Lunatic!

Chapters

Midsummer's Night: Running Through the Herd
Midsummer's Night: Subtle Silver Declaration
Midsummer's Night: Relentless Lunar Fury
Midsummer's Night: Finding the Needle's Eye
Midsummer's Night: Irresistable Silver Spirit
Midsummer's Night: Claws of the Silver Moon
Midsummer's Night: Halting the Scarlet Flow
Winter Court: Immanent Solar Glory
Winter Court: Mastery of Small Manners
Winter Court: Fury Inciting Presence
Winter Court: City Moving Secrets
Winter Court: Thunderbolt Attack Prana
Winter Court: Flow Like Blood
Winter Court: Bloodthirsty Sword-Dancer Spirit
Winter Court: Battle Fury Focus
Winter Court: Eye of the Unconquered Sun
Winter Court: Terrifying Apparition of Glory
Winter Court: Summoning the Loyal Steel
Winter Court: Unhesitating Dedication
Operation Stardust: Lessons in the Blood
Operation Stardust: Luna's Hidden Face
Operation Stardust: Blood on the Wind
Operation Stardust: Lunar Hero Form
Operation Stardust: Intimacy of Hunter and Prey
Operation Stardust: Rabid Beast Attitude
Operation Stardust: Scathing Lunar Condemnation
The Dry Season: Serendipitous Voyage
The Dry Season: Blade of the Battle Maiden
The Dry Season: Sparrow Dives at Hawk
The Dry Season: Unflagging Vengeance Meditation
The Dry Season: Mending Warped Designs
The Dry Season: Refining the Inner Blade
The Dry Season: Storm-Outrunning Technique
The Dry Season: Life Gets Worse Approach
The Dry Season: Wanting and Fearing Prayer
The Dry Season: Any Direction Arrow
The Dry Season: Flawless Archer Discipline
The Dry Season: Ghost Leaves No Trail
Prologue: Arise and Slaughter
Winter Court: Know the Soul's Price
Winter Court: Enemy-Castigating Solar Judgement
Operation Stardust: Unstoppable Juggernant Incarnantion

Midsummer's Night: Running Through the Herd

3rd day of Summer's Flame
452 Years after Discord's Defeat by the Sisters
Just over 1000 years from the present

The sun beat down on Pallas Athene, the young mare sweating in the heat, almost blinded by the light. Like most thestrals, she slept through the harsh daylight hours when she could, retreating indoors to escape Celestia's sun.

There was a tug on the chain around her neck, reminding her of why she was out in the unnatural light, as if the ache in her heart wasn't enough.

“Keep moving!” Yelled one of her captors. She opened her eyes and looked up towards him, just able to make out the griffon's looming shape against the glare. There was a crack, and Pallas cried out as a line of pain erupted along her flank.

“Best just keep moving, filly,” whispered the pony chained behind her, urging her on. “I'm sure Celestia will send the army to save us.”

Pallas sniffled, shaking her head in denial. “Why would she bother? She abandoned us.”

“She didn't abandon us,” the other pony said. “She just...”

“I heard my parents talking about it,” Pallas whimpered. “They were arguing because my mom wanted to leave and Dad wanted to stay and defend our home. Why didn't Dad listen to her... they'd still be alive if we'd run away...” Pallas sniffled and hung her head. “If the Solar Guard hadn't pulled out of the town this never would have happened!”

“It's not like that..” the other pony whispered. There was another crack, and Pallas heard him grunt in surprise and pain.

“Don't lie to your foals,” the griffon commanded. “She's absolutely right. Your Princess abandoned you to us. There is no hope for you, so just give up now. The sooner you get used to your new position in life, the happier you'll be.”

“Sir!” Another griffon yelled. “We're approaching the base camp. The Wingmaster sent a courier ahead to ask to meet with you once you arrived.”

“Excellent. Have the prisoners escorted to the holding area. We shall feast in celebration of our victory!”

Pallas was shoved into a fenced-off area like a farm animal, her chains removed but an iron collar remaining around her neck and her wings bound at her sides. The glare of the sun was finally dying, marking an end to the worst day of her life, and she could see other ponies around her.

It wasn't an encouraging sight. The other ponies were a mix of all the pony races, sitting around small fires or lying in crude tents that were little more than blankets stretched over sticks. All of them had the same slave collar. All of them had bags under their eyes, a broken look to them that spoke volumes. Pallas shuffled over towards one of the fires and collapsed in the dirt, exhausted after the long forced march.

“What town are you from?” Asked a quiet, rough voice. Pallas glanced up to see another thestral looking down at her. The pony's appearance made her blink in surprise. Most thestrals had a very narrow range of color combinations, all shades of black. Pallas herself was a very dark navy, so deep that she could stand as one with the night.

The thestral looking down at her with piercing red eyes was stark white, as different from Pallas as it was possible. She was slim, with narrow, graceful wings that marked her as being from the far north. Pallas sat up, unsteady, and looked at her.

“Graven Crossing,” Pallas said, quietly. “Most of us fought to the death.”

“I'm sorry,” the albino thestral said, looking genuinely upset. With the fire at her back, she almost seemed to glow. “My name is Bianca . What's yours?”

“Pallas. Pallas Athene.” Pallas sniffled and rubbed her nose with a fetlock.

“I'm from the Chiseled Estate,” Bianca said.

“I heard of that. It's a big glacier that was carved into a fortress.” Pallas looked down.

Bianca smiled and nodded. “A palace of living ice that changes every day, having to be worked on constantly. I... hope the griffons will at least take care of it like we did.” Bianca sighed sadly.

“I'm sorry,” Pallas muttered.

“You don't have anything to apologize for,” Bianca said. “You've lost as much as I have.”

Pallas shrugged, slumping back down to the ground. Bianca laid down next to her, uncomfortably close for a stranger, though the albino thestral had an oddly calming, welcoming presence, and Pallas felt vulnerable enough that she just... needed somepony right now, even if it was a total stranger from the other end of the world.

“We're going to be rescued soon,” Bianca said, lightly. Pallas blinked and turned to look at her. The albino thestral was smiling serenely. She was either insane or just in denial.

Pallas snorted. “You're crazy.” Pallas was the type of pony to just say what she thought, especially when she was having a bad day.

“I mean it,” Bianca said, her smile fading slightly in the face of Pallas' dismissal. “I had a dream last night. Princess Luna said she was sending the Night Guard to save us.”

“In a dream,” Pallas repeated. She snorted.

“I'll make you a deal,” Bianca said, smirking. “If Luna does show up, I want you to come with me when I leave with the Princess.”

“If the Princess actually shows up, I'll follow her and you anywhere you want,” Pallas muttered. “It's not like I have anywhere else to go.”

“Good.” Bianca smiled. “Do you want to get something to eat while we wait? I know you've had a long day, but maybe putting some food in your belly will help. It's only boiled hay, but...” Bianca smiled and shrugged apologetically.

“...Okay,” Pallas said, struggling to get up. Bianca helped her stand. “My hooves feel like they're going to fall off...” They walked slowly towards where a pot sat over another fire, a big earth pony spooning out boiled hay into bowls and passing it out. Bianca had Pallas sit and brought a bowl over to her.

Pallas frowned at the food. It had been boiled down until the hay had almost completely broken apart, no more than dirty grass and water. It was technically edible, but little better than grazing on raw greens.

“It's warm, at least,” Bianca said, quietly. “My father always said that the most important thing was to take care of what you need, then work on what you want when you can afford it.”

Pallas started eating sullenly. It did little to fill the emptiness inside her, though it was, as Bianca had said, at least warm. She sat with the albino, and half-listened as she talked about the caves of ice she'd been born in, the floors and walls lined with skins and rugs. The careful way they would tend fires in the center of rooms to avoid melting through the floor. The way she'd play in the snow, hiding in the white banks that piled up, perfectly camouflaged thanks to her coat.

Pallas started to drift off, leaning against Bianca's smaller form and trying to forget where she was.

~~~***~~~

Pallas’ mother was shaking her awake. She blinked and looked up into the worried gaze of her parent, the older thestral’s face awash with fear. Outside, Pallas could hear screaming and screeching. Harsh light poured through the gap in the closed curtains, her mother flinching as a shadow passed by.

“We have to go,” she hissed. “We’re going to hide in the basement. We’ll be safe there.”

“W-where’s Dad?” Pallas asked. Her mother didn’t answer, just taking her by the hoof and leading her towards the stairs in the open trap door in the floor. Something slammed against the front door, and Pallas felt her mother tense.

“Go. Run!” her mother whispered, letting her go. Pallas ran and looked back to see her mother just standing there. As she slowed, her mother slapped her with a wing. “Run!” She hissed again, forcing her daughter down the stairs.

Pallas stumbled into the darkness of the cellar, and the trap door above slammed shut at almost the same time the front door gave in. She heard her mother’s hooves pound against the floor as she galloped away from them, followed by softer footsteps and the screeching of birds.

Pallas put a hoof on the stairs, caught between hiding and trying to help her mother despite her orders. As she hesitated, there was a blood-curdling scream, cut off too quickly, ending in a wet gurgle. Pallas bit back a scream too late, a single note of terror escaping her mouth.

The trap door was flung open. Griffons pulled her out of her hiding place with cruel talons. She cowered, too afraid to do anything, as she was thrown to the ground, one of the griffons looming over her.

~~~***~~~

Pallas woke up to the sound of screeching griffons. The sound made her bolt to her hooves, breath catching in her throat as she fought to distinguish dream and reality. Bianca was already standing, looking past the enclosure and towards the rest of the camp. The campfires and singing had been replaced with an out-of-control blaze and screaming.

“What’s going on?!” Pallas asked, her ears flattening.

“I already told you,” Bianca said calmly. She turned to Pallas with a smile. The clouds overhead parted as if by some divine hoof, and the silver light of the moon shone like a spotlight down into the camp, bathing everything in soft illumination.

Dark shapes moved among the griffon army. They were as rocks in a river of bodies, and like rocks the river broke on them. Bodies were tossed to the side as the stench of blood filled the air. Bianca led Pallas to the crest of a rise in the enclosure where they could see more clearly, the dark thestral meekly following, her eyes wide with confusion.

For a moment, Pallas caught a glimpse of what was lurking in the dark. A wave of griffons fell back from one of the shadowy forms, and it was revealed as a draconian shape of steel, cloaked in a mist of darkness with eyes glowing like coals. Leathery wings stretched wide at its sides, their edges cloaked in bright, sharpened steel. It was the first time Pallas had seen wingblades.

The griffons outnumbered them a hundred to one. Pallas shivered as she watched the dragon-like warrior make a great, bounding leap into battle, howling like a beast, tearing griffons limb from limb. Even with the ferocity they displayed, though, she could see they were getting pushed back. The weight of numbers was just too much.

A horn sounded.

Pallas and Bianca turned as she appeared on the top of the hill, almost directly opposite them across the camp.

She was clad in silver raiment, beautiful in an ethereal, unreal way, like something that didn’t belong to the world or the rules imposed by it. Her long, star-filled mane floated behind her in an unseen current of aether that ignored gravity and its trivial concerns. Her whole body glowed with the same silver light of the moon, making her shine like a beacon. Everything quieted for a moment, even the griffons pausing in their battle to behold her.

Princess Luna’s wings raised up, and she charged. For a long second, it seemed she was attacking alone, until the rest of her army crested the hill, following her into Tartarus. Though still outnumbered, they were far closer to the size of the griffon force, and had the advantage of organization and surprise. The griffons’ ranks were broken, scattered by the appearance of the deadly soldiers in their midst.

Luna’s forces hit them like a farmer’s scythe hitting grain, and like the scythe, the grain fell before it.

Pallas watched in awe as the battle ended as swiftly as it had begun, the griffons routing and being cut down by magical blasts and crossbow bolts until only a fraction managed to escape, a horn sounding as Luna’s forces allowed them to leave.

“Come on!” Bianca said, prancing towards the gates of the enclosure. Pallas followed, her steps feeling oddly light, as if seeing the griffons purged from the camp had lifted a weight from her shoulders as well.

Bianca sat down, her tail twitching with excitement. Pallas turned to ask her what was going to happen next when the gates suddenly tore open, enveloped in a magical aura and flung aside like crumpled paper. The excited shouts in the holding area quieted to reverent silence as Luna walked inside, the moon shining down on her like a spotlight.

Bianca was the first to kneel. The others followed, falling to their knees in a ripple as they saw the goddess among them. All except Pallas. She stood, frozen and entranced by Luna’s beauty, and in that single perfect moment, Luna was looking only at her. The Princess smiled.

“Rise,” Luna commanded, her voice carrying easily. “There is no need to prostrate yourselves. We have come to free you, not to make you servants anew. Part of my army will form an escort to take you to a refugee camp near the capital and well away from the enemy lines. Any who wish may instead take up arms and follow me into battle.”

“Oh oh!” Bianca bounced up to her hooves, raising her hoof as if an eager student wishing to be called on by a teacher.

Luna laughed and shook her head. “Yes, Bianca . I did promise you could come along.”

“Yes!” Bianca spun in the air, landing next to Pallas and pressing against her. “I told you! And you promised you’d come with me!”

Pallas nodded slowly, eyes flicking between Bianca and Luna.

Midsummer's Night: Subtle Silver Declaration

24th day of Second Planting
452 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas collapsed into her bedding, little more than a few blankets thrown onto the grass with a tent over it to keep some of the sun and heat away. With the hot summer days, she didn’t need or even want more than that. She rolled over, sweat covering her face. The drill instructors were putting the recruits through Tartarus, and today was no exception. They’d woken her up at noon after only a few fitful hours of nightmare-plagued sleep and ordered her to run miles in the blinding light.

Pallas was starting to think that by the time she saw combat, she’d be blind and with her hooves all worn down to the bone. The last three months had been more difficult than she could have imagined, and the worst part of it was the dreams.

Every time she closed her eyes she had to relive what had happened to her.

~~~***~~~

Her mother screamed above her. Pallas tried to hold back a scream, hiding in the dark in total silence, not even breathing. It didn’t matter.

The trap door above her was flung open, talons reaching in to grab her. Pallas screeched as she was dragged out of the comforting dark and into the light, her recent memories of being forced into the blinding sunlight mixing with the actual events, casting the horror in a bright light that made it impossible for her to hide or protect herself.

A talon forced her head to the floor, her flank still in the air. Pallas just wept and prayed it would be over soon.

The light faded, and everything froze. Pallas heard the distinctive sound of silver horseshoes, ringing like a bell with every step. She looked up, and saw Luna looking down at her with pity. Something told her that this was somehow real, that she wasn’t just dreaming of the Princess, but actually in her ethereal presence.

“This is only a dream, Pallas Athene,” Luna said. “You have been plagued by this nightmare for months now. It is a haunting thing, but you must move beyond the pain if you are to heal.”

“H-how am I supposed to do that?” Pallas asked, averting her gaze. She was still pinned, helpless, and humiliated. She didn’t feel worthy to even look at Luna’s hooves.

“There is only one salve for this,” Luna said, firmly. She stomped a hoof on the ground, and a blade sprung from the floor like a steel flower from the earth, just within Pallas’ reach. “Only blood can cure such hurt. You must fight your fear.”

A cold wind blew through the room, the frozen lights flickering and everything starting to move again. Pallas looked at the blade, a long thin knife, almost delicate. She felt feathers press against her back, and grabbed for the handle with her teeth, plucking it from the ground and stabbing the tip into the talon of the griffon holding her down.

The griffon reared back, screaming. Pallas scrambled out from under him, knife growing heaver in her jaw. It felt less like a delicate thing now, with more of a comforting weight to it. She backed up, looking at the three griffons that had invaded her home.

Luna had said she had to fight her fear. She intended to do just that. She jumped at them, her wings close to her side. The blade sank into the wounded griffon’s eye, piercing through and into his skull, the soldier going limp. Pallas jerked the blade back, the knife having grown long and heavy, feasting on his blood and lengthening into a sword.

The next started to draw his weapon and Pallas swung at the movement, cutting into his wrist. The griffon’s talon fell to the ground, messily severed, and he screamed, clutching his bleeding stump and falling to his side to cradle his wound. Pallas pinned him in place, smashing a hoof into his beak and stabbing him in the neck. Blood fountained into the air, gallons of gore that no real creature would have, soaking Pallas’ dream in red.

The last griffon had his sword out, circling Pallas intently. She pulled her own weapon free, the sword’s tip dragging along the ground, the blade having become almost as long as her body, thick and heavy with murderous intent. She started to trip, flapping a wing to turn it into a fast spin around her center of mass, her sword trailing her movement.

The griffon didn’t even have time to react as the blade slammed into his shoulder. With a crunch of bone and gristle, the heavy weapon blasted through his body, the force of blow sending it completely through his armor, the griffon’s own sword breaking in two against it. Pallas’ sword completed its revolution, slamming into the floor with enough weight to it that the boards splintered. The griffon fell into two parts in an explosion of blood.

Pallas breathed heavily, surrounded by death, her black coat sticking to her body, drenched from head to hoof.

“This is the only healing I can offer you on the path you are on,” Luna’s voice said, as the Princess appeared again, a shaft of moonlight illuminating her like a spotlight in the darkness beyond the gore-filled room.

Pallas stabbed the heavy, overlong sword into the floor with her teeth, spitting out the blood that had flowed down the blade and collected in her mouth.

“It’s enough,” Pallas said. “Thanks for the sword.”

“Do not thank me. A sword is not a blessing. A sword is a curse that too many ponies are forced to bear in these bloody times. It cannot protect those you care about as a shield would. Taking up the sword means forsaking safety for the promise of death.” Luna spread her wings, stars filling the dark. “Do you wish a path where you have nothing except the power to bring an end to your enemies?”

“It’s enough,” Pallas said, firmly. “They took everything from me.”

“Then you will have a chance to take from them as well,” Luna promised. “Rest now. In your own dream, you are the master of your fate.” Luna faded from the dream, leaving Pallas alone in that charnel house. The thestral leaned against the sword still embedded in the floor, supporting herself with it, the cool steel comforting against her coat.

It wasn’t a nice dream, or a peaceful dream, but she was finally able to rest.

~~~***~~~

Bianca felt like she was floating. She was on the edge between dreams and reality, that tenebrous space where she could hear things outside her dream and they infiltrated it, seeming to coming from everything around her. The world was half-formed and unfocused, the scene around her shifting from a tent to a palace to her old, icy home.

“What do you see?” Luna’s voice asked, from around her.

“I can’t see anything. It’s all just a blur.” Bianca tried to stay calm. It was difficult, with the way the world and time were flowing around her. She couldn’t tell if mere moments passed or if it was hours before Luna spoke again.

“You must stay in this limbo,” Luna said. “If you can enter and leave it at will, you will be able to communicate with me across any distance.”

“It’s hard,” Bianca said. “I keep almost waking up completely, and I can feel everything slowing down and trying to make me sleep.”

“It is walking the edge of a blade,” Luna said. “The true problem will be when you are surrounded in the thick of battle, rather than such a calming place as this.” Bianca could just barely smell incense, spicy and thick, and wasn’t sure if it was real or just imagined. “But that is when this will be most needed, when you must pass messages to and from me across a battlefield.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I was completely asleep?” Bianca asked. She started to feel the dream fading, like she was going deaf and blind to the world around her. She forced herself to relax, halting the decay around her.

“If you could fall so soundly asleep while ponies are dying around you I would be quite worried,” Luna said, laughing a little. “And while you would certainly be able to communicate with me more easily, you would find it quite difficult indeed to relay it to those around you.”

“I could just wake up once I had the message,” Bianca said.

“Oh, could you? It is rarely so easy as that. There are some dreams it is very difficult to escape.” Luna sounded strangely sad, as if thinking of something in particular. “Some can haunt a pony for a very long time.”

“Princess?” Bianca asked, worried. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I fear not. I apologize for my melancholy. You may awake at your leisure.” Bianca could feel Luna withdraw from her dream, the knot of stability she had provided fading away. Bianca let the unformed dream collapse around her, snapping awake with a jolt.

The inside of Luna’s tent was dark, the air filled with the incense that Bianca had faintly detected before. A small fire pit had been dug in the middle of the large tent, under a hole at the apex that served as a chimney. Rugs covered the ground around it, all of them once fine and now faded and worn from extensive use and travel.

Luna sat on the other side of the fire, tending to a kettle that hung over the flames, not looking directly at Bianca.

“Luna, what’s wrong?” Bianca asked. She could tell the Princess was wearing her heavy crown on a troubled brow this day. The way her wings hung almost limp at her sides instead of her usual crisp posture spoke volumes on its own.

“It is only a silly concern,” Luna said. “Nothing you need be worried about.”

“If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” Bianca asked.

“It little behooves a teacher to force a student to carry their burdens for them,” Luna chided, smiling at Bianca. “It is nothing that you need be worried about, I promise you that.”

“If it isn’t something that I should be worried about, then you shouldn’t have a problem telling me,” Bianca said, smiling. “You know you can trust me, Luna. You’ll be able to lead everypony better if you aren’t bottling so much up inside.”

Luna sighed and shook her head. “If you must know, I am… distressed because of my sister. Or rather, because her Solar Guard is being given credit they do not deserve. It was through your sacrifices and work that the griffons are being turned back. The Solar Guard alone was only able to hold the line, with no provisions made to actually take back what had been stolen from us. My sister sought a diplomatic solution when it is clear that force is required!” Luna stomped a hoof, her voice rising as she spoke, as if gaining strength from the angry words. “That is why I took the Night Guard to battle on my own. She would tie my hooves in the name of peace, when thousands suffer. The griffons will never agree to peace while they see themselves in a position of strength. They must be crushed and broken, and only when they beg for mercy should it be shown to them!”

Bianca smiled as she listened to Luna. “Well, you’re obviously right, since we’re winning the war almost on our own.”

“Exactly,” Luna huffed. “On our own. The Solar Guard is doing little more than restricting the movements of the griffon forces. I admit that it is a valuable strategic asset, but because my sister refuses to commit them to offensive action, they provide little more than a wall of inexperienced flesh wrapped in unbloodied steel.”

“Are you worried she’s just going to make you fight the whole war?” Bianca asked, taking the kettle that Luna had abandoned in her diatribe and pouring the hot water into the cups that Luna had already prepared, the scent of strongly smoked tea wafting from the chipped clay.

“No. I am worried that my little ponies will not learn the lesson before then,” Luna said. “They hear of cities being recaptured and the griffons being driven back, and they see the Solar Guard defending them. Because we are on the front lines, we are all but forgotten. Even at court, they rarely speak of me, while my sister stays on her throne instead of leading her ponies into battle.”

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Bianca asked. Luna took a cup, swirling the tea leaves with her magic before sipping the strong brew.

“Yes. She finds it amusing instead of distressing, and seems to think it will all simply work itself out in the end. When I confronted her about how removed she was from the reality of battle, she suggested I leave the field and return to the castle if I was so worried about the court. As if it was even an option!” Luna drank the tea in one gulp then put the teacup down harshly, cracking it with the unintentional force she used. “She is foolish. She has ever been the softer of us, and beloved for it by the nobility, while I am the harsh ruler who must veto her foalish decrees and try to limit the excesses of the court. I fear to think of what Equestria would be like were I not there to keep her in check. The common ponies would be destitute, the nobility would bankrupt the country, and she would keep smiling like a fool as the yes-ponies around her assured her everything was fine.”

“It sounds like you worry for her a lot,” Bianca said, as she drank her tea slowly. She watched Luna’s expression. It was a mixture of concern and anger in equal amounts.

“Of course I do,” Luna said, quietly. “I love her.”

Bianca smiled and trotted over to nuzzle Luna. “You know, my mother was always the one who punished me when I did something wrong. And if I wanted something, I asked my father because he would say yes, no matter how absurd the request. At least until mother cuffed him about the head. But even though my mother was the harsher of my parents, she was doing it because she knew what was best for me in the long run. It was just hard to see it, sometimes, because I didn’t have her perspective. I still loved her, Luna, even when she was yelling at me for going out in the sun or hiding in the snow for so long that I got sick.” Bianca sniffled, pulling away and rubbing her eyes. “I think sometimes you don’t realize how important somepony is to you until they’re gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Luna said, quietly. “I did not mean to bring up difficult memories.”

“It’s okay,” Bianca said, the smile returning as she wiped tears from her wet eyes. “I just want you to know that I appreciate what you’ve done, and so does everypony here. That’s more important than what the court thinks, because we’re here with you.”

“It’s sometimes difficult to keep my priorities in order,” Luna smiled. “Thank you.” She hugged the albino thestral. “I promise that once this is over, I will make sure all of you are rewarded for what you’ve done, for me and Equestria.”

Midsummer's Night: Relentless Lunar Fury

16th day of First Frost
452 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas looked up into the tree. Her eyes had finally started to adapt to the sun after months of drilling in the light. A soldier who could only fight for half of the day was of little use when fighting could happen as easily at noon as midnight. She could see clearly now, and that included the white thestral who was hanging like a fruit from the branches of the tree by her tail.

Pallas picked up a rock and tossed it into the air, hitting it with the leading edge of her wing as it started to fall. The pebble hit Bianca's flank, the mare’s eyes shooting open. She squeaked and fell, her tail uncurling from the branch. Pallas stepped forwards and caught her, the albino landing on her back.

“W-what are you doing?” Bianca demanded, rubbing her eyes.

“Finding you,” Pallas snorted. “It’s our first battle tomorrow, remember? Luna wanted to talk to you, and she was too busy to come looking herself. I volunteered to find you and drag you away from your all-important napping.”

“It’s not napping!” Bianca protested. She wasn’t making any effort to get off of Pallas, letting the larger thestral carry her back towards the camp. “It’s special training. I need to be able to fall asleep at any time so I can get messages to and from Luna through the Dreaming.”

“If you say so,” Pallas shrugged, the motion almost dislodging Bianca.

“Are you scared?” Bianca asked, quietly. Pallas laughed at that.

“Scared?” Pallas looked back at her, grinning. “Why would I be scared? I’m looking forward to it. I owe the griffons some payback, and I intend to give it to them in spades.”

“I saw your dreams,” Bianca said, abruptly. “I was worried because…” she trailed off.

“It’s fine. Luna helped me with them.” Pallas fixed her eyes forwards, frowning slightly. “She was right. There’s only one way to deal with nightmares, and that’s to face your fear and stab it to death.”

“I don’t think she’d say exactly that,” Bianca teased.

“No, but I did like the stabbing part,” Pallas snorted. The ground changed under them as they walked into camp. She stopped in front of Luna’s tent and reared up, Bianca falling from her back. “Try not to fall asleep during the battle. You don’t want them to catch you literally napping.”

Bianca stuck out her tongue at Pallas. “Falling asleep is my job!” She opened the tent flap with a slender wing and walked in. Pallas caught a glimpse of Luna, the Princess meeting her gaze for a moment with an understanding look before the falling flap hid her from view again.

~~~***~~~

“Did you have a nice nap?” Luna asked. Bianca’s ears folded back at the Princess’ teasing.

“I was training!” Bianca protested. “I want to make sure I can live up to your expectations.”

“Ah yes, training,” Luna nodded. “I wasn’t aware that I had given you an assignment involving such interesting and intimate dreams.” Bianca whimpered as Luna grinned at her. “I had no idea you had such interesting fantasies. Have you told her yet?”

“Not exactly…” Bianca mumbled.

“I would do it soon. The life of a soldier is typically quite short and brutal, ending in a sudden tragedy. Though…” Luna frowned. “There is something odd about the fate of hers. I cannot see what is written in the stars for her with any clarity. It is almost as though some part of her exists merely to defy destiny. My sister was always better at tracing the weave of fate.”

“What does that mean?” Bianca asked, fidgeting nervously. “Is she going to get hurt?”

“She most certainly will. She will be going into battle.” Luna was silent for a few moments. “Be wary, young dreamer. I can sense there are strange times coming. Everything is twisting towards some end that I cannot see beyond.”

“Is that a prophesy?” Bianca tilted her head. “Because that sounds like the kind of confusing things that somepony says when they’re doing a prophesy thing.”

“I am no true prophet,” Luna snorted. “But dreams and prophesy are close relatives. I do not know what is coming, but I worry it will scar all of Equestra.”

~~~***~~~

Pallas’ stomach was full of butterflies. She and the other recruits were assembled for battle, with the motley collection of gear they’d chosen from the armory. Pallas had an uncomfortably tight set of barding, her large frame simply too big for most of the armor they’d had available. Even this largest set was too tight around her shoulders, restricting her movement slightly.

At least her helm fit, and she looked out over the others through the slitted visor. She could see everything easily, standing a head taller than the other soldiers. The only thing that was comfortable were the wingblades strapped to her. They were huge, heavy things, none of the other recruits able to wield them and still fly for even a short distance.

She held them close to her body, feeling a sense of security from them, the same comfort she’d felt in her dreams. Pallas was starting to find it difficult to sleep well without a weapon at her side.

“Soldiers!” Yelled the Centurion at the front. “This is your first battle, and your first chance to prove yourselves! We are going to be the spearpoint into the keep!” The Centurion pointed with a leathery wing to the blocky stone structure. “The griffons took it from the Solar Guard, and we are going to get it back, tonight!”

Nopony questioned why it was important. They all already knew the answer. The griffons didn’t belong here, and Luna intended to strike at every hoofhold they had in Equestria. While the Solar Guard was busy with large-scale fighting on an even field, Luna struck against her opponent with the intent to kill, without honor or mercy.

Princess Celestia was treating her opponent as an equal player in a grand game of strategy. Luna treated the griffons as prey for the children of the night.

“Other elements of the Night Guard are ready to back us up, but this is your chance to show that you can handle yourselves. This is our true first test as warriors.” The Centurion looked them over. “All pegasai and thestrals will form the first wave. We are going to go over the top of the wall and open the gate for the other elements. Remember, we are fighting with a purpose! Once the gate is open, the earth ponies and unicorns will storm the fort, but until then we are fighting at half strength. Don’t try to be a hero. Just get the job done. Is that understood?”

There was a scattered murmur of acknowledgement.

“I asked if that was understood recruits!” The Centurion screamed.

“Yes sir!” Pallas barked, along with the others. This seemed to satisfy him.

“Good. First wave, follow me!” The Centurion spread his wings, taking off. Pallas and the others in her group followed. She struggled to keep up with him, the wingblades weighing her down. She didn’t intend to let a little thing like that stop her, though. Pallas pumped her wings, ignoring the drag as she sped towards the keep, alarms already being raised.

The butterflies disappeared as she saw the first griffon, replaced with a burning pit of anger. Pallas banked towards him, dropping into a dive. The griffon spotted her at the last moment, turning and trying to run. Her hooves slammed into his back, driving him into the ground. She looked down at him, feeling powerful and in control for the first time in a long while.

He reached for his weapon, and Pallas stomped on his talon, bones breaking under her hoof. He screamed, and Pallas roared, rearing up and driving her forehooves into the back of his head, splattering him across the ramparts.

Pallas breathed heavily. It was the first time she’d ever killed anything. She knew she should feel something. Bad? Good? Something. All she felt was like a knot in her chest had loosened. She didn’t have time to contemplate what she’d done. A griffon ran at her, screaming, a sword in his talon. Pallas’ training kicked in, and she turned, putting her weight into it as she extended her wing with all her strength, hitting him across the waist as he reared up. The blade bit into flesh. There was a moment as it almost got stuck, and then something broke and it was free again, suddenly coming free.

The front half of the griffon fell into the courtyard, a look of surprise in his dimming eyes. Pallas brought her wingblade back, kicking the griffon’s lower half down to join the rest. The ramparts were awash with blood now. As the smell of the gore filled the air, she started to feel it. The same sense of satisfaction and power that she had in her dreams.

Pallas laughed and ran forwards, cutting down griffons as she moved. Blows from talons and blades cut into her, opening shallow wounds on her exposed shoulders and flanks. She ignored them, slashing left and right with her wingblades, griffons falling to either side of her. Pallas finally reached the end of the rampart, looking down into the courtyard below. A griffon with more ornate armor stood among the others, yelling orders to those around him.

Pallas jumped for him, not making a sound, not that he’d be able to hear it beyond the din of battle around him. She dimly remembered being told not to be a hero, but that wasn’t foremost in her mind right now. The griffon officer turned as she approached, his sword sweeping up to meet her oncoming blow, knocking her back on her hooves.

“You came to the wrong party, filly,” the griffon growled, spinning his sword around in a flashy sweep. Pallas grinned as courtyard cleared around them, the other griffons giving them space to fight. Apparently they wanted this to be a duel.

“If it’s a party you’d better know how to dance!” Pallas yelled, lunging towards him. The griffon blocked her wild swing, sparks flying as the two weapons met. They backed away from each other, the two circling around and searching for weaknesses.

Pallas blocked as the griffon tried to swipe at her neck, the force of his blow sending her to her knees. She rolled to her feet, avoiding a followup, and started to get worried. He was too fast for her to just sweep aside, and if she kept blocking, the other griffons might get smart and close in on her. She had to go all in.

She lowered her head, charging in with a low profile. The griffon swung for her, and she felt the blade hit her helm. Pallas dropped further, going to her knees and letting the blade glance along her helmet, her ear erupting in a distant pain as the tip was sheared off. The griffon looked down at her, the thestral well inside his guard and his body totally exposed.

Pallas drove the tip of her wingblade through his neck, tearing it free to the side and ripping out his throat. Blood sprayed out in a wide arc as he tumbled to the ground. Pallas shook the blood from her wingblade and flapped her wings, leaping onto his fallen form and standing on top of him as the breath left his body, glaring out at the crowd of griffons around her.

The gate slammed open with a thunderous crack, falling freely with the chains that had been holding it closed severed. Pallas turned to look as earth ponies and unicorns rushed into the keep, overtaking the gathered griffons.

“Cut off their retreat!” The Centurion commanded, as he landed next to Pallas. “Mages, prepare wingbind spells!” Pallas watched from her perch on the fallen commander as the keep was retaken, the ponies cheering in victory around her as the griffon lines collapsed in a rout.

Pallas grinned, the pain from her small wounds a distant worry.

Midsummer's Night: Finding the Needle's Eye

24th day of Second Planting
452 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Ow!” Pallas cursed, as Bianca rubbed ointment into a particularly deep cut on her right shoulder. “You could be more gentle.”

“And you could be more careful,” snorted. “I saw what you did. It was stupid. You could have been killed!” She punched Pallas with a hoof, making the larger thestral wince in pain. “If you get killed, I’m going to be very cross at you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Pallas grumbled. Her ears twitched as wind hit the wound there. It had stopped bleeding on its own and faded to a dull ache, but it stung when the air hit it, and there was a sense of something missing that she was finding difficult to shake.

“The other recruits are having a party,” Bianca smiled. “Most of them saw you take down the captain. You should go have fun.”

“And leave you to your difficult job of taking naps to let Luna know what’s happening with our division?” Pallas laughed.

“I mean it!” Bianca poked Pallas’ chest with her hoof. “You’re always training and stuff. You need a break.”

“Fine. I’ll go,” Pallas sighed. “But only if you do too!” She dropped to her knees and got her head under Bianca’s barrel, tossing her into the air as she stood and letting the albino land on her back. The pale thestral blushed at the rough treatment. “You train even more than I do, even if it’s mostly napping with the Princess.”

“It’s not just napping. She’s teaching me to navigate the Dreaming,” protested, though she didn’t try to leave as Pallas carried her towards the festivities. A cheer went up as Pallas walked up to the celebrating group, and mugs of mead were passed to her and Bianca. Pallas settled down near the fire, sipping at the sweet drink.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Zudah said. He was a thin thestral that never spoke about his past. Pallas had seen a brand on his hoof that marked him as a thief, though the stallion let his coat grow out to try and cover it.

“We were just telling the others about how you tore the griffon captain apart!” Wind Dancer said. She was an excitable pegasus, hopping as she circled around the bonfire. “

“And a dozen others!” Zudah said, raising his mug.

“It wasn’t a dozen,” Pallas scoffed.

“More like two dozen!” Wind Dancer exclaimed. “I saw it all! I was right behind you, basically. Until you jumped down to fight the captain.”

“Right behind the biggest meat shield in the army,” Zudah snorted.

“She’s not a meat shield,” Schee protested. She hugged Pallas around the neck. “More like my big sweet meat wall!”

