gamut was nothing more than an indescribable blur of green, yellow, and blue.

“Stercus,” Gilda cursed under her breath in the tongue of her ancestors.

Coming to a dead stop, wings moving just enough to keep her hovering in place she retrieved a crumpled map from her jacket’s front pocket. Gilda had flown many places, but she’d never been to Equestria’s Eastern territories before. She was used to knowing where she was that she’d been careless. She retrieved a clamshell pendant attached to a brass chain which had been in a secondary pocket. Opening it revealed a compass that’s design was not at all unlike that of a pocket watch, comparing the tilt of the needle to her map. After a moments speculation, accounting for the farmland below compared to the map, accounting for the direction the compass pointed, and the way the wind had blown she figured the current she’d hoped to ride most of the journey had veered off to the Southeast.

It was embarrassing to admit it, but she was lost. With her enhanced sight she began scanned the ground below for any sign of intelligent life.

“Hah!” she exclaimed in triumph.

In the distance she managed to spot a settlement some twelve miles away. She immediately set her sights and began her descent. It was hardly a town, only having twelve buildings built around a main street with the largest at the end clearly being town hall, but there was bound to be somepony there who could steer her in the right direction.

As soon as she landed she couldn’t help but notice all the eyes that intently watched her from every window and street corner. It felt as if the entire town had been drained of life the moment she set foot on the street. Hushed whispers like a soft wind, like a phantom spirit had taken the life from the settlement.

“Mommy, isn’t that a-”
“Don’t stare, Pierre,” the mare silenced her colt.

“Huh…” Gilda exhaled uncomfortably.

The griffon scanned the scene to single-out an individual pony. Her eyes fell on a homely country stallion stood hunched over a wagon with a stack of barrels to his right. His limbs were long, yet muscular, but his neck was crooked, bobbing outward in the middle before straightening up again just beneath where it connected to his skull.

“Hey! You,” Gilda addressed the stallion, pointing a talon in his direction.

“Who? Me?” He pointed a hoof towards himself in bafflement.

“Yeah you. Something wrong with your ears?” Gilda stretched her wings out in full once as her body readjusted to being on the ground again. The action caused the stallion’s eyes to bulge. As she continued her approach a claw fished her map and compass from the jacket pocket. “I need to ask you something.”

“You’re not from around these parts are ya?” The buck toothed stallion stared bug-eyed at Gilda’s map as she spread her map over the top of a barrel.

“What tipped you off, genius?” Gilda blew out the corner of her beak, the force lifting her crest.

“Griffons don’t usually come around these parts.” He answered the rhetorical question sincerely as his right foreleg’s hoof made a circle in the dirt beneath him. “Not that it’s at all a problem, I mean there are certainly stranger folk to come around when ya’ really think about-”

A raised foreleg and outstretched talon silenced him.

“Would you just tell me where I am?” Gilda groaned impatiently pointing to the map.

“Altaiville…Home of the best oranges in all of Equestria! Also home of the Scorched Grove Memorial.”

What is up with ponies listing off needless information whenever I ask simple questions? Gilda thought. The griffon had shut out the stallion’s voice the instant he’d spitted out the name of the town. Slowly Gilda ran a claw along the surface of the map, reading the name of each town. When she finally found the location that coincided with the name the stallion had provided she let out a loud groan.

“Crap!”

She’d strayed far off her intended course. The current she’d thought would take her eastward most of the journey had veered off at an angle roughly 20 degrees off the course she’d intended. If she hadn’t been so tired she might have checked her compass more often. Gilda had only gotten two hours sleep before she left Cloudsdale, so instead of observing her surroundings she’d allowed herself to fly on autopilot.

“I’m off course,” Gilda indignantly remarked. She knew better than this: she was flying in territories she’d never flown before, thus constant vigilance should have been a given on her part. It would likely cost her a day’s flight.

“That’s a mighty shame,” the stallion politely replied. “I’m sure some kind pony round these parts could help you on your way.”