Pallas blushed, looking away, and downed her mug of mead in one gulp. “Not bad. Let’s have another!” She raised her mug, and others followed as another cheer went up. It almost felt like having a family again. A big, smelly, rude family of people who killed griffons for a living.

~~~***~~~

4 Flowers Blooming
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“You hit like a mare!” The drill instructor yelled. Pallas frowned at the ugly, scarred unicorn. She’d gotten even bigger in the last two years. Only a few of the biggest stallions came close to her height. Some had compared her to Luna, though she lacked Luna’s graceful form. The exercise had layered thick muscles onto her frame, though the drill instructor didn’t seem to respect that.

“I am a mare,” she pointed out.

“Oh well, in that case, I’m sure the griffons are gonna take that into account while you’re trying to keep them from spearing your flank!” He screamed in her face. Pallas punched him with a forehoof, her hoof landing with force that sent him completely head-over-heels. Not as a metaphor for love, mind you. She just hit him so hard he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

“Please do not break my officers.” Pallas spun in place to see Luna, the Princess still seeming backlit by the moon, though she wasn’t wearing her armor in camp. The Princess of the Night smiled at her as she approached.

“I-I’m sorry,” Pallas collected herself and tried to salute, her hoof still stinging from the blow she’d dealt to the stallion.

“You don’t need to salute,” Luna laughed. She looked down to the fallen drill instructor, putting him back on his hooves with her magic. He wobbled to one side and fell over again, still out of it. “Perhaps we should leave him here for a moment to come to his senses.”

“Is he okay?” Pallas asked, glancing at the unicorn.

“Do not worry yourself. He was hardly attracting mares with his appearance as it is, and a few more bruises will do little to dissuade the few who are attracted to his other aspects.” She paused. “I am not sure what those would be, but my sister is fond of saying that everypony has something beautiful about them. Perhaps he is good at knitting?” Luna suggested, giggling.

“I’ll ask when he comes around,” Pallas said, smiling a little.

Luna nodded, starting to walk, motioning for Pallas to follow her. “There will be battle again soon. We will be pushing the griffons off of the Isle of Mane.”

“That’s their last stronghold in Equestria,” Pallas muttered. Luna nodded.

“You are correct. We will need as many soldiers as we can gather, as the griffons will fight tooth and nail. Or at least beak and talon.” It was a joke, though Luna was still somber. “It will be difficult, and there may be many casualties. Because of the danger, I will likely be asking for volunteers for the most dangerous parts of the operation.”

“Are you going to ask everyone individually?” Pallas asked.

“No. But I did want to tell you Bianca keeps asking about you.” Luna sighed. “I did not think training a dreamer would be so difficult. It would perhaps be easier if it were not such a time of war.”

“She could come see me herself,” Pallas grumbled.

“Yes, she could,” Luna said. “If she were not in meditation to prepare herself. Her talents will allow me to communicate with her across any distance through the Dreaming. It is a rare gift. Besides, you know as well as I do that she hates going out in the sunlight. Her condition makes her even less suited to the harsh light of day than a normal thestral.”

“She’s definitely special,” Pallas said, without thinking. Luna raised an eyebrow at that.

“Special indeed. Though I do ask you be gentle, as you’ve grown far faster than she, and her slight frame can only take so much-“ Luna laughed as Pallas turned the bright red of an apple. “Ah, your face! I am only joking.”

Pallas nodded. “I just-.”

“Of course you can be as rough as you wish. She is stronger than she appears.”

“Princess!” Pallas yelled. Luna laughed loudly.

“I apologize. I should not tease a delicate flower like you quite so much.” Luna smirked. “I had another purpose in speaking with you. I wish for you to lead the rear guard. Accepting the assignment will come with a temporary promotion to Centurion, made permanent should you survive.”

“T-the rear guard?” Pallas hesitated. It was either a very safe assignment or a very dangerous one. “I’ll do it.” The words were out of her even before she’d had time to think about it.

“I had a feeling you might,” Luna nodded. “As you will be leading the rear guard, you will need to know the strategies we intend to employ. Come.” She walked towards one of the largest tents in the camp, open on two sides with a huge table in the center. Ponies were already gathered around it, and as Pallas approached, ducking her head to enter the tent, she saw a map of the Isle of Mane spread out on the table, with wooden tokens scattered across it.

“So this must be your new favorite among the recruits,” grumbled one of the older stallions. Luna motioned for Pallas to sit at her left side. Bianca was already at the right, smiling and waving to her. Pallas smiled at her before looking around the table at the others.

Luna cleared her throat and quickly made introductions. Silver Tongue was the stallion who had spoken, his mane white with age and wearing the thin barding and ornate robes of a Magi, as if his horn wasn’t enough to distinguish him. He’d carved symbols and sigils into its surface, and they shone with silver traces along their edges.

Next around the table was a thestral, Quel, with a gray coat somewhat lighter than Pallas’, a modest ashen gray that did little to hide the pink scars scattered across his body. He wore dark barding, light, curved wingblades carefully kept at his side.

The third figure was a white pegasus in golden armor. While Pallas had seen the others around camp before, she’d never seen him. Luna introduced him as Captain Morning Glory, member of the Solar Guard, acting as a liaison between her forces and her sister’s.

The last figure, sitting next to Pallas and making her feel small, was a huge, armored figure, clad in night-black plate armor that covered his whole body, his helm fanged and draconian, with blades strapped to his wings that were so heavy they had to make it impossible to fly. With the visor of his helm raised, Pallas could see some of his face, and he watched her with a calculated gaze.

“Hungry Ghost, I haven’t seen you take an interest in anything like that unless you were about to kill it,” joked Quel. “Don’t tell me you’re already thinking of hunting our new friend here.”

“No,” Hungry Ghost said, shortly. He turned back to the map.

“Centurion Pallas Athene,” Luna said. “Here is the current situation. The griffons hold the Isle of Mane for now, and we intend to take it from them. All of their remaining forces are marshaled here, with the sea at their back. It is a dangerous thing.”

“For them,” Quel snorted.

“For us,” Hungry Ghost corrected. “They will fight for their lives like cornered animals.”

“Indeed,” Luna agreed. “They have nowhere left to run. A wise opponent would surrender in their situation, but according to my agents, they have been ordered to hold the island until reinforcements can arrive from across the sea. Their families and honor are on the line, and griffons value both more than life. They will fight to the last warrior.”

“The wise solution is to give them a path of escape,” Silver Tongue said. “They will rout, flee in the only direction open to them, and fall into a trap.” His horn lit up, and the tokens on the board shuffled slightly, falling back on one side and leaving an opening in the center, with a second wave encircling the revealed corridor.

“It’s a terrible plan,” Morning Glory said, dismissively. “We don’t need to do anything except hold them where they are. Princess Celestia is meeting with the griffons to discuss a treaty that will put an end to this.”

Everypony at the table just stared at Morning Glory for a moment.

“It won’t work,” Bianca said, abruptly. “Celestia is trying to stall for time to discuss the treaty, but they’re just stalling for time so they can get their reinforcements.” Luna nodded at Bianca’s words approvingly.

“The griffons want peace as much as we do,” Morning Glory snorted. “You can’t just make wild suppositions.”

“I have seen it,” Bianca said. “Their dreams of conquest and future plans. What they intend to do to Equestria. They consider this only a setback. The griffons will push in from the coast again, and they will keep coming.”

“They rely on their numbers,” Luna said. “While they lack magic of any useful sort, they are predators and fight like the killers they are. Only a tiny fraction of the ponies in Equestria are trained to be soldiers, while every Griffon of age has the training of a warrior. They can afford to drown us in their dead until our own soldiers are exhausted.”

“If they’ve been ordered to hold the island, they won’t take the bait of an easy escape,” Pallas said, thinking out loud. “You said their honor is more important than their lives, right? So they’ll probably keep trying to hold their ground.”

“Do you have a positive suggestion,” Silver Tongue asked, scowling.

“Their backs are to the sea. They probably consider that a defense. Come in at night from the sea, and attack from both sides at once.” Pallas shrugged. “I guess you could fly in, but I think boats would be better. Flying ponies can be seen from a long way off, and if they have to fly the whole way they’ll be too tired to fight against fresh griffon troops. It couldn’t be a large force, but they’ll need to be able to fight without support for as long as possible until the griffon lines are broken. And um… I’m not sure where we’d get the boats…” she trailed off, looking up and only realizing then that the table had gone silent and everypony was watching her.

“It’s a good plan,” Hungry Ghost said, standing. “The Lunar Dragoons will volunteer to attack from the rear.”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Quel agreed. “But you’re only going along with it so easily because you like being the big damn hero.”

“It is a terrible character flaw,” Hungry Ghost agreed.

“No, you can’t-“ Morning Glory groaned. “Celestia won’t support an attack on their positions. If you squeeze them like that, they won’t have a chance to surrender.”

“I do not intend to give them that chance,” Luna said. Her horn blazed, and the tokens representing the griffons on the map erupted into black flame, charring to ash in an instant. “My sister seems to have forgotten it, but they have hurt our little ponies and they will pay for it. The griffons will be taught a lesson that they will never forget.”

Midsummer's Night: Irresistable Silver Spirit

6th day of Flowers Blooming
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Why are we in trees?” Wind Dancer complained. Pallas sighed.

“It was Zudah’s idea,” Pallas said.

“It’s simple,” Zudah said. “The back of our lines is an obvious target, which is why we’re here to begin with as the rear guard, right? Well, when you know somepony is going after a target, if you really want to catch them, you don’t stand around being obvious. You set a trap.”

“And we’re the trap,” Pallas said. “If they saw us, they’d try to find a way around to flank us. This way, they’re going to come right through here.”

“They could fly over us,” Wind Dancer pointed out. “And if I’m stuck in a tree like this I can’t really use my hoofbow.” It was a pegasus weapon, a bow as long as Wind Dancer’s body and designed to be used with all four hooves while she was flying. A quiver of long arrows was strapped to her flank, tipped with wide, spade-shaped arrowheads.

“If you were a thestral, you’d be able to see the sky is clear,” Zudah snorted. “And there’s enough cover from the trees to keep us hidden from above, too. It’s a perfect hiding place.”

“It’s not like there’s much chance we’re going to see any action,” Wind Dancer sighed. “You definitely overplanned this.”

“A tree is a great place to take a nap,” Zudah said, sitting back against the trunk and pulling out one of his knives, tossing it into the air with his teeth and catching it again. It was harder than it looked. Pallas had tried to replicate the trick once and ended up with a long cut in her lip that had left a lingering scar. “It’s a lot cleaner than sleeping on the ground.”

“No sleeping on guard duty,” Pallas said. She kicked Zudah lightly, not enough to dislodge him from the branch. “Luna is counting on us in case there are some surprises from the griffons.” Pallas frowned, thinking. “I have a feeling she knows something we don’t.”

“She always does,” Wind Dancer said. “It’s part of being a goddess.”

“Luna doesn’t like it when ponies call her a goddess,” Pallas mumbled.

“Says the pony that doesn’t even use the Princess’ title,” Wind Dancer countered. “You’re awfully friendly with her. Some of the troops don’t think you give her enough respect.”

“I respect the Princess a lot,” Pallas said. “She saved my life, and she helped me with my nightmares. After everything that happened… I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been there.” Pallas looked up towards the stars and moon above. “I owe her everything.”

“That’s how it is for all of us,” Zudah said. “If it wasn’t for her I’d still be in the woods like a chump, and Wind Dancer would be earning her way through school one bit at a time.”

“At least it was honest work,” Wind Dancer said, sticking out her tongue. “I never had to steal cabbages from farmers.”

“We’re supposed to be working, not flirting with each other,” Pallas said.

“It’s not like we have anything to do,” Wind Dancer complained. “We’re missing all the action! Come on, Pallas. You know you want to get in there and get your hooves dirty. I mean every time there’s a fight you always end up right in the middle.”

“Maybe Luna shoved her back here so her marefriend wouldn’t get too worried,” Zudah joked, snorting with laughter.

“Luna’s marefriend or Pallas’?” Wind Dancer asked.

“What’s it matter? Same pony either way,” Zudah said. Pallas kicked him harder this time, the thestral falling from his branch and landing on another a few paces down, the branch hitting him in the belly and knocking the wind out of him.

“One more stupid word out of you two and the griffons will launch a surprise attack that mysteriously only has you as casualties!” Pallas growled.

“I don’t think we’re gonna have to falsify a report,” Zudah said, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Do you hear that?”

Pallas looked up, her ears twitching as she listened to the wind. Something was crashing through the brush. No, not just something. A lot of somethings.

“They’re not flying?” Wind Dancer asked, looking at Pallas. The big thestral shook her head.

“They must know we’d see them coming. Griffons have terrible eyesight in low light conditions.” Pallas slowly spread her wings, checking her wingblades again. She’d gotten used to the heavy weight of the set she was using a long time ago, and they were scratched and scarred with use almost as badly as she was. If she’d used lighter, thinner blades, they’d have broken already.

The first wave of griffons broke through the brush, following the trail through the woods of the island, just as expected. Pallas grinned. They hadn’t really worked out a signal to begin the attack, and she didn’t have a way to make sure the rest of the rear guard knew it was time to go.

More accurately, she didn’t have a way to make sure of it except for the obvious. Pallas roared and jumped down onto a griffon passing under her, slamming into it with the tips of her blades, impaling it through the chest. It screamed loudly, somewhere between a pony’s cry of pain and a bird’s screech.

The rest of the rear guard heard the cry, and calls to battle went up across their scattered numbers as they came out of hiding to attack the raiding griffons.

“Time to have fun!” Pallas yelled, running into a charging griffon with her wings held high, spinning as the blade connected with its neck, carrying her around it as the weapon nearly severed its head, the griffon going limp and falling, skull only attached by a thin scrap of muscle and skin.

A second griffon came at Pallas’ back while she was recovering from the attack, a curved blade coming down towards her. Pallas braced herself to take the blow and roll with it when a long arrow suddenly sprouted from the warrior’s eye, the attack faltering as he fell over, twitching and spasming. Pallas looked up into the sky and gave Wind Dancer a quick salute, thanking her for the assist.

“Where are they coming from?” Zudah asked, as he dodged a wild swing from a griffon and cut at its tendons, stabbing it as it fell to the ground. “Did they have the same idea we did?”

“We’d have seen them flying if they were trying to circle around over the ocean!” Pallas yelled. She bucked a griffon away into a tree as thick as her leg, stunning him long enough for her to put her whole weight into a swing of one of her wingblades, cutting through him and felling the tree behind him. “They had to come from a boat!”

“The griffons here don’t have a boat!” Zudah protested. “That’s why they got trapped here to start with!”

“I know,” Pallas said, grunting as a long cut opened on her fetlock as she blocked an attack that would have gone into her face. “I think their reinforcements arrived early!”

“But then we’d be fighting an entire army!” Zudah screamed. He flew up and let a griffon pass under him. Three arrows hit it at almost the same time, dropping it. “We can’t take on that many!”

“Only one way to find out!” Pallas grinned. “We just have to charge through and find where they’re coming from! Maybe we can even take out the commander!”

“You’re nuts!” Zudah yelled.

“Pallas, look out!” Wind Dancer screamed. Pallas dropped to the ground on instinct at the cry, a hammer with a head as big as her ego passing through where her skull had been a moment before, slamming into a tree with enough force to splinter it.

Pallas looked up to see a bipedal creature, even bigger than she was, wearing brightly-colored leather armor and brass plates at its shoulders and chest. Its head was topped with long, straight horns the ended in wickedly sharp points.

“Minotaur!” Zudah said, fear in his voice. “Why in Tartarus is there a minotaur here?!”

“I’ve never killed a minotaur before,” Pallas said, circling it. “He looks pretty tough.” She jumped back as he swung again, the hammer slamming into the dirt. She lunged in, but he was faster than he looked, the heavy hammer not slowing him at all. As he brought it back for another swing, Pallas realized he was even faster than she was.

She brought up her wing to block his hammer. It hit the wingblade, and with a terrible snap, broke the blade and the bone of Pallas’ left wing. Pallas screamed in pain, her wing going limp and hanging awkwardly at her side.

“Get away from it!” Wind Dancer yelled, her bow twanging as she sent a barrage of arrows towards the minotaur, straps holding her bow to her back legs while she drew the string with her forehooves. The arrows were barely able to penetrate its thick flesh, apparently bothering it no more than bee stings.

Even a bee sting was a distraction, though. Pallas felt rage rising within her, the pain fading as she pushed it aside as irrelevant. She couldn’t escape with a broken wing, so she was going to have to fight and kill the minotaur. She screamed again, this time in anger instead of pain, tackling the minotaur, her blade catching it across the thigh, the steel biting deep into its flesh.

The minotaur raised its hammer as it howled in agony. Pallas swiped upwards, catching it across the wrist, the warrior’s hand falling to the ground, still clutching the hammer tightly. Pallas danced away, only really able to turn quickly in one direction, spinning to the right as she regained her balance from the high attack.

The minotaur charged, head held low, bellowing as it moved. Pallas ducked to the side, grabbing its horn with her teeth and swinging herself around with her mouth as a pivot, getting her weight onto the minotaur’s shoulders. It fell face-first into the dirt as its leg gave out, and she stabbed into the back of its neck with her wingblade, the tip snapping against the minotaur’s iron-like bones.

It shuddered and went still. Pallas breathed raggedly, almost drunk on exhaustion. Only the pain and adrenaline were keeping her on her hooves.

“Celestia’s beard,” Zudah swore. “I don’t know if I should be really impressed or yell at you for being so sloppy that you got hurt.”

“No yelling at your commanding officer,” Pallas panted. “You’ll just have to be impressed instead.”

“If they’ve got minotaurs with them, it explains how they got here,” Zudah muttered. “Their ships are faster than ours. They must have hired mercenaries and hitched a ride.”

“What are we going to do?” Wind Dancer asked.

“Our job! We don’t leave until the job is done!” Pallas snapped “We’re going to push them back all the way to their ships!”

“That’s crazy,” Zudah snorted. “We need to send runners back to tell Luna we’re under attack, and you’re too badly hurt to keep going.”

“Zudah,” Pallas said, glaring at him. “I’m never too badly hurt to kill griffons.” She punctuated that by charging into a knot of battle where griffons and the Night Guard were clashing, the ponies starting to falter against them. Pallas hit them like an oncoming storm, cutting one in half and breaking the morale of the others.

“You just going to stand there and let her do all the work?” Wind Dancer asked, hovering in place over Zudah.

“You’re all crazy,” Zudah mumbled, running forwards to join the battle.

~~~***~~~

Bianca opened her eyes and focused on Primus Pilus Quel. “Luna says the Dragoons have made landfall and are attacking the enemy’s rear ranks.” There was no sign of it yet, though it wasn’t surprising with the enemy’s full force between them and the Lunar Dragoons.

“Great,” Quel said. “Now we just have to hope she doesn’t get herself killed.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “What was she thinking, going with Hungry Ghost and his merry little band of monsters?”

“She was thinking they needed her support more than we did,” Bianca replied. “They don’t have a way to escape if things start to go badly. She wants to make sure they have as much support as she can give them. Speaking of which…”

“Yeah, I know. Time for us to earn our keep.” Quel cleared his throat. He hated using the Royal Canterlot Voice. It always made his throat sore the next day. “NIGHT GUARD, FORM RANKS AND ATTACK!”

The Night Guard’s front ranks rushed at the defending griffon lines, as arrows and bolts rained down on both sides from mages and archers.

“Are you planning on assisting?” Bianca asked, looking back to where Captain Morning Glory was watching. The pegasus’ lips were pursed and he was obviously displeased by what he was seeing. “I know you aren’t too happy with this plan, but you’re an experienced soldier. I bet Quel would be glad to have you as a helper.”

“Princess Celestia’s orders to me were to act as an aide to Princess Luna in coordinating our forces,” Morning Glory said. “It has been more difficult than you can imagine. She and her sister both have very different ideas on how this war should be waged. I am not sure it would be proper for me to take command when I do not agree with the orders I’m following, nor would it be proper for me to demand obedience from these troops, as they are not in my chain of command.”

“That’s very proper of you,” Bianca giggled.

“Propriety is the one thing I believe I can contribute. Princess Luna seems to have a dire lack of it among her own troops. She deserves respect and formality.”

“We respect her,” Bianca protested, her frown almost matching Morning Glory’s.

“But you could show it better,” Morning Glory replied. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you only know her as a battlefield commander. Here, during the war, the lines between nobility and commoner are all but obliterated. A good commander, and I do not hesitate to say Princess Luna is an excellent strategist, has strong bonds with his or her troops. While she certainly does have that, she is also one of the two sovereigns of this land. Once this is over, and the griffons have left, she will take up that burden again, and the needs of court and the rules imposed by it will take precedence over the easy comradery of the battlefield. I worry you and the other recruits she has absorbed will not easily make that change.”

“Why are you so worried about it?” Bianca asked.

“Because one way or the other, this war is almost over. Once it is, most of you will be able to return to civilian life. Those who choose to remain will have to learn how to live in the captial.” Morning Glory looked away, unable to meet Bianca’s gaze. “It will be important for Princess Luna to be treated with the proper amount of respect. Being too familiar with her in public will undermine her authority.”

“I don’t think you really understand what respect and authority mean,” Bianca smiled, reaching out to touch Morning Glory’s shoulder. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that you’re used to what Celestia wants, and what others want from her. Luna already feels cut off from other ponies. She needs us to be close to her so…” Bianca’s ear twitched, and she stopped, turning to look into the forest behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Morning Glory asked.

“Somepony’s coming,” Bianca said. Morning Glory stepped in front of her, wings spread wide. He was wearing pegasus wingblades, with sculpted, reinforced joints that made them more shield than weapon.

The running pony that Bianca had heard broke through the tree line, an earth pony with scratches across his body and an arrow deeply embedded in his flank. He ran to Morning Glory and Bianca and saluted. “Sir! Ma’am!”

“What happened?” Morning Glory asked.

“There’s been an attack to the rear. Looks like fresh troops ferried here by minotaur mercenaries.” The earth pony looked back. “I was ordered to report the action to you. The rear guard has divided into two groups under Centurion Pallas Athene’s orders. She is leading the main force to attack the minotaurs' landing zone. A secondary force has been left to defend the lines, and we’re pulling back to the tree line as we’re no longer able to maintain a wide buffer zone.”

“She’s doing what?!” Morning Glory demanded. “That’s suicide!”

Midsummer's Night: Claws of the Silver Moon

6th day of Flowers Blooming
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas had lost count of how many griffons she’d felled so far. They were barely even worth mentioning. Even as injured as she was, they were barely a threat except in numbers, and the confines of the forest were making it difficult for them to take advantage of that.

What did matter were the minotaurs. As much as the night guard was handling the griffons like they were nothing, the minotaurs were doing the same to the ponies, each one almost invincible and quickly building a pile of corpses around them. Those, she’d been keeping track of. Three so far, and each one had been its own challenge.

Pallas’ broken wing was lashed to her side with rope, but it was better than how it had been dragging on the ground. She looked at her remaining wingblade. It was chipped and cracked, the tip completely broken off. After the first had shattered so easily from the minotaur’s blows, she’d been treating its mate more carefully, and she still wasn’t confident it would last much longer.

“This is insane!” Zudah laughed, as he bucked another griffon away. “How many of these egg-sucking bastards are there?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to run out of arrows soon,” Wind Dancer said glumly, dropping an empty quiver.

“We’re almost at the water,” Pallas said. She stopped for a moment to spit, her mouth filled with blood from where a minotaur had knocked a tooth loose. “We’re already through the worst of it.” That they had time to talk about it said that things were quieting. The griffons were either reaching the end of their numbers or else they were starting to fall back.

“I wouldn’t go that far, boss,” Zudah said. “It can always get worse.”

“Minotaur!” Wind Dancer warned, aiming with her bow. Pallas turned and charged in the direction, spotting the bull-headed warrior crashing into the advancing Night Guard lines. She took it low, hitting it with her shoulder in the back of the legs and bowling it over. The minotaur fell heavily, quickly rolling onto its back as Pallas swung down with her wingblade, intercepting the blow with the shaft of its long iron spear.

Pallas jumped back as it thrust in response, the tip of the spear tearing open a hole in her good wing. She hissed with pain.

“Oh no you don’t,” Pallas growled. The minotaur thrust again, and she ducked to the side, turning sharply and grabbing the spear with her teeth. The Minotaur tried to pull the weapon back, and they were locked in a contest of strength for a moment until an arrow hit the bull in the eye, making him drop the weapon and reach for his face, screaming in pain.

Pallas tossed the heavy weapon up in the air, reversing her grip on it and stabbing it into his gut while he was distracted. Blood poured down the iron shaft, mixing with the blood already in her mouth. The minotaur roared in pain, falling back and taking the spear with him, the barbed head getting caught on a rib. Pallas spat again as she watched him. She was quickly learning that minotaurs didn’t die easily. Wounds that should kill just made them angry, and even a mortal blow would have them fighting until their bodies finally gave out.

The minotaur tried to pull the spear free and stopped, clutching it in agony as it refused to come loose. He stumbled back into a tree, then ran from the front lines.

“Where’s he going?” Zudah asked.

Pallas chased after him instead of answering, chasing the minotaur through a line of brush and not even noticing the trees thinning until the earth below her hooves turned to sand. She slashed at his knee, severing a tendon, and he fell forwards, driving the spear deeper and leaving him howling and screaming in a pool of blood, no longer able to stand.

That was when Pallas realized she’d made something of a mistake. She’d broken through to the beach on her own, the rest of the Night Guard far behind her after she’d given chase alone. And now she could clearly see the three minotaur ships that had brought the griffons here.

More importantly, she was only a dozen paces away from a minotaur that stood head and shoulders taller than the rest of them, wearing ornate brass plate armor. The light of the standing torches around the landing zone made the armor almost seem to glow, giving him an unearthly appearance.

Pallas considered her options. A smart pony would turn and run. A smart-ass pony would make some kind of remark about his huge, wide horns. A stupid pony would challenge him to single combat to buy time.

Pallas calmly walked up to the struggling minotaur on the ground and tore the barbed spear from his guts, eviscerating him and stopping his struggles. She threw the spear with her mouth, the tip embedding itself into the sand at the huge minotaur’s feet. No one would ever accuse her of being a smart pony.

“That’s right, pal. You and me.” Pallas spread her good wing, flexing the joint.

The minotaur drew a wickedly curved sword, almost like a huge machete, the back edge serrated and saw-like. It was as long as Pallas was tall, the brass weapon polished to a mirror sheen. He held up a hand when one of the other minotaurs stepped forward, shaking his horned head and approaching Pallas with slow steps. He’d taken her up on the challenge.

Everything was going as planned except for the part where she figured out how she was going to live through it.

~~~***~~~

“You’re not going to help her?” Bianca asked, shocked. Quel sighed. He’d expected that reaction.

“Our first duty is to Luna,” Quel reminded her. “We need to carry out this plan. Right now we’re stuck in a harmony-be-damned double pincer maneuver, because we’re all so clever that both sides have managed to outmaneuver each other. For all we know, Pallas can handle the rear on her own.”

“But-“

“But we know Luna and the Dragoons can’t handle the entire Griffon army!” Quel snapped. “We chose this plan because we don’t have enough strength to just take them out in an open fight, remember? We can’t afford to divide up now. If griffons start hitting us from behind, we know Pallas is really in trouble. Until then, we’re going to continue what we’re doing.”

“And the minotaurs?” Morning Glory asked. “It’s suicide to even think of sending troops against them. It would take dozens to match each one.”

“Sir, if I may?” the earth pony messenger cut in. “Centurion Pallas Athene already killed a couple of them before she sent me this way. They’re hardly invincible.”

“She did what?” Morning Glory blinked. “Impossible.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, sir.”

“Captain Morning Glory,” Quel said. “You’re not technically under my command. Think you can take your shiny white flank and see what’s going on back there? It’s not like you’re going to do any fighting.”

“I can go with him!” Bianca put in. Quel shook his head.

“No. I need you here to get messages to and from Luna.” Quel smiled. “And she’d tan my hide if I let you get into trouble.”

“I’ll offer what support I can,” Morning Glory said. “If the lines are stretched thin and Centurion Pallas Athene has gone after the commander like a rabid dog, I can help get them into order.”

“That would be a big help,” Quel said, nodding. “And try to bring the big idiot back alive.”

~~~***~~~

Pallas’ plan was rapidly coming apart. Buying time by challenging the obvious leader of the minotaurs wasn’t the worst thing she could have done, if she were healthy and well-armed. However, she was badly hurt already, down to one half-broken wingblade, and couldn’t even manage to fly and get the advantage of altitude.

The minotaur, on the other hoof, was armored so well that he looked more like a brass statue than a living thing, and carried a blade that could cut her in two if she so much as leaned against it. He was also freshly rested, uninjured, and probably had much more experience than she did.

So she just had to figure out how to beat someone who had every single possible advantage over her. Not difficult at all.

Pallas decided if she somehow managed to live through this, she’d never do anything this stupid ever again. At least until it seemed like a good idea.

“You are brave, and foolish,” the minotaur said, in heavily accented Equestrian. “I salute you. Few enough would dare face me in single combat, and never so badly injured.” Pallas let him talk. Talking was good. Talking bought her a few more moments to figure something out. “I am Khan Brass Bull. What-“

Pallas charged into him, jumping off the ground and getting her whole weight onto his shoulder and chest, slamming the broken end of her wingblade at the neck joint of his armor. It only barely scraped the exposed flesh, the minotaur throwing her off with a sweep of his arms. She landed badly, almost falling onto her broken wing as she regained her balance. She swore. She’d been hoping she could catch him off guard if she attacked in the middle of introducing himself. It had been her best idea all day, and it was still terrible.

“It doesn’t matter what your name is, then,” the minotaur said angrily, reaching up to touch his neck, looking at his own blood on his gauntlet.

“If you’re going to fight, fight,” Pallas growled. “Don’t talk.”

“So be it,” Brass Bull shrugged. He stepped forward heavily, hoof sinking into the soft sand, taking a swing at Pallas with his giant sword. She reared up, her wingblade striking out and deflecting it, the deflected blow still having enough force to numb her wing from the impact.

She danced back a few paces, watching him. Every step he took had him sink up to his ankles in the sand, his heavy armor slowing him. Pallas was big for a thestral, but she was still much lighter than the minotaur, and the sand wasn’t slowing her down nearly as much.

Pallas circled him. The minotaur turned to follow her, not letting her get around to his back. Pallas could feel the dense aura of danger around him, every one of her senses telling her that there was no way she could beat a monster like this.

He swung, almost a lazy sweep with his sword, deceptively fast despite the weight and force behind it. Pallas blocked it with her blade, the impact forcing her to her knees. Brass Bull pulled his sword back and swung again, Pallas barely blocking it. His speed was incredible, the huge weapon as light as a feather in his hands. It was taking all of Pallas’ skill just to parry his blade. Blood dripped from her wing where the straps were cutting into her as the wingblade just barely held up to the abuse.

Pallas scrambled back, dodging a swing and breathing heavily. She couldn’t stay on the defensive. She wasn’t even sure she could take one more attack from him without her or her blade breaking. She changed her stance, wing held low and back.

“You know you’re already reaching your limit, and so you’re going to gamble on a single exchange,” Brass Bull said calmly, raising his sword. “You think your low stance and greater speed will let you get inside my guard.”

Pallas watched him. With his sword that high, he only had a limited number of directions he could attack from.

“Come at me, then,” Brass Bull said. “Attack me so I can kill you.”

Pallas charged towards him. As she did, her wing flipped up, the sand she’d grabbed with her wingtip flying into Brass Bull’s face, his helmet making it impossible for him to clear his eyes. He faltered. Pallas’ wingblade slammed into the thin metal of his gauntlet, the metal there weaker from the jointing and the need to move his sword hand.

The minotaur bellowed in pain, the two smallest fingers on his right hand flying free, and the others breaking as they were pinched between the blade and the hilt of his sword. The huge weapon fell from his grasp, landing point-down in the sand and standing upright.

“I’m guessing that’s not what you wanted to happen,” Pallas said, trying to ignore the pain in her body. She was pretty sure one of the small bones of her wing had fractured when she hit his hand. Her other wing was just a mass of burning, tearing pain, and she really didn’t want to think about how much damage she’d done to it.

The minotaur roared and charged her, dropping to all fours, his wounded hand leaving a trail of blood as he moved. Pallas swung for his horn, her sword slicing off the tip, not that it was nearly enough to stop the oncoming monster. His forehead slammed into her chest, sending her flying back towards the treeline, landing in a heap on the sand and coughing up blood. It felt like two ribs had broken in that impact.

Pallas got up, shaking her head. Her vision was starting to go gray, and the ringing in her ears was drowning out even the sound of the sea. She stumbled, starting to fall forwards, and a strong hoof grabbed her, holding her steady.

“Can you still walk?” Captain Morning Glory asked.

“I’m fine,” Pallas lied. She coughed, spitting up blood. “Where did you come from?”

“I’m trying to keep your soldiers in line,” Morning Glory said. “The enemy hasn’t broken through, but you’ve got a lot of injured ponies. You need to withdraw.”

“Don’t think it’s an option,” Pallas groaned. “I pissed this guy off quite a bit.” She flapped her good wing, stretching it and making sure it was still at least marginally working. The minotaur’s steps were suddenly heavy and close, reminding the two that he was still there, his shadow cutting off the light from the torches as he loomed over them.

Pallas shoved Morning Glory to one side, rolling the other way as Brass Bull’s fist slammed into the sand where they had been. Morning Glory swiped at him as the pegasus flew past, his blades striking sparks against the brass armor but not doing more than scratch the polish on the metal.

“We need magic or siege weapons to harm him,” Morning Glory said, hovering above his reach. “I will try to distract him while you escape.”

Pallas looked at the huge minotaur, and the blood running from his hand and neck. Ignoring Morning Glory, she ran away from the tree line and safety. Brass Bull followed, a swipe at her flank making her stumble and fall onto her bad wing. Pallas gasped in pain, rolling the rest of the way over and staying in motion, knowing she couldn’t afford to stand still.

“What are you doing?!” Morning Glory demanded. He swooped in front of the minotaur, distracting him from a blow that would have killed Pallas where she stood and buying her a few more seconds.

“I need a better weapon!” Pallas yelled. She grabbed the handle of Brass Bull’s greatsword as she reached it, the leather-wrapped handle tasting faintly of sweat, blood, and musk. It was as big as she was, and nearly as heavy.

Pallas roared past the handle as she tore it out of the sand, her jaw aching. The minotaur was still chasing her, almost on her now. She jerked the sword up, going to one knee and letting the weight of the sword carry it through the rest of its arc. It hit Brass Bull’s left shoulder, the heavy weapon smashing through his armor, flesh and bone parting as it sank almost a pace towards the center of his chest.

Pallas let go as it got stuck firmly in him, the bent armor and broken bone holding the blade firmly in place. The minotaur Khan stood up, dazed and bleeding freely. He stumbled back in the sand and grabbed the handle of the sword, pulling it free and releasing a fountain of blood that sprayed wildly into the air.

He tried to lift it up with his broken hand, his left arm hanging limp and useless with the tendons in the shoulder completely ruined. The sword dropped from his hand to fall to the ground again, and he followed it, pitching backwards and slamming into the sand.

Midsummer's Night: Halting the Scarlet Flow

6th day of Flowers Blooming
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas groaned as the field medic wrapped bandages around her now-splinted wings. The broken bones left a deep, aching hurt punctuated with the sharp pain of tearing flesh.

“You were lucky. What was left of your wingblades acted as a rudimentary brace and kept you from hurting them too badly on your own,” the medic said, as he gave them another pass with a scanning spell before wrapping them even tighter, the pain making one of Pallas’ back legs kick out with enough force to knock over the rolling cart he’d left behind her.

“What are you doing? That hurts worse than when I broke it in the first place!” She snapped.

“When you broke it you were busy thinking about other things,” the medic said. “Now you’re only thinking about the pain. Which is good, because maybe thinking about the pain will keep you from doing this again. It looks like you jumped off a darn cliff!”

“Close enough,” Pallas grumbled. “How bad are the breaks? Will I still be able to…” she trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

“Not for a few weeks until they heal,” the medic said. “After that, we’ll see. I don’t think you’ll have problems, but don’t think for a second that means you can just go and be careless again. Your ribs were badly broken, and your organs were bruised. You go around and fall off any more cliffs, and one of those broken ribs could decide it wants to visit the inside of your lung or worse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Pallas said softly, putting her head down on the table while he worked, trying to keep still. He finished wrapping her bad wing and strapped it more securely to her side with a cloth sling to make sure it was kept safely close to her body. Which was also wrapped in bandages, but still.

“Alright, little miss fussy,” the medic said. “You’re good to go. You aren’t doing anything more strenuous than walking back to your tent and sleeping, you hear? And no drinking!”

“Whatever!” Pallas rolled her eyes, standing and limping out of the medical tent, pausing at the flap and looking back, giving the other ponies a sympathetic look. As badly hurt as she was, it would heal. For some of the ponies lying there, not well enough to even sleep in their own tents, they’d never recover. Missing limbs, eyes, or worse. There were far too many ponies lying still under white sheets.

Pallas sighed and walked out into the gray, pre-dawn light, and was nearly knocked over by a white blur.

“Pallas! What happened to you?” Bianca squeezed her in a hug that made her broken ribs twinge with pain. Pallas gently pushed her back.

“I’m pretty sure you do remember that battle we were in a few hours ago?” Pallas teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know Luna has you sit far away from the fighting, but you must at least remember a lot of other ponies running around, maybe a lot of noise?”

“Pallas stop it!” Bianca’s ears folded back, a bright blush spreading across her features. “I’d fight if I could…”

“I know you would,” Pallas said, leaning down and ignoring the pain in her neck as she nuzzled Bianca for a moment. “But at least one of us needs to keep looking good.”

“Come on, you know mares dig scars,” Bianca smiled. “But are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to be doing any fighting for a while, though,” Pallas sighed.

“It is no worry, since the dawn will have a sun rise over a freed Equestria,” Princess Luna said, stepping out of the shadows. Bianca trotted to her side. Pallas tried to bow politely. “Don’t. You look as though if you abased yourself we would have to find help to get you back on your feet.”

“Sorry,” Pallas said, looking down.

“I heard you killed several minotaurs, including their Khan,” Luna continued. “I would almost hesitate to believe it, except Captain Morning Glory delivered the report himself. I am at equal parts amazed and disappointed. Amazed that you could fight so well, and disappointed that you nearly threw your life away so recklessly.”

“Sorry,” Pallas repeated, biting her lip. “It won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not, since the war is over,” Luna teased. She broke out into a smile. “I am very proud of you. You have constantly exceeded my expectations and risen to become one of my most valuable warriors. ‘Tis almost a shame the fighting is done, but such is the fate of a soldier who does their job too well.”

Pallas returned the grin. “So what now?”

“Now we celebrate!” Luna declared. “There is little point in victory if the victors do not enjoy it!” She put a wing around Pallas, gesturing grandly towards the sky. “It came at a high price, but the invasion is over. Perhaps my sister will do well at quenching the griffons’ ambitions with her diplomacy. If not, they will be forced to look for easier targets now that they know we are not a land of toothless prey for them to hunt.”

~~~***~~~

“So what are you gonna do once this is over?” Wind Dancer asked, as the party went on around them. Pallas looked over at her. The pegasus was lying on the ground belly-up, her hooves in the sky like she'd simply been inverted while walking over. She'd managed to come out of the fight without a single scratch on her, one of the lucky few to make that claim.

“Over?” Pallas asked, frowning.

“Well, the war is pretty much finished,” Wind Dancer clarified. “I know a lot of soldiers are going to want to get back to their real lives, or whatever is left of them. A lot of us left family and friends to fight for Equestria.”

“And a lot of us didn't,” Zudah countered, dropping an empty mug on Wind Dancer's belly as he flew past to land at an overturned log to sit. “I was living in the woods like a wild animal before Luna found me.”

“No, you were living in the woods like a bandit,” Wind Dancer said, kicking the mug away. “Because that's what you were.”

“Fine, whatever. Like a bandit.” Zudah rolled his eye. He hadn't been as lucky as Wind Dancer, and half of his face was covered in bandages. He'd likely be blind or mostly blind in his right eye for the rest of his life, but he'd already started talking about getting a 'bad-ass eyepatch and a boat and making the best of the situation'.

“I'm staying with Luna,” Bianca said. “I really don't want to go back home.”

“And I don't have a home to go back to,” Pallas mumbled. “Killing a bunch of griffons made me feel better about what happened, but even if I went back to town, I've been away for a long time, and there's not going to be anypony there to greet me.”

“I'm going to stick with her and go back to Everfree,” Wind Dancer said. “I might take some time off to make sure all the other girls made it out okay, but I'm getting too old for my previous job, sadly.” She hopped up and shook her flank, doing a little dance.

“Liar,” Bianca giggled. “If I had a bag of bits I'd be tossing them at you.”

Wind Dancer stuck out her tongue. “That's because you happen to like big, strong mares.” She smirked at Pallas, who blushed and looked away, completely unable to meet her gaze. “I'm past my prime. Customers want a mare who's just barely legal. What I'm hoping is that I can snag myself a nice husband in the capital. Maybe even somepony with a title~”

“I can definitely see you spending the rest of your days being a trophy wife,” Zudah snickered.

“There's nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable!” Wind Dancer huffed.

“It'd suit you,” Pallas said. “You're too pretty to be a soldier.”

“Hey, what about me?” Bianca frowned.

“Hm. I don't remember you doing any fighting,” Pallas teased. “I don't think you count as a soldier.”

Bianca blew a raspberry at Pallas. “I outrank you!”

“Careful, Pallas,” Zudah said. “You know officers don't get stuck in with the grunts. Aside from you, anyway. But none of us can keep up with you.”

“Only the Dragoons have a higher kill count,” Wind Dancer said. “I checked. Silver Tongue might be rude, but he's been magically tracking everyone's score. Apparently there was a betting pool this whole time!”

“Yeah, and I made a bundle on it before the odds got switched around,” Zudah grinned. “I'm glad I didn't bet on Pallas kicking the bucket. She'd put her hoof through my flank.”

“Damn right I would,” Pallas smiled. “I can't be killed so easily.”

“Easily she says,” Zudah laughed sourly. “As if a minotaur Khan is no big deal at all!”

“If I hadn't been so careless with the first minotaur it would have been a lot easier,” Pallas admitted. “But once he was down, the other minotaurs just kind of packed up and left. They didn't even take the griffons with them.”

“Luna told me it was an honor thing,” Bianca said. “I don't really understand it myself.”

“Once he was down, they decided to cut their losses and go.” Zudah shrugged. “I mean, they weren't in this to conquer Equestria, they just wanted to make a profit. Once the boss was dead they probably decided it just wasn't worth it anymore.”

“That or they were scared they'd have to fight her next,” Wind Dancer laughed.

“After that fight I don't think I would have been able to handle anything bigger than an ant,” Pallas joked. “And I'd only manage that because I could fall over and crush it as I passed out.”

“So that means I can finally drink you under the table,” Zudah said. “Double or nothing.”

“Zudah you owe me so much money Luna should just give me your pay,” Pallas said. “You sure you want to double that? I'm pretty sure I have to take your firstborn at that point.”

“Like I'll ever have a kid,” Zudah laughed. “Come on. You win and I'll toss in my lucky pendant. You lose and I don't owe jack!”

“It's your funeral,” Pallas shrugged. “Bianca, get us some mead.”

~~~***~~~

“That was a terrible decision,” Pallas groaned, as she collapsed onto her bed, winced, then rolled to her other side. Then she winced again, and settled down on her belly. Both sides weren’t pleased about having weight put on them.

“You shouldn’t have tried to lift the keg of mead,” Bianca said, settling down next to her. Pallas tried to get comfortable, shivering in the cold air. “You could have hurt yourself even worse! It's bad enough that you've got both your wings hurt, you're going to end up looking like a mummy if you keep it up.”

“It wasn't trying! I got it above my head and drank half of it before Luna grabbed the rest. Did win that pendant, though.” Pallas smiled, pulling it out to look at it. It was nothing special, just an oblong stone with odd carvings on it. Bianca giggled and pressed closer to her, drawing a blanket up to cover both of them. “You know, I'm all sticky and awful,” Pallas warned, letting the pendant drop back to her chest.

“Well I want to get some celebrating in too, if you haven't broken yourself too badly,” Bianca said, licking at Pallas' neck. “I'm pretty sure you need a bath, but I only have my tongue~”

“Won't Luna be mad?” Pallas rested her chin on top of Bianca's head. She was so much bigger than the albino that she co

“About what?” Bianca asked, blinking. “Are you worried she's going to be jealous~?” Bianca started giggling. “You worry too much. She's my teacher, and she's like a mother to me. Besides, she keeps trying to get me in bed with you.”

“Oh? Is that part of your training too?” Pallas asked, smirking.

“Maybe...” Bianca said, nuzzling Pallas. “Luna says it'll be a few days before the Solar Guard arrives to relieve us. I heard relaxing is the best way to heal quickly, and I know the best way to get you to actually relax for a while...”

Winter Court: Immanent Solar Glory

14th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

The streets of Everfree were a riot of color and motion, creating a din that pierced Pallas’ ears far more than the clash of battle. She folded her ears back against the cheers from the ponies on both sides. Flowers had even been thrown in front of them as they walked to serve as a colorful carpet of petals.

Pallas looked ahead, to where Luna was leading the parade. She’d had the Night Guard form up into a well-ordered column, something that had taken longer than it should have. Close-order drills in formation were something they’d never practiced, on the field or otherwise. Luna preferred they know how to fight, since an enemy didn’t care how well-polished your armor was or how well you stood in a line.

Pallas was marching with the other officers, which made her feel self-conscious, like half of the city was looking right at her. It seemed like everypony in Everfree was a unicorn. She didn’t see a single earth pony among them, and there were few pegasai, most of them wearing the golden armor of the Solar Guard and working to control the crowd. She had a feeling that none of them had ever seen a thestral in their lives, and since she was right near the front, and standing taller than anypony around her save the Princess herself, she stood out.

Her ears folded back as she realized that she was, in fact, being stared at by half of the city. Wonderful. She tried to ignore the ponies and focus on the scenery. Everfree was heavily wooded for a city, with long boulevards and open courtyards with trees standing tall above the buildings, many of the trees older than any structure built by ponies. Almost all of them, though, bore the marks of civilization. The trees were hung with garlands of lights and color, the trunks carved and painted. Nothing natural had been left where it could instead be improved upon.

It made Pallas feel uneasy. The whole city felt artificial, like a grand stage instead of a functioning city. It was too carefully managed and manufactured, and the castle loomed behind it all like a backdrop of hard granite walls and marble facing. She could just make out the banners and flags flapping in the light wind, and couldn’t help but glance up to see pegasai working to keep the day bright and pleasant despite a few stormclouds trying their best to converge on the city.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” She yelled, trying to be heard over the crowd. “It wasn’t even this loud when I was cutting griffons in half!”

“They’re just very enthusiastic!” Quel shouted. “Try to ignore them and keep looking forwards! We’re officers, remember!” Pallas was still getting used to that.

“Where’s Hungry Ghost?” Pallas asked. “He took off before we even got to the city!”

“If the Dragoons were here the crowd’d be too busy screaming and running away to cheer!” Silver Tongue put in. “Trust me, this is a lot better! You really don’t want to see what a stampede of panicked civilians is like!”

“You sound like you’ve caused a few stampedes!” Quel said, looking at Silver Tongue with a grin plastered across his scarred face.

“I was researching high-energy magic!” Silver Tongue snorted. “Of course I caused some stampedes! Ponies would see me running away from my lab with something smoking and glowing behind me, and they’d make damn sure they kept up with me!”

“No wonder you got kicked out!” Quel laughed.

“That was different,” Silver Tongue frowned, his voice low. “I had a difference of opinion with the Dean. The only thing as short as his sight was his horn! If that toothpick-head had a grain of sense in the empty container other ponies use for a brain…” his grumbling was quickly drowned out by the crowd.

As the march continued, Pallas couldn’t help but notice that not all of the faces in the crowd were so enthusiastic to see them. The front ranks were largely smiling and happy, but behind them was a layer of discontent ponies who shot glares at the troops, and even at Luna herself.

Pallas sensed a worrying aura from the crowd. It felt like danger, like a predator hiding in tall grass, cloaked and waiting for the right moment to strike. She shook her head, trying to ignore the feeling. It wasn’t like they were in battle. Nopony would be crazy enough to do something when both the Solar and Night Guard were on the field. Sure, the Night Guards were tired and looking forward to collapsing into bunks and getting some rest, but it wasn’t like they were defenseless.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to calm down. The glare of the sun and roar of the crowd was just getting to her. When she opened her eyes, she realized Bianca’s flank was right in front of her, the mare’s tail flicking just slightly and her hips swaying as she walked. Pallas blushed, trying not to react, and averted her eyes upwards to see Bianca looking back at her and giving her a knowing grin.

Pallas huffed and looked away, trying not to stare at the albino thestral’s rear end. Especially not in public, with hundreds of ponies staring at them. The castle’s looming battlements finally eclipsed the blinding light of the sun, and Pallas blinked as her vision cleared in the comforting shade. Ahead of them, the doors into the central courtyard loomed at almost twenty paces tall and ten wide, easily large enough for the column of troops. A house could have been passed through the gap.

The doors parted smoothly, creaking as the massive portal was opened by a team of guards, the clanking of the chain and gears audible even from outside the castle’s battlements. Luna walked in without breaking her stride, everything perfectly ordered and timed.

“You’d think they could have opened it sooner,” Pallas muttered. This close to the castle, the noise of the crowd was dying out, and her ears were left ringing.

“It’s Everfree,” Silver Tongue replied. “Everything here happens at just the right time. Celestia is obsessed with her schedules.”

“Wonderful,” Pallas grumbled.

“You’d be obsessed too, if you had to make sure you woke up at the right time every day to raise the sun,” Silver Tongue shrugged. “I never got used to it myself, and I lived here for most of my life.”

“Welcome back, Luna,” boomed a voice from within. A white light erupted like a flare and the courtyard lit up with a blinding light. Pallas winced, shutting her eyes against the glare. The voice had been so loud it almost had a physical presence to it, a hot summer wind blowing across the army. Pallas strained to look into the radiance, barely able to make out the shape of a pony with her wings spread wide, standing on a balcony over the courtyard.

The light died as the pony lept down, almost hopping the twenty paces to the ground as if merely stepping off a tall stair. Pallas blinked and tried to clear the spots from her eyes, her vision returning in time to see Princess Celestia and Luna embracing.