“I don’t need just somepony,” Gilda condescendingly replied. “Only a great flier who knows these skies like the back of her hoof could give me directions!”

A hoof firmly planted on his chin the stallion seemed to think over Gilda’s statement. Gilda meanwhile was focusing on plotting her own path to Validus from the nowhere town she’d stumbled upon.

“Orange Moon could help you!"

“Who?” Gilda looked up. She’d forgotten the stallion was still standing beside her.

“Orange Moon: She’s the regional mail mare. If any pony in Altaiville knows the best way to get where you’re going it’s gonna be Moon.”

“She travel everywhere within a hundred miles of here?”

“Yep.”

“She fast?”

“Yep.”

Gilda folded the map, gracelessly shoving it back into her pocket.

“Great! Where is she?”

The stallion looked at Gilda then anxiously at the clock tower.

“Well…you see, she’s out right now, delivering packages and such. But I reckon she’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Fine…” Gilda looked down the street, spotting a market. “I’m going to see if you boonies have anything worth eating. Shoving the map into her breast pocket Gilda turned her back to the stallion, her tail coming close to smacking his snout.

The stallion tried to stop her.

“But, what if Moon comes back before y’er done?”

“Tell her to find the only griffon in town. I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

“Oh…Naw, I reckon that won’t be hard at all. I’ll tell ‘er to find ya when she gets back.”

Gilda began a sedate stroll down the street. A quaint, insignificant feeling seemed to be a constant factor in Altaiville. She had forgotten how quiet the countryside could truly be when one really left the heart of civilization. Each building must have been over a hundred years old, easy, but none of them seemed to be in any state of disrepair; a settlement standing proud as a living, breathing time capsule of a forgotten time. It was a town that Gilda would supposed had never changed a single rock over the course of its existence; it was untouchable by time’s hand.
This place is a living breathing greeting card, Gilda thought.

Spying an apple vender seated behind a stall Gilda decided to make her move. Gilda looked at the apple stand. She remembered the first time she’d eaten an apple. It was at her first Junior Speedsters Summer Camp…

“What the hay is that, Dash?”
“An apple; Try it, G!”
“No! I am sooo not going to eat this pony crap!”
“It’s only one apple.”
“Griffons don’t eat things that come from plants. We eat meat, Dash.”
“That’s why you should try something else for once!”
“Fine- Damn! If it’ll shut you up I’ll eat it!”

Gilda has eaten it to please her only friend, who she knew would never enjoy hunting down small woodland creatures for a meal. So she continued to eat what Rainbow Dash offered at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if only because she didn’t want to leave her friend’s side. Much to Gilda’s surprise, by the end of the camp she’d discovered that she had acquired a taste for apples, the glossy red fruit becoming a permanent fixture in her diet. Another favorite was lemons. Gilda had a fondness for the acidic, sour taste be it in baked goods or the fruit itself.

The maroon stallion seated behind the counter of the apple stand was of an advanced age. He wore a straw hat with three holes in its brim. All that remained of his dark brown mane was fuzz-like stubble. Thick rimmed, walnut framed glasses rested on his head, and a corncob pipe limply dangled from the corner of his lip. Through his wrinkled, dusty hide she could make out a cutie mark in the shape of basket full of apples.

“Hey old timer,” Gilda smiled as she greeted the apple vendor. “What you got for sale?”

The old stallion at the apple stand seemed near-sighted, and Gilda figured it would be easy to slip some from him when he wasn’t looking. Already her tail was flicking over the base of the stand, searching for a breach in the design.

“Nothing for your kind you damned big buzzard!”

“What?” Gilda was taken aback. She’d treated ponies in demeaning fashions, insulted them, lied to them, but never before had a pony been openly hostile towards her.

“I don’t cater giant pigeons in this ‘ere establishment. Your fetid paunteur shall frighten off all customers!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Such indignant treatment had never befallen the daughter of Northwind. It stung and burned her from within. She’d been a bitch to many ponies, but no pony ever had judged her on the fact of being a griffon. This was a new scorn which she’d never before felt. Her body trembled as a volcano set to explode. Inside this stallion’s head was the thought that griffons were lesser than he.

“I have the right to serve who I want. Now get out of my shop!”

Gilda clenched her talons into fists. Her wings spread out in full, making the griffon appear twice as large. A gasp from the ponies in the market didn’t escape her ears, nor did the sight of a mother rushing off her children, but that didn’t matter. Right now all that mattered was giving this old coot a piece of her mind. She wouldn’t allow his behavior to go unpunished.

“I’m a paying costumer! It doesn’t matter what I am, hell, must griffons won’t even think of buying a lousy freaking apple, but you’re going to tell me how to spend my money just because of what I am? My money is just as good as any other loser here, so get the turnip out of your ass! And guess what? This isn’t your shop, this is a street! You don’t own the street you useless sack of bones! If I was another griffon I might – Shit!”

Gilda had to leap back as the stallion lunged forward from his chair, a small, cruel shaped blade clenched in his hoofs, narrowly missing her face. As she dodged she stumbled, falling upon her rear onto the dusty dirt below.

“What the fuck?!” Gilda gasped, claws touching her face, afraid of the possibility that the blade had made contact with her flesh.

“Try it, fiend! I killed ten of you turkeys in my day! One more won’t hurt.” Despite his frail frame, and his rigid, sluggish movements the stallion seemed to be utterly committed to following through with his threats if the griffon provoked him.

Gilda looked around. A crowd had formed around the quarrel. None of the ponies acknowledged the crazed stallion, but they all looked scornfully on the griffon. They spoke in whispers, but their words could easily be heard by a griffon.

“What happened?”
“I think that griffon attacked Bouclier.”
“You sure?”
“Maybe he attacked her…”
“He’s like 100 years old- why would he attack a –young- griffon?”
“He always was kind of a kook…”
“Look at the way she’s dressed! A hooligan if I ever saw one!”

“Fine! I’ll spend my bits elsewhere!” The griffon turned tail, and with her beak held high stormed off by foot. She didn’t wish to fly off as that might seem the coward’s way out of the situation given that all of them were earth ponies. Gilda refused to be seen as a poltroon after she’d been so grievously disrespected.

A sudden gust of wind kicked up the dust of the road. The ponies watched the griffon leave the market, but didn’t make a move to follow. It was not longer a ghostly silence, but a hushed silence, as if an entire group was holding its breath, waiting to exhale. Gilda didn’t wait for that exhale. She held her own silence until she’d left the crowd behind.

“That old bastard!” Gilda maliciously cursed. “Shriveled prune: Who the fuck does he they think he is treating me like that? I should have smacked that knife from his feeble little hoofs then see how he liked being threatened!”

It was all hot air, as Gilda knew she’d not actually attack the pony, but saying these things allowed still provided a catharsis of sorts. Sometimes talking to oneself is the best therapy.

After walking for twenty minutes Gilda was outside the town. She wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, still cursing to herself over the incident at the market. When she came face-to-face with an iron pony she yelped, jumping in the air with wings spread, ready to fly off at a moment’s notice.

The towering statue displayed three ponies: one earth, one unicorn, and one pegasus each about three times the size of any living pony. They stood defiantly looking towards the western sky. At their hoofs an inscription read: “In memory of the Altaiville Militia” The fields that stood behind them was nothing but blackened soil and yellow thistles which crept up the monument’s base.

Gilda looked over those acres of blackened earth and felt a shiver from head to toe caused her tail to twitch anxiously. It was griffons who had scarred this patch of land. This is where General Mort Finem had begun executing his scorched earth campaign against the ponies. Gilda admittedly wasn’t that good of a student, having mostly blown off all her classes, but every pony and griffon in Equestria knew about Mort Finem and the Black Talon. Griffon airships rained fire on fields and orchards across Equestria’s countryside, targeting civilians and agriculture whenever possible while the primary Black Talon fleet kept Celestia’s forces occupied at Cloudsdale and Canterlot. That was the way of Finem: to attack any and every sign of weakness he could see, disregarding all previous griffon standards of honorable conduct. What Finem lacked in decency he easily made up for in deadly efficiency.