It was the first time Pallas had seen Celestia, and she was just as ethereally beautiful as her sister. She was even taller than Luna, a pure white mare with a mane of flowing pastel colors. Her frame was thin and lanky, without the tough muscle Luna had built up. Even their garments couldn’t be more different, with Luna still clad in her silvery armor and her sister in golden regalia.

“It has been too long,” Luna sighed, nuzzling her sister fondly. “While we may have disagreed about some things, I am very glad to be back. I have missed you greatly.”

“And I’m very glad to have you back,” Celestia said, smiling. “I was so worried about you. I heard so many horrible stories… I thought you’d end up getting yourself killed.”

Luna snorted. “You and I both know that’s impossible,” Luna said. “I cannot just be killed like that.”

“I still worry,” Celestia sighed. “There are worse fates.”

“There is no need to worry,” Luna said, rolling her eyes. “Not only have I returned, I return victorious! The griffons have been driven from our lands, our little ponies are safe, and they have learned a harsh lesson about our willingness to deal in steel.” She turned to the Night Guard. “Behold, sister, a company of heroes who have all done great deeds in Equestria’s service.”

“Oh my, who is this?” Celestia asked, looking at Bianca. The young thestral smiled up at her, completely unconcerned about the power and position of the royal sisters.

“My apprentice,” Luna said. “I never expected to find a dreamer, but fate works in mysterious ways.”

“I’m glad that you haven’t turned all of our ponies into soldiers,” Celestia smiled.

“Not all,” Luna smirked. “Bianca’s talents lie in other directions. She has been very brave to stay at my side during this time of troubles. She is perhaps the most talented dreamer I have ever met, though she has yet to learn, ah, what did Morning Glory call it… propriety.”

“No wonder you chose to make her your apprentice. You two clearly have much in common.” Celestia smirked, raising a hoof to try and cover her expression.

“It’s really great to meet you!” Bianca said, almost buzzing with excitement like a foal. “Luna told me all these stories about you!”

“I hope she didn’t tell you some of the stories she knows…” Celestia looked at Luna knowingly. The night princess coughed and motioned towards the Night Guard.

“Perhaps you should meet some of the other heroes in this procession?” Luna suggested.

“I think I recognize some of these 'heroes',” Celestia laughed. She smiled at Silver Tongue. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again. I was afraid you’d go build yourself a tower in some dark corner of Equuis and end up doing something regretful.”

“I might still do that,” Silver Tongue grumbled. He bowed politely. “I was lucky enough to be given a second chance by Princess Luna. I like to think that my contributions to the war effort and saving lives will at least make some at the Academy reconsider the bad reputation I left in my wake.”

“I’m glad my sister was able to give you that chance, and that you accepted it,” Celestia smiled. “I’ll talk to the Academy. Now that things have settled down, I’m sure all of you would like to do something less dangerous.”

“Less dangerous, and you want to put Silver in a lab?” Quel smirked, Silver Tongue shooting him a glare that could have turned a pony to stone.

“Primus Quel,” Luna said, her voice making the thestral instantly snap to attention. “You might want to remember what Captain Morning Glory told you. I do expect respect to be given to my sister, and that includes not interrupting her conversations.”

“Oh Luna,” Celestia giggled. “It’s fine! I see that Silver Tongue’s reputation for energetic experiments hasn’t gone away, though.”

“I do mostly jest, your highness,” Quel said, bowing. “I apologize for the interrupting you. Magus Silver Tongue has been a huge help to us. The Night Guard has historically lacked much magical support, and he’s been a great force multiplier with creating enchanted items and setting up rituals for us.”

Celestia nodded, obviously pleased. “I’m glad to see that despite your teasing, you’re all good friends.” She stepped past them and looked at Pallas. Her expression faltered for a moment at the sight of the still-wounded thestral.

Pallas bowed politely. “Your highness.”

“You must be one of Luna’s newer recruits,” Celestia said. She looked away. “I’m sorry you got so badly hurt. The difficulties with the griffons should never have escalated so far.” She sighed and gave Pallas a sympathetic look. “Once we’ve finished with the peace treaty negotiations, I’m sure you’ll be able to go back home to your family.”

“I don’t have a family,” Pallas said. Celestia blinked at that. Pallas looked past her, to Luna. The Night Princess nodded, and so Pallas continued. “The Solar Guard pulled back from my village and left most of the civilians there. The griffons attacked when they left, and my parents and almost everyone I knew were killed. Then they violated me and chained us up to bring us back to their homeland as slaves. If Luna hadn’t come, I’d probably already be dead or worse.”

“I… what?” Celestia shivered. She looked shocked at the story.

“That is the evil I have been fighting, while you remained here,” Luna said, her tone flat. “It’s why I took the Night Guard to the field. Almost every town and village along our east coast is home to a similar tale. Hundreds and thousands were suffering.”

“I had no idea…” Celestia seemed to shrink, her wings drooping. “But I still don’t think going to war is ever right. Killing a few griffons won’t bring her parents back.”

“Two hundred thirty eight griffons, including seven high ranking officers. Five minotaurs. And one minotaur khan,” Silver Tongue recited, his horn glowing for a moment. “I keep track.”

“Two hundred-“ Celestia actually took a step back, as if in fear, like Pallas was a monster herself. “That’s…that’s so much death and killing.” She stopped herself, and stepped forward to hug Pallas for a moment, nuzzling her neck and putting a wing around her. “I’m so sorry. It should never have come to this. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Pallas had no idea how to react to this. Luna had foreseen that Celestia would speak to her, and had asked Pallas to be very blunt about what had happened to her. She hadn’t, however, coached her on how to handle being hugged.

Celestia pulled away after a few moments, her eyes wet with tears. “I’d like to speak with you later. For now, I’m sure you – all of you – would like to get some rest.”

“That would be just grand,” Quel nodded.

“Luna, the West Barracks have been cleared and cleaned for your guard.” Celestia walked back to her sister, trying to avoid glancing back to Pallas. “The castle staff is already preparing food, and the mess hall should be ready for them in an hour. I was hoping we could have dinner together?”

“Of course,” Luna agreed. “Would it be acceptable if I brought my apprentice with me? I fear she’s terribly excited about meeting you, and I expect if I refused her she’d still find a way to appear at dinner.”

“I’d love to have her join us,” Celestia beamed. “I’m so glad you found somepony to teach. You’ve been so lonely lately…”

“We can speak at dinner,” Luna said, holding up a hoof. “Night Guard, at ease. No guard need be posted tonight. Spend this time resting. You have all done far more than any pony could have asked you to, and I am proud of you. I believe our next large duty will be celebrating peace, once the treaty has been signed.”

Winter Court: Mastery of Small Manners

14th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Bianca had been expecting some grand dining room, maybe cast all in gold on one side and silver at the other, with Princess Luna and Princess Celestia at opposite ends of a table long enough to serve as a wingball pitch and shouting conversation at each other in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

She was almost disappointed when she found that instead, Luna and Celestia took their meals in a small room, almost intimate compared to the grand galleries of the castle. They sat around a round wooden table that had an impression of great age, the marks of a hundred thousand meals visible on its surface.

Bianca was, however, not disappointed by the food, her eyes going wide as waffles and fruit were piled up in front of her along with whipped cream and butter, a feast that few ponies had seen since the war had started half a decade ago.

“Ah!” She gasped, as she bit into a strawberry, juices splashing into her nose, staining her white coat with pink. Bianca’s cheeks joined them as she blushed on hearing Luna and Celestia laughing.

“Breakfast at dinner, sister?” Luna asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the food.

“As is your habit,” Celestia noted. She grabbed a napkin with her golden telekinetic grip and levitated it over to Bianca, gently wiping the thestral’s nose. “I thought you might want something sweet and simple after so long on the road, and waffles seemed like just the thing.”

“You do know me well,” Luna smiled. “Thank you, Tia.” She started piling waffles on her plate. “I have been doing some very serious thinking while I was away. I fear after spending so long with you, I was taking you for granted.”

“I’m glad to hear you at least appreciate me a little,” Celestia joked. “It hasn’t been easy dealing with the nobility without you here.” Celestia’s pile of waffles matched Luna’s. With a critical eye for detail, she added one more to the top.

“Only because you usually pass the more difficult cases from your court to me,” Luna snorted. She grabbed for the syrup at the same time as Celestia, their magical auras rippling across it. They fought for it for a moment before Luna sighed and let go, allowing her sister to use the carafe first.

Celestia poured enough syrup over her waffles to have the towering stack almost floating in a puddle of maple. “And now I’ve had to deal with them myself,” Celestia admitted. “Luna, you never told me how awful some of these requests could be. I had to stop the Duchess of Trottingham from seizing orphanages and turning them into breweries. She had the audacity to suggest the displaced orphans could work in the brewery and sleep next to the stills!”

“Yes, she can be a troublesome one,” Luna agreed, smiling, as she used the rest of the syrup. Bianca grabbed the carafe after Luna put it down, only getting a few drops for her own waffles.

“So, enough about business. There will be plenty of time to get caught up on the nasty little details of court,” Celestia said, waving a hoof. “I’m sure you have more exciting tales to tell, like where you found your apprentice.”

“She was taken prisoner by the griffons after they destroyed her home,” Luna said. “She found me through her own innate skill. I heard Bianca calling for help in her dreams, and she was lucid enough in them to explain what had happened and where she was.”

“That’s when I met Pallas!” Bianca smiled. “She showed up at the prison camp the day before Luna attacked them to free us.”

“Ah yes…” Celestia said, looking down at her food. “She seemed like a very strong pony.”

“She definitely is,” Bianca agreed. “She cuts griffons in half like, all the time!”

“That’s... not what I meant,” Celestia said, looking at Bianca. “She, and you, have been though much tragedy. More than any mortal should have to bear. It takes a very strong will to be able to survive intact through such a fate.”

Bianca shook her head. “She’s just doing what she has to do. She gets… really depressed sometimes. And really mad other times. But when I’m there, she’s happy.” Bianca smiled, looking down at her food. “It makes me happy too.”

Luna snorted. “As you can see, she’s hopelessly in love.” Luna started eating, not bothering with the fork and knife on the table and simply using her magic to levitate waffles to her mouth. “Thankfully, the object of her affection has more dedication to duty than my apprentice, and has been an asset in making sure she doesn’t simply nap all day and night.”

Celestia laughed. “I’m glad you two make each other happy. Maybe you’ll set an example for Luna and she’ll actually consider meeting some of her suitors.” Luna choked on a waffle as Celestia mentioned them, coughing and sputtering before she was able to answer.

“Just because I don’t want to have a harem of strapping young stallions doesn’t mean I’m repressed!” Luna yelled.

“They’re not a harem!” Celestia protested. “They’re my personal bodyguards.”

“Oh yes, they certainly do keep careful watch over your body,” Luna noted, raising an eyebrow. “Every inch, all night long if the stories told have any truth to them.”

“I do prefer bodyguards with a large amount of stamina,” Celestia said, wiggling her eyebrows at Bianca. She leaned over to whisper. “Luna is just jealous because the last time she got a love letter, the stallion mentioned that her flank was almost as nice as mine. Almost.”

“He had no sense!” Luna snapped. “One does not write a love letter and say the subject is merely second best! I have many fine attributes, not least of which is that there is more to my figure than a bulk gained through decades of eating little more than sweets, unlike my sister!”

“See?” Celestia noted. “Jealous.”

“Did he have any bad dreams after that?” Bianca asked.

Luna coughed. “It is possible he was unable to find rest for quite some time. I am told the night terrors have largely subsided, but as my sister asked me to stop attempting to drive him to insanity, I have left his dreams alone. For better or worse.”

“That reminds me, Luna,” Celestia said. “When do you want to reopen Night Court? I was thinking in a few days, to give you time to rest and get caught up, and to give our ponies time to make appointments.”

“No,” Luna said. “I think I will suspend Night Court. I have been thinking on this, sister, and we should rule together. Would you be opposed if I asked to sit in on Day Court with you? It would remind the ponies that I have returned, and I will be able to learn how things have changed in the time I was gone.”

“Actually, that’s a wonderful idea,” Celestia smiled. “I sometimes feel as if we’re growing apart. This will be a welcome change.”

“Yes,” Luna agreed, smiling. “As long as I can stay awake. You do love to let the nobility drone on and on about unimportant matters.”

“And you usually cut them off too soon,” Celestia retorted. “You can learn much about a pony not just from what they say, but how they say it.”

“Perhaps,” Luna shrugged.

“Oh! Could I come too?” Bianca asked.

“No,” Luna said, flatly. “I will need you to create a distraction when court gets too dull to bear, so I can abscond with my sister and escape the drudgery of listening to Countess Scone and her concerns about the Royal Cake Reserve. I still can’t believe you talked me into allowing that silly law to pass.”

“There’s a Royal Cake Reserve?” Bianca asked, her ears perking up.

“Oh yes,” Celestia nodded. “The finest cake reserve in the world.” She considered. “Also the only cake reserve in the world. Would you like to see it?”

“Would I?!” Bianca beamed. “Can I go see it, Luna?”

“Of course. But eat your waffles first. If you try to get a snack at the reserve, it may end up destabilizing the economy.”

~~~***~~~

“It was great, Pallas!” Bianca said, as she skipped in a circle around the large thestral. “They keep all the cakes in stasis spells so they stay fresh forever! There was enough to feed an entire city! Apparently they only allow ponies to guard it if they can prove they can resist the temptation of cake after fasting for three days!”

“…Five hundred and seven… five hundred and eight…” Pallas muttered, as she flapped her good wing, making the motions of a quick strike with a blade. Weights were strapped to the edge, and sweat was dripping down her neck.

“Are you listening?” Bianca asked, stopping and tilting her head.

“I’m listening,” Pallas said, stopping and pulling her wing back. “I’m glad you had some fun. I’m still supposed to stay in the barracks and get bed rest.”

Bianca frowned and looked around at the garden, and the weights strapped to Pallas’ wing. “Then shouldn’t you be getting rest?”

“This is physical therapy,” Pallas said, lifting her nose and looking down at Bianca as if it was obvious. “I’m making sure my wings stay strong. As soon as I’m cleared by the doctor, the first thing I’m doing is going on a nice long flight.”

“What about…?” Bianca gestured to Pallas’ broken wing.

Pallas sighed and raised it, stretching it out carefully and wincing at the pain. “It’s healing pretty quickly. It’s going to be a pain in my flank for a few weeks, though.”

“I might be able to help with that.” Pallas and Bianca turned at the voice to see Silver Tongue walking towards them. He opened a saddlebag at his side and took out a pouch, tossing it to Pallas. She caught it in her teeth and opened the drawstring carefully. Inside was a handful of prismatic dust.

“What’s this?” Pallas asked. She tilted the pouch, and watched as the powder inside caught the light, reflecting colors all across the rainbow.

“Breezie dust,” Silver Tongue said. “Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s not made from ground-up Breezies or anything.”

“I didn’t know Breezies were real,” Bianca said.

“They are,” Silver Tongue snorted. “Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t have Breezie dust to begin with. They live in a magical realm isolated from ours. Terribly fragile creatures, really. They need help from ponies to gather the pollen their realm requires, and in return this is what we get.”

“This isn’t like, Breezie vomit or anything, is it?” Pallas frowned. “After I learned where honey comes from I wasn’t able to eat it for a week.”

“No, no. It’s scales from their wings,” Silver Tongue said. “Their wings are covered in countless tiny scales, like a butterfly’s. Once a year they grow new scales and replace the ones that have gone missing, much like how a pegasus molts their feathers… which you two likely also don’t know about.” Silver Tongue sighed.

“Oh no, I know about that,” Bianca said. “Though Pegasai really don’t like to talk about it. They just use euphemisms like ‘it’s that time of the year’ and stuff like that.”

“Hmph. Unlike pegasus down, which is useful only for stuffing pillows, Breezie dust can heal wounds and ease pain. Mix a pinch with hot water and it turns into a paste. Rub it into your wing, and the bones will heal in days instead of weeks.”

“I like the sound of that,” Pallas smiled. “Should work for broken ribs too, right?”

“It would work even better if you didn’t get yourself turned into a thin soup,” Silver Tongue retorted. “You’re lucky to have this. That bag is worth more than its weight in gold.”

“Why are you giving it to me?” Pallas asked. Silver Tongue turned and looked around the garden, as if watching for eavesdroppers.

“I’m not exactly welcome here,” Silver Tongue eventually said. “And I don’t like the atmosphere around this place. It feels too much like politics, and that’s what got me run out of the Academy to begin with. I want to make sure you have my back.”

“Of course I do,” Pallas said, frowning. “We’re part of the same team.”

“Good,” Silver Tongue nodded. “I also want you to be careful. Damn careful. You might not think politics has anything to do with you, but you’re one of Luna’s favorites. Just because of that link to her, you might be in danger. Luna is a friend to the honest and selfless among the nobility, and by that I mean she has few allies and many enemies – and all of those foes are underhanded to an extreme.”

“What, you want me to be ready to fight my way free of red tape?” Pallas grinned.

“Something like that,” Silver Tongue grinned. “Have you ever heard the story of the Minos Knot? It’s an old Minotaur story.” Pallas shook her head. “You’ll like it. About five hundred years ago, when the world was still roiling and the borders of the modern world were in flux, Basileus was wintering in the province then known as Minos. Even then, he was a mighty and ancient warrior, though he preferred the road to a palace and a brace of boon companions to an army. During the reign of Discord, which had only recently ended, the oracle there had tied a knot from a single length of cord and proclaimed that the one to untie it would be the warrior to unite the minotaur tribes, which had never joined under a single flag.

“Basileus wasn’t interested in proving himself, but he was curious about how a simple knot could mark one as being a being of prophesy. Many had failed before him, and he ordered the knot brought out so he could see the rope that had so defeated wise tacticians and cunning warriors alike.

“The knot was brought out on a brass platter, a tangle of impossible angles and warped rope, obviously the product of chaos magic. Basileus tried to find the ends, but the knot was larger on the inside than without, and the ends were lost in the infinity. Basileus stepped back from the knot, but before the attendants could remove it, he drew his sword and smote it in twain. The chaos magic within the knot erupted, and the rope fell away. As he withdrew his sword, there was merely a neat pile of cord, uncut and untied. Of course, he later united the tribes of minotaurs and became the Khan of Khans, and remains so to this day. Not because of the knot, but because of his own strength and character.”

“I like that,” Pallas grinned. “He took the easy way out.”

“He had a different perspective,” Silver Tongue replied. “He wasn’t cunning or learned, but he was strong. Doing things the same way as others led to failure, but when he refused to play the same game, and instead did things his way, he had success. And it was wise, in its own way. There is no easier way to untangle a knot, as long as you don’t fear violence.”

“And you want me to be able to cut through any knots that show up,” Pallas said.

“You’re more presentable than the Dragoons,” Silver Tongue said. “I don’t even know if Hungry Ghost is staying in the palace. He’s probably in the Low City somewhere, knowing his history. I want you to be available to do what needs to be done, if it should come to it.”

“There aren’t exactly a lot of griffons around here,” Pallas pointed out.

“No, there aren’t. But there might still be enemies. Watch your backs,” Silver Tongue cautioned, as he walked away.

“Do you think he means you might have to kill ponies?” Bianca whispered.

“I think you have something else to worry about,” Pallas said. She tossed Bianca the pouch of dust. “I could use some help getting my wounds covered with this. Go get some clean water and meet me in my bunk.”

Bianca grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Winter Court: Fury Inciting Presence

16th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Let the next supplicant approach the throne!” Yelled Furled Scroll, the Court attendant. Luna and Celestia each sat on their respective thrones, a rare sight at any time but even more so now, Luna not having been in Everfree for half a decade.

A brown earth pony stallion with a cutie mark of flowering branches approached the thrones and knelt.

“Rise,” Luna commanded. The earth pony obeyed, looking from her to Celestia and back again. “Please state your request.”

“Y-your highness, my name is Pear Necessities.” The stallion coughed. “I’m a farmer, and me and my family recently moved to the city after the troops came to evacuate us.”

“Ah, you must be part of the refugee camp on the outskirts of the city,” Celestia noted. “How are things there?”

“Well…” he looked nervous. “Your highness has been very generous in giving us food and water at the expense of the crown, but a lot of us can’t go home, or at least not any time soon. There’s not enough to go around for all of us, either, and it’s hard to find honest work.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Celestia said, her ears drooping. “Our grain stockpiles have been stretched thin. Many fields were burned or trampled in the war, and it will be several seasons before we can begin to recover. I would offer you better food or coin if it was available.”

“No, your highness,” Pear Necessities said, shaking his head. “We’re not calling your kindness into question. You’ve been more than generous, giving us that land to live on. Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. There are a lot of trees and parks through the city, and they’re all technically property of the crown.”

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “Both my sister and I feel they help keep the city from being lifeless.”

“Well, your highnesses, I’d like permission to put that land to use. I don’t intend to build anything on it, and I’m not asking for the land itself, just permission to tend it and replant. Most of us farmers have seeds from their finest crops, and we’d like to grow them on that land. We could plant fruit trees along the sides of the streets and in the parks, and replace hedges with berry bushes. It’d give us honest work to do, and we’d be able to feed our families.”

“This proposal has merit,” Luna admitted, looking at Celestia.

“I agree,” Celestia nodded.

“I would grant you this permission, with the caveat that the crops belong to the crown, as they are grown on land belonging to the crown. You may not sell them for a profit, and they are to be a public resource, with the fruit being given to those in need. Would you agree to these terms?” Luna raised an eyebrow.

Pear Necessities smiled and nodded. “That’d be just perfect, Princess.”

“Excellent,” Luna smiled.

“And we shall name you curator of the project,” Celestia put in. “You will be responsible for ensuring that the fruit of your labors is divided fairly. In return for this responsibility, you will be able to ask recompense for reasonable expenses.”

“We’ll be checking in from time to time,” Luna said. “Make sure you treat this as a serious responsibility, Pear Necessities.”

“I will, your highnesses,” Pear said, bowing again and retreating. He almost bumped into the next supplicant waiting outside the doors, the unicorn shoving him away and glaring at him, muttering something under her breath.

“It’s nice to be able to say yes from time to time,” Luna whispered to her sister.

“He seemed like an honest stallion,” Celestia said. “And even once he leaves, it might help improve the conditions in the Low City.”

“It would be difficult to make things worse,” Luna sighed. She nodded to Furled Scroll, who called for the next supplicant. The unicorn mare was wearing layers of fine silks, the collar of her dress lined with ermine, jewels shining in the fabric where they’d been sewn in a constellation in the shape of her cutie mark, a pouch overflowing with bits.

“Ah, Duchess Showers,” Celestia sighed. “I was wondering if you would appear on the docket.”

“Please, your highness,” the mare said, waving a hoof. “You can just call me Golden. We know each other well enough for that.”

“I take it you have approached the throne many times while I was gone, Duchess,” Luna said, seeing Celestia’s look. This was obviously one of the supplicants Celestia had wanted to give to Luna’s mercy at Night Court.

“My requests are reasonable,” Golden said. “All I’ve requested is a reformation of tax laws to help refill the treasury, and repair the losses from the war.” She held up a bundle of papers in her magical grip, pushing them towards Celestia. Luna grabbed them, her magic easily overpowering the Duchess’, and looked over them.

“I already told you, Duchess, this isn’t the time or place to discuss tax laws,” Celestia sighed. “I have a department of trained accountants specifically for this.”

“You want to increase the base tax rate by over five percent,” Luna noted. “While extending tax relief to ponies who are involved in war recovery efforts. A very broad term, from the definition here.”

“It needs to be, to cover all edge cases,” Golden said.

“Yes,” Luna agreed, narrowing her eyes. “Including nearly all of your holdings. With the law as drafted here, you would pay almost no taxes at all, while the poor would shoulder the burdens.”

“You’re looking at it too narrowly,” Golden protested. “Because I won’t have to pay as much in taxes, I can afford to pay my workers more, and hire more ponies to work for me! That will help the economy, and they will still be making more money even after the increased tax rate!”

“Nothing in these laws requires you to pay your workers more, nor do they prevent you from pocketing the increased profits,” Luna said, throwing the papers to the ground. “We are not stupid, Golden Showers. Your father would be ashamed of this base scheme. Golden Nugget was one of the finest con-artists of his time. He would have suggested setting up a charity, and simply skimmed profits from the top while still using the rest of the funds to help the needy.”

“He was not a con-artist!” Golden blushed.

“He also had more pride in his work than you do,” Luna noted. “I’ve never known a pony to work so hard merely to turn a small profit. If he had suggested a charity, I would have agreed, as even if he was appropriating funds, he would work twice as hard as those bits were worth just to make sure it did enough good that nopony questioned where the money was going.” She smiled, thinking back. “He was charming in his own way.”

“Your highness, please,” Golden Showers sighed. “It’s a simple fact that reducing the burdens on job creators allows more jobs to be opened for the needy ponies searching for them.”

“’Tis a lazy scheme,” Luna continued. “You simply wish to have the bits flow to you. Your father worked hard for what he had. Even if something wasn’t turning a profit, he would put his own money into it, because he traded on his good name and refused to let his ventures fail.”

“Why are you being so difficult?!” Golden snapped, turning red. And the moment the words left her mouth and she saw Luna’s face, she paled almost to white.

“Celestia,” Luna said, turning to her sister. “I believe she is right that the treasury could stand to be refilled. I suggest a tithe from the nobility. One tenth of their profits for a year, in addition to their normal tax burden.”

“Luna…” Celestia hesitated, but caught the same glare. “Perhaps.”

“You are dismissed,” Luna said, to Golden. The unicorn almost ran out of the room, her dreams of wealth shattered by Luna’s hoof.

“That was unnecessary,” Celestia whispered. “What if she really wanted to help ponies? Just because she was misguided doesn’t mean she was malicious.”

“Did you see the way she shoved Pear Necessities as he left the room?” Luna asked. “She isn’t a pony who is concerned with others, especially her lessers. No, she was only concerned about herself.”

“If you say so,” Celestia said, doubtfully.

“I do,” Luna asserted.

“You could have been more diplomatic, though,” Celestia continued. “If you were more polite, you could have done some good with her. I would have told her I’d have to review it with tax experts, asked for a detailed plan on how she was planning on spending her increased profits, and held her to her promises. She would have thought she was winning but still ended up doing good. Now she’s just going to complain and do nothing, or perhaps fire some of her workers in retaliation.”

“I hardly see how hurting random ponies serves as retaliation,” Luna frowned.

“Ponies do silly things when they’re angry,” Celestia shrugged. “We may still be able to use your threat of a tithe to manipulate her to a better end.”

“It wasn’t a threat,” Luna grumbled.

“Yes, which makes it all the more useful,” Celestia grinned. “Come, now, Luna. You know I enjoy using you as the stick to my carrot. You enjoy the role.”

“Truth, sister,” Luna nodded. “But it seems you’ve become more cunning than I expected in these last few years. When I left, you were granting the royal seal to nearly any decree that appeared in front of you.”

“Only because I knew I could count on you to rein in anything that was too outlandish,” Celestia admitted. “You were a safety net for me. One I employed too much. The first year when you were gone, I did some very silly things which I continue to regret.”

“We’ll face them together, sister,” Luna smiled.

~~~***~~~

19th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“I just don’t see why I have to get dressed up all fancy for a party,” Pallas frowned, as Wind Dancer helped her put on her dress uniform. Her wings were still tender despite the Breezie dust being applied to them. “I don’t think anypony can have a good time if they’re stuck in something like this.”

The two were in Pallas’ quarters. Being an officer, she’d been granted her own private room in the castle. It was all bare and Spartan stone, but she had few things she cared about. The only keepsake she had was the huge sword of the minotaur Khan, hanging on the wall as a trophy of war. The edge was still stained darkly.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The Night Guard dress uniform was a high-collared affair in black, with red piping along the edges and wide crimson stripes down the outside of the legs. It was in an older style, with a half-cape over one shoulder that thankfully covered her broken wing, with a golden braided cord holding it around her neck.

“Because it’s not just a party!” Wind Dancer smiled. “It’s a ball! A fancy one!” She twirled around in her dress. It was lilac and white, a simple affair but cut to show a lot of her figure, a slit in the skirt going so high that the edge of her cutie mark was just visible.

“You’re planning to try and get a husband out of this,” Pallas said, bluntly.

Wind Dancer just laughed. “Of course I am. And with this flank, I can’t miss!”

“I just don’t like all this stuff,” Pallas sighed.

“That’s because you’re a party pooper,” Wind Dancer said, rolling her eyes. “The only time you open up is after enough mead to put the average pony into a coma. You’re a lot of fun after you get drunk, though.”

“Hmm…” Pallas considered. Wind Dancer frowned as if she could read the thestral’s mind.

“You’re not getting drunk at the ball,” Wind Dancer said, firmly. “It’s a sophisticated affair, and I don’t want to ruin my chances of getting a husband because you get tipsy and pick a fight with some Duke because he looks at you funny.”

“I’ve never…” Pallas hesitated. “I’ve never done that twice. Might have done it once…” she mumbled.

“Exactly,” Wind Dancer said. “Now let me fix your mane. You need to look good for Bianca!”

“That’s…” Pallas blushed.

“Don’t start with how it’s none of my business or how I’m reading into things,” Wind Dancer continued. “Even the griffons know you two are together, because she screams loudly enough to be heard all the way into enemy lines.”

Pallas blushed and lowered her head, Wind Dancer running a brush through her untamed mane, tugging knots out of the wild tangle until it was in some kind of order.

“Good enough,” Wind Dancer sighed. “Come on, then, bat-butt.”

“My cutie mark is an owl, not a bat,” Pallas frowned.

“Maybe, but unless you start hooting, no one is going to think you’re an owl. You don’t even have feathers!” She flapped her wings and zipped out the door, Pallas following with heavy steps. The ball was being held in the castle’s main gallery, a celebration for the safe return of Princess Luna. As they approached the gallery, Pallas could hear the musicians playing, and decorations started appearing, streamers in navy blue and silver hanging from the light sconces on the wall.

Pallas smiled as they turned the corner and spotted the entrance to the gallery. Celestia, Luna, and Bianca were there, greeting the guests as they walked into the brightly-lit ballroom. Celestia and Luna wore only their traditional regalia, but Bianca was in a black dress, not quite as brazenly cut as Wind Dancer’s, with open stripes like gills along the sides that allowed her coat to show through, almost giving her the striped appearance of a zebra. Lace along the collar and train of the dress further enhanced the contrasts, a choker set with a ruby completing the look.

She waved to Pallas as the bigger mare walked over to her, suddenly feeling underdressed in her uniform, not that she had anything else to wear.

“You look beautiful,” Pallas said.

“Have you come to sweep me off my hooves?” Bianca asked, smiling.

“I’d ask you to dance, but I don’t know how,” Pallas shrugged.

“That’s fine!” Bianca said, hopping over to nuzzle her. “Just follow my lead!” She grabbed Pallas’ wing with her own and ran into the ballroom, laughing.

Winter Court: City Moving Secrets

20th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“He’s to be executed at high noon,” Morning Glory reported, to the assembled group. Bianca and Wind Dancer gasped, while Pallas’ eyes merely narrowed at the news.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he be executed for minor theft!?” Pallas kicked the wall in frustration, the stone cracking under the force of the blow. “I’m getting him out of here if I have to go down there and drag him out myself!”

“He was arrested once already,” Morning Glory sighed. “The brand on his leg is proof of that. He’s a bandit.”

“Was a bandit, maybe,” Wind Dancer muttered. “He’s not anymore. He’s a good pony. He turned his life around.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean anything right now.” Morning Glory looked back the way he’d come, towards the cells. “With that brand, it means that if he’s caught again for any reason, he’s to be put to death for his crimes.”

“That’s horrible!” Bianca gasped. “Why would the Princesses mark a pony for death like that?”

“It was supposed to be a method of giving them mercy for their crimes,” Princess Celestia said, bowing her head to fit through the doorway.

“Your Highness,” Morning Glory said, bowing. None of the other ponies bothered. Celestia’s expression was impossible to read as she glanced around the room. Pallas realized she didn’t know the Day Princess well enough to know if she was annoyed that they hadn’t abased themselves, if she understood that there were bigger worries at hoof, or if she simply didn’t care.

“It was a compromise Luna and I agreed to. Both of us knew that keeping ponies prisoner was untenable in the long run, especially with war looming on the horizon.” She looked back. “Luna wanted to extend the death penalty to more crimes, with the hope that it would scare others into line. I wanted to pardon all those who had not done serious harm. We met in the middle when she agreed that simply changing their sentence and executing them was unfair to them and those that might care for them. We released all those we could, and those whom had committed repeated crimes were branded as a reminder to them that this was their last chance.”

“So the brand was… basically a deferred death sentence,” Pallas mumbled.

“That’s not a bad way to think of it,” Celestia admitted. “It was perhaps the best compromise we could have reached. No doubt there are many who carry that brand who have decided to turn their lives around rather than risk death for even a minor crime.”

“The problem is, Zudah didn’t do anything,” Pallas said. “I know it.”

“Do you?” Celestia asked. “Are you aware of the things he did before he joined Luna’s guard, and perhaps even while he was part of it? He was a bandit, preying on other ponies. While he never killed directly, many ponies lost their livelihoods and life savings because of him. Even under the old laws he was going to spend many years in prison, if not the rest of his natural life.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Wind Dancer said. “He’s… he’s a decent pony.”

“And no doubt circumstance forced his hoof to do some of the deeds he’s done. Perhaps he even regrets his old life,” Celestia frowned. “But there are rumors that it continued, and that he participated in illegal looting on the battlefield.”

“The whole army took supplies from the griffon camps we captured,” Pallas stated. “They were spoils of war-“

“Perhaps you should ask him about his collection of gold teeth,” Celestia suggested. “Few would call those supplies, and as griffons have no teeth, it makes one wonder just where he got them.”

“Princess, if I may be so bold?” Morning Glory asked, rising. Princess Celestia nodded. “Those are, in the end, just rumors, and while they may be valuable as insight into who he is as a pony, they don’t answer the question at hoof. Did he, or did he not, steal Duchess Golden Showers’ purse at the ball?”

“I’m surprised you’re considering taking his side in this,” Celestia smiled. “Usually you’re all too eager to assume the worst about anypony. It’s a welcome change.”

“I stand on the side of justice, Princess,” Morning Glory said. “And I find both the timing and the circumstances to be extremely suspicious.”

“E-excuse me, Princess Celestia?” Bianca asked, looking up. “Where’s Princess Luna? Shouldn’t she be helping, since Zudah is part of the Night Guard?”

“My sister is handling the negotiations with the griffons,” Celestia said. “They’re at a critical stage and we can’t simply put them on hold, even for this. Many lives are at stake. She thinks I would be too soft on them.” Celestia paused. “Which is also likely why she trusts me to handle this. My sister likely thinks I will simply pardon her soldier.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Pallas shrugged.

“I can’t,” Celestia shook her head. “Not when formal charges have been brought against him. As a Duchess, Golden Showers has enough authority to order his execution on her own. If I simply pardon him, it will go against centuries of precedent and law on the power of the nobility. I need evidence in order to dismiss her claims.”

“Then we’ll get it,” Wind Dancer said. “We’ve got… a few hours, at least.”

“I will assist, your highness,” Morning Glory said. “If a member of the Solar Guard formally presents the evidence, it will bear more weight than if his comrades and commanding officer simply find it.”

“Good luck,” Celestia said, stepping aside to let them pass.

~~~***~~~

“Okay, where do we start?” Bianca asked. They’d assembled in the ballroom. The festivities were over, but servants had been told not to start cleaning yet, in case the group needed to find evidence of wrongdoing.

“I think the best evidence would be a confession,” Pallas said. “I’ll go find Golden Showers and hit her until the right words start coming out of her idiot mouth.”

“Please don’t suggest assaulting the nobility in front of me while I’m on duty,” Morning Glory sighed. “Not even the ones who deserve it. Right now, it’s her word against his, and the Duchess’ word carries much weight because of her position and responsibilities. The Golden family controls the mint, and as such has considerable standing and funding.”

“Why would Celestia put such an awful person in charge of the mint?” Bianca asked.

“Her father was a career criminal. Celestia knew he would be clever enough to solve some of the more pressing issues the mint was having at the time. She simply made sure he knew he was being watched very closely, and that the success or failure was a matter of life and death for him.”

“It makes a crazy kind of sense,” Pallas muttered. “He probably knew about all the ways ponies would try and steal from him, because he’d tried doing it himself.”

“Something like that, yes,” Morning Glory agreed. “He died under mysterious circumstances and the body was never recovered. There are all sorts of conspiracy theories, naturally, from assassination to simply running off with a large amount of bits. I’m of the mind that Celestia probably found a new use for him.”

“You think she’s using us to find the truth,” Bianca said, ears perking up.

“She always does enjoy seeing how ponies perform under pressure,” Morning Glory agreed, with a smile. He looked around the ballroom. “This is a very open room. There had to be somepony who saw exactly what happened.”

“We don’t have time to interview everypony that was here,” Pallas said. “Assuming they’d even tell the truth.”

“I was with him practically the whole time,” Wind Dancer muttered. “He never did anything!” She flew up, circling the cleared tables like a vulture. “The only time I left was when I was asked to dance by a nice young colt. Not really my type, but he did have a decent suit, so I thought it was worth a shot.”

“The better question is why she had bits in the first place,” Pallas said.

“A reasonable question, but there are alibis,” Morning Glory said. “She might have simply wanted to have money with her at all times. Maybe she had the bits to tip the palace servants.” He looked around at the raised eyebrows. “It’s not that unlikely. While she may be unpleasant, she is supposedly quite generous to her servants.”

“So she’ll have an excuse for it regardless, is what you’re telling me,” Pallas sighed. “Wait a minute, I’ve got a better idea. There has to be some kind of spell or something that can… I don’t know. Replay events? I’ll even take a spell that forces ponies to tell the truth.”

“We’ll need to find a unicorn for that,” Morning Glory said.

~~~***~~~

“’Lesson Thirty-Four: There are two steps to being a successful wizard. First, never reveal everything you know.’” Silver Tongue flipped the page to find the next one blank and frowned, then flipped back. “Oh, I get it. Cute.” He smiled a little. “I think some ponies at the Academy have that down to an art. It’s unfortunate that they’re teachers.”

“Silver Tongue!” Pallas barked, as she walked into the library. She was met with a chorus of hushing sounds and one yell for her to be silent. Her ears folded back and she seemed to shrink as she looked around the room.

“Be careful,” Silver Tongue said. “It may look deserted, but among these bookshelves lurk the most desperate and cunning of all ponies, the terrible creatures known only as grad students.”

“Remind me not to come back,” Pallas grumbled.

“Come now, I’m sure we can find you a good book to eat,” Silver Tongue snorted. “Now please state the nature of the magical emergency.”

“How did you know there was an emergency?”

“You ran into a library to find me. The only reason you’d set hoof in here is if there was a problem you couldn’t solve with an unreasonable application of violence.” Silver Tongue raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“I probably could solve it with violence, but it would be… probably something the Princesses would disapprove of.” Pallas looked around at the shelves. “Zudah was accused of theft. We need some spellwork done to prove he’s innocent.”

“The one thing he isn’t is innocent,” Silver Tongue retorted. “But we’ll see what we can do.”

~~~***~~~

“You’re sure this will work?” Morning Glory asked. Silver Tongue was drawing an ornate glyph on the floor in chalk, placing candles and lines at seemingly random intervals as he spread it across the room.

“It’s a proven technique. Since it happened less than a day ago, not only will it work but we’ll get a reasonably sharp image out of it.” Silver Tongue bumped into a wall, frowned, and paused to consider before shrugging and drawing a line straight up the wall for a few paces. “Since you don’t know the exact spot where it happened, a larger glyph will give us a better idea of the area.”

“Should we get one of the Princesses?” Pallas asked.

“Not until we know for sure that the evidence will clear him,” Wind Dancer said.

“What will you do if the evidence proves he’s guilty?” Morning Glory asked. “He is a known thief. It’s entirely possible he either considered Golden Showers an easy target or picked her pocket for other reasons.”

“Maybe she insulted him,” Silver Tongue commented, as he fixed a candle to the wall.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Pallas shrugged. “We need to know the truth either way to proceed, and somepony doesn’t know any truth spells!”

“I already explained that truth spells come under mind-controlling effects, and those are in the restricted section of the library. As I’m not in good standing with the Academy, I don’t have access to it. I’ll ask for permission once somepony is awake.”

“The sun is already up,” Bianca noted, looking out a long window. “We don’t have that long.”

“What’s taking you so long, anyway?” Pallas asked.

“A spell takes time if you want it right. And since somepony’s life is at stake, I’m going to try and give us a clear image. I’m almost done anyway, and we have hours to spare.” Silver Tongue stepped back to look at his work, then put a small crystal ball at a focal point, his horn glowing for a moment. Four lines radiated from it, and he marked a small rune at each point. “We’re ready to begin the procedure. Everypony please stand back.”

Silver Tongue waited until the rest of the ponies had retreated and sent a beam of magic into the carefully-placed crystal ball. It split like sunlight in a prism, and shapes were projected into the air, outlining unseen ponies in various colors.

“These are the residual magical auras of the ponies that have been through here in the last twenty four hours.” He rotated the crystal ball slightly, and they started to come into focus. Wind Dancer and Zudah slowly appeared, monochrome in different shades of gray. “There are you two…”

“Why are they naked?” Pallas asked.

“Their clothing doesn’t have a magical aura of its own, so it doesn’t appear at all in this.” Silver Tongue explained. “If it was enchanted, like the armor the Dragoons wear, we might have a chance at imaging that, but not normal clothing.” He drew a quick arc in the diagram, then rotated the ball more, Wind Dancer and Zudah staying in focus while other, random ponies started appearing out of the chaos of visualized auras one at a time.

“That’s her!” Bianca gasped, as Golden Showers appeared, her aura highlighted in gold.

“Good,” Silver Tongue said, making another mark. He spun the ball, the rest of the auras blurring and fading into near-invisibility. “Now, let’s see what happened.”

The images came to life. Pallas watched as Zudah was dragged away by a blur of auras that had to be the guards, and Golden Showers walked to the edge of the diagram and vanished.

“We need to know what happened before then,” Pallas frowned.

“That’s not a problem. We simply reverse the flow…” Silver Tongue narrowed his eyes, the images walking backwards at an accelerated rate, a blur of motion.

“Too fast!” Wind Dancer complained. “I couldn’t see what happened!”

“Hold on, hold on,” Silver Tongue muttered. “This isn’t a spell I use a lot! Moody Blues’ Aura Visualization Enhancer is not exactly simple magic, you know.”

The images froze, then returned to the normal flow of time, slowing to the actual speed of events. Golden Showers walked in from behind Zudah, they bumped into each other, and she walked away. A few moments later, she started screaming silently.

“What happened?” Pallas frowned.

“I’m not sure,” Morning Glory frowned. “Can you rewind it again?” Silver Tongue rewound until just before they bumped into each other and froze it there. Morning Glory walked around the lines drawn on the floor. “I can’t make it out from here. I’d have to be right on top of it.”

Silver Tongue drew something, and set the spell to play back those few seconds in a loop. “Don’t get too close or you’ll disrupt it. Your living magical aura is a lot stronger than the traces left behind here. This is essentially an illusion spell crossed with psychometry.”

“You say that like I’d understand,” Morning Glory said. “They did definitely collide. He could have used that moment to pick her pocket. Or she could have used it to plant the purse on him.”

“It has to be the second,” Pallas said. “She bumped into him. On purpose.”

“We can’t prove that she did it on purpose, and this isn’t clear enough,” Morning Glory frowned. “Especially not without their clothing or the purse in question.”

“This whole thing is silly,” Pallas growled.

“I suppose we’ll have to resort to truth spells after all,” Silver Tongue muttered. “I don’t have time to learn them, but I’m sure somepony already has them mastered. I’m sure Zudah, at least, will agree to it since his life is on the line. Once he’s proven innocent, we can worry about finding the guilty party.”

“Can’t we force Golden Showers to admit she’s framing him?” Wild Dancer asked.

“No. Equestrian law clearly states that mind affecting spells are only legal if used with the permission of all parties involved. Just because we suspect she’s framing him for theft doesn’t mean we can use them on her, even with his life on the line.” Silver Tongue shrugged. “Trust me, I know. I was accused of using suggestion and glibness spells to advance my position in the Academy. That’s not a court I want to be in, though it did give me cause to memorize the laws.”

“Fine. We’ll get Zudah to swear he’s innocent under a truth spell, and that should at least be enough for a stay of execution, right?” Pallas asked, looking at Morning Glory.

“Yes. That should also be enough to allow us to get permission to interrogate Golden Showers,” Morning Glory agreed.

The doors to the ballroom opened. Quel walked inside, his ears folded back.

“Call off the investigation,” Quel said. “The Duchess moved the execution time. I only heard about it after the fact. They already strung him up. Zudah’s been dead for almost an hour.”

Winter Court: Thunderbolt Attack Prana

20th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

The courtyard was full of activity. A ring two dozen paces across had been cordoned off with rope, and a crowd waited eagerly around it to see the spectacle, a mix of castle servants and nobility and even some of the peasants that had heard about the duel, united in harmony for the first time in years not by bonds of friendship or love but by a common lust for blood.

Princess Luna and Princess Celestia sat above the crowd on a raised platform, a brightly colored awning in wide stripes of deep blue and a yellow pale enough to be almost white protecting them from the shade. Bianca sat at the edge of the platform, her front hooves on the railing as she looked down over the crowd.

“What if Pallas gets hurt?” Bianca asked, turning her head to look back to where Luna sat in the shadows, the sisters carefully not looking at each other.

“If she does, perhaps Luna will realize how bad of an idea this is,” Celestia sighed. “This is barbaric. Whatever charges should be levied at Golden Showers, they should be made in a court of law, not in a dueling ring.”

“Blood can only be repaid in full with blood,” Luna said. “And Pallas will not be hurt. Golden Showers cannot afford the kind of warrior it would take to do her harm.”

A murmur went up from the crowd, and a path cleared as Pallas entered the courtyard, Quel following at her heels. Luna’s eyes went wide and she stood up to look as the thestral lifted the rope and entered the ring.

“Those are Hungry Ghost’s weapons,” Luna whispered. “I didn’t think he was fond enough of anypony to lend them his wingblades.”

“They look heavy,” Bianca said.

“Yes. I hope it will not prove to be too much of a handicap for her.” Luna considered as Pallas swung a blade slowly, then flapped her wing with surprising speed, the blade retracting.

A cheer went up from the crowd. Luna and Bianca looked to the other end of the courtyard, where a strong-looking unicorn stallion walked towards the ring. His armor was a suit of coins, the bits like scales in a dragon’s hide, shining golden and polished in the bright sunlight. A brace of six blades was strapped to his flanks, three to a side. The blades were wide and short, all of them lacking handles, intended to be grasped with magic and not held by flesh. Golden Showers followed him, grinning widely.

“I see she has asked her son to represent her,” Celestia said. “Perhaps the best choice she could have made. He is a champion fencer for the Academy, and considered one of the finest swordsponies in the world.”

Luna didn’t reply to that immediately. She just smiled a little. Bianca was the only one close enough to see it.