She’d never been much for history, but Gilda knew that Mort Finem had been perhaps the most notorious figure in Equestria’s last hundred years. The griffon general who’d overthrown the royal family, forced griffons to work in his industrial machine, before gathering an army under the banner of his Black Talon with the sole purpose of wresting control of Equestria and ponydom from Princess Celestia had come closer than any mortal being had ever been to seizing absolute power before his war machine crumbled at Canterlot, with many of his own officers turning against him.

After Mort Finem griffon and pony relations had never fully recovered. Even with the return of the councils, the parliament, royal family, and three-quarters of a century’s worth of peace this place like so many remote agricultural spots still bore the festering wounds brought on by griffon forces. In a town where time stood still how could they forget the misfortunes the griffon had brought upon them when a constant reminded lay just a few steps down the road? No wonder so many ponies persisted that griffons were monsters: they still suffered under history’s lash, with a wounds still scorched into their land.

Beside the memorial was a display with a grainy, black and white photo of the incident. A Talon Air Offense vessel spewing streams of fire, and plumes of smoke through an already blackened sky. Inscribed beside the images was the name of the stallion who had taken: Snap Cheertrot. The panel informed griffon that he had been killed by an artillery round from the invading griffon vessel shortly after the photos were taken.

A bag fell beside Gilda with a thud. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she’d failed to notice that she was no longer alone at the site. The pegasus mare hovered above the ground. She wore a blue hat with the gold image of an eagle in the center. A mail bag hung from her side.

“Howdy traveler.”

“What is this?” Gilda picked up the bag, curiously weighing it in her talons.

“Apples. I saw what happened back at the market. Pardon Bouclier most ungracious manner: He still hasn’t gotten over the war. Folk around here are ordinarily polite towards strangers, and I’d like to make up for any mistreatments you received back in town.”

The mare landed in front of Gilda with her hoofs delicately setting down on the earth. She extended a hoof which Gilda shook after a moment’s hesitation.

“Name’s Moon, Orange Moon; mail mare of Altaiville. You must be the griffon who needed some help with her directions.”

“Suggestion, not help,” Gilda retorted. She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“Well, whatever you need, if it involves directions I can steer you in the right way.

Gilda couldn’t help but notice that the mare’s eyes were intently focused on her.

“Have to say, I’ve never met a griffon in the flesh before.” Gilda noticed the mare was blushing ever so slightly.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped your staring. It’s freaking me out.”

“I’m sorry: I meant no offense by it. Your wings just make ours look so small in comparison. Streamlined and dynamic, just like a bird of prey.”

“Well, duh: Part eagle. Basic fact,” Gilda retorted with sarcasm, however she couldn’t help but spread her wings out in response to the comment, not passing up the praise.

“Of course I knew that, but still: knowin’ isn’t seein’ with your own eyes.” The mare smiled. “Ya’ll know that seeing is believing.”

Gilda only nodded in reply.

“Where you from, anyhow?”

“Cloudsdale.” Gilda would keep this simple by not using her place of birth.

“Well, shoot, same story here!” Moon patted Gilda on the shoulder jovially. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“I’m going to Validus,” Gilda puffed her chest out in a stoic fashion which was only enhanced by her jacket.

“So you want to go to Validus? The mare put a hoof under her chin.

“I’m trying to broaden my horizons, and the Mountain of Champions naturally seemed like the coolest place to start.”

“Well them, I reckon you must be exceptionally skilled with those there wings of yours or you’re dumber than a rattlesnake that sneaks its head out in the peak of winter.”

Gilda stared at the mare, not quite understanding the country saying. The mare either didn’t notice this, or wasn’t intent on explaining what she meant with her last comment.

“Hmmm, well I’m sure if you’re half as good as you claim you are then it won’t be no trouble getting to Validus…You’re going to want to take a zig-zag path like so,” the mare ran her hoof along the map in an indicated path. “Catch the currents and just jump from region to region. When you get to the Echoing Forest and Validus itself is when things get tricky.”

“The Echoing Forest?”

“Ponies think strange things live in the forest,” Moon was chewed at the end of a long strand of grass. “Strange things happen around the forest; noises without sources, storms that come without sign; the entire region is dangerous.”

“I thought ponies controlled all the weather in Equestria.” Technically griffons could too, but now wasn’t the time to be specific.

“Not around Validus we don’t…something controls the weather of Validus and the Echoing Forest, but it isn’t ponies. That’s why no settlements that ever tried setting up shop within fifty miles of Validus have ever lasted long.”

“Thanks…I’ll keep that in mind,” Gilda looked at the map with rising intrigue.

Retrieving a red marker from another pocket she quickly began tracing the path the mare suggested.

“Makes me wish I had fingers…” the mare said while watching Gilda. “You do that so much better than I could with a hoof or my mouth.”

“We all have our own special talents,” Gilda replied, surprising even her by the fact that she didn’t inject too much sarcasm into the quip.

Orange Moon looked to the clock tower in the distance. “If that’s all ya need I’d best get along my way. Still have letters that need to get to the right hoofs.”

“That’s all I need,” Gilda looked over the map again. “Thanks again for the help… and the apples”

“No problem!” Orange Moon was already hovering above the ground, prepared to leave. “And if you find yourself in Altaiville again be sure to say ‘howdy!’”

With that the mail mare was off.

Gilda folded the map. As she did she noticed the picture at the center of the display she’d been using as a surface for the map: A griffon airship immortalized in the grainy still seemed to cut through cloud and smoke as if it were the hand of Death itself. For so many defenseless ponies below Death’s scythe had taken the form of griffon fire and lead. Despite the age, and poor quality of the image Gilda was able to make out the title which graced the vessel in brass letters: T.A.O. Starwind was easily visible.

“Damn ghosts of the past,” Gilda uttered under her breath before spreading her wings and leaving the monument behind.

00000

Vice Admiral Irene looked down the corridors of the fortress. The center of military strength in Stormhenge, hallowed out of the face of the mountain this was a structure which had survived for three centuries, making in two hundred, thirty-two years older than the city of Stormhenge itself. It had originally been an outpost to intended to protect the griffon cmines at the base of the mountain from the Diamond Dogs, but overtime had evolved into a commerce zone due to falling between five major cities.

“Ma’am,” the griffon guarding the door cracked a salute. A pistol of ornate wood and polished bronze hung from a holster sewn into his jacket.

“Esse ad pacem,” Irene responded, prompting the guard to put his foreleg at ease.

The guard bowed his head as he opened the door to Commodore Skyward’s office. With grace Irene acknowledged the gesture with a tilt of her regal head before entering the office. Door closing behind her, Irene took in the surroundings. Skyward had collected many relics of griffon warfare which he proudly displayed within his office. Swords, spears, and shields dotted the furthest wall, a dagger stood on a stand at his desk, and behind the desk itself stood replicas of many notable griffon airships. Skyward’s uniform jacket hung from a hanger near the desk.

“Commodore?” She called, her gentle voice echoing in the dark room.

A soft orange glow produced by candles spread through the room was the only source of light in the room. Many of them went unlit, wrapping most of the room in shadow.

Crack! The sound of a sonic boom echoed harshly.

“Adsum, Vice Admiral Irene.” Skyward emerged from the far side of the room. In his right talon he held a grypium bullwhip. The braided leather thong ran what Irene estimated was six feet from its ornate handle. At the bottom of the handle was an ornate piece sculpted into the shape of a screaming griffon’s head, its beak sharpened to a lethal point; an effective implement for melee attacks.

Irene acknowledged the male griffon with a nod of her noble head. “I take it you are aware that the Starwind cast off early this morning to begin its trip to Perdition, where it shall be refitted for service under the Stormbirds.”

“Yes...I am aware.” Holding his whip tight he turned away from his commanding officer.