~~~****~~~

“Got any tips for me?” Pallas asked Quel, as she looked across the dueling ring at her opponent. It wasn’t quite high noon, but it was getting close.

“Yeah, see if you can call the whole thing off,” Quel snorted. “Look, I knew Zudah as well as practically anypony did, and I don’t think he’d want to see two ponies fighting over his corpse. What’s fighting going to solve?”

“It’ll make me feel better,” Pallas said. “Now do you have any real tips on fighting a unicorn, or am I going to have to learn it the hard way? I’m still healing from the last time I had to learn to fight something new.” Pallas lifted her injured wing slightly.

“Fine,” Quel sighed. “Look, this is a duel, and you’re not a unicorn, so what you’ve got to worry about the most is magic. He’s wearing armor and not robes, so he’s probably not a magus like Silver Tongue,” Quel noted. “You might not have to worry about really advanced magic. That said, he hits you with something like a Hold Pony spell and you’re done if you can’t shrug it off.”

“And what’s the best way to avoid that?” Pallas asked. She looked over to where the unicorn waited, his nose turned up and armor glittering in the light.

“If he does start to cast something, his horn’s gonna light up like a torch. You’ll only have a second or two to disrupt his concentration.”

“Okay. I can do that,” Pallas nodded.

Quel sighed and patted her wing. “Just be careful. There are old soldiers, and there are bold soldiers, but there are no old, bold soldiers.” Quel trotted out of the ring, flying up to a perch on the wall to watch the action from above.

Pallas stepped forwards, glaring across the dueling ring at Golden Showers’ son. A horn blew from near the raised platform where the Princesses sat. The assembled crowd turned to their rulers,

Luna and Celestia rising to their hooves to address the gathering.

“Hail and well met!” Luna shouted. “Today we are gathered to settle a manner of honor. Duchess Golden Showers has named Golden Strike as her champion and challenges Champion Pallas Athene in a duel against accusations of slander! After this day, the matter will be settled and neither party will have a right to challenge on this again.”

“As the charges against the Duchess are severe,” Celestia started, maintaining a strong façade despite her personal distaste for the proceedings. “This will also be serving as…” she suppressed a sigh of annoyance. “…Trial by combat. Centurion Pallas Athene, as the challenged, you have the right to deny this duel. If you do, it will be no loss of honor on your part. You are still recovering from the wounds you suffered in battle, and I remind you that should you lose, there will be no investigation into whatever crimes you might charge the Duchess with.”

“I will not back down, your highness,” Pallas said. Her eyes slid to where Bianca was sitting. The albino thestral smiled approvingly at her.

Luna nodded slightly. “So be it. Duchess, as the challenger, you have rights as well. If you have pressing concerns, the place and time of the duel can be changed, but not to end it once the challenged has accepted. Are there any concerns you wish to be made known?”

“Excuse me,” Golden Strike said, stepping forward. “Am I to understand I am to duel a wounded mare? And one without the benefit of magic?” He frowned. “I do not wish to harm somepony who has no chance in a fight, and everything about this seems weighted in my favor. She has no armor, she can barely see in the sun…” He was cut off as his mother’s hoof struck the back of his head.

“Don’t complain about things going well for us, you idiot!” She hissed. “Your highness, we have no complaints.”

“Very well,” Luna said. “Duelists, shake hooves.”

Pallas and Golden Strike moved to the center of the ring and shook hooves.

“We don’t have to do this,” Golden Strike whispered. “It’s not too late. I don’t want to have to fight somepony who isn’t at her best, especially for something important.”

“Worry about yourself,” Pallas said. “I don’t intend to lose.”

“Duelists, to opposite ends of the ring.” Luna called. “Centurion Pallas Athene will be fighting with wingblades. Golden Strike will be using the traditional brace of fangs. The terms of the duel are as follows – if a duelist intentionally harms somepony other than their opponent, they lose the duel. If a pony intervenes in the duel on behalf of one duelist, that duelist loses the duel. The battle will be conducted until one fighter yields or is unable to continue battle. Do you understand?”

Pallas and Golden Strike nodded.

“Excellent,” Luna said. “You may begin at the sound of the horn.” She and Celestia sat down, and Celestia nodded to her hoofservant once they were settled. The hoofservant raised the horn, and with a clarion call, the duel began.

Pallas rushed towards the unicorn the moment the horn sounded. She knew her biggest weakness was going to be range. His spells could strike her from anywhere in the ring, while she had to be within just a few paces if she wanted to be able to fight him effectively. Even if she was fully healed, flying wouldn’t help much against an opponent who could strike her at range, and the wingblades strapped to her were like lead weights dragging her down.

She was only halfway there when Golden Strike’s attack started, the unicorn maintaining his space and starting to circle to the side, the blades at his side floating up in an aura of magic and circling him in a halo of razors. One flew towards her like an arrow. On instinct, Pallas tried to swipe it aside. The blade curved around her wing, striking low against her forehoof and leaving a bleeding cut along her fetlock.

“First blood goes to Golden Strike,” Luna noted, loudly enough for the crowd to hear over their cheering.

“You should yield!” Golden Strike yelled. “You aren’t a unicorn, you have no defense against my attacks!”

Pallas ignored the pain and kept moving. It was nothing compared to some of the wounds she’d taken before. Her uniform ripped as another line of pain was drawn across her side. The unicorn was light on his feet, trying to keep as much distance from her as possible. The two blades he was manipulating circled around, nipping at Pallas’ ankles and trying to make her stumble and falter. It was clear he was more concerned about hurting her than finishing things quickly.

“I beg you to yield!” Golden Strike said. “I do not wish to seriously harm you!”

Pallas roared at that, grabbing one of the fangs out of the air with her teeth, the blade wiggling like a fish as the unicorn fought to get it back, the struggle breaking his concentration for a moment and slowing the other flying dagger enough for her to bat it out of the air. Golden Strike let go of the one she was holding, firming up his grip on the others.

The moment he let go, Pallas whipped her head around, flinging the fang back towards him. He reacted quickly, deflecting the knife with one of the four still circling him and grabbing it before it could go off into the crowd.

His expression changed. The knives around him spun in a tight circle and Pallas lost track of the individual blades as a burst of light sprayed out of his magical aura. She was blinded only for a moment, but it was a dangerous moment to be blind in. She cleared her eyes at the last moment to see the glint of steel flying right for her face. She knocked it aside easily, leaving herself defenseless as two more blades curved to the right and left to stab at her sides, the other fangs hidden in the blind spot created by the first dagger.

“I command you to yield!” Golden Strike yelled. One of the daggers was relatively harmless, bouncing off of the wingblade strapped to Pallas’ injured wing and held close to her side like a shield. The other sank into Pallas’ barrel, getting stuck on her ribs.

Pallas screamed in pain and spun, her wing going low and scraping at the dirt. A spray of sand and dust few into Golden Strike’s eyes, the unicorn cursing and rubbing as he was blinded.

He stopped moving for a moment, his blades hanging in the air as his attention drifted, unable to focus or see well enough to control them.

Pallas grit her teeth and ran, not slowing as she approached. Her forehead collided with his with the force of a sledgehammer, the tip of his horn opening a cut over her left eye. The aura around his horn faltered, and the fangs dropped to the ground.

“That’s cheating!” Golden Showers screamed from the sidelines.

Golden Strike’s horn lit up again as he tried to reach out to his weapons. Pallas roared and headbutted him again, feeling something crack. The cut on her forehead poured crimson into her eye, blinding her on that side. Golden Strike screamed and fell back.

His horn was badly cracked, the outer layers starting to splinter. The tip was gone entirely, leaving a jagged end that bled sparks and trickles of flame.

“N-no!” Golden Strike gasped, stumbling and off-balance. “I y-”

Pallas ignored what he was going to say and slashed with Hungry Ghost’s wingblade, the heavy weapon as unstoppable and implacable as death itself. It caught Golden Strike in the neck, his armor tearing apart under the force of the blow, coins exploding out along with gore. His head flew into the air, a final jet of magic from his horn making it erupt into sparks like a fireworks display before it fell into the crowd, ponies screaming as blood sprayed over them.

His body stood for a few long seconds, shivering as if confused, like it didn’t understand it was already dead. Pallas gave it a gentle push with a hoof, and the headless form fell, blood pooling under it from the stump of the neck.

“A dazzling finish,” Luna noted. “Excellent work, Centurion.”

“He was trying to yield!” Golden Showers protested, tears streaming down her face as she rushed into the ring. “T-this monster murdered him!”

“There is no proof of that,” Luna said. “And the matter is closed with the conclusion of the duel. I declare Centurion Pallas Athene the winner, as Golden Strike is… unable to continue.” She smiled down at Golden Showers.

“You can’t just let her get away with this!” Golden Showers hissed, looking to Celestia. “That beast killed my son!”

“You allowed your son to act as your Champion, even knowing the risks,” Celestia sighed. “You knew there was a chance he would be injured or killed, did you not?”

“Yes, but… he wasn’t supposed to lose!” Golden Showers spat. “She cheated!”

“Don’t be a poor loser,” Luna said. “Though I do understand that he was your only child. How tragic that your bloodline comes to an end like this. While this was a trial by combat, the sentence is left to myself and my sister to decide, and given the circumstances we believe you may deserve mercy after your terrible loss.”

“I would… be grateful,” Golden Showers said, looking down. Tears fell to the sand at her hooves. Luna and Celestia spoke in hushed tones for a few moments before they both nodded in agreement.

“Duchess Golden Showers,” Celestia said. “We offer you these terms – you may retain your title and holdings. Upon your death, your holdings will become property of the state. You are banned from the palace unless specifically requested by myself or my sister. No other action will be taken against you as you have… already lost much.”

“Thank you for your mercy, your highness,” Golden Showers whispered.

“Go, then,” Luna decreed. “Leave this place and do not return unless you are bidden. Neither you nor your servants are welcome here. Your son’s body will be tended to and returned to your estate.”

Golden Showers turned and ran, fleeing the ring and the silent crowd as she escaped.

Pallas watched her go, the Duchess not even sparing her a look as she fled, as if all the monsters in Tartarus were on her heels.

“You sure do like making a spectacle of things, don’t you?” Quel muttered. He lifted her good wing, looking at the blade still lodged there. “Wonderful. Let’s get you to the medics. I’m sure they’ll be just so damn happy to see you again. You’re the only idiot who can manage to get into a swordfight in the royal palace.”

“I had to do it,” Pallas said. “You understand that, right?” She looked back at the body. “For Zudah.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Quel sighed.

Winter Court: Flow Like Blood

21st day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Ambassador Xaaron sighed and rested his head on his talon. He was slumped against a table as old as his ancestors, covered in drafts of legal literature which would be relevant for centuries to come and studied by scholars for even longer. He’d known that getting a peace treaty would be a delicate process, and require compromise from both him and the Equestrians.

“I refuse to even consider a treaty that leaves ponies in lands controlled by that insane tyrant!” Luna snapped.

What Xaaron hadn’t known when he accepted the position as ambassador and the Emperor’s right talon in the negotiations was that he’d have to spend all day listening to two Goddesses bickering with each other as if they were fillies.

“Luna, you need to calm down and listen. Those ponies have been there for generations! They’re citizens of the Gryphon Empire, and we can’t simply uproot them!” Celestia said, her wings spreading on instinct as the argument grew more heated, as if making her look bigger would give her words more weight.

“And we should have helped them generations ago!” Luna snapped. “I want all of them returned to Equestria!”

“There’s precedent for this,” Celestia said. “You remember the border skirmishes we had with the Crystal Empire about fifty years back, yes? We gave them everything north of the Frostback Mountains, and allowed free travel between our two nations for a period of a year, to allow ponies to sort out for themselves where they wanted to go.”

“That’s a stupid precedent!” Luna yelled. “We still had to send troops in because their King refused to allow his subjects to leave!”

“My point is that a similar agreement-“

“Will have all the same problems!” Luna finished. “Zephyranthes is as much a tyrant as Sombra ever was, and I remind you that in the end, things went very poorly for Sombra and the entire Crystal Empire!”

“Ambassador Xaaron…” Celestia turned from her sister to face him. Xaaron was pouring himself another glass of an amber-colored liquid. Apparently it was mostly made from apples. He wasn’t sure what else went into the drink, but even one glass was enough to take the edge off of having to listen to immortals who had apparently never learned to get past their sibling rivalry. He was on his fourth, and had nearly convinced himself that things were looking up. “I apologize for this. My sister and I are… apparently not of the same mind on the terms of the treaty.”

“It’s fine,” Xaaron sighed. “After that mess yesterday I didn’t think either of you would even want to continue today. It was a fine duel, though. I should give my regards to the winner.”

“It was that,” Luna agreed. “It settled things quickly, without the need for a court or weeks of proceedings. It is somewhat regrettable that Golden Strike was killed, but such are the dangers of trial by combat.”

“Indeed,” Xaaron nodded. “I watched the duel, and he seemed an honorable and brave fellow. He was outmatched from the start, though.”

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked, frowning. “He had every advantage. Range, speed, health, even the terrain favored him, with the sunlight and large dueling ring to give him space to work with.”

Xaaron laughed, downing the glass he’d been pouring before answering. “Princess, you’ve clearly lost your sense for battle. He didn’t have the most important thing that a warrior can have.”

“Discipline?” Celestia guessed.

“Don’t be silly,” Xaaron snorted. “He lacked the killing intent. That other pony…” He shook his head, trying to suppress a shiver. “Couldn’t you feel it? She was almost consumed with it. I was watching from the castle, and I felt that surge of murderous intent so strongly that I feared for my own life. It still terrifies me. She is a true warrior.”

“I admit, I have felt… something around her,” Celestia shrugged.

“And that is why she couldn’t lose,” Xaaron said, pointing at Celestia with a talon. “Unless you are willing to kill, you are at a strong disadvantage in combat.” He paused. “No, more than that… she was willing to throw her life away for victory. Perhaps it’s something only a predator could understand.”

“Perhaps,” Luna said, with a knowing smile. “But we have gotten off topic. We must discuss what is to be done with the ponies currently living in your lands.”

“You could try asking them,” Xaaron sighed. “Some would probably want to leave, others would want to stay. Making a blanket decision for all of them is foolish.”

“Wise words,” Celestia nodded. “Though we’ll need assurances from Emperor Zephyranthes that any such attempt is actually fair and unbiased…”

“As if his assurances are worth anything,” Luna snorted.

Xaaron sighed as the two sisters started shouting at each other. It was going to be another unproductive day. He looked at the bottle he’d been drinking from, and found it empty. To his great surprise there was nothing wise at the bottom.

~~~***~~~

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a new princess here,” Boney Hooves snorted, as he examined the cut over Pallas’ eye. “You’ve still got a few chips of his horn in yer idiot head. Probably the only thing in there right now.” Pallas had gone to one of the palace medics for treatment for her wounds from the duel the day before. So far, she was regretting not asking for a needle and thread and taking care of it herself.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about the knife wound in her side?” Bianca asked, poking the unwrapped wound, Pallas' coat shaved around the stitches.

“If she isn’t dead from that yet, she ain’t gonna die from it unless somepony decides they want to play with it,” the medic said. “You know what would have happened if that’d gone in another inch?”

“I’d be dead?” Pallas guessed, grumbling at his rough treatment.

“No, you’d just hurt a lot more,” Hooves replied. “You got lucky, ain’t nothing there but meat. It’s gonna bleed like a little bitch, though, and it’s gonna hurt coming out. It got stuck on yer rib. I wanted t’ check your eye first. What in Tartarus made you think it was a good idea to headbutt a unicorn?”

“It seemed like a great plan at the time,” Pallas shrugged. “And it kept him from casting any spells on me.”

“Yeah, well you almost ended up walking away blind on one side,” Hooves retorted.

“And he ended up dead,” said a voice from the doorway. Ambassador Xaaron stumbled in, reeking of apple whiskey. “A stupid plan isn’t stupid if it works. I wanted to offer you my congratulations on the result of the duel. You are as fine a warrior as you claim.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Pallas said, struggling to keep her expression neutral.

“Once we’re at peace, I’d like to extend an invitation for you to visit the Empire,” Xaaron declared. He puffed up his chest and nearly managed to walk in a straight line. “You’d like it. We appreciate warriors like you. Of course you’d have to get over your odd cultural bias against meat…”

“Aren’t you supposed to be negotiating with the Princesses?” Bianca asked, tilting her head.

“Bah!” Xaaron dismissed the notion with a wave of his talon. “They’re so busy yelling at each other they didn’t even notice when I left. Nothing is getting done today.” He collapsed onto a cot, rolling over and staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t you have bodyguards who should be keeping an eye on you?” Bianca noted, flying over to the door and looking around for them.

“Am I not safe here?” Xaaron asked, tilting his head to look down his body at Bianca, his neck stretching in the way only a cat could really manage. “I thought this to be the safest room in the palace. The good doctor is sworn to do no harm, you’re too innocent to be an assassin, and the dragon pretending to be a pony over there…” He pointed at Pallas. “Well, haven’t you ever heard the saying that the safest place to spend winter is in a bear’s den, because only a fool would follow, and you need not fear a fool.”

“Must be a griffon saying,” Pallas mumbled, trying to keep perfectly still as the doctor closed the cut over her eye with sutures. “I didn’t learn many while I was busy cutting your soldiers apart.”

“Quite understandable,” Xaaron nodded, rolling over to his belly to look at the black mare. “They weren’t my soldiers, of course, but no hard feelings nonetheless.”

“Do you even know what kind of horrible things they did?” Pallas asked, glaring at him.

“Most people do terrible things in war,” Xaaron said. “Most would consider what you did today to be quite terrible. Beheading an opponent in one swing. Tell me, was that the first time you killed another pony?” He nodded when Pallas looked down. “I thought as much. How did it feel?”

“It didn’t,” Pallas blurted out. “It didn’t feel like anything, I mean. I was just so angry with that bitch Golden Showers that I didn’t care who she put in the way.”

“Good to hear you have some sense in you,” Xaaron laughed. “I swear, I don’t know how to deal with you ponies. I’ve had to listen to your leaders scream at each other all day. If they were griffons they’d have either killed each other or gotten married by now.”

“Ew,” Bianca stuck out her tongue. “They’re sisters.”

“True,” Xaaron sighed. “That always makes it more difficult. You can choose your comrades, but you can’t choose your family. If those two don’t stop playing around with all these dominance games, though, this treaty is never going to get written.”

“Dominance games?” Pallas asked.

“You know,” Xaaron said, waving a talon. “Luna is shooting down any proposal she didn’t make herself, because she doesn’t want to look weak and thinks that the only way to show how strong she is is to refuse to compromise. Celestia, meanwhile, is agreeing to everything that Luna doesn’t propose, because she’s trying to show just how mature she is, and how benevolent and kind she can be that she’s even listening to her enemies. Of course, it also annoys her sister, and both of them are getting worse.”

“It’s that bad?” Bianca asked.

Xaaron rolled his eyes. “I expect in a few more drafts, Luna will want Emperor Zephyranthes to give up his throne and have all griffons thrown in prison – especially the children. Meanwhile, Celestia will add in clauses to give griffons control of most of Equestria, just because someone suggested it as a joke and she saw how annoyed it made Luna.”

“And you’re getting drunk,” Pallas said. “Instead of helping.”

“I’m not supposed to be a damn mediator between them!” Xaaron snapped. “I’m just here to make sure this treaty goes through so we can put this bloody thing behind us. Neither of them are working towards that at all right now, so yes, I’m getting drunk and letting them have their little tiff in private.”

“Maybe I’ll talk to Luna,” Bianca sighed. “I might be able to talk some sense into her.”

“Thank you,” Xaaron groaned. “I swear, you ponies will be the death of me.”

~~~***~~~

Luna paced back and forth in her chambers, stacks of paper floating around her, most of them bearing Celestia’s royal seal. She tossed a few aside, focusing on others.

“My sister has been busy ruining Equestria in my absence,” Luna muttered. “None of these laws would have been passed were I here instead of in the field. How am I to protect my little ponies when I am besieged on every front? Griffons attack our lands from without, and Celestia drives us to ruin from within.”

“Luna, calm down,” Bianca said. “They can’t all be that bad. And you know she’s just trying to do what she thinks is best. The two of you just have different priorities.” Bianca picked up one of the discarded missives from where it had landed near the pillow she was perched on. “I mean this one’s about war orphans and spending funds to house them and find them homes.”

“…You’re right,” Luna sighed, dropping the papers and sighing. “I might be judging her unfairly. I am just very frustrated with her right now. There is something coming from just over the horizon and she cannot sense it at all.”

“You’d think being the sun and moon, you’d be able to handle over-the-horizon,” Bianca quipped, smiling.

“Indeed,” Luna said, with no mirth in her voice. She stared at the mess of papers carpeting the floor. “But we are very different, in important ways. Do you know Celestia can sense every time somepony is born?”

“She can?” Bianca blinked, tilting her head.

“Yes. You’re not wrong when you say we are the sun and moon. It is more complicated than that, though explaining it would be difficult. Suffice it to say that the sun and moon are reflections of us, or we of them. The sun is a great source of life and light. It feeds the grass, which feeds ponies, and in that way a trace of that energy exists in all of you.”

“This seems more like metaphysics than anything else,” Bianca said.

“Perhaps. But the important thing is this – as she senses life, I can sense death. I can feel it every time a creature takes its last breath. It is a terrible, pressing blackness, reminding me of mortality at every turn. She could not sense how ponies were suffering in the war, but I was aware of it just as you would be aware of a growing and intolerable chill.” Luna stepped to the window, looking up at the moon. “I can sense it drawing near. Another time of great and terrible death, more than I have sensed since Discord.”

“And she can’t feel it at all?” Bianca frowned.

“No. I have warned her about it, and she believes me, which is comforting. However, she thinks that forging a peace treaty will solve this problem, as if a piece of paper will allow tens of thousands to defy a looming death.” Luna turned back to Bianca. “I envy her so much, Bianca. Her life is bordered with joy and growth.”

“Maybe, but you’ve got things she doesn’t, too,” Bianca pointed out. “She can’t see into dreams. That’s like, an infinite number of worlds hidden from her.”

“Yes,” Luna sighed. “Worlds great and terrible, but ultimately unreal. What worth is there to a world where you can change it at a moment’s notice? There is no victory to be had when you have total power and control. I used to spend years simply dreaming, enjoying fantasies where the world was perfect.” Luna snorted. “It was foolish. The world isn’t perfect.”

“Are you saying you don’t think it could be better?” Bianca frowned. “It sounds like you don’t want to even be happy.”

“No, no,” Luna shook her head. “That’s not it at all. You see, my student, this is perhaps a valuable lesson in your training. Everypony has a dream they seek, and it is struggling to reach it that gives meaning to their lives. In a perfect world where everything is free for the taking, life would have no meaning, nor would death.”

Luna walked over to Bianca and ran a hoof through the thestral’s mane. “Come, now. Help me clean this mess, and perhaps apologize to my sister for treating her unfairly.”

Winter Court: Bloodthirsty Sword-Dancer Spirit

27th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas glanced at the buildings around her as she followed Silver Tongue. When they’d walked out of the walls of the city, she hadn’t been expecting to find this. The streets here were crowded, buildings crammed together with no space in between, banners and signs hanging so low Pallas had to occasionally duck to get past while balconies and upper floors loomed so tightly over the street that it was rare to get a glimpse of the sky above them, as if they were walking through a huge building made by mashing an entire city together.

“Watch your head,” Silver Tongue mumbled. “And keep your eyes open. The Low City isn’t terribly safe, though I don’t think anypony here would be stupid enough to pick a fight with you.” Water dripped down from overhead, though in the gloom and confusion, Pallas couldn’t tell if it was rain, a leaking pipe, or something else.

Pallas’ wings shifted under her black cloak. Silver Tongue was wearing one as well. They were surprisingly easy to see in the dim light of flickering magic crystals that were probably as old as Pallas herself, colored lanterns, and candles.

“This place is a lot different from the High City,” Pallas mumbled.

“Of course it is,” Silver Tongue chuckled. “It has an interesting history. This neighborhood was contested by two nobles whom fought over who should control it. It turned out the deeds to their land had been drawn up improperly, and both had equal right to a strip of land directly between them. When they couldn’t agree on how to split the land fairly, Luna took it from them. She declared it to be totally free, though the wording of her decree meant it was free even from Equestrian law.”

“So this is a lawless, ominous slum?” Bianca gasped excitedly. Pallas and Silver Tongue looked back at her. “That’s so exciting!”

“Try not to look too much like a tourist,” Silver Tongue rolled his eyes. “Somepony might decide to take advantage of you.”

“With Pallas around?” Bianca asked.

“Some ponies are stupid,” Silver Tongue replied. “Why, they even tried to mug me, once. Exactly once. The whole Low City smelled like burning hair for a week afterwards.”

“I don’t see why you needed me to protect you,” Pallas said. “If you’ve got a reputation, that’s better protection than any muscle I could provide.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Silver Tongue agreed. “But it’s also been a decade since I was here, and that means I need somepony more obviously intimidating to give me a hoof. I’d rather avoid trouble entirely than have to explain to Luna why I set a dozen ponies on fire in the course of doing a little errand.”

“What are we doing here, anyway?” Bianca asked. Pallas paused to glare into a dark alcove until a shady-looking earth pony walked away, sweat dripping down his face.

“We’re getting something from my old apartment,” Silver Tongue said. “I hid copies of all my notes there from before the Academy had me expelled.”

“You said you were falsely accused of using mind magic,” Pallas frowned. “How false were those accusations?”

“That’s an interesting question,” Silver Tongue grinned, looking back at Pallas. “They were wrong about the exact circumstances. I do know the types of spell they accused me of using, but I never once used them improperly. Even I have limits. That said, Luna wants me to work on something new for her, and I need my old notes to do it.”

“Something new?” Pallas asked, raising an eyebrow. She winced a little as the stitches in her forehead pulled at her flesh.

“It’s nothing terrible,” Silver Tongue shrugged. “Just some improvements she’s looking at for the Dragoons’ armor. Speaking of which, I can’t help but notice you’ve still got Ghost’s wingblades.”

“I haven’t seen him around to give them back,” Pallas shrugged.

“If he wanted them back, he’d have taken them already,” Silver Tongue mumbled. “He must think you still need them. For such a brute, he has a sense about him for such things.” The unicorn walked in silence until they arrived at a nondescript building, the paint peeling and showing a dozen discolored layers, like the strata of a canyon.

“You lived here?” Bianca asked.

“I was quite a troublemaker, a long time ago,” Silver Tongue said. “I was born here. In this building, even. But last time…” Silver Tongue frowned. “Last time, there wasn’t this.” He touched a hoof to a glowing mark on the building’s door. It looked like a pony skull, with the teeth replaced with fangs and a crack in the forehead in the shape of the letter ‘S’.

“What is it?” Bianca asked, stepping up to look.

“It’s a gang marking. And not from my old gang.” Silver Tongue touched it grimly. “I think the building has changed hooves while I was gone.”

“So your notes are already destroyed,” Pallas shrugged.

“No,” Silver Tongue shook his head. “They haven’t been touched. I had an alarm spell built into the strongbox. It hasn’t even been moved, and I doubt the ponies inside even knew to look for it.” He tapped a hoof on the ground in thought. “Well, that will make things less pleasant.”

“Um,” Bianca coughed. “Before you do anything else, what if we try asking nicely first? Maybe they won’t care as long as you take your notes and leave.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Silver Tongue admitted. He ushered Bianca back and knocked on the door. A window in the door slid open, a pony from inside looking out. A wide strip of red paint was across his eyes, as if he’d painted a visor on his face.

“This place is Splatterpony territory. Get out before we do somethin’ you’ll really regret.” The pony said. He sounded like a kid.

“I need to get something I left here,” Silver Tongue said. “I’m not leaving without it. You let me in, I’m in and out in five minutes and you’re ten bits richer.”

“There ain’t nothing of yours here,” the punk snorted. “I ain’t never seen you before.”

“I left it here before you moved in,” Silver Tongue said. “Fifteen bits.”

“Thirty,” the punk demanded.

“Twenty,” Silver Tongue countered. “And that’s my final offer before I get annoyed and have my friends tear this door off and shove it where Celestia herself won't be able to find it.”

The punk grumbled and closed the hatch. There was a sound of chains jangling as the door was unlocked. Pallas’ nose scrunched as she looked inside. As bad as the streets were, inside the apartment was like a dump. Garbage covered the floor, and it stank like something had died there. Maybe somepony had.

Silver Tongue walked in, with the two thestrals following. The punk at the door closed it behind them, locking it again. Pallas gave him a hard look. He was wiry and thin, obviously used to going hungry. Warpaint and scars decorated his coat.

“My room was this way,” Silver Tongue said, ignoring the rot around them. Pallas struggled to keep her wings at her sides as ponies watched them from dark corners, huddled around tiny points of light, fires burning in tin cans and mage lights sparking and sputtering from an improper recharge.

Silver Tongue led them upstairs, the wooden steps creaking ominously. One cracked under Pallas’ weight, nearly sending her through the ruined wood before she caught herself.

“Try not to ruin the building more than you have to,” Silver Tongue said. He tried to open a door with his magic, wood splintering as the knob pulled free and left the door behind. “If you would?”

“Tell me not to ruin the building then in the same breath ask me to break down a door,” Pallas snorted. She turned and bucked, the door exploding inwards. The revealed apartment was as much a mess as the rest of the building. Drifts of garbage were piled up, with mold and mushrooms growing from what was quickly turning into a compost pile.

“Looks like somepony else moved in while I was gone,” Silver Tongue muttered, displeased. He cleared a path through the worst of the garbage with his magic, though not even spellcraft could do much for the smell.

“You sure those notes are here?” Pallas asked, waving for Bianca to stay outside where the air was a little more clear.

“I didn’t just leave it out in the open,” Silver Tongue said. He stopped in front of a wall, tapping against it. “Right here, I think…” He punched through the wall with his hoof, revealing a layer of paper-thin plaster over empty space.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Bianca said, from the doorway.

“We’re almost done,” Silver Tongue grunted, as he pulled a panel away from the wall, the broken plaster revealing a hidden cubbyhole. A tarnished strongbox lay inside. Silver Tongue smiled and took it, stuffing it into his saddlebags. “Excellent. Undisturbed. I knew all that paranoia would come in handy one day.”

Pallas’ ear twitched, and she looked back towards the door. Bianca was already at the stairs and looking over the railing.

“There’s some kind of fight going on downstairs!” Bianca said, turning to look back at Pallas. As she moved, a feathered shaft suddenly sprouted from her shoulder. If she’d moved a moment later, it would have gone into her neck. Bianca’s eyes went wide, and she looked at the arrow in shock for a moment before screaming in pain and falling back towards the doorway.

“Bianca!” Pallas screamed, grabbing her and pulling her inside, out of the suddenly dangerous stairwell.

“It hurts!” Bianca gasped.

“We have to leave it in,” Pallas muttered. “It’s going to reduce the bleeding.”

“No, get it out now!” Silver Tongue hissed. “Look at the edges of the wound!” He lit up his horn to give them more light. Foam was starting to show where the arrow met Bianca’s skin. “That’s poisoned!”

Pallas grabbed the shaft and ripped it free before he even finished the word, spitting it out. Her lips were already going numb from the residual venom.

“P-poison?!” Bianca gasped, as blood started to flow freely.

“Pallas, gangs don’t use poisoned crossbow bolts,” Silver Tongue said. “Whoever this is, they’re damn serious.”

“Fine,” Pallas said. “You get her out of here. I’m going to keep them busy.”

“Pallas, I’m scared…” Bianca shivered, trying to stand and failing, crying out as she put weight on her wounded shoulder.

“Don’t move around too much,” Silver Tongue said. He lifted her with his magic. “I know a few shortcuts to get out of here quickly. The castle is too far, though. I’m going to get her to somepony I trust.”

“Fine,” Pallas hissed. “Just get her out of here! Bianca, you’re going to be fine. I promise.” Pallas turned and charged for the stairs. She could hear ponies walking up, trying to be quiet about it. Not that they were quiet enough for the delicate hearing of a thestral. Pallas didn’t bother with the steps, just smashing through the rotting railing with her wingblades held in front of her.

There were three ponies on the stairs, each of them in odd cloaks that almost seemed to blend with the walls and stairs, patterns and colors shifting to make them almost seem to blur as they moved. Pallas felt a bolt bounce off of her right wingblade, fired on reflex by one of the ponies below. With a shift of her weight, and ignoring the pain in her sore wing from the forced glide, she slammed into the lead pony, blades sinking into his flesh.

The stairs gave out a moment later as her weight hit them, the unkempt wood finally collapsing, plunging all four ponies down two stories.

Pallas spread her wings again, just barely managing to slow her fall. The would-be assassins weren’t so lucky. She waited a moment until it felt like her wing was going to give out and let herself fall, dropping hooves-first onto the only one of the three to stand on his own. She felt bones break under her, and the twang of a crossbow going off.

Pallas flipped the pony over. Under the fancy cloak, he was a nondescript pony, the kind that could blend into the background anywhere and not stand out. Well, aside from the crossbow bolt through his eye, and the foaming mouth.

She dropped him and stormed over to the next pony, the one she’d stabbed. She didn’t bother moving him. The puddle of blood under his torso didn’t look terribly survivable.

Pallas glanced at the last pony. He was trying to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood and not using his back hooves.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Pallas growled, kicking him in the side. He screamed, and when she turned him over she saw why. A splinter of a beam, as long as her fetlock and as wide as a sword, was going through his belly and out the other side.

Pallas grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up to look into his eyes.

“Who are you working for?!” She demanded. “Where’s the antidote?!”

The pony just laughed and spat in her face.

Pallas threw him aside, running to one of the fallen assassins and searching them, looking for anything that might help. A sudden feeling of danger washed over her like a cold wind, and she threw herself through a doorway just as the air erupted into black flame.

“Damn…” Pallas hissed. The backblast from that fireball had burned half of her tail off, leaving the hair cropped and scorched. She’d landed in something warm and wet. She looked down to see the punk who had opened the door for them. Somepony had slit his throat from ear to ear.

Pallas stood and peeked around the doorway. She ducked back as a bolt of black fire lanced through the opening. She’d only gotten a glimpse of her opponent. A unicorn, in the same kind of cloak as the rest of the killers.

“How much are they paying you to die?” Pallas yelled, not leaving her cover yet until she thought up a brilliant plan.

“Fifty thousand for your head. Twenty five for Luna’s freak student,” the unicorn said. It sounded like a mare. Pallas could just about pinpoint her from the sound of her voice. Too far away to charge and avoid being burned to death.

“That’s a lot of money,” Pallas admitted. “Guess it helps now that you’re not splitting it.”

“Oh, I’m still splitting it two ways,” she said. Pallas felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up just before the shape crawling along the ceiling dropped down onto her back, fangs sinking into her neck. She roared in pain, bucking to try and get it to let go of her flesh.

“Stupid bucking-“ Pallas reared up and slammed her back into the wall, the monster on her back finally losing its grip. She turned to face it. It was a hideous thing, like a vulture with the head of a caribou and the fangs of a wolf.

“He’s a Peryton, in case you’re curious,” the mare said. Pallas looked towards her, only now realizing in her panic that she’d moved in front of the open doorway and into her firing line again. Her horn lit up with a flickering orange and crimson light. “Now be a good little pony and die.”

Winter Court: Battle Fury Focus

27th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas jumped straight up as a burst of black flames exploded at her hooves, her wings too wide to extend in the confines of the hovel she found herself in. A wave of heat hit her at the same time as the feathered form that slammed into her chest, knocking her back with supernatural strength. She was thrown back into a couch, the rotting fabric and wood snapping under the hammerblow of her crash landing.

The peryton flew back as she lashed out at it with a hoof, the monster jumping across the room in a single bound, moving so quickly it almost seemed to blur in the dim light. Pallas panted, wiping blood from her mouth from where she’d bit her tongue.

“You’re still wounded from your duel,” the mare in the other room said, waiting for Pallas to make a foolish move and expose herself to the suppressive fire the unicorn was providing again. “And on top of that you’re nursing injuries from your war.”

“You say that like you weren’t involved.” Pallas kept her eyes on the stag-headed monster as it flickered from side to side, not wanting to get flanked by it again.

“Who says I was?” The mare had a strange accent. Pallas couldn’t quite place it, but it reminded her of when Bianca was upset.

Bianca. Pallas felt something tug at her heart. She really hoped Silver Tongue had an escape route planned. It was the first time she really hoped his paranoia was going to pay off.

“So who hired you?” Pallas asked. “I mean, I can guess. There’s only one rich idiot who would
want me dead.”

“Only one? Is that what you really think?” The mare sounded amused. “You’ve no idea just what kind of enemies you have. That said, I do want you to know this is nothing personal. I’m just doing a dirty little job.”

“Even though I killed your soldiers?” The peryton snapped its teeth, a false lunge forwards that stopped as soon as Pallas raised her blades. Despite how much it looked like a mindless beast, she felt like there was a cunning, dangerous intelligence behind its glowing eyes.

“Assassins, dear, not soldiers,” the mare corrected. “And only initiates at that. A useful first wave, though. They’ve already served to separate you from your friends and given our secondary target a death sentence. In fact, I’m quite pleased with their performance. I was expecting they’d die without doing more than drawing you out into the open.”

“If you’d just been after me, I’d tell you to walk away,” Pallas said. “I’m going to kill you for what you did to Bianca, though. And it’s not gonna be a nice clean death, either”

“You’re not going to have a chance,” the mare said. “Brains beats muscle every single time. The peryton is faster than you, I’m smarter, and both of us know something you don’t.”

“And what’s that?” Pallas asked.

“That while we keep you busy, somepony else is going to make sure your freaky little marefriend doesn’t make it to a doctor.”

~~~***~~~

Silver Tongue balanced Bianca in the air behind him. His telekinesis wasn’t terribly strong, as he’d always been more worried about making sure he could manage the delicate work of inscribing runes and enchantments into objects, and while he could manage her weight, he wanted to make sure he didn’t swing the injured mare he was holding into a wall. Trying to hold her and fling the chair he was holding was like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time, something that should have been easy in principle but required concentration.

“Hang on,” Silver Tongue said. He threw the chair through the window, the cracked glass shattering under the blow and exploding outwards. He followed it, carefully stepping out onto an awning stretched tightly enough to just barely support his weight.

Thankfully, his delicate touch came in hoof as he maneuvered Bianca out through the window, deftly avoiding the shards of glass still affixed to the frame.

“There’s a pony that runs a clinic just a few streets away,” Silver Tongue assured her. “Well, not exactly a pony but… you’ll see. He’s trustworthy. Saved my life a few times and taught me more about magic than the Academy ever did.”

“I-it hurts,” Bianca whispered. “It feels like all my muscles are cramping.”

“I know,” Silver Tongue said, sympathetically. “Just stay awake, and don’t move too much. I’m sorry I couldn’t close the wound, but letting it bleed might mean some of the poison comes out with the blood. You understand?” Bianca nodded. “Okay. Good. You need to live because otherwise Luna is going to kill me.”

Bianca’s eyes went wide as she looked past him, her mouth opening to yell something. Silver Tongue threw up a shield before even turning, the runes along his horn lighting up as a hemisphere of light appeared behind him.

Steel slammed into the shield, caught in the field of magic and hanging in midair. Silver Tongue took a step back as he turned. His shield had held, just barely. A projectile as long as a spear and made entirely of metal had impacted with enough force that a hooflength of it had gotten through the barrier, the shield only catching it partway down its length.

“Tartarus,” Silver Tongue swore, spitting as he looked into the shadows. A fraction of a second slower and he’d be dead already. There was no sign of where it had come from. He backed slowly away from the direction it had come from. He needed to get the rest of the way down to the ground, and avoid.

Silver Tongue felt the impact of the next bolt like a punch to the horn, the weapon embedding itself into his magic. He paled as he saw where it was pointed, right towards where Bianca was hanging in the air. Silver Tongue pulled her closer to protect her better. The bolts in his shield were giving him a headache but he didn’t dare drop it for even a second to free them.

A glint caught his eye, and he looked at the tip of the weapon closely. The edge wasn’t steel, but some kind of dimly glowing green crystal, faceted and polished to a razor-sharp arrowhead and girded in steel for strength, leaving only the very edges exposed. He could feel it drawing on his magic, siphoning mana from his shield.

“No wonder it got through…” he muttered.

There was a jerk underhoof. A bolt slammed into one of the supports for the awning that was already barely supporting Silver Tongue, snapping the wood with the force of its blow. Silver Tongue pitched forwards as he fell two stories down to land on a cart of cabbages that had seen better days, the leaves browning and wilted. He lost his magical grip on Bianca, the thestral landing next to him. The two crystal-tipped bolts dropped to the ground heavily as his shield collapsed.

“Thank Harmony for soft landings,” he muttered, grabbing Bianca and rolling to the side of the cart facing the building’s outer wall, taking cover behind it.

“Just my luck,” Silver Tongue muttered. “I manage to avoid doing any real fighting for the whole war, then when I get home I get attacked by a bunch of ponies I’ve never even seen before. I don’t remember making anypony upset enough to kill me.”

“Second building on the right,” Bianca whispered. “The third floor.”

“What?” Silver Tongue frowned, looking over the cabbage cart. Bianca grabbed his leg and pulled him down as a bolt slammed through the air where his head had been.

“I can hear where they’re coming from, and the window there is open. I think I saw somepony moving around up there.” Bianca glanced up, shivering.

“Right,” Silver Tongue muttered. “It’s days like this that make me wish I’d studied evocation. Must be something I can do…” He looked at the cart. “Hm. I’ve got an idea.”

~~~***~~~

Pallas followed the petyron, just barely able to keep up with its movements. She knew she had, at best, only a few moments before it or the mare attacked again, and if somepony was about to ambush Bianca and Silver Tongue, she didn’t have that time to waste.

She dropped her guard and deliberately looked away, towards the doorway. The petyron lunged at her, talons sinking into her barrel like knives. Instead of trying to fight it off, she grabbed it with her wing and ran towards the door. It pushed at her, trying to get away.

The unicorn outside flung a bolt of fire at Pallas. The black flames struck the monster in the back, between the wings, and Pallas was nearly deafened as it screeched in pain, the stink of burning feathers filling the room. Pallas grabbed its neck with her teeth, blunt teeth holding the thrashing monster in place as it raked at her side.

“No! Get away!” the unicorn screeched. She fired another magical attack, the hot spark exploding into a burst of flames. Pallas closed her eyes against the heat and light, her ears folding as she felt blisters forming where she wasn’t shielded by the monster she was holding as a bulwark against the fire.

Pallas slammed a wingblade into and through the petyron, the heavy blade splitting it in two. She felt resistance as something caught her attack. The petyron fell away, blood spraying into the air and splattering against the glasslike surface of a hardened magical aura.

“You’re no match for me!” The assassin yelled and pushed Pallas’ blade away, the weapon starting to grow warmer as her magic pressed on it.

Pallas turned, her injured wing lashing out, the other wingblade sweeping up into the shield as she pulled the first back, the edge of the blade glowing a dull red with heat. The unicorn grunted with effort as she kept the shield going, flames licking up from the floor where the border of the barrier intersected the wood and trash at her feet.

“Knock it off, you idiot!” She screamed. “You’re hurting yourself more than you’re hurting me!”

The first wingblade came down again, the edge still glowing. The unicorn was sweating, her knees starting to shake. The other blade hit again, forcing the unicorn to her knees as she struggled to maintain the shield.

“Can’t you even feel that?” The mare whispered, as she tried to keep her shield from breaking, every blow sending a sympathetic shudder through her horn.

Pallas roared and attacked with both blades at once, scything into the shield like a huge pair of scissors. The field of magic collapsed in a rush of hot air, the unicorn frozen in horror as she was left defenseless. Blood sizzled on the wingblades like water on a skillet as they slashed through her body, the gore steaming on Pallas’ coat as she breathed heavily, the red rain soothing her burns.

~~~***~~~

“Normally a magus is expected to say something rather dramatic before enacting his brilliant plan,” Silver Tongue muttered. “Forgive me if I decide not to give our attacker any warning instead.” His horn lit up, and the cabbages in the cart started shaking as a magical aura sank into them.

As one, they bounced out of the cart like they were being thrown. The cabbages hit the street and rolled as a mass towards the building. The cart shuddered as a bolt hit it, cracking right through the wood, the tip sparking as it scraped against the street.

“Come on,” Silver Tongue said, lifting Bianca in his aura. “I don’t know how long that’ll keep him busy.”

“Your plan was to throw cabbages across the road and run while he reloads?” Bianca asked, her voice weak.

“No, my plan was to put a come-to-life spell on the cabbages and have them give our attacker a nice big hug,” Silver Tongue retorted. Bianca watched as the vegetables crawled up the side of the building like they were rolling down a hill, converging on the open window and bounding inside. There was a cry of alarm from within, and Silver Tongue’s pace quickened.

“I thought you’d be more the type to throw a lightning bolt…” Bianca whispered.

“Too crass and not good for anything except hurting another pony. I prefer spells that have more than one use to them.” Silver Tongue shot a glance back to her, then shook her up and down like a doll. “No going to sleep! You have to stay awake and alert!”

“I’m just so tired…” Bianca complained.

“And I don’t want to end up dead when your marefriend finds out I didn’t get you to a doctor in time!” Silver Tongue snapped. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want to die either.” She didn’t reply. He looked back at her. Bianca’s eyes were closed and her breathing was fast and shallow. “Bianca?” He shook her. “Wake up!”

Winter Court: Eye of the Unconquered Sun

27th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Bianca groaned. She felt sore, her muscles burning like she’d had to run a marathon. She was lying in a bed, the sheets unpleasantly damp with sweat. Everything stank with the bizarre odor of spices and herbs that she’d never encountered before, a cloying smell like somepony had burned dinner.

“She’s coming around,” an unfamiliar voice said, with an odd accent that made every word seem to end in a hiss. Bianca’s eyes opened and she immediately tried to crawl away from what she saw.

Looming over her was one of the strangest beings she’d ever seen, a pony with an orange coat dotted with green scales, long whiskers curling from its nose. It looked down at her with curious golden eyes, the pupils slit like a cat’s.

“Calm down, girl,” Silver Tongue said, appearing from behind the strange figure. “This is Ryujin. He’s a doctor, sort of.” Bianca looked around. She was in a dimly-lit room, the walls covered in shelves that had obviously been scavenged from a dozen different sources. Jars lined them thickly, most filled with strange powders or liquids. A bundle of sage burned on a table at her side, providing a lot of the strange funk that assaulted her nostrils.

“I don’t have, ah, what you ponies would call a medical degree,” Ryujin said. “And to answer your inevitable next question, I’m a kirin. Half dragon. Not terribly common here, from what I am to understand, and I have spent enough time in your land to be quite sure.”

“He helped take care of me when I was a foal,” Silver Tongue said. “Saved my life a few times when I was sick.”

“I also tried to teach him a few things about medicine, not that he had a taste for it,” Ryujin stepped back and pulled a few of the strange jars down. His front legs ended in talons, almost like a griffon’s, while his tail was a long, sinuous length of scales ending in a tuft of hair.

“What happened?” Bianca whispered. “Where’s Pallas?”

“You should be more concerned about yourself,” Ryujin said. “You were poisoned with crystal thorn venom. Quite a rare poison, especially these days. It is made from-“

“Crystal Berry bushes,” Bianca sighed. “I know. The thorns are a deadly poison, even if the berries are delicious. My mom always warned us to stay away from them.”

“Ah, so you are from the north,” Ryujin nodded. “Truly, it is terrible what happened there. Luckily for you, I have many resources at my disposal, and quartzroot is among them. It makes a wonderful poultice for a poisoned wound. And quite pleasant tea. It is fortunate that I did not drink all of it away, though I admit I have something of a bad habit of hanging onto odds and ends. Perhaps a bit of a hoarding instinct, though I find herbs more useful than gold and gems.”

“Am I-“ Bianca looked at her shoulder. A bandage was wrapped around it, already soaked through with green and brown, the smell of fresh grass and mint rising from it as Bianca touched it. It didn’t hurt, but instead felt numb and tingly.

“You’ll be fine,” Silver Tongue snorted. “If you were really in trouble I’d be gone already.”

“I’d have given you a five minute head start,” said a voice from the other room.

“You’re supposed to stay in bed and rest!” Ryujin hissed. The curtain over the doorway was pushed aside, and a figure stumbled inside, wrapped entirely in bandages like a mummy. “Those burns were bad enough without a silly pony refusing to take an honored physician’s advice!”

“I don’t need rest,” the pony growled. She moved bandages that had gotten into her eyes. Navy-blue fur edging on black showed through where the bandages didn’t completely cover her body.

“Pallas?” Bianca blinked. “What happened to you?”

“Ran into another unicorn who wanted me dead. Seems to be a running theme,” Pallas shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

“She nearly burned to death,” Ryujin countered. “The big one is hurt worse than the smaller and is a worse patient. It is like treating a foal who fears a doctor more than her own injury.”

“You should have sedated her,” Silver Tongue muttered. Pallas stepped up to the bed and knelt next to it, leaning onto it. Her weight made the cot creak in protest as she nuzzled Bianca.

“I did. It was the only way I was able to keep her still long enough to rub salve into her wounds and bandage her body.” Ryujin sighed. “There should be little scarring, despite her recklessness, and if she uses the soap I am willing to sell her at a very reasonable price, she won’t smell like burning hair while her coat is growing back in. She is doubly fortunate that I am well aware of the mystery of flame.”

“Oh here we go again about the mystery of flame…” Silver Tongue shook his head and walked to the doorway. “They don’t need your stories to get well.”

“Aww… does that mean I don’t get a bedtime story?” Bianca giggled. She curled up next to where Pallas was kneeling, running a hoof through what was left of her mane, the edges singed and burned.

“You’re too old for stories,” Pallas mumbled, her voice muffled by fur.

“No one is too old for stories!”

“Fine, but just one,” Pallas sighed.

“I think I know a most appropriate tale,” Ryujin said. “It is the tale from centuries ago, as much myth and legend as history…”

“Know, little ponies, that between the years when the Sisters defeated Discord and the rise of the monster Tirek, there was an age when the world lay still and untamed, when the shining kingdoms of Equuis were mere fancies in the dreaming of conquering kings. The proudest kingdom of the world was Equestria, reigning supreme with its immortal rulers and great might.

Hither came the pony sisters, fresh from their defeat of Discord and flush with purpose. It was a dead world, left wounded in the wake of Discord's defeat. The wind did not blow, fires would not burn, rivers were stagnant in their banks, and the earth shook underhoof as though the bedrock was mere sand.

The only constants in the world were the Unconquered Sun and Everchanging Moon, and they knew that after a long era of rule by the spirit Discord, the land no longer had the power to care for itself. The trickster spirit had so broken Equuis that the foundations of the sea and sky were falling apart. Without drastic action, the world the Sun and Moon had saved would die.

In a great work of prophesy, the sisters discovered that the path to salvation would require new immortals to rise to shepherd the great works of the world just as they shepherded the heavens. They left their lands and first journied to the east, seeking those worthy of the great gift.

One day, the Sun and Moon found an encampment of griffons, a party of hunters and warriors who roamed the steppe of those eastern lands near where the sun rose each day. They approached in disguise as mere mortal ponies, and the conquering king of that tribe bid them join him, curious about what tales the travellers would have.

For three days, the Sun and Moon feasted with the king, speaking of the events far outside his land and being treated as kings themselves, for as vicious a foe as the king could be, he was a generous ruler who was well-versed in the seven ways of honoring guests. On the third day, their merriment turned to a serious discussion.

'You are a fine ruler,' said the Sun, 'But I would ask you this: what would you give your people, if you had the power?'

The king meditated on this for some time before answering.

'I would not give them a home, for we are nomads.'

He meditated more.

'I would not give them wealth, for we take what we need from this land and trinkets would only weigh us down.'

He thought again for long minutes.

'I would not give them glory, for it not something that can be granted by a king but only earned for oneself.'

'Then what would you give them?' the Moon asked.

'I would give them the sky again,' the King decided. 'The air refuses to give wind to our wings, the rain comes and goes and we cannot control it as in the old tales. If I could give my people a boon, it would be that.'

'Then you must fly west,' the Sun said. She was wise in the ways of the world, and knew that traveling that way would always bring him where he wanted to go, and it is for this reason that the Sun rises in the East and flies towards the West itself.

'What is to the west?' the King asked.

'Your destiny, though I know not if it will be for good or ill,' replied the Moon. 'You are a conquering king, and I am not sure you are worthy of what you seek.' And though it was in the nature of the Moon to lie, in this she spoke truth.

'I am worthy of any prize that can be given,' the King contested.

'Not everything is a prize, nor can a prize be given - it must be earned,' the Moon replied.

The king contemplated that for the rest of the night. As the dawn approached, his guests vanished into the darkness, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

When the sun rose, he gave his great spear to his daughter and told her to rule in his absence, then flew with the sun at his back into the still sky.

He flew higher and higher, beating his wings against the stagnant air and struggling for lift that was denied to him. He reached the clouds, and rested for a time, looking in all directions, but he did not see the prize he had been promised, so he flew on.

He continued west as the sun set, and reached the highest clouds, mere wisps of ice and vapor at the very edge of the sky, where the air was so thin that his lungs burned, but he did not see the prize he was seeking, so he flew on.

He flew on into the silent abyss above him, until everything above him was black and he'd left even the blue of the sky behind. He saw many things from that great height, secrets of the world and the true shape of all things. In that cold, only his ambition and desire warmed him, the tips of his feathers turning to ice that remains there to this day.

With nowhere else to go, he flew down, the still air like a wall of steel in front of him, and with the great speed of his dive the sky broke before him with a great sound like the clash of thunder. He landed, and found himself at his home again, having returned to the same place despite only going west. This would have been a wonder to him, but he had seen the world from above and knew the secret path that had led him here across the shape of Equuis.

The sun was rising again at his back as his people came out to see him. He had changed, growing larger than any of his people, his feathers a bright and gleaming green like emeralds, glittering in the dawn light.

'What did you learn in your journey?' the Sun asked, appearing at the same time as the solar disk, among his people where she had not been a moment before.

'I saw how small we all are,' the King said. 'Even my lands are but a tiny corner of the world, and my thoughts were even smaller. I saw that borders are just lines on a map, and that all the struggles we face and everyone I have ever known are invisible to the sky.'

He felt in his heart a longing to see it all as one again, though as a conquering king this was a dangerous desire, which would in the future cause great strife as he tried to create that unity he imagined through force.

'And the wind?' the Moon asked, stepping out of the long shadows that lingered from the night.

For the first time, the king realized that the wind he had felt on his wings when he had descended from the heavens had not abated, his wake continuing across the steppe in an endless echo of his flight.

'It was not a prize to be won,' the king said. 'I see now that the air was stagnant not because the wind was withheld by a tyrant, but because there was no tyrant at all, just an empty throne with no one to sit in it.'

'Indeed,' the Sun agreed.

'It is a responsibility,' the king said. 'One I must bear, because there is no one else who can.'

'Remember, then, that it is a responsibility to all of Equuis,' the Moon said. 'Just as ours is.'

The Sun and Moon revealed their true glory, and the griffons bowed before them, all save the conquering king, who had sworn an oath never to kneel before any.

'Why have you given me this burden?' the king asked.

'As you said, you were the only one who can bear it,' the Sun said. 'You are the Howling Wind, as I am the Unconquered Sun and my sister is the Everchanging Moon. We welcome you as a brother, and bid you join us as we search for the others destined to repair what has been broken in the reign of chaos.'

'I shall come,' he said. 'For I have seen the world's problems, and it is not such a bounded place that they can be ignored merely because they seem distant.'

'That is wiser than I expected of you,' the Moon said.

The three took to the air, the new winds carrying them on their way. In the coming years, the blessings of the wind were given to those who were able to use their gifts, the pegasai, griffons, and others.”

“And that is how Celestia and Luna met Zephyranthes for the first time, and how he became an immortal.”

“Zephyranthes?” Pallas frowned. “That can’t be true.”

“Perhaps it is, perhaps not,” Ryujin shrugged. “The tales of those times are as myth, in this modern era. It is an old tale though, and thus easier to believe that there is some part of truth to its telling. It is certainly true that the Emperor is immortal, and that he is well-known for controlling the winds.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Pallas mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Pray you never do,” Ryujin sighed.

Winter Court: Terrifying Apparition of Glory

28th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Luna paced furiously in her chambers, her mane rippling behind her as if blowing in a strong and tempestuous wind, snapping back and forth with her annoyance.

“Assassins,” she growled. “They think they can operate here, in Everfree, with no consequence?” She stomped a hoof, the stone floor cracking.

“They were all killed,” Silver Tongue said. “Or at least most of them. They were quite well prepared, though. They knew where we were going and they were outfitted well to try and kill us.” He put a hoof on one of the emerald-edged bolts that had been fired at him. “These are worth dozens, maybe even hundreds of bits each. The crystal edge is grown into the correct form, and designed to cut through magical protection.”

“And the poison they used is from Crystal Berry bushes,” Luna said. “I am well aware. I fought against the Tyrant’s forces myself when my sister and I were forced to deal with him. The assassins were refugees from the Crystal Empire. Everything at hoof points to that conclusion.”

“At least we agree with that,” Silver Tongue sighed. “It’s lucky for them that the Empire is gone, or else Pallas Athene would be flying north right now.”

“I cannot afford to have her go on a rampage right now,” Luna sighed. “She has been through much, lately.”

“Yes,” Silver Tongue said. “But what we need to worry about is that somepony is clearly intercepting your private communications. I was the only one who knew where I was going. If it had just been the assassins in the building I could have believed that they had just followed us, but the sniper across the street means they knew where we would be.”

“I know,” Luna said. She picked up one of the shifting cloaks, recovered from the downed assassins. “It is possible they are merely using scrying effects, but we should assume the worst. I want an internal investigation done. Find out if we have a traitor in our midst.”

“And what about Pallas?” Silver Tongue frowned. “She’s going to go after Golden Showers. She’s convinced that mare is behind everything.”

“Unfortunately, she is correct,” Luna said. “The bits that the assassins were carrying were new and uncirculated. They were straight from the mint, which Golden Showers controls. She paid them, with funds that would be untraceable if she were more careful.”

“Good for us that she’s a fool, then,” Silver Tongue mumbled. “You can hardly allow her to do as she pleases, though. Her next attempt may bear more fruit.”

“I don’t intend to,” Luna said, returning to pacing around her room. “But there are problems besides that. There are whispers in the shadows and things in dreams that suggest strongly that Golden Showers is merely the most foolish member of a coven that seeks to oppose me. I would not dispose of her too quickly, as a fool is most useful when working for your enemy, and if I were to strike her down before making use of her to draw the others out I would miss my chance to strike all the heads of this hydra at once.”

“So what, you’re just going to allow her to do as she pleases?” Silver Tongue frowned.

“If we move against her, it will alert those more careful in their dealings. I intend to leave her alone and watch her, as somepony watches me. Unfortunately, until we learn the truth behind the extent of their web, we must assume the worst. These chambers are sealed against magical intrusion and more mundane methods alike, and meeting in person while leaving no written record of our dealings will only further guard against interlopers.”

“As you wish,” Silver Tongue said, shrugging. “But we still need to decide what to tell your apprentice.”

“I don’t wish to deceive her, but I must say something, at least enough that she can convince the Centurion to stand down.” Luna slowed as she considered. “Their bond may be the best way to keep them out of trouble, in fact. I shall set Pallas Athene as her personal guard, an assignment she’d never refuse and will be grateful to have. Then I merely have to keep Bianca under control.”

“You speak as if that’s easy.” Silver Tongue idly played with an ornate gem-studded bracelet. “The only way to keep her out of trouble is with constant supervision.”

“Ambassador Xaaron wouldn’t mind some company while we work on the terms of the treaty,” Luna shrugged. “And my sister might listen to reason if it comes from a pony other than I.”

“Are you going to tell your sister about what happened?”

“I must,” Luna said, stopping where she stood. “She will hear about it anyway, one way or the other. She has her own eyes and ears, just as I do. I would be a fool to try and keep it a secret, and for more reasons than that. As much as we fight, she would not try and stab me in the back. I will, though, keep my findings to myself. I want to know what she finds with her own investigations.”

“You think this is all being set up?” Silver Tongue asked.

“It is a little too easy of an answer, is it not?” Luna asked. “Certainly, Golden Showers has enough reason to want to see me hurt, but it is too simple an answer. She may well have been involved, but I feel she is just a puppet, and another is pulling her strings from the shadows.”

~~~***~~~

“It’s not about slaves,” Xaaron said. “It’s about promises. They were sold by the Emperor, and going back on a deal by simply taking them from the clans would both weaken his position and cause doubts about his ability to lead and deliver on what he has promised.”

“They were not his to sell,” Luna countered.

“By Imperial law, they were,” Xaaron retorted. “All prisoners of war can be sold as slaves at the discretion of the Emperor. It’s more pleasant than being a prisoner anyway, and probably no worse than being a soldier.”

“There’s an easy compromise,” Celestia said. “We can simply buy the prisoners back from the clans.”

“We do not have time to sit on our flanks and make deals with dozens of clans,” Luna retorted.

“And what if they do not wish to allow us to buy their freedom?”

“The treaty can include provisions that set the price,” Xaaron offered. “You have to understand, it’s not about the money either. It’s about honor. If the Emperor simply takes the slaves, he is insulting the clan. At least some kind of compensation, even if it’s little more than a token effort, must be made.”

“It galls me to think we must pay ransom for the freedom of our subjects,” Luna grumbled.

“We were already discussing having Zephyranthes pay war restitution for the damages his soldiers caused,” Celestia said. “We could simply have him pay the clans instead.”

“No, no,” Xaaron shook his head. “You have to understand the… nature of the thing. Honor demands that the payment comes from you. Take the gold from the Emperor, but pay the clans with something else. Gems, perhaps. They’re valued more than gold, especially among the more nomadic clans who would prefer a purse of diamonds to bearing a chest of heavy gold.”

Pallas struggled to stay awake as she listened to them. She’d never heard people talk in circles like this. Bianca was passed out against her side, snoring gently despite the occasionally heated arguments breaking out at the conference table. The various palliatives she’d been given for her wounds and burns weren’t helping, the overall effect making her warm and comfortable, as if a blanket had been wrapped around her.

“This whole thing is stupid…” Pallas mumbled.

Unfortunately, speaking up meant that three heads turned to face her. If she had been more sober at the time, she might have apologized and the incident would have been forgotten. Instead she opened her mouth and started trying to justify herself.

“I mean, it’s not that peace is stupid,” she said, starting by backtracking on her words. “I just mean you’re arguing over tiny details. It would be better if you just signed something to make things official then worried about the rest later.”

“There might not be a later,” Luna said. “Our relationship with the Empire wasn’t good even before the war. This may be the one chance we have to get those ponies back that were taken prisoner. Do you want to make their families wait years to see them again?”

“And if we don’t do something to fix the relationship, the war would have been for nothing,” Celestia said. “An important part of the peace process is making peace. That doesn’t mean punishing the guilty. It means forgiveness. A few concessions now can mean this never happens again.”

“Why did it happen in the first place?” Pallas asked. “I mean, I know how it ended, I was there. But I never asked why it started, and that’s probably more important.”

“We don’t have time to go over…” Luna started.

“No, no, it’s a perfect time,” Xaaron said. “We could use a review of our recent history. Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

“Well said,” Celestia agreed. “Perhaps you’d care to begin?”

“Equestrian artificers discovered a technology to mass-produce clouds,” Xaaron said. “It doesn’t require any pegasus magic at all and it’s many times more efficient than making them by hoof. Griffons have always had problems with agriculture, as we don’t have the farming skill of your earth ponies, and our weather magic isn’t as…” he considered for a moment, thinking of the right word to use.

“You lack experts,” Luna said. “You’re too busy killing your food to learn how to make a decent raincloud.”

“Which has become quite a problem,” Xaaron said, nodding and agreeing with Luna’s words. “Our lands are overhunted. Laws have been put in place to help the prey population recover, but it will be decades before that will see fruit.”

“And the clouds?” Pallas asked, her fuzzy thoughts making it difficult to follow his reasoning.

“Ah yes, the weather factories,” Xaaron said. “Right. So, the technology was developed, and it’s going to all but bankrupt the hoof-made cloud industry. We’re reliant on imported weather to an embarrassing degree, so the Emperor has been trying to get weather factory technology for the Empire. Unfortunately, word got out, and all the ponies whom we purchased weather from in the past decided to stop dealing with the Empire.”

“Foolish, since they were making large sums by transporting storms across the ocean and breaking them up into their component parts before sale,” Luna said.

“Without that rain and weather what crops we had – which were almost entirely maintained by native Imperial ponies and slaves, mind you – died on the vine. A lot of griffons started hunting outside of Imperial borders.” Xaaron gestured to the map. “A lot of it is mountains, and not terribly well suited for agriculture anyway. The Zebricans didn’t care much, since they don’t hunt and they understand the kind of drought we’ve been having.”

“And what, you decided to cross an ocean to do hunting?” Pallas raised an eyebrow.

“No. We came here to take the weather technology, and in the minds of many of the clans, for revenge.” Xaaron sighed. “Imagine if it were here. You go to the market and pass by dozens of starving ponies, only to find that there is nothing there to buy. Then you return home, to your hungry foals, and give them what little you have left while you eat nothing.”

“It sounds horrible…” Pallas mumbled.

“And they blame it all on us,” Celestia said. “It wasn’t one bad decision or the rise of some bloodthirsty warlord. It’s the result of decades of desperate people and a catastrophic failure on all parts to help them when they really needed it. That is why, when you talk about how many griffons you’ve killed, I take no joy in it. There are only victims here on both sides.”

“That’s why honor is so important here,” Xaaron said. “My people already feel wronged. To have peace this has to be an agreement between equals.”

“We are not equals,” Luna said. “You are on the edge of destruction. We have soundly defeated you in every important way.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Xaaron agreed. “But we are nothing if not a prideful people. At times pride is all we have to sustain us.”

“It is getting in the way,” Luna said, her eyes narrowing. “If you want to eat, you’re going to need to swallow that pride first.”

“Clever wordplay,” Xaaron laughed. “Unfortunately, as an ambassador I have no pride to speak of. Now perhaps you can use some of that inspiration to fix the issues at hoof, as you say.”

Luna was silent for a few moments. “…What if we traded food for the slaves? You need food more than gems, and with the drought, all the gold and gems might not buy enough to feed your people.”

“Now that is an interesting place to start,” Xaaron nodded.

~~~***~~~

“It went well today, from what I heard,” Silver Tongue said. “And you even managed to keep Pallas from murdering enough ponies to fill the streets with the dead. My congratulations on that, I wasn’t sure it was possible.”

“Having Bianca to look after kept her calm,” Luna said. She’d retreated to her quarters after the meetings had concluded for the day. For the first time in days it seemed like they might actually come to some kind of agreement soon.

“I’ve been entertaining a guest while you were away,” Silver Tongue said. “I believe you’ve already met.” Luna walked with him into her parlor, where a mare with a coat of dusty blue and a short mane in flashing silver waited. Her cape and hat marked her as a member of the faculty at the Academy. She turned and smiled as Luna entered, standing and walking over to embrace her. Silver Tongue stepped out of the room to let them talk.

“It’s been a long time, Princess,” she said.

“I missed you, Maria Lulamoon,” Luna said, breaking out into a pleased grin. “You are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

Maria laughed. “Come now, Princess. I’m practically an old mare now. And I’m married. I don’t think my husband would mind me having a little fun, but I’d hate to have to explain to my foals why their mother is trying to sneak Princess Luna out of her room in the middle of the night.”

“You wouldn’t let me stay for breakfast?” Luna looked offended for a moment before breaking into laughter. “We did have such fun, though, when you were my hoofmaiden.”

“Best time of my life,” Maria said. Her grin faded as the silence between them grew. “But we need to talk. Apparently some ponies thought we parted on bad terms.”

“I trust this isn’t just about repairing your reputation,” Luna said. She trotted over to a cabinet and opened it, taking out a bottle and two glasses. She poured a measure of cloudy white liquid into each, giving one to Maria and keeping one herself.

“No, unfortunately not,” Maria took the glass and sipped. “Moonshine. Quite nice, as well. You do make the best.”

“So what do I owe this visit to, then?” Luna asked.

“I was approached by a group of ponies who think, since we obviously parted on such terrible terms, that I must want to see you thrown out of power. Fools, of course,” Lulamoon waved her glass in the air as she rolled her eyes. “But I decided to play along. I assumed they’d just be some grumbling idiots in a tavern.”

“It wasn’t, though,” Luna said. She finished her glass and put it to the side, watching Maria start to turn in place, the unicorn nervously playing with her hat.

“No. They were more serious. Dangerously so.” Maria looked up at Luna. “Luna, they’re planning something big. They’re going to try and do something to you. Something big. They’re not just the usual malcontents who are unhappy because you won’t let them get away with murder. They’re smart, and they’re not working alone.”

“I’ve dealt with them before,” Luna said.

“Not like this. Luna, they’re working with the griffons. They’ll tear Equestria apart just to spite you!”

Winter Court: Summoning the Loyal Steel

28th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Luna lounged on her black couch, sipping moonshine. She’d been drinking steadily since she heard the news from Maria Lulamoon. She’d managed to keep herself from tearing anypony apart so far, so she felt she was handling it well.

“They’re working with the griffons, Luna.” Maria repeated. “You need to do something about it.”

“I should throw it right in that smug Ambassador’s stupid beak!” Luna yelled, leaping to her hooves. “No, no. I’ll wait for the next meeting, then I’ll do it while my sister is there, so she can see just what kind of two-faced chimaeras these griffons are.”

“You can’t confront him without proof,” Maria said. “And no, my word is hardly proof. I’d rather not get involved at all. We agreed to stop seeing each other because of politics, remember, and the last thing I want is to get on their bad side when I have foals to think about.”

“I apologize,” Luna said, settling back down. “I don’t wish to put them in danger.”

“Good,” Maria nodded. “Now, what I can tell you is that I know when the next big meeting is. I’ve been invited, but I think I will fail to attend. I have a feeling something untoward might happen there, you know.”

“If it doesn’t, I’m sure I can arrange it,” Luna noted.

“I was hoping you could,” Maria said. “I’d hate for them to get rid of my favorite princess.”

“Send the Centurion,” said a deep voice at the window. Luna didn’t react, but Maria almost jumped out of her skin as a black shape drifted into the room, Hungry Ghost’s armored form, the cloak around him fading into the shadows around him and making him one with the darkness.

“Oh, it’s you,” Maria said, putting a hoof to her heart. “Either you’ve gotten better at sneaking around or I’ve gotten worse at listening for it.”

“Both,” Hungry Ghost said. He was quiet for a moment, the silence growing awkward until he spoke again as if realizing that some kind of greeting might be in order. “It has been a long time.”

“Did you miss me too?” Maria grinned. “I know you liked having me around, at least a little.”

“I tolerated you,” Hungry Ghost corrected.

“Close enough,” Maria shrugged.

“Pallas Athene is badly injured. Again.” Luna said. “She needs to rest. While she is strong, such accumulated injuries with no chance to rest will quickly result in her becoming useless or dying.”

“This mission should not be difficult,” Hungry Ghost said. “More importantly, it will demonstrate her loyalty to you above all else. We have discussed the next step for her, and this is a perfect opportunity.”

“The next step for her?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to turn her into one of your little cadre of monsters, aren’t you?”

“The Dragoons are not monsters,” Luna retorted. “They are my most loyal soldiers, with as many boons as could be piled on them. I tried to explain this to you when you were offered the honor.”

“She has earned the right,” Hungry Ghost said. “I knew she would.”

“We will… discuss it,” Luna said. “First, Lulamoon, I wish to have details of what these conspirators have said and what they plan.”

“I can tell you that after what I saw. I’m not going back…”

~~~***~~~

22nd day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Maria sat in the cafe, sipping at the tea she had been given. It was a powerful blend, with the spicy, peppery undertones of the southern farms and the scrublands there. Such tea was currently in vogue, served with plenty of milk and honey for those whose delicate palates couldn’t handle even a tiny amount of spice but wanted to appear fashionable. Maria was drinking hers with no such adulteration. She was no stranger to exotic tastes, and found it warming and pleasant against the chill in the air.

“Ah, Maria,” said a cultured voice from behind her. Maria stood to greet her guest, giving the mare a polite smile.

“Countess Flare. I was beginning to think you had become too busy to make our appointment,” Maria said, gesturing to the chair across from her. The Countess pulled it out with magic and sat, Maria sitting after the other mare had made herself comfortable.

“I wanted to make sure we could speak in privacy,” Flare said. “There was always the chance that I was being followed, or that you were.”

“I see,” Maria raised an eyebrow. “If it was that worrisome, why have a meeting at the cafe at all? Wouldn’t your home be safer?”

“It would be, if I did not own this cafe and trust every employee implicitly,” the Countess replied, as Maria poured her some tea. The Countess added milk and honey without even tasting it first, using so much that it was barely darker than the mare’s own off-white coat. “It’s useful to have a few safe places in the city, you know. Places I can take potential business partners and people of interest.”

“I see…” Maria frowned.

“I’ll keep this brief. We’re both busy mares.” Flare sipped her tea, adding more honey after grimacing. “You’ve kept it hidden quite well, but I found out about your little secret. You and Luna used to be together, quite intimately.”

“It’s not that much of a secret,” Maria sighed. “But it was a long time ago.”

“Yes. And it ended. There are even suggestions that it ended badly.” Flare sipped at her overly sweet tea. “Luna has hurt a lot of ponies, you know. You aren’t alone. Though you are perhaps her only lover, at least that we know of.”

“I’d really rather not talk about that,” Maria said.

“Let me make this short, then. I’m a member of a private club,” Flare said. “We’re working to push certain reforms through the government. Recent changes have made this rather difficult.”

“You mean Luna is keeping you from getting anything done at court,” Maria clarified.

“I’m sure you’re aware of… how much harm she can do. She certainly caused a lot in your own life, no? You were her hoofmaiden until she tired of you.”

Maria was quiet for a moment, as if considering her options. “...What kind of reforms?”

“Ones you would find pleasing. Preferential rights to the nobility, that sort of thing. The important thing is that it would make life more comfortable for me. For both of us, in fact.” Flare put her cup to the side, letting it go cold, or at least colder than it had already been with all the milk she’d used. “I want to extend an offer to join us at our next meeting. As somepony who has been personally wronged, you have a right to be with us before we… make our petition.”

~~~***~~~

25th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Maria adjusted her white cloak. It was utterly inappropriate for any kind of serious secret society, but there were limited options available when your opposition represented the forces of darkness and the night. Still, it made stealth all but impossible at the one moment when Maria really, really didn’t want anypony to see her.

She knocked on the door, paused, then knocked two more times. For some reason the group had adopted a secret knock. It didn’t make much sense to Maria, since it would be safer to simply use a scrying spell on whomever was knocking.

The door opened, and a pony in a golden mask and white cloak was in the doorway. It would have concealed their identity quite well, if they’d bothered disguising their mane or coat colors. It was obviously Flare, though since she was hosting the meeting at her own home, it was hardly a surprise.

“Welcome, supplicant,” Flare said. “ Join us.” The unicorn stepped aside, letting Maria in, shutting the door behind her and locking it securely. Maria glanced around at the hallway, white sheets hung like tapestries against the wall, displaying a stylized solar symbol.

Flare led Maria through her manor, to a meeting room well away from any windows. Maria felt alarm at the sheer number of guards the Countess had on-staff. She’d only gotten a glimpse, but it had to rival the number at the palace itself, though they were mercenaries instead of the army.

Inside the meeting room, eleven others were already waiting. Maria took an open seat when it was offered and looked around the room. She could only positively identify a few of the ponies. Golden Showers, Tequila Mockingbird, and Sloe Gin weren’t even trying to hide themselves. She was sure she’d met the others.

Her blood ran cold as she looked across the table at someone who clearly wasn’t a pony at all, the beak a dead giveaway even if the talons resting on the table wasn’t.

“A griffon?” Maria whispered.

“The griffons have legitimate grievances against Princess Luna,” Flare explained. “Her aggressive trade policy ultimately kept them from getting the aid they needed to avoid the famine currently striking their lands, which led to the war. All of the blood spilled stains her hooves.”

“We are prepared to give you significant aid,” the griffon said. “We don’t expect the peace talks to get anywhere. The Ambassador is doing his best, of course, but any real progress is being blocked by the twin Princesses. He isn’t aware of it, but he’s just here as a distraction. Honorable griffons like him are useful for that, and if he does make real progress, well, we won’t be displeased.”

“What kind of aid?” Maria asked, feigning excitement.

“They’re prepared to hire a number of private military organizations to assist with our efforts,” Flare said. “They understand that having griffon military units in Equestria is politcally problematic, but we do need some steel backing our words or they’re useless.”

“So… mercenaries,” Maria mumbled.

“They’re professionals,” Flare assured her. “Easily the equal of any Equestrian military unit.”

“We don’t have time to sit around and discuss our plans with your new acquisition!” Golden Showers snapped. “Luna killed my son! We need to bring her down before she decides having all our heads on pikes is the easiest way to solve her problems!”

~~~***~~~

28th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“It certainly would solve a lot of my current problems,” Luna snorted. “She is correct to worry. If I thought I could get away with it, I would have a great number of problems solved that way.”

“In one week, they’re going to execute something called Operation Stardust,” Maria said. “I don’t know the details. I’m still too new for them to want to discuss it with me.All I know for sure is that it’s going to be more than just some protest or demonstration.”

“They must plan to overthrow the government,” Hungry Ghost said mildly from where he lurked in the corner, almost invisible in the shadows. “Without knowing what their plan is, the only option is to strike at those in charge of the operation.”

“But I can’t identify all of them,” Maria pointed out. “And I don’t know if that even represents everypony involved at that high level. It’s possible there were others who didn’t attend. That’s why I suggested something terrible might happen at the next meeting.”

“It would disrupt their command structure,” Hungry Ghost shrugged. “It’s the obvious plan. With less than a week to go, no doubt much of the preparatory work has already been done. It’s possible that even if all of them are killed, their plan will still be executed.”

“You could, you know, take them prisoner,” Maria snorted, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a pretty common thing to not just execute criminals on the spot.”

“I could,” Luna agreed. “The Solar Guard would have more expertise, as they tend to do more policing than the Night Guard. I could simply turn this information over to my sister, in fact, and allow her to deal with it. And you know what would happen?”

“...She’d probably ask some of them politely to speak with her, then try to convince them not to commit treason,” Maria said, sighing.

“That does sound about correct,” Luna nodded. “And she would, at the same time, prevent any harm from coming to them. She’d keep them safe and secure, and at the same time make sure they were also made safe, in the sense that they would be unable to harm anypony else.”

“Do you want them stopped, or just punished?” Maria asked.

“If they were just trying to overthrow my rule, I would have them tried in public,” Luna said. “Believe it or not, but that happens once every generation or so. Often those involved aren’t entirely wrong - I admit my sister and I sometimes miss social changes, and we need to be reminded from time to time that the rules of society have to change as that society evolves. A century ago, we had a wake up call about serfs and the way the nobility was treating them, and we had to institute sweeping changes to give the average pony rights which are now taken for granted. Two centuries ago, male ponies weren’t even allowed to vote. Go back a century further, and slavery was legal in Equestria.”

“And in this case?” Maria pursed her lips.

“In this case, we must take swift action to avoid a civil war,” Luna said. “The last thing Equestria needs is to be broken apart because the rich want to become richer. They’re just being used as tools by the Empire to weaken us from within, no doubt.”

“They’ve done this before,” Hungry Ghost said.

“The North Zebrican campaign,” Luna nodded. “Yes. They supplied arms to several warlords in the area, causing open war t break out, then entered the region as a peacekeeping force.”

“They could easily do that here,” Hungry Ghost said. “The treaty negotiations aren’t going well, then this Operation Stardust is executed, and they’ll be waiting like vultures.”

“Maria,” Luna said. “I want you to go somewhere safe. Somewhere well away from this. Tell only those you trust most. Get your family away from the city.” Luna tapped a hoof on the couch she reclined on, thinking. “I must take action.”

“Killing them won’t stop their ideas,” Maria said, as she walked towards the door. “You can’t cut an idea with a blade.”

~~~***~~~

“How are your wounds?” Luna asked, as Pallas entered her room. The big thestral looked around at the shadows, ears twitching. After a moment, she focused on the Princess.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Pallas said. “Breezie dust heals burns really quickly, but it takes a while for hair to grow back. My coat is going to be patchy for a while, but the shorter manecut isn’t bad.”

“Breezie dust?” Luna smiled. “I see. That does explain how your wounds were healing so well. I was going to ask if you had troll somewhere in your ancestry.”

“No, your highness,” Pallas said, returning the smile a little.

“I need you for a special mission,” Luna said. “How would you like to get revenge on the ponies who tried to kill you and Bianca?”

Pallas blinked and straightened up, nodding.

“Good,” Luna said, starting to pace in front of her. “In two days, a secret group of traitors will be meeting. Among them will be Golden Showers. I want her eliminated, along with everypony else there. Do not allow anypony to see you.”

“I’m not invisible,” Pallas frowned. In fact, with her size and her usual style of fighting, she was almost as far as one could get from invisibility.

“Then I suggest leaving no witnesses alive,” Luna said. “Mare, stallion, or foal. This is not an official operation. I do not intend to involve my sister with it. For that reason, you are not to be identified by anypony. If you accept this mission, you will be operating above the law, on my will alone. Do you understand?”

Pallas snorted. “Luna, you know I’d do anything for you. And this is something I want to do anyway. I’m going to make her pay for what she did.”

“Good,” Luna smiled. “Remember that this is about sending a message. No one can defy me and try to harm my ponies and get away with it. No one.”

Winter Court: Unhesitating Dedication

30th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

It was a quiet night, with almost no wind. Clouds hung low over the city, making the moon and stars invisible and plunging everything into pitch blackness. Lanterns were hung all around Countess Flare’s manor, beacons of almost pure white, the magelights burning like tiny suns. A light snow was coming down, little more than a dusting.

There were only a few guards posted outside, and only one at the back door. The mercenary there paced back and forth, trotting between two lights. He had been ordered to look alert, and figured patrolling was the best way to do just that. It was an easy job, really. Working in the city was practically a dream. No trenches, no mud, a pub around the corner for when he wasn’t on duty.

He reached the far light and turned back, and frowned. Something was wrong. He hadn’t seen the hoofprints in the snow next to his own before, and with the dusting coming down, they couldn’t have been there for long.

He followed them around a corner, where they abruptly vanished. The mercenary blinked, confused. He never saw the dark shape drop down behind him from where it had been hanging from a tree overhead. There was a flash of pain, and the snow turned red.

~~~***~~~

“It appears Lulamoon is going to be late,” Flare said, looking around the table to her eleven other conspirators. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body. There was a draft in the room tonight.

“Just as well,” Golden Showers said. “I’m not comfortable with bringing somepony in this close to the operation. Afterwards there will be plenty of ponies who want to join us, but until we finish this stage, we’re vulnerable.”

“It wouldn’t be shocking if she got cold hooves,” said another pony. “She hasn’t had time to come to the same conclusions we have.”