“Why do you protest our decisions, Commodore?” Irene stood at attention, all four limbs anchored to the stone floor.

Skyward allowed a long, melancholy sigh roll from his half opened beak as he turned to face Irene. She knew he would rather keep to himself than discuss the matter with her, but Irene wasn't content to sit idly by, merely speculating what troubled the commodore.

“Vice-Admiral, my grandfather commanded the Starwind during the Sky War. Once more, it was a part of the Stormhenge defense. Although I admit I do not directly command the Starwind, I feel I deserved prior notification of the council’s decisions.”

He turned away from Irene, raising the whip again. Crack!

Irene stood at attention, far from the reach of the commodore’s whip. She wasn’t afraid, the commodore was loyal despite his belligerence, but there was no need for her to put herself within striking distance if there was an accident. Skyward was brash, with a trace of arrogance, but he wasn't traitorous.

“Commodore, you know very well that Starwind has had twelve captains over eighty-three years and your grandfather was the fourth.” Irene’s expression and tone were stern and demanding. “While we are on the subject of history: Your grandfather was also a member of General Mort Finem’s Black Talon. Would you object to our attempts to destroy all remnants of the Talon once held over the Griffon Nation?”

“Of course not!” Crack! “Talon was an evil group and blight on our proud history. My grandfather and vessels such as the Starwind represent our culture at its worst, and as such should have been destroyed. Quite simply: Transforming a vessel that once rained death upon the ponies of Equestria into a device for their amusement is a disgusting notion. Am I the only one who sees the fear and hatred many of them still harbor for our kind? If I were Celestia I’d receive Northwind’s letter as a backhanded insult!”

“Fortunately for all of us you are not Celestia,” Irene said calmly. She ran a talon through her crest as she collected her thoughts. “The Starwind shall undergo a dramatic transformation. It will be completely cleansed from the markings of the Talon Air Offensive. What once represented death and destruction can now come to represent peace and prosperity between two species of drastically different biological design has come to accept one another. Pacem a chaos.”

“Pacem a chaos? Cute,” Skyward sighed, placing his whip on his desk “We can all sit circled around the fire, hold each other’s respective limbs, and sing our campfire songs. For the medley shall we start with Griffon Over the Mountain or Pony About Town?”

“Watch your tone, Commodore.” Irene’s eyes narrowed to predatory slits; however her tone remained maternally calm. “If one didn’t know you as well as I do you might be mistaken as a Talon Remnant with how much you talk of war between our kingdoms.”

Skyward stopped all movement for a few moments as her words sunk in. His talons curled into fists. When finally he responded it was with anger.

“Don’t be ridiculous! My only crime is undying loyalty to the Nation. Our culture is not the same as theirs! They see us as monsters due to the past, but more importantly due to what we eat! It is fundamental biological principles just as much, if not more so than our history that will always have us at odds!”

“That is the nature of an alliance, commodore. Vivere, participes, aedificare, prosperabitur: Live, share, build, and we shall prosper.” Irene lifted a cigarette from her breast pocket to her beak and bit down. She’d been trying to buck the habit lately, but having the thin tube hanging out the corner of her beak still calmed her nerves. “No griffon or pony ever said our alliance wasn’t shaky. The events occurring early in the last century were an unfortunate blight that must be left behind us now.”

“It doesn’t change that they are fundamentally different from griffons,” Skyward scoffed.

“How so?” Irene inquired. “Elaborate for me, Skyward. I can tell you’re dying to lecture me.”

This caught Skyward off guard as he’d honestly expected that there could be no counter-argument to what he felt was such a clear fact in the matter of the two species’ relation to one another.

“Well, its obvious isn’t it? One can see everything that they’d ever need to know simply by looking at physical structure and diet. Fact of the matter is that they are herbivores and we are predators. While we have talons that cut, tear, and shred prey they have a hoof; a hoof which is a blunt instrument of complacency.”

“Hoofs, which are attached to muscular legs capable of delivering a devastating blow which can shatter bone when the need arises; warriors who defend will defend their homes withal.”

“Beaks which cut into the flesh of our prey versus a mouth meant to grind plant matter.”

“And we all use our tongues to communicate to one another. Speech, that aspect of life which should be known the true sign of intelligence, and that most powerful element which links friends and allies is the key to our relationship.”

“We gave them designs for airships. The one military advantage we had we willingly gave them the design to duplicate our most effective means of defense.”

“That was for peace, and our ships still far outnumber those currently operated by ponies six-to-one.”

“What does it matter when they have magic? That is an element we cannot duplicate, but already we know its effectiveness in combat.”

Irene gently grabbed Skyward’s shoulder. “I know you wish to preserve our culture, Skyward, but you cannot protect our nation by promoting ignorance, and spreading hatred. Conflict is not a means to an end as we cannot afford to revert to those ways of our past. Those are the evils which came close to destroying the griffon.”

“How long until we are forced into suckling at Celestia’s teat for our species’ survival; coerced to beg and bargain at their mercy same as the buffalo have done for the past two centuries? That cannot be the fate of the Griffon Nation. We have accomplished too much, built too much to become servile pawns in Celestia’s empire…Why allow ourselves to fall simply to make amends for the sins of our past?”

Irene momentarily pulled the cigarette from her beak as she thought over how best to respond to the commodore’s concerns.

“Why must you see everything as a struggle? Not all things in the world mean to destroy our culture, Skyward. We have been at peace for so long after the cathartic cleansing of the Great War. We purged from our nation those elements which had made us weak; that had corrupted our spirits and ambition. Celestia didn’t wage war on griffons. She waged a war against a corrupt soul that wished to plunge the world into darkness and despair. Princess Celestia fought and defeated General Mort Finem and his Black Talon. In the process she freed out kind from continuing along a treacherous path of wickedness and despair. You should be indebted to her kind for saving our honor; allowing us to rebuild as the proud species we have always been.”

Her words stung, causing Skyward to wince. He knew that the female griffon was correct, but her words failed to ease his doubt.

“I don’t trust them, ma’am…I can’t trust magic users.” Skyward looked out his window onto the docks where the Stormhenge fleet was still under repair. “All our power comes by our own claws. Griffons designed and built machines the ponies could never hope to match. We didn’t rely on magic, or near omnipotent princesses to solve our problems. If there was a problem we built the solution. All we’ve ever had is the will of individual griffons like you and me. Now I fear a future where more and more we come to rely on Celestia’s favor to keep our own culture alive; a process that could go on until the Griffon Nation is only a husk of its former glory. We need to seize that power we’ve lost. Griffons should stand as equals to the ponies as we once were.”

“A philosopher once said that power is not a means, but rather an end to civilization.” Irene retorted without any malice, flicking the half-chewed, unlit cigarette into a nearby trash bin. “General Mort Finem showed us what absolute power does to a nation. It corrupts, violates, and destroys the citizens of a nation. Our people turned against Mort Finem after the Battle of Canterlot because they realized he was wrong; that his Ultimate Solution to Griffon Supremacy was a farce only meant to promote his own doctrine rather than the Griffon Nation. Griffons like my father realized that absolute power could not create new life in a civilization, but only destroy the lives of those who lived within its reach. That is why he and countless others lowered their ship’s colors at Canterlot and joined Princess Celestia. Thus, we griffons reclaimed our nation from a tyrant with the help of ponies. It wasn’t the other way around.”

Skyward reached for his uniform jacket, swinging it around his body before feeding his forelegs through its sleeves. Taking a deep breath the griffon turned once more to face his commanding officer.

“I know the history of the war, Vice-Admiral…and don’t ever think that I would commend the actions of a maniac. Griffons like my grandfather went against everything we stood for when he chose to fly the black and gold of a maniacal dictator who set out to see Equestria burn. Griffons who followed him would have destroyed all it was that made us great…Wounds left from his rule still hurt our kind.