“We should focus on the operation,” the griffon said. He gestured to the table, where maps of the city and the surrounding countryside were marked with tokens and figures, as if they were plotting troop movements on a battlefield.

“Agreed,” Flare said. “We need to make sure the square is busy that day. We want as many casualties as possible. Those in favor will be warned away, of course.”

“The only difficult part will be making sure that the public associates the disaster with Princess Luna,” the griffon noted.

“The Night Guard uniforms we have are from the official supplier,” Golden Showers said. “They can pass any possible inspection, and are untagged and unnumbered, making it impossible to identify where they came from.”

“Perfect,” the griffon said. “The item is already in the city. There’s nothing like a good atrocity or two to get people motivated.”

“And with the Night Guard implicated, they’ll be motivated in the correct way,” Flare nodded. “We can have the people demanding Luna be removed from power. Then we just revive the petition for an elected government composed of the nobility, and we can slowly push Celestia into being even more of a figurehead than she already is.”

The lights in the room flickered. The assembled group looked up just as the lanterns failed.

~~~***~~~

Pallas dropped the broken eggshell, the outer surface painted with silver runes, Silver Tongue’s enchantment having done its job of snuffing out the magelights in the room when she cracked the egg. Unlike the unicorns and griffon sitting at the table, she could see in the gloom left behind, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

She ran into the room, jumping onto the table with a heavy thud as her armored horseshoes hit the wood. Maps and tokens scattered to the floor, and the ponies around the table started to panic.

Pallas started with what she was most comfortable with, Hungry Ghost’s borrowed wingblades slashing across the griffon’s throat, his blood spraying into the air and across the table. The masked unicorn sitting next to him lit up her horn with a pale gray light. Even with the light, Pallas was almost invisible, the moving shadows and darkness allowing the cloak she’d taken from one of the fallen assassins to work to its fullest. Pallas struck at the sudden flash, misjudging the distance. Her wingblade skipped off of the unicorn’s cheek, across her left eye, and into her horn, severing it near its base.

The unicorn screamed, and sparks erupted into the air from the severed horn as she fell, clutching at her ruined face. Pallas kicked backwards, hitting the stallion opposite her in the chin, his neck snapping to the side with the sound of crunching bone as he slid out of his seat limply.

The rest of the table was slow to react. They were nobility, not trained soldiers. Pallas flapped her wings and sent a blizzard of maps and tokens into the air from where they were lying on the table. The ponies were already confused and terrified, starting to run towards the doors in the sputtering light. Pallas jumped onto Flare as she tried to get up, knocking her back into her chair and stabbing her through the gut as she moved to the next target.

The first pony off of the table got to the door. Pallas grabbed for a pullcord with her teeth, and spring-loaded blades launched from a box strapped to her shoulder, the darts impaling through the stallion like crossbow bolts. The mare behind him skidded to a stop in horror, giving Pallas time to cut through two more ponies before she reached her, grabbing her tail and pulling, throwing her across the room and into the wall.

There were four left standing. Pallas stepped towards Golden Showers, and two ponies, a stallion and a mare, got in front of her. Pallas ducked down as the mare fired a bolt of green energy overhead, and was forced to roll away as a blade of orange magic came down towards her like an extension of the stallion’s horn.

Pallas’ back hit one of the chairs, and she grabbed it with her wing, throwing it at the stallion with the magical blade. The chair hit him in the face, and his head was thrown back, the magical blade cutting into the ceiling. Pallas slashed across his front legs, severing them at the knee in a spray of gore.

The mare fired again, Pallas barely dodging the attack, the bolt going past her neck and making her coat stand on end in its passage. She slashed at the mare, the unicorn not even reacting quickly enough to put up a defense. The massive blade hit her in the shoulder and tore through to her chest.

“You’re the monster who killed my son!” Golden Showers gasped, as she backed up into the wall.

“I’m glad you remember me,” Pallas said. “This is what you get for trying to kill me and Bianca. No one hurts her and lives.” Pallas jumped into the air, flapping her wings and coming down at her in a short dive. Golden Showers grabbed the unicorn that Pallas had thrown into the wall and tossed it at the thestral. Pallas hit her, cutting her in two just below the ribs and slamming into the wall, her blades sinking inches into the dense wood and sticking there.

Golden Showers ran for the door, screaming in terror for the guards. Pallas grunted in annoyance and tore her blades from the wall, splinters falling around her. She stomped on the unicorn whom she’d de-horned with one of her first attacks, crushing her neck.

“No escape,” Pallas said. She pulled the pullcord at her other shoulder and another volley of darts was launched towards Showers, most scattering wide but one hitting her flank, piercing her cutie mark and making her stumble for one crucial moment. Then Pallas was on her, knocking her down and leering at her. She’d been thinking about how to kill Golden Showers since Zudah had died, and now that she was at her mercy, Pallas found her imagination lacking.

It didn’t mean she was going to let her live, though.

Pallas stabbed Golden in the gut, twisting the blade for a moment while the Duchess screamed silently. Blood dribbled from her lips, and her eyes rolled up as she passed out.

Pallas stood, kicking her. The Duchess didn’t wake up, blood pooling around her. It didn’t feel like enough, like it was over too quickly. She sighed and stood up, not looking at the far corner of the room.

“I haven’t forgotten you,” Pallas growled. “Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

“This is- you don’t need to-” the mare tried to sputter out an explanation. Pallas jumped at her, slamming her sword down. Sparks flew as it hit a magical barrier, the shield spell holding back the strike. “Please! It’s not what it looks like! I’m with the Solar C-”

The shield flickered and failed, not up to the task of holding back Pallas’ wrath. Her wingblade hit the pony in the side of the neck, enough of the force ablated by the shield to keep it from going all the way through, getting stuck on her spine.

Her mouth kept moving as if she was choking on her words, but only blood came out of it. She fell to the ground, the light in her eyes dimming.

Pallas looked around the room full of the dead and dying. The only one still conscious was Flare, still in her seat, blood pouring from the wound in her gut.

The door opened, somepony standing in the doorway. Pallas lunged instinctively, stabbing the half-seen shape the moment she became aware of it.

Silver Tongue’s spell of darkness finally faded away, and the lights came back on.

Pallas’ eyes went wide as she saw who she’d attacked. A colt, too young to even have a cutie mark, was impaled on the end of her blade, looking at the steel through his chest in surprise. Pallas backed up, pulling her wingblade back. The colt fell to his knees, blood gushing from the wound.

He looked up at Pallas with fear in his eyes, starting to shake as shock took him.

Pallas grabbed his hoof.

“I don’t… I’m…” Pallas whispered, not sure what to say.

The colt slumped over his hoof falling away from hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. She turned at a croaking sound, and saw Flare pointing towards her, her expression evidencing pain beyond just that of somepony with only physical wounds.

Shouting drew Pallas’ attention. She looked down the corridor and saw mercenaries running towards her, stout earth ponies, one of them almost as big as she was. Luna’s command echoed in her ears. Nopony was to see her and live.

Pallas galloped towards them, the cloak around her making her shimmer in the light like a wave of distortion passing through the air. She hit the mercenaries like a runaway wagon, trampling them and cutting them as she moved. Blood sprayed over her, turning her vision red as she lost herself to the fury of battle, slashing left and right with her wingblades and only stopping when the screaming stopped.

Pallas slumped against the wall, blood pooling around her so deeply that it reached her ankles. She panted, trying to catch her breath. She felt something clawing at her, terror and fury in equal measure. She felt a need to escape, her heart pounding so strongly in her chest that she worried she might pass out right there.

She stumbled towards a window, tearing a white sheet down from the wall as she tried to steady herself. The whole world was spinning around her. She heard screaming from outside, and the sound of battle.

Pallas took a deep, struggling breath. It was all wrong. She could hear orders being screamed in the distance. Everything had a fuzzy, dreamlike quality, like she couldn’t be sure what was real, like reality and fantasy were fading into each other. She put her hoof on the windowsill, looking out over the city.

She grunted and smashed through the window, broken glass slicing her coat and cloak, blood falling from the shallow wounds into the snow as she laid still in it for a few moments, the frost helping her focus again, the sharp cold something real. She stood up and shook her head, the night air clean, not stinking of hot gore like the slaughterhouse she’d left behind her.

“Stop right there!” Yelled a voice behind her. Pallas turned, her blade high. She hesitated for one crucial instant, remembering the foal.

It saved Captain Morning Glory’s life. He looked as shocked to see her as she was to see him.She pulled her blade back, starting to slump again as she realized how close she’d come to killing somepony she respected.

“Pallas?” He said, then looked around. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What in Tartarus are you doing here?”

“I was…” She stopped. Morning Glory sighed.

“Wait. Don’t tell me.” He turned away. “I don’t want to know. You’re covered in blood and you look like Tartarus. If you tell me anything I’ll have to report it. Just get out of here before anypony else sees you.”

“I…” Pallas looked back to the window.

“Go over the wall and avoid the main streets. Stick to rooftops. The checkpoints were designed to catch unicorns, not pegasai. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Pallas said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Not for this. I just hope to Celestia that you haven’t done something I’m going to regret letting you go for.”

Pallas didn’t answer, launching herself into the air and over the wall, running away from what she’d done. She had to find somepony that could tell her she’d done the right thing. She had to find Luna.

~~~***~~~

“I’m sorry, but Princess Luna is in the middle of important discussions with the griffon ambassador,” the guard said. Pallas wasn’t sure if he outranked her or not, as she’d never bothered to learn the ranks for the Solar Guard.. She’d thrown herself into the showers, stripping the weapons and armor from her body and leaving them where they’d fallen in her room.

“I need to talk to her,” Pallas mumbled, looking down at her hooves.

“It will have to wait until the discussions are over,” the guard sighed. “Princess Celestia ordered no disturbances tonight. They’ve gotten sidetracked enough already. You can either wait out here or I can have somepony get you when they’re done.”

“No, I… I’ll just find her when she’s done,” Pallas said, turning and starting back to her room. The palace felt strangely empty, most of the patrolling ponies not at their posts. Were they out on the streets, dealing with whatever mess she’d caused? Would they be coming for her next?

“Pallas?” said a voice from above. The thestral looked up and saw worried red eyes. Bianca stared at her, and obviously had been watching for some time, hanging from the rafters by her tail.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” Pallas started, her voice cracking. Bianca dropped down and nuzzled her.

“What is it?” She asked quietly, whispering into Pallas’ ear.

“Can we just… go somewhere private?” Pallas mumbled, not trusting her voice. Bianca nodded and led her like a child towards her quarters, both of them walking in troubled silence. Pallas stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it. Bianca hopped up next to her and settled down at her side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bianca asked. “We’re alone here.”

“I… I was only following orders,” Pallas said, sniffling. “I didn’t… I had to…”

“What happened?” Bianca pushed, worried. Pallas turned to look at her and finally broke, embracing Bianca and weeping.

“I killed ponies, Bianca. I had to. I had to kill them. Luna ordered me to kill them. But there was a foal! I didn’t think… I didn’t know there would be a foal there! I didn’t even look before I attacked!”

“Shhh…” Bianca squeezed Pallas gently. “Just let it all out. We’ll talk to Luna and fix this.”

“She can’t fix this,” Pallas whispered.

“She can fix anything,” Bianca said firmly. She pulled away from Pallas and put a hoof under her chin, raising her gaze up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I love you, Pallas. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too…” Pallas mumbled. Bianca smiled and kissed her. Pallas relaxed, sighing and slumping down. Bianca guided her head to a pillow and pulled a blanket over her, settling in next to the bigger thestral and holding her as she fell asleep, tears still falling from her eyes.

Operation Stardust: Lessons in the Blood

1st day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Captain Morning Glory walked through the manor, stepping around the puddles of drying blood. The bodies had been taken away, though there was some argument about how many of them there were – some had been so mangled that it was difficult to tell which body parts belonged to which victim. He looked out the window, past white curtains stained with a splatter of crimson, at the rising sun.

“Captain,” Celestia said. She hadn't been behind him a moment ago, but she certainly was now. “I apologize for not being here sooner. I had important business to take care of that couldn't wait.”

“Like raising the sun?” Morning Glory asked, watching the solar disk continue to rise over the city.

“Exactly so,” Celestia said. Morning Glory turned to look at her. She almost seemed like a ghost, between the somber expression on her face and the way she seemed apart from it all. The Princess appeared to be glowing, not leaving a trace of her presence in the grizzly scene, as if the horror couldn't reach her.

“I'm sure you've read the reports,” Morning Glory said. “Over two dozen dead, including a foal. It looks like they were some kind of cult or secret society.”

“They called themselves the Anti-Lunar United Group,” said another voice. Morning Glory frowned as he saw a pony he hadn't met before looking at the blood splatter on the walls. “Rather a dull name, but it does describe them well.” The mare glanced at Morning Glory. She was an earth pony, with a light brown coat and piercing yellow eyes, wearing light armor, a padded coat with brass studs and plates over the most vulnerable spots.

“This is Sirocco Mandala,” Celestia said. “I don't believe you've met. She is the head of my personal intelligence organization, the Solar Circle.”

Sirocco sighed, looking to the side and trying to hide her annoyance. “And as I've said before, Princess, our best asset is secrecy, and telling everypony who I am and that such an organization even exists defeats the purpose.” She fixed Morning Glory with a serious look. “You're not to say anything about this. As far as anypony is concerned, the Solar Circle doesn't exist, understood?”

“Yes,” Morning Glory said. “So I take it you have some insight on this?”

“We had an agent on the inside,” Sirocco said, “Her name was Hurricane Flash. Not a full member of the Circle, but trusted. This couldn't have come at a worse time. She had inside information about some large operation the ALUG was planning. Now whatever information she had is lost with her.”

“So this wasn't your doing, then,” Morning Glory said, turning away from her. Something about her gaze made him feel like she was thinking about how to take him apart, dissecting him layer by layer as she looked at him.

“Of course not,” Sirocco retorted. “We don't solve our problems with violence like this. Once we had the information we needed they would have been quietly arrested and dealt with professionally. This is just a mess.”

“How many ponies were involved?” Celestia asked. “With this much carnage, the guards had to be badly outnumbered.”

“One,” Sirocco said, running her hoof across a white sheet that had escaped the rain of gore. “All of the wounds on the bodies were made by the same weapon, aside from a few odd darts which we recovered. The wounds do not correspond to any standard-issue weapons from the Solar or Night Guard, nor do the darts. Most of the dead were killed with a single attack.”

“So you have no leads,” Morning Glory said.

“I wouldn't say that,” Sirocco said. “It's well known that Luna has a group of elite soldiers that use non-standard equipment. I believe you're quite familiar with them, having served as a liaison with her forces during the war.”

“The Lunar Dragoons.” Morning Glory braced himself and faced Sirocco again. She was much closer than he'd remembered, right in his face. He flinched, taking a step back. “I met a few of them. They were used to break up enemy lines and as an independent assault unit.”

“Indeed,” Sirocco said, unblinking. “I would think this is the work of one of the Lunar Dragoons. Which means Luna found out about this organization. I find it distressing that she resorted immediately to wiping them out instead of coming to Celestia with this information. Don't you find it distressing, Captain?”

“I- yes.” Morning Glory quickly agreed.

“Exactly. Because she didn't share this information, we lost one of my most valuable operatives, and my friend.” Sirocco nodded, turning her back on Morning Glory.

“But...” Morning Glory put in, immediately regretting it as Sirocco spun back on him, not quite glaring but with an almost unearthly force to her gaze. “But you weren't sharing information either. As you say, I've worked closely with her forces for some time. I can assure you that Princess Luna wouldn't have done this if she knew it was already being handled. You can't accuse her unless you're willing to take the same blame.”

“My plan would have ended with ponies in prison and this Operation Stardust of theirs stopped before anypony even knew about it,” Sirocco hissed through clenched teeth. “It is not acceptable to slaughter ponies wholesale. You say I should have tried to stop this by sharing information? This should never have happened no matter how much information Luna had. That she ordered it when she clearly didn't even have all of the facts only makes it worse!”

“Sirocco Mandala,” Celestia said quietly. The earth pony stopped talking at once, freezing in place. “Captain Morning Glory isn't entirely wrong. However, Captain, Sirocco is correct that this entire event was unacceptable. Ever since Luna has returned, there has been a rising tide of violence.”

“And she caused almost none of it,” Morning Glory pointed out.

“I know,” Celestia sighed. “But even if she didn't order it, if this is the result of her coming back to the city... if she was not my equal I would order her out of the city for her own safety, along with her supporters, to give me time to make everything safe again.”

“So what are you going to do?” Morning Glory asked, looking around. “You have to do... something.” The slaughterhouse surrounding them made his argument for him.

“I'll talk to her,” Celestia said. “Until I do, nopony is to take action on this. Let no word escape to my ponies yet. Sirocco, you are to use whatever leads you have left to investigate this Operation Stardust and attempt to stop it before it starts. Captain Morning Glory, I want troops at every street corner until this is resolved.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Morning Glory said. He started towards where his soldiers had set up a command post outside the manor, though it felt less like he was going to do his job and more like he was running from Sirocco and the way every motion she made seemed a subtle gesture that she knew he was hiding something from her.

~~~***~~~

“I killed a foal,” Pallas said, looking down. Midnight-blue wings wrapped around her in a warm embrace as Luna comforted her. “I didn't even know she was there until it was-”

“Shh.” Luna stopped her, kissing Pallas' forehead. “You have done only what I ordered you to do. I am sorry I gave you such awful orders, but you are blameless in following them. You are one of my most loyal, most trusted friends, and you have done nothing but prove that again and again.”

“I didn't think...” Pallas started. She lowered her head and just nuzzled into Luna's neck, tears running down her face. She'd intended to go and see Luna as soon as she woke up, but her nightmares had called Luna to her, and the Princess had already been there when she'd finally awoken from another vision of watching that filly die. Bianca had left to give them privacy.

“By your actions, an organization that would have killed many ponies and misled many more with lies has been stopped, permanently. I am proud of you.” Luna smiled and settled down on the bed next to Pallas, lifting the thestral's chin so they were facing each other. “I have been giving you these duties not because they are easy, but because they are hard, and I want to see you become the pony you were always meant to be. Not a mere soldier like the griffons you defended this land against, nor a wastrel who sits on their haunches like the ponies of my sister's Solar Guard. You have led ponies in life and death, fought on the bloodiest battlefields of this past war, and you have never faltered. You have initiative and drive and I know you can recover from this, because you are strong not just in body but in spirit.”

“I don't feel strong right now,” Pallas whispered.

“You're tired,” Luna said. “I will make sure that you have no more nightmares while you rest. Tonight, you will be given a great honor.”

“A great honor?” Pallas asked. Luna stood up and let her go, gently pushing her back down into bed and pulling the blanket over her with her magic.

“You will see,” Luna teased. “It's something you deserved for some time. I promise you'll like it. But rest for now. Though it is an honor, it is also a responsibility, and I would have your head clear so you can make a decision you will not later regret.”

“I've regretted a lot of decisions lately...” Pallas sighed.

“You've done nothing to regret. Even if you always make the correct move, you can still lose the game in the end,” Luna said. “Sometimes circumstances aren't what we want them to be. Now be quiet and rest. You will need it.”

~~~***~~~

It would be inappropriate to say that Celestia went looking for Luna. The Princess of the Day had much more sophisticated methods of finding what she needed. She closed her eyes and touched the castle's wards with her magic. They lit up in her mind's eye with a golden pulse of light, instantly reporting on the castle and its contents.

The wards were almost self-aware, centuries of advances in magic layered on one another into a web of perfect awareness. Or almost perfect. Everything seemed to be working, but it couldn't find Luna. She hadn't left the castle, either, as part of the warding kept track of when ponies entered or left the castle.

Celestia settled down and considered her options. She could ask the Solar Circle to find Luna, though it would be annoying having to wait for them to locate her sister. She could more directly ask Star Swirl for his assistance with a scrying spell, and she could trust him to be discreet.

“Are you looking for me, sister?” Luna asked, amused, from behind her.

Or she could turn around and smile and try not to show how annoyed she was. Celestia turned calmly. “Hello, Luna. I was hoping we could speak in private for a few moments.” Annoyingly, she still wasn't showing up on the castle wards. Without doing something rude like touching her, Celestia couldn't be sure if it was actually Luna or some kind of simulacrum.

“I assume this is about Countess Flare,” Luna said, pacing around Celestia and circling her like a shark. “I heard she encountered some sort of unfortunate accident.”

“She was murdered in her own home, Luna, along with dozens of others.” Celestia sighed. “And I know you almost certainly ordered it.” She watched her sister's expression. The smile never faded.

“I took care of that little problem, yes,” Luna admitted. “I won't lie to you and say I know nothing about it. She was working against me, and had to be dealt with before she became a larger problem. You chastised me for the way I dealt with Duchess Golden Showers, but she drew a much more interesting prey into my net. It worked out quite well, in the end.”

“Are you even aware of what happened?” Celestia said, starting to lose her temper. “Your agent killed dozens of ponies! In my city!”

“Our city!” Luna hissed, stopping where she was. “Ours! Are you starting to forget that I'm your equal as well?”

“That's not what I meant,” Celestia said, closing her eyes and trying to compose herself. She had to explain herself to Luna before this went even more poorly. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, only to find herself alone.

~~~***~~~

Pallas wasn't sure where Luna had taken her. She'd been blindfolded, then felt the world drop away from her in a sickening sensation. It was probably for the best that she'd missed a meal, because she would have thrown up if she had anything in her stomach left to try and make an escape. She'd been left standing in a room, too hot to be comfortable, and ordered not to remove her blindfold. It had been what felt like an hour now.

“Centurion Pallas Athene!” Luna snapped. Pallas flinched, coming to attention. “I have brought you here to this place to bestow a great honor upon you. You are blindfolded because you do not yet know the nature of this honor, and it is something that must be accepted of your own free will. You may refuse, as others have done before you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Princess,” Pallas said. The way their voices echoed, the room had to be quite large. Part of the palace, then?

“Good. What I ask of you will not be easy. You are accustomed to following orders, and you have seen for yourself how difficult that can be when orders and ethics seem at odds. A soldier follows without question, and that is what makes an army powerful, that it can act with the single will of its commanders, it is what makes an army different from a rabble of malcontents or a horde of barbarians.”

Pallas listened as Luna paced, getting a sense of the room from the way Luna moved through it, her steps landing with the heavy tread of an armored horseshoe.

“You, however, have become as deadly as an army on your own. You have killed hundreds, and you have proven that you can operate alone in enemy territory without support. You have defeated spellcasters, swordsponies, and even monsters in my name. I am proud of you.” Luna stopped, directly before Pallas. “You are as a powerful beast, barely bound into service. You have earned your freedom, and I would offer it to you.”

“Freedom?” Pallas frowned.

“Ah. I can tell you do not understand.” Luna laughed a little. “Freedom from the structure of the army. From the chain of command. I would ask you to operate only under your own orders, with my only directive being to do as you see fit. The honor I offer you is to join the others whom I have offered this gift to.” Luna took a deep breath. “Centurion Pallas Athene, I offer you membership in the Lunar Dragoons.”

Operation Stardust: Luna's Hidden Face

1st day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas looked around, her blindfold finally removed. The room felt like a cavern, all heavy stone and darkness, everything hewn out of rock, the carvings and scale implying centuries of work. Black and violet screens of dyed paper helped divide the room up, and everything had the strong scent of peppery incense.

“The Dragoons lost several members in the war,” Luna said, as she led Pallas down a row edged in by the painted screens towards a raised altar of stone at one end of the huge room. It was the most permanent structure apparent in the cavern, with stone monoliths arranged around a platform that hosted the altar. “There have never been more than thirty at a time, one for each day of the lunar cycle, and at times there have been only a few to carry on the tradition.”

Luna gestured to the statues at either side of the altar with an armored hoof. Pallas had never seen her wearing the armor she wore now, which was made of oddly-colored metal. She wasn't sure if the indigo tone was natural to the alloy or a glaze layered on it. “The first Dragoons served me in the time just after Discord's reign. Even with him removed from the seat of power, the world was wild and untamed.”

“I heard about that,” Pallas said. “You and Princess Celestia went around the world trying to find other immortals, right?”

“I'm surprised.” Luna stopped and turned to look at Pallas. “Those stories aren't written in any tomes of history. Where did you hear this tale? My sister certainly isn't comfortable enough around you to speak of it.”

Pallas shrugged. “There was this kirin named Ryujin. He saved Bianca's life after those assassins attacked. He told us the story while he was treating us, or at least part of it. He said that the griffon Emperor is immortal, and commands the winds.”

“Accurate,” Luna nodded. “Wind, Earth, Fire, and Water. They are four of the most important pillars of the world. Discord had completely destroyed the old ways, and the world was no longer able to take care of itself. Before he ruined the world, the weather and seasons took care of themselves. After his defeat, they just stopped working, and neither my sister nor I had the magic to shepherd them.”

“So you made the Emperor immortal?” Pallas blinked.

“Not quite,” Luna said, smiling slightly. “Becoming an immortal is more about the journey than the destination. One cannot simply be made immortal as if it were as easy a feat as raising the sun or moon. Harmony guides the world, Pallas Athene, and we knew it would work to solve the problem. What your friend got wrong was that we didn't make anyone immortal. They were always going to fulfill that destiny. We journeyed not to raise anyone to our status, but to ensure that we were making friends among the new immortals, rather than enemies.”

“That sure worked out well,” Pallas snorted.

“For a long time, Zephyranthes was one of my dearest friends,” Luna sighed. “But as immortals, we eventually become all things to each other. Friends, enemies, lovers, nemeses, forgotten, and discovered again. Eventually we will be allies again, and the cycle will continue as it always has. At least he is simple to deal with. I dread the day when I have to host tea for the Queen Mother Resplendent in White Flame and Crimson Scales.”

“Who?” Pallas tilted her head.

“The immortal of Fire. I suppose you haven't heard that part of the tale yet. Ask your friend about it. I would be curious to hear the perspective of a kirin on the Queen Mother's beginnings.” Luna laughed. “She was amusing, at least, though I think only I appreciated her humor.” Luna turned back to the raised platform and stepped up, motioning for Pallas to follow. “But enough. It is almost time for the ritual.”

“What do I have to do?” Pallas asked.

“Just follow my instructions, as you always have,” Luna said. She took a deep breath. “DRAGOONS! ASSEMBLE!” she yelled ,in a voice that nearly knocked Pallas off of her feet with the force of the words.

They had obviously been waiting for her. Shadows detached from the walls, others slunk out of where they'd been hiding in the maze of paper walls, and one even dropped straight down from the distant ceiling to land on top of one of the monoliths that ringed the altar area. The rest took their places on and around the ring of stone. Pallas looked over them all. No two had quite the same armor or weapons. Most were thestrals, but she spotted a few unicorns, earth ponies, and even a pegasus in the mix. Hungry Ghost raised the helm of his visor as he looked down to Pallas, showing the ghost of a smile.

“Tonight, a new Dragoon has come to take on the old oaths,” Luna said. She stomped a hoof, and a sparkling mist rose up around her, tightening into a whirlwind that obscured her from view. Pallas shielded her eyes as dust kicked up from the floor and a piercing light flashed from within. The torches around the altar went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Reptilian eyes appeared, glowing in the night. Pallas froze as she stared into those eyes, the only thing she could make out in the sudden gloom.

“Behold, Pallas Athene. This is my true form as the avatar of death and dreaming in this world.” The flames shot up from the torches, this time in a ghostly blue tone. Pallas' eyes went wide. Luna's form, barely larger than Pallas herself and more generously curved towards beauty rather than power, had been replaced by something greater. She stood at least as tall as Celestia, her navy coat replaced with an ebon black, her eyes that of a dragon and shining with teal light. The armor Luna had worn had stretched to accommodate the scale of her new body, which radiated strength and power. Her mane and tail swirled around her in a nebulous cloud that looked like a slice of the night sky.

Pallas swallowed a question about why Luna didn't look like that all the time, partly because she wasn't stupid enough not to know it was a bad time to ask questions and partly because her unspoken question was answered a moment later when Luna smiled, revealing fangs.

Luna's mane seemed to move like a limb of its own, sweeping over the altar and hiding it from view for a moment. When it retreated, a chalice of dusty-looking silvery metal and a blade of obsidian were left behind.

“Step forward,” Luna said. Pallas unhesitatingly came closer, watching as Luna took up the blade with her magic and cut herself, opening a shallow cut along her fetlock where the armor didn't cover her flesh. Dark blood ran from the wound, and Luna caught it in the chalice. She placed both back into the altar. “Cut yourself as I have, and mix your blood with mine.”

Pallas gripped the blade with her teeth. Her flesh was covered in scars. What did one more matter? She sliced along her left foreleg, careful not to cut too deeply. The blade was so sharp it was almost painless, almost tickling rather than hurting at all. She held her leg above the chalice and let it drip. Her own blood seemed brighter than Luna's, as if the Princess' blood had been mixed with ink.

“Excellent,” Luna said. Pallas stepped back, having apparently bled enough into the chalice. “Now, repeat after me as I recite the words of the Dragoon's Oath.”

Luna stood up straight, looking out over the assembled Dragoons. “I shall never give up even in the face of death. There is no surrender.” Her voice was strong, the words coming easily to her. Pallas repeated after her, keeping her tone level.

“I shall never give succor to those who oppose me. There is no mercy.” Again, Pallas repeated the oath.

“I shall never bend knee to those who demand it. There are no masters.” Pallas almost stumbled over that. Wasn't she still going to be serving Luna?

“I shall never allow terror to grip my heart. There is no fear.” That would be the most difficult to follow. Or at least it would be for most ponies. The only time Pallas would take flight during a battle would be to get an altitude advantage before resuming the attack.

“No surrender, no mercy, no masters, no fear. Thus I swear the ancient pact of the Lunar Dragoons.” Luna closed her eyes for a moment on finishing the oath. Pallas heard echoes around the cavern as she repeated the last verse, and realized that the other Dragoons were saying them as well, reaffirming their vows quietly, their voices joining to a background murmur.

Luna picked up the chalice with her ethereal mane, lifting it above her head. Silvery light gathered around it, as if moonlight was shining right through the stone above. It bathed in the spotlight for a few moments before the light faded, and Luna lowered the cup. She put it to her lips and sipped from it for a moment.

“With this, we taste the blood we share.” She gave the cup to Pallas. “Drink.”

Pallas carefully took the chalice with a hoof, looking down at the blood in it. There was an odd oily quality to it, a sheen across the surface of the mixed swirl of crimson.

She tossed it back and drank a long sip of it before lowering the silver chalice. She was used to tasting her own blood, with cuts in and around her mouth inevitable with the way she fought. It wasn't something she found particularly pleasant, but there was something different this time. There was an odd tingle to it.

“With this, you are bound to the oaths you swear.” Luna took the cup back, a tendril of her mane dipping into the liquid. The paint-soaked hair floated to Pallas, marking her forehead with a simple circle as if it were a paintbrush.

There was a feeling like a tether being snapped that left Pallas suddenly cold and hot at the same time, and her flank burned like she was being branded with hot irons. Sweat dripped from her brow and a yawning pit of emptiness seemed to open inside her, as if something had been torn from her.

“Your old life has ended,” Luna said. “And a new one begins. You are no longer bound by the destiny once marked for you.”

Pallas felt the tingle spread from her mouth across her skin, her coat crawling. The awful burning feeling faded, replaced with a throbbing numbness. She almost collapsed in relief. If it had gone on much longer, she would have ended up passing out.

“I bring you into this world as a new being, marked within and without by death. I name you Black Wind and bid you rise and bear your new name proudly.”

Pallas, or rather Black Wind, took a deep breath. The tingling turned into a warmth through her body that left her feeling sated and happy. She heard the stomping of hooves in approval from all around her. The ceremony had apparently ended, and she had managed not to screw anything up.

“You have my blessing now,” Luna said. “May it grant you success in battle and ward off an unworthy death. Silver Tongue is busy enchanting your new armor, so it will be a few days before you can begin getting used to it.” She stepped around the altar. She motioned for Black Wind to follow her.

Black Wind nodded. “So what do I do until then, Luna? Try and get used to ponies using a new name for me?”

“Something I had to get used to as well. Just as you have taken a new name, so did I long ago. When in private, you may use my true name - Nightmare Moon.”

“Right, Lu- I mean, Nightmare Moon.” She followed Nightmare Moon towards the far end of the cavern. The Dragoons started to disperse, and she caught salutes, smiles of approval, and nods of acknowledgement from them as she followed the dark alicorn.

“I'd prefer if you didn't make a habit out of it, yet at least. My sister doesn't know much about the Dragoons yet, and I intend to keep it from her for as long as I can. She has her own secret group in the Solar Circle, though...” Nightmare Moon snorted. “I doubt they're as effective as the Dragoons.”

“If they're anything like the rest of the Solar Guard, they've probably never seen combat,” Black Wind said.

“Perhaps. But they're likely extensively trained. I would not underestimate them. They are worthy of respect, from what little information I have gathered. They might become powerful allies in the future.” Nightmare Moon pushed aside a curtain, revealing a hidden nest of velvet pillows.

“Pallas!” Chirped a voice from above. Black Wind blinked and looked up into excited red eyes watching from the shadows at the apex of the enclosed nest of blankets and pillows.. Bianca dropped down from above, landing carefully to keep weight from her wounded shoulder. “So? How does it feel?”

“What are you doing here?” Black Wind blinked.

“She is my student,” Nightmare Moon said. “Many of my secrets are open to her. This, in particular, was something that she deserved to know.”

“Your cutie mark is different!” Bianca said, circling Pallas and nosing at her flank. Pallas twisted to look. She'd had an owl on her flank before, representing her skill as a predator and night vision. Now, though, it had darkened almost to black, outlined in stars as if it had changed to a constellation.

“A cutie mark is a symbol of destiny,” Nightmare Moon said. “In accepting my boon, your destiny changed and became intertwined with mine.”

“Huh...” Pallas muttered, thinking and looking at it.

“It will be best for you to avoid public exposure until the current situation is resolved,” Nightmare Moon said. Her mane reached back to the thick curtains and pulled them tightly closed. “But I'm sure until then, we can find a way to pass the time.”

“What do you-” Black Wind started, until the prehensile man gripped her neck and pulled her into Nightmare Moon's embrace, the Princess' lips meeting her own in an aggressive kiss, still tasting of the blood they had both drunk. Black Wind felt her cheeks burn hot, hoping her dark coat hid the blush. “Oh.”

“You are mine, Black Wind.” Nightmare Moon said, as she pulled away. “Never forget that.” She shoved, and Black Wind fell back into the pillows. The dark Princess laid next to her, Bianca jumping onto her to straddle her waist.

“I guess you have some ideas on how to pass the time?” Black Wind gasped, looking up at Bianca.

“A few,” Nightmare Moon smirked. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

Operation Stardust: Blood on the Wind

“Hungry Ghost said that his weapons were ancient artifacts,” Pallas said, as she tried to stand still. Small plates of metal floated around her at a small distance, held in place by a dull grey aura of magic. A harness had already been built out of treated silk and leather, studded with attachment points for the armor itself. Pallas had to admit that it was a lot better than the one-size-fits-nopony armor that she’d had to use during the war already.

“They are,” Silver Tongue confirmed, as he kept working, some of the scale-like plates bending and twisting into shape, holding themselves against her body before coming away as he tested shapes for mobility and coverage.

“So why don’t I get any ancient artifacts to play with?” Pallas complained jokingly.

“See, that’s what I can’t stand,” Silver Tongue said, raising a hoof and shaking it at Pallas accusingly. “Everypony thinks that ancient artifacts are just so much better than what we can make today! It’s wrong-headed! Yes, some of the most powerful enchanted items are ages old - but they’re no more powerful on average than what we can make today. It’s just that everypony remembers swords made out of fire and forgets that it’s the exception, not the rule. You don’t need a magic stone that helps clean laundry, because we’ve got bloody soap for it.”

“...You’re making my new wingblades out of soap?” Pallas asked, feigning ignorance.

“I’d smack you if I wouldn’t break my damn hoof doing it,” Silver Tongue snorted. “That said, the quality of an enchanted weapon has a lot to do with the quality of the base weapon. You can’t make a very good enchanted tree branch, for example.” He paused. “Unless you used lightning-struck Hoofduran mahogany. That might work.”

“Silver, if I have to beat griffons with a stick, I’m going to test it out on you,” Pallas said, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silver Tongue replied. “Wood is really more of an Earth Pony thing, after all. I prefer to work with metal. Speaking of which, I need exceptional metal for your wingblades, and I know you’ve got that Khan’s sword sitting around gathering dust.”

“Kinda heavy, though,” Pallas said. She watched as bands of metal bent around her legs, attaching themselves to the harness. “Hungry Ghost’s are made from Lunar Titanium, right? Whatever that is…”

“A magical material,” Silver Tongue said. “It’s a rare metal, further treated by infusing it with moon dust and moonlight. Only Luna knows the secrets to making it, which is just as well since she’s the only one who can produce both of those on command.”

“Right. So isn’t that, you know, better?” She turned her head to look at Silver Tongue. His aura gripped her chin and shoved it back into place.

“Don’t move so much. This fitting is hard enough as-is just keeping things up in the air. If you move around I’ll start getting pieces mixed up.” A layer of hexagonal plates went down over her belly, overlapping and latching into place against one another, growing in size as they reached her chest.

“I do have to be able to move in this, you know,” Pallas muttered.

“Yes, thank you,” Silver Tongue snapped. “You might know more about wearing armor, but I’m the one who knows how to make it, so just bloody well listen to what I’m saying.” He huffed. “Now, for your information, Lunar Titanium is a good option, but it’s not the only one. I’m relatively sure that sword was made of Dracheneisen.”

Pallas waited a few moments for an explanation that didn’t come. “...and that is?”

“Just what it says on the tin. Dragon Iron. Steel forged in a dragon’s flame. I’m pretty sure I can get Ryujin to help me reshape it without losing any quality from it.”

“Go ahead,” Pallas shrugged. “I don’t really need it sitting around and hanging on my wall. If you screw it up I’m not gonna go out and find another minotaur Khan to fight just to get you more to work with, though.”

Silver Tongue lifted her hooves one at a time, armored shoes locking into place. An odd, jointed spike was attached to the rear, flexing as she moved as if it was part of her body. Pallas tilted her head and watched as Silver Tongue moved her leg up and down a few times to make sure they were acting smoothly.

“These are climbing spurs,” Silver Tongue explained. “I know you thestrals are all good at perching and clinging, but with these you’ll be able to go up and down sheer cliff faces if you need to.”

“Neat,” Pallas said. She was almost covered in the dark armor now, with only her head and back free. “I don’t know how much it’ll come up, though.”

“Part of the point of this is to make sure you have the tools you need before you need to use them,” Silver Tongue said. “Even the smallest edge in combat can make all the difference when it’s life-or-death.” Thick plates settled down along her neck and back.

“Woah, woah, what’s that?” Pallas frowned, as more plates extended over her tail, bands holding the hair like a tight, well, ponytail. “Really? You’re going to armor my tail?”

“More than that,” Silver Tongue smirked. Pallas suddenly felt an odd sensation as the bladed tip locked into place. Her whole tail wiggled and writhed like a snake, and she blinked as she watched it move on its own.

“That’s neat,” she muttered.

“Variant of a come-to-life spell,” Silver Tongue said. “You’ll be able to control it like another limb once you have some practice.”

“Yeah,” Pallas said, her tail thrashing to the side as she tried moving it, knocking over a candle and extinguishing it. She blushed and tried to make it go limp, only succeeding in making it start to curl up on itself.

“Just try not to break anything while you’re getting the hang of it.” Silver Tongue sighed, exasperated. “At least this part is already done…” He opened a chest and unwrapped a large oblong shape, revealing a helm like a dragon’s grinning face. “You’re lucky Luna made this. I’m not much of an artist.”

Pallas held still as the helm was pulled over her head, a strap going around her chin to hold the lower jaw in place and allow it to move. She worked her jaw, trying to get used to the feeling of tightness.

“Check the visibility,” Silver Tongue said. Pallas nodded and powered the visor, the teeth of the helm loosely interlocking.

“I can see okay through the eyes,” she started. The empty eye sockets flared with light. “Woah! This is strange. Everything is all glowy and outlined.”

“That’s the enchantments on the lenses set into the helm,” Silver Tongue nodded. “Nothing too complicated, since you can already see in the dark. Should help make sure you don’t accidentally cut anypony in half that you don’t mean to.”

Pallas looked down at her hooves. “Yeah. That’d be good…” The room seemed to fade away, like she was standing at the bottom of a well. The water was already knee-deep. No, not water. Blood, scarlet and hot around her, more dripping down from above, slowly filling it up. The blood creeping up to her barrel. Coating her wings. She reached up to start climbing out, and felt a pressure on her hoof.

A foal’s hoof, trying to hold her in place, with a grip like iron. She felt talons and hooves and teeth grip her ankles, holding her in the rising tide of blood. There was a surge from above, a torrent splashing down on her face, her mouth filling with gore. She sputtered and looked up. She saw herself standing at the top of the well, bucket in hoof.

The bucket was overturned, and more blood rained down on her. It was rising quickly now, up to her neck. She struggled against it as the liquid closed over her head and-

“Pallas?” Silver Tongue asked.

She blinked, trying to clear the vision from her mind. It was just a daydream. She was still in the armory, getting her armor fitted. She could taste blood. She’d bitten her lip, her newly sharpened teeth easily opening a small cut.

“Are you feeling alright? The helmet isn’t too tight, is it?” Silver Tongue looked concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Pallas said. She looked around to change the subject. “So what’s left?”

“Well, we need to get the razor scales on your shoulders and hooves so you can cut your way out of bindings, some more springdart launchers, and then we need to talk about wingblade design…”

She half-listened as he rambled on, still trying to shake the vision. It didn’t mean anything. She’d done what she had to do, and it had all been worth it. She could live with it.

She could live with it.

~~~***~~~

Morning Glory paced around the market square. He wasn't sure why he had been tasked with getting the Solar Guard in order. If he didn't know better, he'd assume it was merely because he had been in the wrong place in the wrong time and had the responsibility dropped on him. With the war over, the need for a liaison with the Night Guard was greatly reduced, and with it his duties had become considerably lighter. It felt good, in a way, to get back to more active duty.

In another way, it made him worried. As much as it seemed like it might be merely the result of luck that he'd been ordered to investigate the disturbance at Countess Flare's manor, and coincidence that he'd ended up meeting Sirocco Mandala, part of him was aware that it had almost certainly been planned.

Celestia had to suspect that he knew what had happened and was trying to conceal it. More than that, she had to know who had done it regardless. Not only was Pallas Athene the culprit, she had been the only member of the Night Guard whom Celestia had actually seen fight, and she'd displayed the same explosive violence in the dueling arena as had been shown in the Countess' home.

Morning Glory paced around the square, checking the guards there but using it more as a way to stretch his legs and think on his hooves. Everything led back to the same question. Why had he been trusted with this? Was it a way for Celestia to let him regain his self-confidence and display that her trust wasn't misplaced? Was it a test to see if he would fail? Or was there something he didn't know?

He was, unfortunately, beginning to think the third option was the most likely.

"Quiet today," Private Jade said, as Morning Glory stopped near him. "Seems like a few vendors didn't show up today."

"Hm?" Morning Glory blinked, his introspection broken as his train of thought was derailed. He looked around the square. There were plenty of ponies, with farmers selling goods out of their carts and street vendors offering their wares from blankets and tables, but the permanent stands were almost all closed.

"Odd for them to miss a market day," Private Jade said.

"Yes... odd indeed," Morning Glory frowned. He felt fear start to trickle down his spine and fought to hide it.

~~~***~~~

The patrol stopped. An odd figure walked towards them casually. He was wearing dark armor, his back hooves barely making a sound as he stalked towards the Solar Guard patrol. Where front hooves should have been were talons.

The hippogriff turned slightly, his side to the patrol. He reached up and scratched at side of his beak. His feathers and coat were just off white, like a very pale pastel green, banded with maroon along the edges.

"Is he with the Night Guard?" whispered one of the privates. "I didn't know they had any hippogriffs."

Sergeant Spice Drops rolled his eyes, ignoring the question. "You there!" He barked. The hippogriff's eyes met his. Something in the gaze made Spice Drops' blood chill. "If you're not here on official business, you need to leave. This isn’t a joint operation."

The hippogriff tilted his head and raised a wing, revealing a blade sheathed at his side, a long curved weapon no more than half a hoof across. The Sergeant grabbed the polearm from where it hung on a strap at his side, holding it in his teeth and planting his feet defensively.

The hippogriff reared up on his hind legs, a talon grabbing the sword at his side, the other holding the sheath. His wings flared out to keep his balance and he took off, hooves striking sparks on the cobblestones.

The patrol was well trained, the earth ponies firing crossbows at the hippogriff as soon as he moved, without the sergeant even needing to order it. There was a flash of blue as the sword cut bolts from midair, the hippogriff drawing and striking with the same motion.

Spice Drops brought his glaive to bear, trying to parry the incoming strike from the hippogriff's blade. Everything seemed to slow down. Spice Drops watched in horror as the sword went right through his weapon as if it was no more solid than a child's toy.

His neck didn’t stop it, either.

~~~***~~~

Morning Glory felt his paranoia growing as he circled the square. He could feel it in his bones that something was wrong. One guard missing, one patrol unaccounted for, there was nothing wrong with that. One of the perils of working with civilians meant that you sometimes had to do more with your job than just standing around in formation, and he'd much rather the Solar Guard be helping those in need than staying on guard on a street corner.

But three patrols should have gone by already. And he didn't see a single guard from where he stood. At least not a Solar Guard. A cluster of darkly-armored ponies in the Night Guard's uniforms were standing around a covered cart as if guarding it from curious onlookers.

Morning Glory stopped in the shadows, watching the cart. He didn't recognize any of those ponies. He knew almost everypony in the Night Guard after having served alongside them for years, and it wasn't likely that Luna was picking up new recruits when their numbers were already swollen from the war.

"Hm, a straggler," said an oddly accented voice from behind. Morning Glory turned in alarm, and his chest erupted in pain. Morning Glory looked down at the blue blade through his chest, then up at the hippogriff holding it. He coughed, a splatter of red escaping his lips.

"Nothing personal," the hippogriff said, shrugging. "It's just business." He gripped Morning Glory's shoulder and pushed him back, the pegasus sliding off of the blade, body going limp already. Everything went black as he hit the cobblestones, landing in a puddle of his own blood.

Operation Stardust: Lunar Hero Form

4th day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

It was a quiet day at the marketplace. Pear Trap wondered if it was some sort of city holiday that she hadn’t been told about. Her father had asked her to get some extra fertilizer for helping the new saplings and seeds take root in the largely unworked soil of the parks they were re-purposing, but she was starting to think she was going to come back with empty hooves.

Her eyes were fixed on what few stands were open, rather than where her (still empty) hooves were taking her, and she found herself stumbling into a cloaked figure.

“Oh! Excuse me!” Pear Trap said. She looked up to see one of the most beautiful mares she’d ever met. Unlike Pear’s pale, darkly speckled coat and long green mane, the mare she’d bumped into was a riot of color, with her short pink mane pulled low over one eye and bundled into a small bun in the back, and she looked at the earth pony with an amused half-smile and lidded purple eye. Her coat, though, was the most beautiful part, glittering like it was coated in diamond dust, with a slight suggestion of crystalline transparency.

“No harm done,” the mare said lightly. She had an odd accent that Pear Trap had never heard before. Her cloak opened briefly as she stepped aside. Pear saw a quiver bound to her side with long, metal shafts. “When two ponies meet like this it means either destiny or that neither was watching where they were going, no? So if it was the first, we could not avoid it. And the second puts me at fault as much as you.”

Pear Trap blushed. There was something seductive about the way the mare spoke. “E-either way I’m still sorry I bumped into you, Miss. Glad I didn’t hurt you, though.”

The mare laughed. “That should be the least of your worries.” She leaned in to whisper into Pear Trap’s ear. “You’re quite cute, so allow me to give you this advice. Leave here, quickly. If it is destiny that we meet, I give you this chance to escape what comes next.”

“What do you…” Pear looked to the mare, meeting her gaze. Her beautiful, purple eyes, which glittered like cold stone. There was something terrible there. It was the look a hawk might give its prey as it dove in for the kill.

Pear stepped back, breathing heavily. The crystal mare almost seemed to have an aura around her, a dark intent that reached across the space between them and sent cold waves of fear down her spine. Without another word, Pear backed up, not taking her eyes from the mare, as if she was afraid the crystal pony would pounce on her, until she was almost halfway across the market. There, her courage finally broke, and she turned and galloped away into the streets.

“You let her go, Abrolhos?” asked a voice at the crystal mare’s side. She glanced at the hippogriff who leaned against one of the closed stalls, half-hidden in the shadows.

Abrolhos shrugged, pulling her cloak tighter around her quiver of crossbow bolts. “A whim.”

“You’re getting awful at actually killing ponies,” the hippogriff said. He kicked something to her with a talon. She stopped it with a hoof and looked down at the cabbage he’d given to her. “Want a snack?”

“Very funny, Chinook,” she snorted, stomping on the head of cabbage and smashing it with a single blow. “My targets were much more difficult than yours. Don’t forget, they killed Zonda and her little pet monster.”

“Guards are guards,” Chinook shrugged.

“How long before this… Operation Stardust begins?”

Chinook looked up at the sky. The sun was almost directly overhead. “Not long now.”

~~~***~~~

In a cart parked in a dimly-lit alleyway, two things rested underneath a tarp. The first was an ovoid as big as a pony, with a dark shell pocked with what looked like craters. The second was carefully strapped to the egg, a complex device whose purpose was to generate a huge surge of magical energy when the timer set on it ran out.

The last few grains of ground crystal emptied from the top part of the hourglass, joining the rest below. A glyph shone on the complex thaumaturgical device, and it erupted into light and sound as crystal reservoirs emptied their stored magical charge with the force and violence of a thunderclap.

The egg cracked open.

~~~***~~~

“Did you hear that?” Pallas asked, head jerking up. She ran to the window, armored tail lashing behind her with worry. Smoke was rising from the lower city. She could hear screaming already. From this distance it was almost impossible to make anything out, but she could see something moving in the growing fire. Something huge.

“We need to get Luna,” Silver Tongue said. He turned to run and was tripped up by Pallas’ tail, stumbling and falling.

“No time,” Pallas said. “I need wingblades. Give me whatever you’ve got here.”

“So you can go off half-cocked? That’s a damn stupid idea, Pallas...” Silver Tongue snapped, standing up. Before he could say anything else, Pallas was in his face, her visor snapping closed like the jaws of a dragon.

“My name is Black Wind. Now give me those weapons or I’ll go without them.”

~~~***~~~

“For Luna and the Night Guard!” Chinook yelled, as he slashed a fleeing pony, opening a deep cut across its back that sent it tumbling to the ground, back legs rag-dolling. The hippogriff shook his head and looked back at the massive shape behind him, quickly turning the lower city into a battleground.

“We should make our escape, yes?” Abrolhos asked, obviously bored. She stood on top of a pony whose head had been twisted so far around it faced back the way it had come. “Surely enough ponies have seen us that they will spread the word about the Night Guard having had a hoof in this.”

Before Chinook could answer, the shape behind them started crackling with energy. He grabbed Abrolhos and pulled her to the side as a beam of violet energy tore through the air, cutting through the city like a huge sword. It swept upwards before striking the castle, leaving fire and death wherever it touched. One of the castle towers was shorn off entirely, the stone blasting apart at the touch of the beam. The parapet crashed down into the moat around the castle, and even from this distance, Chinook could see ponies falling to their doom.

~~~***~~~

Celestia braced herself, her earth pony magic fighting to keep her upright as the entire castle seemed to shake and tilt. Her peaceful lunch in the south tower was no longer quite as peaceful as she would have liked. The scenery lurched in the window, and Celestia abruptly realized several things at once.

She was in freefall, which meant the tower was collapsing. She was far too large to fly out the window, thanks in no small part to her frequent withdrawals from the national cake reserve. She also couldn’t teleport away, because her advisers had insisted they layer an extra layer of security over the castle wards.

Worst of all, though, she realized that there was nothing she could do for most of the other ponies around her. She grabbed the maids in the room with her magic and pulled them to her sides, forming a shield bubble around them as the tower completed its fall, the stone around them collapsing inwards.

~~~***~~~

“Who is in charge of the Solar Guard?” Luna snapped, as she trotted down the hallway, yelling at the first Solar Guard she’d found with any kind of rank.

“Captain Morning Glory, your highness,” said Lieutenant Lightning Lance, the pegasus having to almost gallop to keep up with her long strides.

“Find him!” Luna yelled. “He needs to get the Solar Guard in order!”

“They’re all patrolling the streets, your highness,” Lightning Lance said. Luna frowned and half-turned to look at him. “It was Celestia’s direct order. All we have is a skeleton staff here. The rest are all on duty.”

“Wonderful,” Luna snorted. “Everywhere at once and impossible to give orders to in anything resembling a timely fashion. And my Night Guard are all off-duty. Even if it only takes a few minutes to equip themselves and form ranks, those will be a long few minutes for the ponies in Everfree.”

“Yes, your highness,” Lightning Lance said.

“And where is my sister?!” Luna demanded. “She should be helping manage this crisis, not having tea!” She turned the corner to the south tower corridor and paled as a hot wind blew across her face. The hallway was sheared off in the center, the edges roiling with smoke and molten stone. There was only empty space where the tower should have been.

Luna’s eyes went wide as she walked to the edge, as close as she dared come to the burning heat of the magma. The tower lay far below, having fallen in a heap of rubble to the bottom of the deep moat, the water still splashing violently from the drop, overflowing from the moat’s boundaries.

“Celestia!” Luna gasped. “Get everypony away! This area is still unstable! I will find my sister!”

“Countermand that,” said a calm voice from behind. Luna didn’t need to look back to know who it was. Sirocco Mandala walked calmly towards the broken hallway, stopping where the stone floor started to crack. “Have Princess Luna escorted to her quarters.”

“Are you insane?” Luna reared up. “I need to lead the Night Guard into battle against this foe!”

“The Night Guard will not be going into battle,” Sirocco said, gesturing to the window.

Luna looked out of the window over the courtyard, and her blood ran cold. Instead of her troops arming themselves and assembling to form a strike force, they were being led out of the barracks unarmed and unarmored at swordpoint, golden armored guards binding their hooves.

"What is the meaning of this?" She snapped, spinning to glare at the earth pony.

"My sources are reporting that elements of the Night Guard are claiming responsibility for this," Sirocco nodded slightly towards the city and the destruction roiling across it. "A full investigation by internal affairs is required, and I cannot let the Night Guard go into the field when their loyalty is in question."

"There is a monster killing dozens of ponies every minute you delay me-" Luna started.

"My apologies," Sirocco interrupted. "I mean to say, when your loyalty is in question. As per royal decree, I am confining you to quarters until the current crisis is resolved and an investigation has been completed."

"The Solar Circle has no power over me," Luna hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Celestia gave us that power," Sirocco replied, unblinking.

"She doesn't have the power to give!" Luna snapped. Her wings flared out as she stalked closer, glaring down at the mare. "If you kneel and beg forgiveness, I might merely have you removed from your position and banished to the far north."

"I would be interested to see you try," Sirocco said. "I am not a fool, Princess Luna. I did not come here to fight you, I came here to make you submit to my lawful authority. To that end, your student has been moved into protective custody and will only be released if you cooperate."

Luna grabbed Sirocco with her magical aura and threw her into and through a wall. True, the castle's internal walls were mostly plaster and wood, but the force would have been enough to simply break a normal pony.

Sirocco stood up, unperturbed. "You are of course understandably upset." The mare brushed the debris from her light armor and shook the dust from her mane. She turned to Luna, her eyes looking hollowed and empty, like the dead eyes of a doll. "If you continue, I won't be able to guarantee the safety of your student."

Luna growled and turned away, her will faltering. Her wings lowered as she fought to control her anger.

"I apologize for using this kind of leverage," Sirocco said. "It isn't something I enjoy doing." She sounded like she might even mean it.

"The blood spilled today is on your hooves," Luna spat.

"It would not be the first time. Now, if you'd accompany me to your room?"

~~~***~~~

Pallas hit the streets hard, not used to the weight of her new armor yet. Her armored shoes kicked up sparks as she skidded, before the climbing claws dug into the cobblestones and stopped her so abruptly she almost tumbled head-over-hooves.

"That's going to take some getting used to," Pallas mumbled. She pulled her wings to her sides, the wingblades stiff but light. Silver Tongue had managed to find her something, and had thrown some spellwork at it to make them tough enough to stand up to her abuses for an hour or so.

She'd landed a few blocks from where she'd seen the monster, intending to get a look at it before charging in. She'd spent too long with a broken wing to want to go in blind, and from the looks of it, the Night Guard was already on the scene.

"Hey!" Pallas yelled, as she trotted over to the two ponies she'd seen in Night Guard armor. "I need to know-"

She stopped in her tracks as they turned to her. One pulled a short, wide blade from the pony he'd buried it into, gripping the hacking weapon in his teeth.

"You're not part of the Night Guard," she said, dropping back half a step and raising a wing. "Identify yourselves!"

The pony with the machete in his teeth glanced at his comrade, then ran for Pallas, head twisting as he reared to strike at her. Pallas dropped low, sweeping both wings up at either side of his body. His front legs tore away from his body as she severed both at the same time, blood pouring from his shoulders.

He dropped the blade as she started to fall, and Pallas spun, her armored tail catching him in the head and sending him flying through the air.

The second came at her, screaming a battlecry. Pallas knocked his spear away with a hoof, her wings closing like scissor blades around his neck, squeezing into it from either side.

"Who are you working for?" Pallas demanded. "Where did you get that armor?"

"What do we have here?" Asked a voice from behind her. Pallas twitched. Even with her thestral hearing, she hadn't heard him moving, and it wasn't just because of the din of battle a few streets over. She looked back at the hippogriff standing there nonchalantly. "You must be one of the rumored beasts Luna has under her command."

Pallas frowned. She let the guard imposter in her grip struggle for a moment later, then snapped her wings shut without even looking at him. His body fell to the left, his head to the right. She turned to fully face the hippogriff.

"I hope you have answers," Pallas said. "Otherwise..." She glanced back towards the headless body.

The hippogriff snorted and clapped his talons slowly and mockingly. "It was fine work. It lacks a certain elegance, but brute force is impressive in its own way. Unfortunately, I doubt I have answers you’d like. I’m just a humble mercenary.”

“Hired by whom?” Pallas demanded. She kicked the disarmed pony towards him. “Because I think they should get their money back.” The mortally wounded pony whimpered, not quite having bled out yet.

“It’s not always about money,” the hippogriff said. He reached under his right wing, drawing out a small metal tube with thick wax caps on both ends. With a flick of his talon, he tore off one of the sealed ends, and a bright purple-green light flared up, as brilliant as the sun. He threw it in a high arc, stepping back.

“What are you-” Pallas asked, as the buildings to her right exploded outwards, a huge pale shape crashing through.

“Sometimes it’s about the fun of it!” The hippogriff yelled, as he vanished in the dust and smoke. The beast turned to look at Pallas,spreading six membranous wings and crouching to roar, its wide, blunt, bulldog-like muzzle opening to reveal crystalline fangs glowing with an inner light.

“Fine, then.” Pallas braced herself. “Let’s go.”

Operation Stardust: Intimacy of Hunter and Prey

4th day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Dragons, as it turned out, were actually quite difficult to kill, and wouldn’t go down just because they’d lost a limb or two. That very fact was the reason she was currently plunging towards a maw filled with fangs and arcs of deadly plasma instead of the comparative safety of the cobblestone of the street.

Pallas would still be going down either way. It hadn’t been the dragon that made her fall out of the sky. That was thanks to an oversized crossbow bolt winging her from what seemed like an impossible distance. Burning crystals fell around her, the remains of the strange payload strapped to the bolt. If she had been a unicorn, she might have been able to figure out what was going on with that.

Then again, if she was a unicorn falling from this height would be even more fatal than it already was.

Pallas’ wing flared out, and she tucked its counterpart to her side, sending her into what pegasai called a death roll. The reason for the name was that typically, a pony going into a death roll didn’t come out of it quite as alive as they went into it. The average pony was tough, but not ‘withstand a few dozen Gs’ tough, and there wouldn’t be Wonderbolts to compare Pallas to for a long time.

Not that her exit maneuver was something a Wonderbolt would use. Pallas slammed the wing she’d held back into the dragon’s face as she skimmed to the side of its jaws, just barely clearing the teeth. The place where she’d broken the scales on its face was still weak, and her blade slid into the flesh beneath, dragging a ragged line down the dragon’s face as the dense meat slowed the cut and Pallas herself.

Pallas jerked to a stop as the edge hit a still-intact scale, almost popping her wing out of the socket. She pulled herself to the dragon and latched on with her spurs just as the pain from the laceration seemed to register for the huge beast, the monster thrashing and roaring. Wings came towards her, the dragon trying to swat her, and she let go, dropping down to the street.

“Looks like I’m going to have to find a real way to finish you off,” Pallas said, mostly to herself since she was pretty sure the dragon didn’t speak Equuish.

There was a flash like lightning as the dragon started to breathe, a thin blade of plasma streaming into the sky like a huge sword. It swung down as the dragon swept it into the city, trying to blindly hit Pallas. Even the bedrock couldn’t handle the constant abuse any longer, steam erupting as the plasma blade hit the water table and flash-boiled it, the ground cracking open and splitting.

Pallas took to the sky as a gorge opened, ruined homes on the edges falling into the abyss, steam and sand spilling up in a red glow, the bottom of the chasm obscured by the debris but already showing the maleficent blood-red of an active volcano.

“This is insane!” Pallas laughed, starting to get light-headed. “Where in Tartarus is Luna?! Where’s Celestia?! This is her bloody city! Why isn’t she protecting it?!”

The dragon roared in challenge. There was only one thing to do. Answer it.

~~~***~~~

“Everypony just stay calm,” Wind Dancer said, standing on top of a table in the bar. The ground shook, almost throwing her from her perch. “I don’t know what’s happening, but the Guard will take care of this. We’re in the safest city in the world.”

“It’s a griffon attack!” The shouting pony looked like he had to be a refugee.

“It’s not,” Wind Dancer said loudly, trying to keep her voice strong and level. She wasn’t a mid-ranking officer just because she had the nicest flank in the Night Guard. Though it had been useful. “The griffons wouldn’t attack. There’s a griffon ambassador in the palace negotiating the peace treaty.”

“How would you know that?!” A unicorn demanded.

“I’m a member of the Night Guard. I promise that-” Wind Dancer was cut off as the ground shifted, the entire building tilting to one side. A wall cracked and shattered, the southern corner of the tavern dropping down into an abyss, ponies falling into the darkness.

Ponies screamed, running for the door. Wind Dancer dove for the nearest of the falling ponies. She couldn’t save all of them, but she could save one of them. He reached for her, the others vanishing into the smoke and dust of the chasm.

Wind Dancer grabbed his moves, fighting to gain altitude. This one time, the world seemed to approve of her efforts, thermals from the geological disaster giving lift to her wings. She managed to get out over the city before they gave out and she was forced to spiral down, not strong enough to carry the earth pony for long.

“Thank you! Thank Celestia for you!” the pony gasped, as Wind Dancer set him down safely.

“Thank Luna. She’s the one paying me.” Wind Dancer smiled weakly. Outside, the sounds of destruction were inescapably loud, a distant and awful roaring. She turned to the pony. “Make it count. I saved you, so you pass it on and save somepony else. Get everypony you can and get them running out of the city. Its not even safe to stay inside now.”

~~~***~~~

Pallas flew into a bank of smoke, razor-edged spines flying like hail around her as she made a tight turn, trying to avoid the barrage. Several bounced from her armor, one lucky shot getting between the scale-like plates and jabbing into her flesh.

She came almost completely around just as the dragon erupted from the smoke. Milk-like blood poured from it in a thick rain from the wounds Pallas had carved into its flesh.

Pallas was impressed that it was able to fly at all, six night-colored wings beating at the sky. It just looked too big and heavy to get into the air. Then again, the same could be said for her, especially with the armor.

~~~***~~~

“Why aren’t we out fighting that monster?” Private Red Zinger adjusted his grip on his spear. He glanced back at the door he was guarding. “I mean, I’m sure this prisoner is important and all, but ponies are dying out there!”

“The orders came straight from the Solar Circle,” Jasmine Bloom said, turning slightly to meet his gaze and shrug. She tugged at a strap on her peytral. As part of the reserve guard she’d only been called to duty at the last minute, and had both less practice getting her armor on and less time to do it.

“I don’t like it. I never even hear about them, then suddenly we’re supposed to take orders from them like they’re the Princess herself.” Red Zinger sighed. “And that means kidnapping some pony who’s barely more than a foal and throwing her in a cell? While the alarms are going off and the whole palace feels like it’s coming down around us?”

“They say she’s a high value target, I’m not going to ask questions,” Jasmine said. “And it’s not kidnapping. We’ve got her in protective custody.”

“The rumors going around are that we’re supposed to, you know… take care of her, if somepony tries to rescue her.” Red shivered.

“Then we’d better hope nopony tries.” Jasmine sighed. “Look, I’m sure we won’t have to do anything. I wouldn’t want to kill a foal. If something happens, we can always refuse the order as being illegitimate. We’re not supposed to kill prisoners. Right?”

Red was silent except for an odd gurgling hiss.

Jasmine frowned and turned to him. “What’s-” Her eyes went wide. Red Zinger was clutching at his neck. Blood spurted from between his hooves. He dropped his weapon, and the movement drew her eyes to the wall, where his shadow was cast against the white wall - and not cast alone. Another shadow stood with his, holding a slim blade through Red Zinger’s throat.

Jasmine jumped towards the unseen intruder, trying to pull him away from Red Zinger. Her hooves caught only air. The other shadow hadn’t moved, it was just as though there was nothing casting it at all.

“Magic!” Jasmine whispered. “It has to be dark magic!” She turned on her heels, galloping away. There wasn’t anything she could do for Red Zinger now. Behind her, the shadow peeled off of the wall like a pony stepping through a thin curtain, revealing a unicorn in black armor, with a shimmering coat of jade.

A dark shape dropped down in front of Jasmine, a pegasus whose lavender feathers and coat were almost entirely hidden behind draconian armor. Jasmine opened her mouth to scream, and the pegasus flapped her wings. The breath was sucked from Jasmine’s lungs, and her ears popped. She felt bubbling in her open mouth and eyes as the water started to spontaneously boil.

She didn’t have time to process what was going on. The pegasus flapped her wings again, and the air distorted in long arcs like ripples on a pond. There was a moment of terrible pressure and tearing, and Jasmine fell apart in neat, bloodless sections.

“Any other guards, Respy?” The pegasus folded her wings, stepping lightly over the body, her hooves barely making a sound as they touched the ground.

“Those are the last two whom stood in our way,” the unicorn said, raising her visor. She was almost transparent, with the distinctive glittering coat of a crystal pony. Her eyes leaked purple trickles of magic from her long-term use of dark magic. “And please, Fluttering Moth, don’t call me Respy.”

“I’m sorry, would you prefer me to call you Smoky Quartz, the Dark Magus of Shade and the Doom of The North?” Moth snickered.

“I gave up that name after Sombra fell. You know that. Just... Resplendent Shadow. Unlike you, I haven’t taken this new start lightly.”

“Hey, it’s important to me too,” Moth shrugged. “Now lets grab the kid.”

“We can agree on that,” Shadow said, kicking the door open. A white thestral sat inside, collared like an animal with a chain thick enough to hold a minotaur.

“Aren’t you a little short to be a Dragoon?” Bianca joked.

~~~***~~~

Pallas grabbed the wall, spurs squealing as she went from a panic dive to avoid another burst of ultraviolet plasma right to a total stop, her limbs protesting the rough treatment. She took a deep breath, looking straight down from near the top of the clock tower she’d landed on. It was right near the edge of the disaster zone, less than half a block to the gorge the dragon had opened up and already leaning as the ground started to subside under it.

The dragon slammed into the ground with considerably less grace than Pallas had managed, the street cracking under its weight. The beast reared up and tried to brace itself on the tower, like a cat stretching to reach something above it.

The tower tilted more, the cement and bricks at the base cracking as they started to shatter from the stress. The dragon lit up like a Hearth’s Warming bonfire, energy crackling from between its fangs and along its spine.

Pallas started running, going straight down the tower, spurs keeping her affixed to its surface. Spines slammed into the bricks around her, and she ducked to the side as a stream of cutting energy sliced through the air, the plasma so close she felt her skin blister even through her armor.

She jumped and landed on the dragon’s face, stabbing into its eye with spur. Thick jelly spurted over Pallas’ hoof as it sank in nearly to the knee. The dragon bellowed, trying to grab for its wounded eye and falling back, unstable from reaching up. A shadow fell over Pallas. She looked up to see the top half of the tower tipping towards her.

Pallas tried to disengage, her hoof stuck in the dragon’s eye socket. She swore, glancing up as cracks spread and the dragon took a step back towards the abyss. Something popped, and Pallas’ hoof came free in a stream of gore.

She flew down and away, rubble impacting on her back. She hit the ground running and took off again as the cobblestone broke apart under her, the street crumbling. The dragon roared and spread its wings, trying to get into the air.

The top of the tower hit the dragon just as it took off, forcing it back to the ground. The ground protested, shattering under the weight and crumbling into the abyss, a cloud of steam and smoke exploding into the sky as the dragon plunged down towards the distant red glow.

Pallas circled the rift, watching the monster fall. The glow from below brightened and flared as a column of purple flame exploded out into the sky, outshining even the sun for a few brief moments. And then it simply sputtered and stopped.

She set down on a rooftop, her hoofsteps the loudest thing she could hear, her ears ringing from the constant din of battle.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Pallas said, before taking a step and falling on her face, armor scraping on the ground. Her joints ached, she’d torn a few muscles, and every motion made her burns flare up in pain.

“Never mind,” Pallas hissed. “It was bad. There had better be a damn good reason why I didn’t get any support.” She crawled to the edge of the roof, looking down at the city. Ponies were starting to come out of the wreckage to put out the fires and free others from rubble. She couldn’t even begin to guess at the casualties.

Her ears perked up.

“The magic circle!” Pallas stood up, suddenly remembering what she’d seen before the wounded dragon had blindsided her. She wasn’t really in any condition to fight, but that had never stopped her from doing something stupid before.

Operation Stardust: Rabid Beast Attitude

4th day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“How much longer?” Chinook asked, running a talon along the grip of his sheathed sword. The hippogriff was sitting on a box, looking out at the castle as if he could see the ponies within. His poorly-fitted Night Guard armor had mostly been discarded, leaving his chest and left talon bare.

“The teleportation circle will be charged in two minutes,” Abrolhos said, glancing down at the runes as they slowly lit up around the purple-green magical circle. “I don’t think anypony else is going to make it out.”

“Mm. Probably not. The Moon Dragon was somewhat more energetic than we were told to expect.” Chinook shrugged. “Most impressive, really.”

“The dragon or that mare that was fighting it?” Abrolhos leaned back, aiming down the length of her massive crossbow. It was made of pitch-black wood and iron, a steel bolt as long as a javelin ready to fire.

“Both,” Chinook replied, smiling back at the sniper. “You know, I think you’re getting rusty. First you fail to kill your targets in the low city and this time you missed a mare as big as a house in the open sky. Maybe you should consider retiring and becoming a farmer? Maybe you could find that mare you spared and settle down with her.”

“Farmers,” Abrolhos spat. “I’d die first. And I didn’t miss her! I just… winged her. It worked well enough. The crystal flare just threw off my aim.”

“Mm. If you say so, little archer.” Chinook looked up. “But I think we’re about to have company.”

A dark form dropped out of the sky, emerging from a bank of smoke. Abrolhos swore and moved, adjusting her aim and firing. The bolt lanced through the air towards Pallas, too close for her to dodge.

An arrow hit it from the side, the bolt snapping in half. Abrolhos stood up, baring her teeth. Two blocks away, a pegasus waved with a free hoof, the other three busy with her hoofbow.

“Oho!” Chinook laughed. “It seems I’m not the only one who brought some help.”

“She’s just lucky!” Abrolhos said. “No pony is that good!”

Pallas landed heavily on the roof, dripping with a mix of red and white blood, a few of the dragon’s spines stuck in her armor and the flesh beneath. She stank like burning hair and boiling blood.

Chinook cracked his neck and stood up. “So we meet again, little miss monster. That was quite a fight! I am duly impressed. It lacked a certain elegance and skill, but you certainly had your heart in it.”

“I’ll have your heart too, in a minute,” Pallas said, pulling her wings to her sides. “Surrender and you might live long enough to get a trial and spend the rest of your life in the dungeon.”

“Mm. No. I think I’m the one who should be making you an offer.” Chinook rubbed his talons together. “Walk away. I’d ask you to join us, but I’ve already got one partner who would kill me if she could get away with it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Pallas said. She walked slowly to the side, not taking her eyes off of Chinook. One talon gripped the sheath of his blade, the other tapping against and just barely touching the handle. Somehow, he seemed even more dangerous than the dragon, despite the sheathed weapon and relaxed stance.

“Your funeral,” Chinook sighed.

Pallas stopped, her wing twitching as she considered the hippogriff. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly afraid of him. He couldn’t be as strong as the dragon. He couldn’t even be as strong as she was. He’d already removed most of his armor. His weapon was sheathed. He was vulnerable, yet somehow dangerously ready, and her instincts screamed at her to take him seriously.

She took half a step, and the hippogriff’s hoof twisted as he shifted his weight. Pallas stopped, freezing up. The tiny hole in his defenses had slammed shut like a fortress gate.

“What’s wrong?” Chinook asked, smirking.

Pallas roared and charged, shaking off the fear. Her blade swung freely towards his neck, the hippogriff totally exposed.

There was a flare of sparks as steel met steel. In less than the blink of an eye, like some kind of magic trick, the hippogriff’s sword was out and had intercepted hers, holding back the same amount of force that had smashed through dragonscale.

“You’re not bad,” Chinook said, amused. “You don’t have the patience of a duelist, though. You fight like a wild animal.”

“I’m going to tear you in half!” Pallas screamed, striking from the side with her other wing. Chinook blurred with motion, and the hilt of his sword hit her chest with the force of a cannon, sending her flying back, spurs tearing up the roof as she fought to slow down.

“Will you?” Chinook asked. “I’d like to see that.”

“Stop playing with her!” Abrolhos yelled, as she fired another bolt towards the distant shape of Wind Dancer, the pegasus using the distance and her own motion to her advantage.

“Come now, this is the most fun I’ve had all day,” Chinook grinned. He lowered his stance, keeping his sword parallel to the ground. “It’s too bad you’re already exhausted. I’d have liked to fight you at your best.”

“It was only a dragon,” Pallas said, trying to make it sound like it was nothing. In truth she felt like she was going to collapse even if the hippogriff didn’t attack her. That hilt strike to her chest had shaken her. One of her ribs felt like it had cracked, even through the thick plates of enchanted metal.

“True. A warrior is far more dangerous.” Chinook took a firm step, raising his free talon along the back side of his curved blade as if to steady or guide it. Pallas’ eyes flickered to where his single step had put the other hoof forwards, putting his sword talon to the back and less able to strike.

Pallas charged again, hoping to take him with even a fraction of his guard lowered. She didn’t even see him move. His sword was simply in front of her, the blade twisting and deflecting her attack, the edge of her wingblade hitting the ground and sticking, leaving her vulnerable and completely open on that side.

The back of Chinook’s sword hit her helmet, making it ring like a bell as she staggered back.

“Come now, little monster. You can’t just fight like a beast and expect to win.” Chinook returned to his stance. “If you don’t draw blood with this next attack, I will.”

Pallas shivered and spread her wings. This was the complete opposite of fighting the dragon. It had been slow and obvious, powerful but relatively easy to avoid, even if one mistake could have meant death. The hippogriff was impossibly fast, like trying to hit a ghost. She was going to have to be clever.

Even if he was faster, he’d been blocking her blows instead of dodging them. Pallas charged, making a big obvious swing with her right wing. He blocked it, but instead of holding her stance to put real force behind the blow, she kept going, trying to trample him.

It was a mistake.

He was suddenly above her, getting into the air with the lightest flap of his wings. She felt weight on her back, and then she was falling forwards, a sharp pain in her back. She gasped and collapsed, coughing up blood. She felt like she was drowning.

“That’s the problem with fighting an animal,” Chinook sighed. “Your technique lacks a certain something. You’re all raw edges and talent, and you forget your training when you need it the most. How disappointing.”

He stepped over her, sheathing his blade.

“I was hoping for a longer fight. I suppose you weren’t as tough as you looked.”

Pallas grit her teeth, feeling a burning rage inside her. With her muscles torn, lung punctured, and her skin badly burned, she shouldn’t even have been conscious, much less moving. It didn’t matter. It was like she could just keep going through will alone, despite the burning in her chest.

Chinook turned, surprised. Pallas lept into the air, screaming a warcry through the blood filling her throat. Chinook grabbed for his sheathed weapon and swung, the metal sheath hitting her across the chest. She fell back, something twisting hard inside her, like a talon ripping at her guts.

She took a wild swing, and the wingblade was deflected easily, casually, with no more effort than batting away a stray leaf, Chinook still not unsheathing his weapon. Pallas spun with the motion, turning completely around, her hind leg kicking out to try and catch him by surprise.

There was a flash of light as the edge of the hippogriff’s blade caught a sunbeam. Her leg suddenly went ice-cold, like she’d fallen into a frozen lake. There was a terrible sense of wrongness even before the pain hit, and everything went blank as she started dry heaving from the agony and shock.

Pallas looked back. Her right back leg ended in a stump just below the knee. Dark blood poured from the wound, spurting with every beat of her heart.

Chinook pushed her, almost gently, and she fell over in a heap, her own blood pooling around her.

“I warned you,” Chinook shrugged. He stepped away, flicking his blade to remove the blood. Pallas gasped for breath, twitching and trying not to throw up.

A vision, somewhere between a dream and a memory, took over her consciousness. That last terrible day in her birthplace. The soldiers holding her down. The pain and helplessness she’d felt.

And the way that Luna had helped her escape her nightmares.

Pallas roared, her helm’s fanged maw moving with hers as she struggled to her hooves, spurs fighting to keep her stable with only three shaky legs on the roof, the surface wet with her own blood.

“What’s this?” Chinook asked, whispering.

Pallas was beyond reason, not even hearing his words. She charged, flapping her wings to keep her balance as she half-ran, half-hopped at him. The hippogriff was slowed by surprise, and instead of cutting her down instantly, grabbed her by the helm and threw her over his head, sending her crashing into a low wall.

Pallas slid to the ground, her hooves slipping on the roof as she tried to get back up.

“You’re more like a wild animal than a pony,” Chinook said, raising his sword. “And rabid animals get put down.”

“Chinook! We’ve got incoming!” Abrolhos yelled.

The hippogriff smiled and shook his head. “Lucky devil,” he said, running to the rune circle. Abrolhos joined him, and the circle flared with magic as they vanished.

“Annoying,” a pony said, as she jumped to the roof. “They saw us coming. Intrepid, try to trace that teleportation. It was a predetermined point-to-point jump, so it can’t be that hard to track.”

Pallas opened her eyes, everything blurry and tinged with red. A light brown earth pony was looking down at her. There was an intense weight to that gaze, like it was taking her apart. Not that she hadn’t already been partly disassembled.

“Sirocco,” a voice said from behind. A silver pegasus flew over with something in his hooves. Pallas’ eyes widened at what he was holding. Her hoof. It twitched and writhed, as if struggling with the same will that was keeping her going.

“Necromancy,” the earth pony spat. “I’m not surprised. I’ve suspected Luna to have been dabbling in the darker arts.”

“She still seems alive,” the pegasus said, nodding towards Pallas.

“Yes. It is odd. However, it is also one of Luna’s servants.” Sirocco stepped closer. “A foul creature of darkness that doesn’t belong in this world. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was our foal killer, and ultimately responsible for all of this destruction.”

“We’ll need to give her medical attention before taking her into custody,” the pegasus said.

Sirocco shook her head and grabbed the twitching hoof he held, her own hoof glowing gold as she chanted, whispering words that Pallas couldn’t quite make out. The severed limb burst into flame, almost instantly turning to ash.

“We do not take creatures of darkness prisoner,” Sirocco said. She turned to Pallas. “Elements of Harmony, forgive me for this violence I am about to inflict.” She chanted softly, her forehoof glowing as she approached Pallas.

“Sirocco Mandala! I order you to stand down!” The earth pony froze in place and turned.

There, on the edge of the roof, was Princess Luna.

“You have no authority over me,” Sirocco said. “And as I explained, any attempt to escape would mean I could not guarantee the life of your student.”

“She has as much authority over you as I do,” another voice boomed. Sirocco fell to her knees in supplication as Celestia landed next to her sister. She looked like she’d been through a lot, and wasn’t the picture-perfect princess Pallas had come to expect. Her mane was ragged, her coat filthy from mud and water, and she looked angry.

“Sol Invictus, I was not informed you had been freed,” Sirocco said evenly.

“I freed her myself,” Luna said. “After my Dragoons freed my student from the guards you set on her.”

“And those guards?” Sirocco asked, already knowing the answer but wanting Luna to say it herself in front of Celestia.

“They are dead,” Luna replied. “I dislike ordering ponies to be killed, but they were well aware of the danger.”

“Were they?” Sirocco tilted her head.

“Yes,” Luna said, her voice low and eyes narrow. “They willingly followed orders that would have resulted in the death of innocents. Their duty was to challenge and refuse those orders, and they failed. Just as you failed when you used her as a hostage just to keep me from taking the field.”

“You have abused the trust I placed in you,” Celestia said. “You’ve allowed paranoia and distrust to rule you, and as a result, thousands of ponies are dead.”

“I was doing what needed to be done for Equestria,” Sirocco replied. “From initial reports it was more than likely that Princess Luna was staging a coup. Surviving guards reported being attacked by ponies in Night Guard uniforms. The beast that did this damage was one of Luna’s creations.”

Celestia turned to Luna, her expression frustrated and puzzled.

“It was a Moon Dragon,” Luna said. “Just because it comes from the moon does not make it one of my creations, no more than a tree can be said to create caterpillars.”

“And how did it get here from the moon?” Sirocco challenged.

“I don’t know,” Luna said. “I am not omniscient. I intend to find out, as I intend to find out everything else about this incident. However, what I do know for sure is that you prevented my Night Guard from assisting civilians or trying to defeat this monster, and that despite your interference, it was one of my finest soldiers who killed the dragon.” Luna stepped closer, looming over Sirocco. “And when we arrived, you were attempting to kill that soldier.”

“I-” Sirocco started.

“Silence,” Celestia sighed. Sirocco stopped mid-word. “Arguing and pointing hooves is what caused this! All of you need to learn to work together. I’d make it an order if anypony would actually listen to it.”

“Stay and bicker with your Solar Circle,” Luna said, lifting Pallas up with her magic. “And look well upon this before I leave. This is a true hero. Where your soldiers did everything they could to make the situation worse, Black Wind was forced to fight alone. She will live, and I will see all of you bow before her and thank her.”

“Luna…” Celestia rubbed her temple, but just shook her head and didn’t bother completing the thought as her sister vanished in a flash of shadows and light.

“Princess, I apologize,” Sirocco said. “It was not my intent to allow others to come to harm. I was trying to do what was best for Equestria as a whole.”

“I know,” Celestia said. “I know. I just wish everypony had the same idea about what was best for Equestria…”

Operation Stardust: Scathing Lunar Condemnation

4th day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

An armored hoof kicked the door of the Ambassadorial suite open. Inside, the candles were almost extinguished, so low that there was nearly nothing left of them. A body was slumped over at the dining table, long gone cold. Xaaron’s beaked face was locked in an expression of surprise and horror, talons digging into the table and leaving long claw marks where he had struggled in agony. A half-eaten meal lay scattered around the table, along with a dented cup and spilled bottle of wine.

“Damn,” Quel said, as he walked in and prodded the corpse with a hoof. It was stiff from rigor mortis. “Looks like the beaky is dead already.”

“Murdered,” said a voice behind Quel. Quel tried not to shiver at the voice. The mare was old, gone to gray already, and her voice was exactly the way Quel remembered his old schoolteacher. Stern and just an inch from casting down judgement.

“It could have been suicide,” Quel retorted. “Killing himself after his plot failed.”

“You don’t poison your own meal when you’re killing yourself,” the mare said calmly. “Have the chefs and maids detained. I want to know who cooked this, who delivered it to him, and everypony who could have touched it in any way.”

“Belay that,” Quel snapped. “Who do you think you are? You can’t just give my soldiers orders!”

“I think I’m somepony who outranks you,” the mare said.

“And I think the Night Guard doesn’t take orders from the Solar Guard,” Quel said. “Escort her out of the area. If she gives you trouble, take her the long way, with a lot of stairs.”

“My, my,” the mare said softly. “Already trying to have me roughed up?” She glanced at the guards to either side of her. “Captain Quel, I have been asked here by Celestia-”

“Yeah, you’re part of her little Solar Circle,” Quel shrugged. “Don’t look surprised. Of course we know about you. Luna doesn’t keep secrets the way Celestia does. She trusts us.”

“Very well. My name is Seaspray.” The older mare raised a hoof to her mane, smoothing it back. “Yes, I am a member of Celestia’s Solar Circle. She asked me to accompany you because, simply put, she does not trust you. While I hope you do not take offense to that, I intend to carry out the duties assigned to me.”

“I figured out that she doesn’t trust us already, thanks,” Quel snapped. “It’s kind of funny, since we were trying to save lives and you idiots decided to spend all your marepower making sure we couldn’t.”

“The situation was complicated,” Seaspray admitted. “We should focus on the present. Celestia wanted to make sure nothing untoward happened to the Ambassador as a result of the Night Guard.”

“Not much we can do to a dead beaky,” Quel gestured to the corpse.

“You can treat him with respect. He wasn’t involved in this plot.” Seaspray walked over, sniffing at the spilled wine. “Iocane powder. Not a pleasant way to go, but no effective antidote.”

Quel sighed. “Have the maids and cooks sequestered so we can question them to see how he ended up dead.”