“Irene, I hate my grandfather, same as my father before me hated him. Growing up my brothers and I weren’t even allowed to say the bastard’s name. He brought pain, and devastation to our species’ image, and made a sham of our bloodline.”

“If you hated him so much why does the Starwind’s reallocation disturb you?” Irene cocked the feathers of her brow in an expression of intrigue.

“I wanted the Starwind to be destroyed, Vice-Admiral. Then I’d never be reminded of my family’s soiled blood ever again.”

Irene gently placed both her talons on Skyward, offering him a genial smile. She saw his pain, and knew it would hold him back so long as he cradled it so close to his breast.

“Commodore, you are not your grandfather. Despite all the baggage carry through your blood you have excelled fantastically. You succeed because you are talented, Skyward. But your arrogance is beginning to reflect poorly on you.”

“It is hard to forget the old ways as I was raised on them…But I will improve, Vice Admiral. I will not overstep my boundaries, again. Just seeing my command in such disarray…I felt I had to put the blame somewhere.”

“I see in your eyes that you care about the Nation with your heart of hearts, but you must let go of your anger. It will not service you in a time of peace. Especially given your tendency to direct it at our dearest of allies.”

“Humilitas occidit superbiam, Skyward. The old ways do not dictate us to violence, as such quotes from our great scholars of old say. Remember the words of the ancients, for they provide guidance in trying times. To ignore reason would be to repeat history. Our mos maiorum is changing, but it is shaping our nation into one even stronger than before.

“Of course…Sanguinum alas ferre nos ad mortem,” Skyward recited the verse in a somber tone.

“Not sure I’ve heard that quote before, Commodore.”

“A soldier said it after returning from the War of Division after watching the rest of his squadron die. It essentially translates to: 'Bloody wings carry us to death.' Those who seek violence out only lead themselves towards ultimate destruction.”

Skyward finished buttoning his uniform jacket.

“I was out of line the other day and should have known better. My words disrespected the council, and my own character. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll take your word on it.” Irene picked up Skyward’s bullwhip from his desk. “This is an old weapon of most expert craftsmanship…but seems almost without purpose given the invention of firearms by our kind.”

Irene unfurled the whip’s thong, running her fingers along the thong's length.

“I find that it keeps me sharp,” Skyward replied, taking a seat behind his desk now that his uniform’s jacket was fully fastened. “Weapons of our ancestors embody our codes of honor and conduct. Embracing them I hope to gain the wisdom of the ancients."

“Indeed,” Irene balanced the handle in her left set of talons, letting the thong lick at the floor. She turned her head, focusing her eyes on a candelabrum on the other side of the room. “Too many have forgotten since the advent of steam and gunpowder that there is a special art in violence. The implements of war, the armor, and the technique employed by the warriors themselves…they killed, they died, but there was an art to it. Precision and fluidity that current tools lack.”

Crack!

In a single motion, with near imperceptible speed Irene had sent to thong of the whip through the air, snuffing out the flame of a candle on the other side of the room. It took a moment for what had just occurred to register in Skyward’s mind.

“A collector's piece indeed,” Irene said, rolling the thong before placing the bullwhip back on Skyward’s desk. “Who manufactured this?”

“It’s an antique,” Skyward said diligently. “The copper plated striking head at the bottom is a characteristic commonly found in weapons of the Fourth Empire; date on the handle claims it was made one hundred, fifty-two years ago.”

“Astonishing: Feels like it could have been pulling Diamond Dogs up from their holes as early as yesterday,” Irene acknowledged. She then turned to him with a dour expression. “From now on I hope you keep your tongue as carefully as you do your collection, commodore."

“You have my word as an officer and a gentlegriffon.”

“Very good,” Irene checked her pocket watch. “Now if you excuse me I have five other meetings to attend to over these next three hours.”

“Yes ma’am,” Skyward replied respectfully nodding his head. “Alis grave nil.”

“Alis grave nil,” Irene bowed her head in return.

After the two had exchanged the traditional farewell Irene left without a moment’s waste. Commodore Skyward was left to retire to his desk, where he returned to the day’s paperwork.