“As I originally ordered,” Seaspray noted. “As such, I approve. However, I want them guarded by a mixed company of Solar and Night guards.” Quel opened his mouth to protest, and Seaspray held up a hoof to stop him. “Regardless of our personal feelings, we need to work together. It’s important that the common pony have faith in the Diarchy.”

~~~***~~~

“This is your fault!” Luna screamed, throwing a bookcase across the room. Celestia sat and glared at her, not blinking as it shattered into shrapnel. “Because of you, thousands are dead!” Celestia’s bedroom looked like it had been subject to several tornadoes and an earthquake. Only a minority of the damage was from Luna’s rage, the rest from the dragon attack.

“They are dead because of terrorists,” Celestia replied, trying to remain calm. “Terrorists whom, I note, would have been stopped if you hadn’t had my agent killed.”

“An agent I had no way of knowing existed!” Luna snapped. “Whom you didn’t even inform me about even after the fact! I find it darkly amusing that you blame me when you intentionally kept me from knowing about this.”

“I was trying to keep you from murdering our subjects!” Celestia yelled. She stood up to her full height, towering over Luna. “You never think things through! This is just like the griffons - you just want to kill anypony who stands in your way!”

“If that was true, I’d kill you,” Luna growled. “You are a threat to Equestria itself. Because of your orders and your soldiers, the war dragged out longer than it should have, this plot was allowed to advance to this stage, and the Night Guard was kept from the field where it could have acted to save lives.”

“I-”

“You are a weak, pathetic ruler who only cares about basking in the love and praise of her subjects instead of making the hard decisions that need to be made!”

There was a crack like thunder as Celestia’s hoof met Luna’s cheek.

Luna reached up to touch the bruised flesh.

“So it has come to this,” Luna hissed. “You’ve had my student detained and used her life to threaten me. You’ve kept my army from the field when they were most needed. Your soldiers tried to kill one of my most trusted ponies after she had saved the day. And now you strike your own sibling.”

“Why won’t you just calm down and listen?!” Celestia yelled. “I am trying to make life better for everypony, but I can’t do that when you refuse to work with me! Of course my troops don’t trust you! You spent the entire war ignoring me when I was trying to end it without bloodshed! You refuse to take my advice, you act without consulting me, and you act as though it is my fault that the only solutions you seek are those that end in death!”

“I spent the war saving ponies. You wanted to compromise and talk when action was needed! And the war has not ended. This attack was at the behest of griffon elements and I intend to have satisfaction!”

“It is easy to make war, Luna. All you have to do is fight and hate. It is far more difficult to make peace, because it means putting those feelings aside and making the world a better place.”

“If you want to talk about making peace, preach to the ponies in the street.” Luna threw open the window, tearing down the curtains Celestia had closed. Smoke poured from the scattered fires that were proving difficult to put out. The huge rift belched steam and volcanic gasses. “Wake up, sister! Wake up and smell the ashes! This is the path you lead us down!”

~~~***~~~

Bianca held Pallas’ hoof, both thestrals weeping as Ryujin and Silver Tongue worked to try and keep Pallas from death’s grasp. After her armor had been removed, it was clear that her wounds were even more serious than they had assumed. Wind Dancer sat against the wall, unhurt but exhausted.

“Shave the fur away from these wounds,” Ryujin muttered, as he used a needle and thread to close a laceration. “With how her skin is burned, it’s going to fall out anyway.” Ryujin grabbed an unmarked ceramic bottle from the table at his side and poured it over the wound, Pallas hissing at the pain.

“It’s amazing she’s even still alive,” Wind Dancer said quietly.

“Luna wouldn’t let her die,” Bianca whispered. “She can’t keep everypony from dying, but she can manage a few when they’re bound to her.”

“The Dragoons?” Silver Tongue guessed, as he helped Ryujin hold her down as the thestral struggled like the wounded animal she was.

Bianca nodded. “It’s like necromancy but with living ponies. The magic keeps their hearts beating and their limbs moving, even if they should be dead.”

“Wonderful,” Silver muttered.

“It doesn’t seem to do much for pain,” Wind Dancer noted.

“No, it doesn’t,” Bianca said. She nuzzled at Pallas’ neck, being careful to only touch her where her skin wasn’t burned or torn.

The doors to the infirmary burst open, and Luna stomped in, looking disheveled and angry.

“We are leaving in the morning!” Luna declared. “Make her ready for travel. I would not leave her here under the care of ponies who care not for her life.”

“What happened?” Silver Tongue asked.

Luna paced around the room before answering, gritting her teeth. “We are no longer welcome here, if we ever were. My sister has become exactly the type of useless fop we always derided, and would rather see me removed from power than admit that she is being used.”

“Removed from power?” Bianca gasped.

“Through the most underhooved means possible. Her orders would have had you killed if my Dragoons hadn’t saved your life.” Luna sighed. “She has insulated herself so far away from the problems of the world that she would rather kill the messenger that brings them to her attention than do anything to solve them.”

“Where are we going to go, then?” Silver Tongue asked.

“I have decided to go to the one place she dares not follow,” Luna said, calming down. She held her head high, wings spreading slightly. “We will venture across the sea with the Night Guard and as many as wish to follow us. I will take the war to the griffons, and they will pay for what they have done.”

Luna stepped up to Pallas, putting a hoof on the suffering mare.

“They will pay for this, too.” She whispered, and turned to leave. “I think it is time I addressed the city. They have heard enough of my sister’s pointless words, and they deserve speech with iron backing it. If there is any change… I will know.” She looked at Pallas. “If she wakes up, and I am not here, tell her I am proud.”

~~~***~~~

As the sun set, and the full moon rose, a ray of moonlight like a spotlight shone down into the low city, illuminating a courtyard. Ponies, tired from hours spent digging through rubble and searching for those they cared about, started to gather.

“My little ponies, today has been a day which will live on forever in infamy. But it is not a day which foreshadows our defeat. It is a new beginning.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, until Princess Luna appeared as a shadow in the moonlight above, her voice booming as she addressed the crowd.

“The Griffon Empire has ravaged our lands for their own greed and lust for power. We must send them a message, but not one of mere words. We have wasted too much time with words. We need action now! The griffons must be taught a harsh lesson for their evil corruption!” She landed on the broken cobblestone streets, her armored shoes striking sparks on the stone.

“Many of your brothers and sisters have perished valiantly in the face of a contemptible enemy. We must never forget what the Empire has done to our people! My sister, Princess Celestia, brought this down upon us when she refused to fight. We became helpless prey to them, and they have taken this opportunity to go for the throat.”

Luna started walking through the crowd, touching a shoulder here, meeting the eye of a pony there, her natural height making her easy for the ponies to keep track of her, but her actions putting her on their same level, making the speech oddly intimate.

“I have fought for you since the beginning of this war! I have pushed the griffons out of our land where my sister merely tried to hold the line. Today, she made it clear that I am no longer welcome in Equestria, despite the sacrifices I have made for this land and all the ponies within. Because of her actions, my army was unable to take the field, and it was only through the bravery of a single soldier who escaped her grasp that you had any defense against the dragon at all.”

Luna paused, closing her eyes for a moment in obvious pain.

“I will not stay here, where I am unwelcome, where ponies are put at risk, where we wait for the predator to come to us. All those who value courage over life, who wish to take the fight to the foes who deserve it, and who wish to keep this from ever happening again, I ask you to join me. I will march to the east, and from there, we will sail across the sea and attack the Empire. I intend to free the ponies held captive there, end their tyranny, and remove the threat once and for all.”

Luna looked around the crowd, many of them mothers, foals, ponies who had no right to fight.

“Those of you who stay behind, I hope only that you find whatever peace is left to you. I know many of you have responsibilities and commitments you cannot easily cast aside, but I can only protect those who fight with me. I have seen today what kind of security my sister provides, and would not wish it on anypony.”

The crowd murmured at that. Here in the low city, the casualties had been terrible. Most of them had already fled the war to come here, to safety, and they’d only found that the war had followed them.

“To those who follow me, victory is the greatest tribute we can pay to those who have lost their lives in this war! Rise up and show the griffons that we are not prey! Equestria thrives on the strength of its ponies, and they will not underestimate us again!”

From somewhere in the crowd, cheering started. It spread like the fires had across the low city, quickly and leaving little untouched in their wake. Luna smiled at the crowd, rising up and shouting to be heard over the excitement.

“Any who wish to come will not be turned away, but know that you might not return to Equestria. Bring only what you can carry. You have until dawn to decide, and I advise you to think well on it. Regardless of what you decide, I care for all of you, and I am doing this because you deserve to be protected and avenged.”

Luna flew up, along that beam of moonlight, and vanished in a flash of light as she teleported away.

From the ruined castle, Celestia watched from a window, her eyes cast down.

“Your highness?” Sirocco asked, from behind her. “If you wish, we have some recommendations. It might be possible to keep her from leaving, if you’re willing to authorize-”

“No,” Celestia said.

“No?” Sirocco blinked slowly, tilting her head.

“Let her go. She has been a destabilizing element since she returned. Perhaps some time apart will make it easier for when she returns.”

“If she returns,” Sirocco noted.

“She will,” Celestia said. “If we’re lucky, she will return because we are at peace, and this will become an embarrassing memory we both try to forget. If we aren’t lucky, her return to Equestria could be…” Celestia trailed off.

“Could be what, your highness?”

“We have wronged her. I hope she can forgive, or at least forget.”

The Dry Season: Serendipitous Voyage

12th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas stumbled, losing her balance as a wave tilted the boat. There was a crack as blades dug into the wood of the deck. Pallas swore as she was wrenched around, her leg popping free as she fell on her face. If she’d been wearing her armor, it would have just been embarrassing. Since she wasn’t, it was also painful as her snout hit solid oak and the sharp teeth of her helm’s maw-like visor stuck in the deck.

She looked back, growling, at the metal leg still standing by itself, leaving her bandaged stump exposed, suddenly cold as it was freed. It was almost entirely healed over now, only aching when the weather changed. Or she was trying to sleep. Or she got upset. Or she walked around too much.

It ached a lot, really.

“I told you already, you need to make sure the straps are tight,” Bianca said, as she dropped down from the rigging to land next to Pallas. “Otherwise the leg doesn’t work properly.”

“I thought it was tight enough!” Pallas snapped. She pulled her face free of the deck, leaving a wide bite mark, and got up to her three hooves, leaning on the ship’s railing for support. The ship was one of the smaller ones in the fleet Luna had put together, three dozen ships in total, the largest formerly a grain transport now serving as the flagship and the heart of the fleet, carrying the civilians who had decided to follow Luna across the sea. All told, there were ten thousand ponies, packed onto the ships, the trip only tolerable because of high spirits and plentiful supplies.

Bianca used all of her strength and managed to free the leg from the deck, pulling out half of a broken board along with it. She turned to look at Pallas and frowned, worried. Pallas shivered, flinching as the wind started to pick up. “Are your burns starting to hurt again?” She edged closer, nuzzling Pallas carefully. The burns had mostly healed, and Pallas’ coat had quickly grown back in, but constant pain and itching had made her irritable for months.

Pallas huffed and turned her gaze to the sea, unable to meet Bianca’s gaze. “It’s the salt air. It just… stings.” She refolded her wings, her wingblades gleaming with bronze and a glimmer of green along the edge, like the blade’s cutting surface was formed of pale, dimly glowing emerald.

“I can tell,” Bianca said. “I think Ryujin has a little more of that salve he was using on you before.”

“I used the last of it already,” Pallas groaned. She’d barely been able to sleep the night before, her leg aching like a storm was rolling in and her skin raw and red under her dirty, rime-crusted coat. “I can’t wait until we’re back on solid ground. I miss having actual dirt and rock under my hooves. I keep thinking I’m about to fall and last time I almost decapitated a sailor when my wings popped out on reflex!”

“Are you sure you’re not an earth pony?” Bianca teased.

“Laugh it up,” Pallas sighed. “Can you help me get my leg back on?” Pallas wiggled her bandage-wrapped stump of a back leg. Bianca hefted the metal limb, getting it into place. As she and Pallas pulled the straps tight, the hoof flexed, the blade retracting and the broken board falling away. It had been acting up for a while now, the grit from drying seawater getting into the gearing of the spurs.

“How’s that?” Bianca asked, stepping back in case the blades popped out on their own again. Pallas took a cautious step, the artificial limb unsteady on the wet wood of the deck.

“Good enough,” Pallas sighed, as she tapped the hoof against the ground, extending and retracting the blade in the cloven hoof.

“We should arrive within two days,” said a soft voice. An armored form stepped, impossibly, out of the thin shadow of the ship’s mast. Resplendent Shadow glanced back towards the other ships in the fleet. “Though… this has been too easy.”

“We’ve been at sea for months,” Pallas spat, a trace of blood in it from where she’d bitten her tongue while falling. “I’d hardly call this easy. The wind has been working against us the whole way.”

“This is nothing,” Fluttering Moth yelled down from the crow’s nest, where she was perched like an albatross. “If they wanted to keep us out, they could have done worse than just make us tack against the wind!”

“I’m not sure about that,” Shadow said. “I don’t know if you can feel it, but this place is… thick. Like a miasma of magic that’s been getting more and more dense the closer we get.”

“Does this mean you won’t be able to cast spells?” Bianca frowned. “Because that’d be bad.”

“Of course not,” Resplendent Shadow snorted. “It’s not nearly as bad as the Empire was.”

“The Crystal Empire?” Bianca asked.

“Yes,” the crystal unicorn nodded. “It was… difficult, towards the end.”

“What Respy means is that she got her sorry flank kicked by Luna,” Moth put in.

“I did not!” Resplendent Shadow shouted. “Sombra betrayed us all in his quest for immortality. I thank the Princess every day for saving what little she could of our people.”

“What did he do, anyway? Ponies always talk about it, but…” Bianca trailed off.

“It would be difficult to explain in great detail to a non-unicorn. Removing the technical aspects… The soul of a pony has a great deal of power, especially for magical rituals. What Sombra wanted was to give himself a body that would live forever. For a time, I was his right hoof. He taught me everything I know about shadow magic.” Shadow sighed. “He was driven. I admired him, until I learned how many ponies he was willing to kill to fill his ambitions.”

“That’s when Respy switched sides!” Moth noted, fluttering down from the mast, almost getting blown off the ship by a stray gust of wind. “We were all pretty surprised, since she’d been super annoying to fight up until then.”

“Yes, well, waking up one day to your mentor sacrificing almost everypony not under the protection of the Crystal Heart was a wake-up call,” Resplendent Shadow muttered. “I wouldn’t have been able to fight it off if not for my own talents with dark magic.”

“He even tried to kill you?” Pallas raised an eyebrow, frowning.

“His reasoning was that if he was immortal, he could always find another apprentice, given time.” Shadow snorted. “He was completely insane. If he isn’t dead, I hope he’s suffering somewhere.”

The ship rocked as another wave hit it, accompanied by a hard gust of wind.

“Girls, we have a problem,” Moth said, her wings extended to their full width. She was looking towards the sky, where clouds had begun to form out of nowhere.

“That’s a beast of a storm coming,” Pallas muttered.

“It’s unnatural,” Shadow noted. “This miasma - I recognize it now. It’s residue from weather magic. I didn’t think it could get like this.”
Heads turned to look at the clouds as thunder rumbled loudly enough to be heard over the waves starting to pound against the hull of the ship.

“Get inside,” Pallas said. The ship’s captain started yelling orders, sailors taking down the sails to try and protect them from the oncoming storm. “We need to get out of the way.”

Rain started splattering down around them, skipping drizzle and light rain and almost immediately graduating straight to a wall of water.

“Why is it red?!” Bianca gasped, as her white coat was quickly stained with a rusty crimson color by the precipitation.
Pallas stuck out her tongue, tasting the rain.

“It’s dirt,” she said, after a moment. “Not blood.”

“The wind is carrying sand and soil it picked up from the mainland,” Moth shouted over the noise of the storm as they ran for cover from the downpour. “We must be closer than I thought!”

The ship pitched to the side, ponies sliding across the deck. Saltwater sprayed across the deck, smearing the puddles of thin mud collecting around their hooves. The other ships were already starting to vanish, barely visible in the growing fury of the storm.

“Look!” Bianca shouted, pointing up. There was a hole in the accumulating cloud layer, the rest of the storm rotating around it like the hub of a wheel. Within it, illuminated by emerald lightning and surrounded by a pervasive glow like a firefly, was a huge form, with a wingspan perhaps as wide as their ship was long, the edges rimmed with blunt, square feathers.

“Zephyranthes,” Moth whispered. “He’s trying to break up the armada himself!”

“We need to fly up there and take him out!” Pallas shouted. “It’s what we’re here for!”

“In this storm? With you wearing that heavy armor?” Moth laughed without humor. “That’s suicide! We can’t even reach him!”

One of the other ships loomed out of the red rain, the surge of rain pushing it towards their boat. They could see the terrified expression of the crew of the second ship before the two collided, hulls scraping against each other. Part of the railing collapsed, and a half-dozen sailors fell overboard into the surf.

“Get ropes and try to get them before we lose sight!” the Captain shouted. Pallas grabbed a coil of rope with her teeth, rushing to the edge.

“Don’t take wing,” Moth warned. “With the winds like this, you’ll end up in the water and needing rescue yourself.”

“I know!” Pallas shouted, her voice muffled by the rope in her mouth as she tied it to some of the remaining railing, the knot messy and inexpert. She squinted into the water, her night vision not helping in the haze of rain and the confusion of the ocean waves. She spotted a waving, panicking hoof, and threw the rope towards it, the hemp splashing down next to the struggling pony.

The pony splashed, not quite reaching the dangling rope.

“Grab the damn rope!” Pallas yelled, trying to wrangle it closer to the struggling form. Her armor’s spurs steadied her as she leaned over the edge, the wood cracking below her.

“Pallas!” Bianca screamed. Pallas looked up, and saw the prow of another ship, not even the same one they’d hit before. It was descending on them like the blade of a huge knife. She jumped back and held onto Bianca with her front hooves as the ships crashed into each other, wood exploding into splinters as their boat broke in half.

Pallas grit her teeth as she spread her wings, trying to get clear of the sinking wreckage. A gust of wind slammed into her like a sledgehammer, forcing her down into the water. Bianca was torn from her grip by the impact, Pallas hitting the surface and sinking like a stone. The salt filled her mouth as the ocean closed over her head.

Pallas kicked and struggled, trying to get to the surface. Her armor dragged at her, her wings sluggish to respond as the cold, murky water fought against her like a living thing. The ghostly green light from above faded as she sank.

~~~***~~~

Pallas sputtered, spitting up what must have been a gallon of salt water. Her body was burning from where salt had found its way into her wounds, and she felt heavy, exhausted, and like somepony had rolled her down a rocky hill.

“Please wake up!”

Somepony was screaming in her ear. She groaned and opened her eyes, finding herself looking directly into a pair of wet, red eyes that had obviously been crying.

“Bianca?” Pallas asked, her voice rough from dry heaving and the salt. The smaller thestral pulled her into a hug.

“I was so worried! You weren’t breathing and I didn’t know what to do!” She sobbed into Pallas’ shoulder. Pallas looked around, her exhaustion making her feel oddly placid and detached. They were on a beach. Above them, the sky was almost totally clear of clouds, the storm long gone. Broken boards and other flotsam littered the sand.

“What happened?” Pallas coughed.

“Our ship wrecked, and Luna couldn’t get to us,” Bianca said, worried. “She was keeping the civilians safe from the storm. I don’t know if they made it. I can’t hear her anymore.”

“You can’t hear her?” Pallas blinked, starting to come around a little more.

“It’s the miasma,” Shadow said, suddenly at their side as she stepped out of the shadows they were casting. “It’s making minor magic difficult. Magic requires one to use enough force to exceed the ambient magic of an area. In Equestria, it is like a sword cutting through the air, with almost no resistance at all. With how swamped this place is, it is like cutting through mud instead, so precision and speed become impossible.”

“So we don’t even know where she is…” Pallas mumbled.

“We know where she’s going,” Shadow noted. “Our plans were to march to the capital, which is in the north. If we march north along the coast, we’re sure to find a settlement of some kind. From there, we can get directions to the capital.”

“Help me up,” Pallas whispered. Bianca offered her a shoulder to lean on as she stood, the thestral getting up onto shaking hooves, almost losing her balance as her metal leg dug awkwardly into the sand.

“Fluttering Moth is circling us and looking for other survivors, but for the moment, we seem to be alone,” Shadow said. She pointed, and Pallas could just barely make out the black dot of a flying pony against the bright grey-blue of the sky.

“You seem sure we’ll find a town,” Pallas said, looking around. She couldn’t see a plant, or any end to the sand. “This place looks like a desert.”

“That makes things even more likely,” Shadow noted. “Cities and villages naturally form around sources of water. Rivers, lakes, wells, and oceans. We know the capital is to the north. If we travel north, we will be going the right way. If we remain near the coast, it’s likely we’ll find a fishing village or at least a port town. Either might be of some use.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Pallas shrugged. She looked down at Bianca and nuzzled her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s you that I’m worried about,” Bianca muttered. “I thought you were dead.”

“What, just because of the ocean?” Pallas snorted. “Not likely.”

“We should go,” Shadow said. “It will be nightfall in a few hours, and if we travel at night we will see cities from some distance. It will also be more comfortable if this does turn out to be an expansive desert.”

“Fine,” Pallas said, spitting and trying to get the taste of dirty salt out of her mouth. “The sooner we get to civilization, the better.”

The Dry Season: Blade of the Battle Maiden

14th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Keep running!” Yelled the stallion, urging his mare forwards. He tried to ignore the pain from the crossbow bolt sticking out of his side.

“We’ll never make it!” She gasped, as they pulled a worn and beaten wagon across the dusty road, the dry, gray wood already splitting from having baked for years in the relentless heat.

Behind them, hot on their hooves and screaming for blood, almost a dozen raiders in patchwork armor and warpaint charged after them. They were a mix of griffons and ponies, all of them lean and hungry.

A griffon and pegasus flew up, crossbows at the ready, and fired a barrage of bolts at the two earth ponies. The stallion stumbled as a one skewered his throat, blood splattering on the mare. He collapsed, and the wagon pitched to the side, turning over and spilling its contents over the sand.

“Get the food and water!” Shouted the lead griffon, his eyes shaded with a wide band of purple paint.

The raiders poured over the wagon, spilling out the contents of the few boxes and crates that had remained unopened in the crash.

“Look at all this food!” one of the pegasai held up a long string of pale fish sausages. “This is great!”

“What’d I tell you?” the leader said, smirking. “Earth ponies always have tons of food. They’re the only ones who can grow anything in this dump.”

“Look at this!” one of the raiders held up a heavy bag, bulging and barely staying together. He tore open the bag. golden coins raining down onto the dusty sand.

“Bits?” the leader snorted. “Why? What were they going to do, sleep on them like dragons?” He grabbed a talonful of them and threw them at the prone mare, pinned down by the weight of the wagon. “Maybe we should make her eat them!”

“N-no, please!” The mare gasped, trying to pull herself free.

“We can have some fun with this one,” snorted a griffon. “Maybe we should bring her back to the boss. He’d love a new slave, and she ain’t bad looking.”

“That’s good thinking,” the leader said. “Glad I thought of it. Get her out of there and let’s see what we’ve got!”

The stallion’s corpse was thrown aside, the wagon’s tongue cracking as the raiders ripped open the harness. The mare was dragged free of the wreckage, the bandits leering at her bruised and bloodied form.

“Please, don’t…” she whispered.

“Don’t what?” the leader snorted. “You should be thanking us. Instead of having to work, you’re just going to be the boss’ toy. It’s a lot easier, as long as you don’t have any pride.” He drew a long knife, pressing it lightly against the mare’s neck. “Not that you should have any pride left.”

“Hey, we should test her out before we give her to the boss!” A pegasus shouted, pushing the mare’s head down to the dirt.

“And give him sloppy seconds?” The griffon at his side snorted. “He’d beat the crap out of us for wasting his time with used goods.”

“We can clean her up after we’re done,” the pegasus said, getting behind her. “We need to get the blood off her, anyway.”

“Hmmm…” the leader considered, rubbing his beak with a talon. “We should make sure she’s worth bringing to him.” He shoved the pegasus away. “But you ain’t going first. She needs a proper rutting to learn her place.”

“No! Please don’t! I-if you let me go, I’ll- I’ll-” The mare struggled, trying to get free as the griffon’s talons closed around her shoulders. He was easily twice her size.

“Shut up,” the leader said. “The boss don’t like mouthy chicks. If you keep complaining we’ll have to get rid of that tongue of yours.”

A shadow fell across them as the griffon lined up his hips, his member prodding between the terrified mare’s thighs.

“Who’s that?” the pegasus asked, as he picked himself off the ground, shaking himself to get sand out of his feathers.

Standing at the top of a sand dune, three dark shapes looked down at the assembled group of bandits. Despite the heat of the day, a sudden chill ran through them.

~~~***~~~

“Boss! Boss Eagle!” shouted the scout, as he touched down in the small bandit camp, in the ruined remnants of what had once been a guard tower. “I found the raiding group!”

“And?” Eagle asked, turning to look. “They better have a wind-damned good excuse for why they ain’t back yet, and I don’t want to hear that they got distracted with booze or hens.”

“They’re dead, Boss,” the griffon said, fear evident in his face.

“Dead?” Eagle stood up. “What happened? Imperial Army? I didn’t think the old feather-head cared about what we were doing anymore.”
“It ain’t like that, Boss,” the scout whispered. “I ain’t seen anything like it before.”

“Damn. I should have known those idiots would get in trouble.” Eagle grabbed the chain hanging from the wall behind him, dragging a griffon hen with it like a dog on a leash. “Come on. Let’s go see this shit that scared you so much.”

~~~***~~~

It was almost midnight when the bandits got to where the massacre had happened.

“What happened here?” one of the bandits muttered.

“Is this everyone?” Boss Eagle asked, kicking a body. Part of a body.

“How should we know?” a bandit asked.

“Look at this,” one said, turning a mostly-intact corpse over. “It looks like he exploded from the inside-out. Has to be some kind of magic, right?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Eagle said. “That kind of magic doesn’t exist.”

“B-boss…” gasped a weak voice. Heads turned to look. One of the bodies had started moving again, a talon reaching for the sky. Eagle reared up, jumping over to the raider. The griffon was pinned under the wagon, like it had been put there just to keep him from getting away. The bandits pushed it over to free him.

“Who did this?” Eagle demanded, picking him up by the shoulders. “The army? Another gang?”

“M-monsters…” the raider gasped. Blood started to trickle from the corners of his eyes. Before Eagle could do anything, the raider exploded as something erupted from his chest, something dark and twisted, like a tree made of shadows. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, dissolving like smoke.

“We gotta get out of here!” a bandit shouted. “It’s some kinda curse!”

“We ain’t running,” Eagle said. “We’re gonna find the ones who did this and teach them a lesson!”

~~~***~~~

Darkly armored forms walked quietly down the ruined, cracked street.

“This place looks deserted,” Pallas said, looking around. Buildings with broken windows and yawning doors loomed around them, sand pooled around their foundations where it had blown in from the wasteland.

“I don’t understand,” Bianca whispered, as if afraid to break the silence of the empty city. “What happened here?”

“This is a port town,” Shadow noted. “There should be some kind of trade.”

“Not just the town,” Bianca frowned. “This land itself is ruined. Don’t the griffons take care of it?”

“You saw how those griffons were acting,” Pallas spat. “They’re just beasts.”

“There were ponies there, too,” Fluttering Moth said, hovering just over the ground with her wings barely moving, her magic forcing air around them without her having to even move. It was unnerving and almost silent.

“The drought…” the mare trailing them whispered. She had barely talked since they’d buried her husband. “...it’s been this way for a long time.”

“I didn’t think droughts got this bad,” Pallas said, kicking at a pile of sand.

“They do when the weather is overworked,” Moth noted, looking up at the empty sky. “I’ve never felt anything like it. The sky is as dead as the land.”

“I guess,” Pallas shrugged. “You know I’m worse with weather magic than I am with poetry.”

“I thought your love poems were cute!” Bianca smiled.

“That doesn’t mean you’re supposed to read them out loud to everypony,” Pallas mumbled, blushing hard enough that it showed even in the shadows of her open visor.

“Something’s wrong,” Shadow said, stopping. The sand around them suddenly shifted, revealing a net hidden under a thin layer of soil. It closed up around them, jerked into the air like prey in a hunter’s trap.

“We got ‘em!” someone shouted. Pallas struggled to turn, flopping like a fish. A griffon, no more than ten years old, looked out of a broken window, excited. More villagers appeared, a mix of ponies and griffons, emerging from hiding places and coming out to see the excitement.

“Junebug’s with them!” a hippogriff yelled. It looked like a hen, with heavy eyeshadow in blue around piercing green eyes.

“Is Bat with her too, Lakshmi?” asked the little griffon, running over. She was a soft yellow, a griffon who seemed covered in down despite being almost old enough to have a cutie mark.

“There are a couple of bats, but not Bat,” the hippogriff mumbled, poking at Bianca’s wing.

“Leave her alone!” Pallas growled.

“Junebug, what happened?” the chick asked, ignoring Pallas and looking up at the earth pony mare that they’d saved.

“There were raiders,” Junebug said, her voice shaky. “They- they killed Bat!”

“We killed the raiders and saved this mare,” Shadow said calmly, lot looking perturbed despite being almost completely inverted.

“Lock them in the spare storehouse until we get this sorted out,” Lakshmi said. “Lil Ducky, get Junebug something to eat and drink. The poor thing looks like she’s about to faint.”

“I’m not going anywhere with-” Pallas started, her wings pushing against the net.

“Hold on,” Bianca said, softly. “They’re not soldiers. We can’t just…” She trailed off. “Please?”

Pallas groaned and folded her wings again. “Fine.”

~~~***~~~

“This is so stupid,” Pallas grumbled, slumped in the shadows and keeping away from the window and the harsh light from outside. The storehouse was like an oven already, the bricks baking in the desert heat.

“I think it was wise,” Shadow said. “We’re not here to kill indiscriminately, after all. We’re here because it will keep Equestria safe and we can free this land from the Emperor. We’re liberators, not conquerors.”

“How’d that work out up north?” Pallas snorted.

“Poorly,” Resplendent Shadow admitted. “But it would have been worse if the Princesses had tried to take over. It was Sombra that caused the disaster, not them.”

“Besides, these seem like nice people,” Bianca said. “We saved that mare, and she led us here because she knew it was safe.”

“Yeah, but there are griffons here…” Pallas mumbled, looking away.

“Of course there are,” Moth sighed, from where she hovered at the window. “This is their homeland! Probably a lot of them are decent ponies. Wait, not ponies. Birds? Is calling them birds offensive?”

Screaming started outside. Pallas’ one and a half ears perked up at the sound, and Fluttering Moth turned back to the window.

“What’s going on?” Bianca asked, flying up and latching onto Moth’s back, crawling up to look over her shoulder, the pegasus somehow remaining steady in the air as if fixed in place.

“I don’t know,” Moth said. “I can’t see anything from here.”

“We’re leaving,” Pallas said, standing. “I’m not going to sit here and listen. Shadow was right. We’re not here to conquer them. We’re here to save them. Even if we’re saving them from themselves.”

~~~***~~~

“Just bring out all your food and water or else I’m gonna snap her neck!” Boss Eagle yelled, holding Lil Ducky above his head in his talons. “If any of you even tries to put up a fight, she dies first!”

Lakshmi growled but kept her distance, the hippogriff pawing at the ground anxiously with a talon while the the townsfolk cleared a wide berth from the bandits to avoid antagonizing them. Spears were dropped to the ground as they slowly started to give up even the pretense of resistance.

“That’s right,” Eagle snorted. “Now get your supplies together. I know you’ve got plenty of food and water here.”

“We can’t give them our crops, Lakshmi,” hissed the pony standing next to the hippogriff. “We barely have enough to get through the season.”

The hippogriff looked up at the griffon chick, hesitating.

“It’s too bad for her, but we’ll all starve to death if we just give up!”

“Get ready,” Lakshmi said. “If we attack when they’re distracted, maybe we can save Ducky, too.”

Boss Eagle squeezed his talon, the tip of a claw pressing into Ducky hard enough to draw blood, the trickle of red staining her soft yellow feathers. There was an crack of thunder as the door to the storehouse exploded out into splinters, and a large, dark shape stalked out.

“What the…” Boss Eagle blinked as Pallas walked confidently towards him. Three of the bandits, two griffons and a pegasus, flew up to land in front of Pallas.

“What’s your problem?” one growled. “Get back with the others!”

“Get lost,” Pallas said, raising her wings up slightly.

“Who the feather do you think you are?” One of the bandits shouted, raising a crude sword in his talon. Pallas’ visor snapped shut, and her wings spread wide as she pivoted, wingblades ringing like bells as they slashed through the bandits, their bodies flying apart with enough force to send their limbs into the crowd of watching villagers.

In the same motion, Pallas took to the air, landing heavily on all four hooves in front of Boss Eagle.

“Let her go,” Pallas demanded, glaring up at him, her eyes invisible behind the glowing lenses of her helm.

“What in Tartarus-” before Boss Eagle could continue, the bandits to his right fell apart as bloodless cuts appeared across their bodies. To his left, the few remaining thieves exploded from inside as their shadows erupted free of their bodies. “You’re the ones who killed my raiding party!”

Pallas turned and bucked, back legs slamming into Eagle’s chest. He coughed and dropped Ducky, Pallas catching her on her back.

Pallas’ metal hoof stuck for a moment until she twisted it, the blade having snapped out and impaled the griffon.

“What did you-” Eagle gasped, coughing up blood as he stumbled and fell.

“A monster like you doesn’t deserve to live,” Pallas said, as she tapped her hoof, the blade sliding back into place.

~~~***~~~

“So you’re all from Equestria?” Lakshmi asked, as she sat with them in one of the better-maintained buildings, the clay walls providing some protection from the harsh sunlight and dry air.

“Yeah,” Bianca said. “We got shipwrecked in the storm yesterday.”

“We saw the storm from here,” Lakshmi said, pouring tea into chipped cups for the assembled group.”We were hoping it would come inland to give our crops some early rain, but… no such luck.” She smiled weakly.

“Why is the weather like this?” Moth asked. “I thought this place was supposed to be a grassland, not a desert.”

“It’s been this way for as long as I can remember,” Lakshmi said. “It started in the south first. The rumors say it was a Zebrican curse for invading their land, if you can believe that. We managed at first by making clouds ourselves, then we started increasing imports once they stopped holding together. But now…”

“So then the decision was made to invade?” Bianca asked.

“I don’t know,” Lakshmi admitted. “Regular news stopped coming years ago. We’re lucky here because we had a large earth pony population and, even though we’re near the sea, the water table is fresh and our wells haven’t dried up. Junebug and Bat were going to the next town over to trade food and water for other supplies we can’t make ourselves.”

“Doesn’t your government do anything about these bandits?” Pallas asked.

“How?!” Lakshmi demanded. “Your people annihilated our army! The government is barely holding together!”

“That doesn’t fit at all with the intelligence I saw,” Shadow muttered, from where she was sitting upright in the corner.

“Luna must have already known,” Bianca said, looking at the others. “That’s why she was willing to bring civilians along. She must have some kind of plan that she never told us about.”

“Some kind of reconstruction effort?” Shadow guessed.

“No,” Pallas said. “She left because she didn’t feel welcome in Equestria. She’s here to stay.”

The Dry Season: Sparrow Dives at Hawk

17th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“I hope this is the right way,” Pallas grumbled, as she struggled to walk through the thin sand. “This stuff keeps getting into the joints in my hoof and seizing it up.”

“They were nice enough to give us supplies, so I’m sure they pointed us in the right direction.” Bianca said, from under the black cloak she’d taken from Shadow, leaving the crystal unicorn looking oddly naked, despite her armor. Bianca simply needed it more, the albino thestral especially prone to sunburn. Resplendent Shadow’s armor was much lighter than what Pallas wore, mostly leather and padded cloth instead of steel plate. it also left her flank exposed, her cutie mark of a pony’s face in silhouette standing out against her partly-transparent body.

“I don’t like it,” Moth said. “There’s only the four of us here, and this is the worst place to fight.”

“Worst place?” Bianca tilted her head, lowering the hood to get a better look around. They were in an open plain, the dunes of sand the only thing breaking up what was otherwise almost totally flat. There was just enough dust in the air to make it so anything more than a mile or two away vanished into the haze.

“There’s nowhere to hide. No cover to use.” Shadow explained. “We could easily be outnumbered, and have nowhere to rally. Worse, both myself and Fluttering Moth aren’t well-suited to open combat. Our talents lend themselves more to assassination and headhunting.”

“If we run into an army, I’ll take care of it,” Pallas snorted.

“No doubt, Black Wind,” Shadow said. “I would prefer not to let it come to that. We need to be very careful until we are able to meet the rest of our army, provided they were not scattered as we were.”

“If you guys are assassins, does that mean you could take out the Emperor yourselves?” Bianca asked.

“It would be an interesting challenge,” Shadow said, considering the question. “However, I don’t know enough about the target to make an assessment. In truth, I believe Fluttering Moth’s skills would either be much more useful, or completely negated, depending on how it interacts with the Emperor’s own abilities.”

“What was that, anyway?” Pallas asked, glancing back and shaking her metal leg, dislodging a stone from the ankle. “The griffons were just falling apart. There wasn’t even blood.”

“It’s my family’s special technique,” Moth said. “The history goes back before the founding of Equestria. A technique developed for assassinations on targets that could attack at range or who were too strong to engage in direct combat.”

“...Unicorns and Earth Ponies,” Pallas muttered.

“Yeah,” Moth shrugged. “See, pegasai have always had a thing for ranged weapons, since they let us keep the advantage of flight, you know? But against a unicorn, you don’t have time to reload, and with an earth pony, they can take a lot of arrows before they go down.”

“And unlike a bow, you can do it unarmed,” Pallas noted.

“True,” Moth nodded. “But the range is relatively short compared to modern crossbows, and alert sentries will hear the average pegasus in flight. A large part of the teachings of Adeio Anemos are how to fly silently. One of the most basic exercises is to fly using only pegasus magic, with no wingpower involved at all.” She stopped flapping, hovering in the air despite the apparent impossibility of it. The air looked distorted and bent around the edges of her wings, as if from a great heat.

“Could you teach me to do it?” Bianca asked.

“You don’t need to learn to fight,” Pallas said.

“She should learn how to defend herself,” Shadow countered. “In the Crystal Empire, all those with any noble blood at all were practiced at fencing, to defend their honor and lives.”

“Yeah, well. I can’t teach you,” Moth sighed. “Adeio Anemos needs extremely strong pegasus magic. I don’t think a thestral could do it at all. And if you can learn Dark Magic from Respy here, I’d be really surprised.”

“Perhaps a few basic techniques,” Shadow said. “But… yes, it would be difficult. Dark Magic has its advantages, but most of it builds on basic unicorn magic. At best I could teach the theory, but the middle of the desert is hardly the best place for that.”

“Good for practicing, though,” Moth put in. “Plenty of old wise ponies out in the desert with a bunch of secret techniques!”

“Like us,” Shadow snorted. “You do realize that right now, we are in fact those wise ponies, carrying techniques lost to time? I suppose that means there is some truth to old stories about such things.”

“Pallas, you can teach me, though, right?” Bianca asked, hopping next to the much larger thestral.

“I would be amused to see you learning Black Wind’s style of throwing herself at the largest enemy she can find,” Shadow said. “It is not conducive to one’s health, and so I cannot recommend it.”

“I think she’s implying you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Moth added, helpfully.

“Thanks, I got that,” Pallas snorted. “Okay, here’s the secret technique. First, you hit them as hard as you can.”

“Okay,” Bianca said. “Then what?”

“Then you hope it worked. If it didn’t, you did it wrong and need to try again.” Pallas grinned.

“That’s a terrible secret!” Bianca complained, fluttering up to land on Pallas’ back and biting her ear, growling.

“We’ll make a fierce warrior of you yet,” Pallas said, ignoring the bites and walking along as if Bianca was weightless.

~~~***~~~

“We could fly over it,” Pallas suggested. “If we wait for nightfall, it’d be hard to see us against the sky.”

The four were lying down on top of a rocky bluff, overlooking what looked like a combination between a prison and a farm. Groups of ponies, chained at the leg, moved between the rows of greenery and tended to the crops. Griffons in what looked like actual military armor watched them from guard towers.

“And leave them?” Bianca frowned.

“I have to agree,” Shadow said. “While we might be trying to meet up with Luna, our purpose in coming here was to liberate the ponies imprisoned under the Empire.”

“You’re right,” Pallas said. “I mean, obviously, you’re right.”

“Waiting until nightfall is a good start,” Moth said. “Our night vision is better than theirs. Shadow and I can take out the guards, then you can sweep in and make enough noise to draw out any stragglers. At night, the ponies should be locked up and well out of the way. Basically impossible to screw up.”

“Thankfully, it’s something our talents are well-suited to,” Shadow nodded.

“I don’t think we’ll have time to wait,” Pallas said, starting to get up. “Look.”

A bell rang, the prisoners and guards turning to look. Three griffons led a pony out of one of the low, stone buildings and to a wooden post, a bit in her mouth and one of the griffins tugging at it like she was just a draft animal. Batlike wings were tied at her side, the ropes painfully tight.

“A thestral?” Bianca whispered.

The lead was attached securely to the post and the three griffons waited as the prisoners were assembled around them, griffons lashing out with batons to force the ponies into line.

“These are war prisoners,” Shadow said, calmly.

“But- if they have thestrals, they might have…” Bianca trailed off. Pallas looked at her. “...they might have my parents.” Bianca finished, whispering.

“One moment,” Shadow said, focusing. An aura of dark magic surrounded her horn, and the air distorted in front of her.

“-stealing food and giving it to the prisoners in isolation!” Barked a voice, sounding like it was right in front of them.

“It’s a clairaudience spell,” Shadow explained. “Like a telescope for sound. Now we can hear what they’re saying.”

“For this crime, the prisoner is sentenced to thirty lashes, followed by a week in isolation so she can appreciate how important our policies are,” the griffon continued. There was a sharp crack. Pallas stood up, looking down at the camp. The griffon had pulled out a long whip, snapping it above the crowd. The restrained thestral whimpered and flinched.

Pallas growled.

“Hold on,” Shadow said. “We need to handle this carefully-” before she could continue, Pallas launched herself into the air, armored tail kicking up a cloud of dust as it lashed against the ground.

“So much for careful,” Moth muttered.

~~~***~~~

“The rules are simple for a reason!” the griffon warden shouted. “It’s so you stupid ponies can follow them! If you don’t grow food, you don’t eat! If you waste food, you get punished!” He cracked the whip again, right next to the thestral’s ear. She flinched, screaming through the bit in her mouth.

The griffon swung the whip, this time intending to land a blow across the pony’s back and wings. There was a sudden jerk, and the lash was torn from his talon. A dark shape slammed into the ground next to him with the sound of screeching steel and heavy hooves.

“No,” Pallas said, growling with the whip hanging from her teeth. She bit down, the leather cutting apart between her fangs. She spat the two halves out and glared at the griffon.

“What’s this? Some actual excitement?” The griffon smiled. “Soldiers! Show this rebel some hospitality!”

Pallas stood still, glaring at the warden as a dozen griffons surrounded her, drawing an assortment of blades, no two quite alike. Part of her wondered if they were salvaged or scraps left behind when the regular army went across the sea in their failed invasion. She flexed her wings, the edges catching the light.

“Attack!” The warden yelled, pointing. The griffons rushed in, not even attacking at the same time. They were either out of practice or had never been trained at all. Pallas lowered herself, crouching like a tiger, and pounced. Her wingblades slashed through griffons to either side as she tackled one right in front of her, biting his neck and tearing, ripping out his throat with her teeth and roaring a challenge to the rest as blood dripped free of her mouth, staining her helm’s lips red.

“Don’t just stand there and let her kill you! She’s just a pony!” the warden snapped. Pallas turned and ran through the griffons, eight of them exploding apart as she slashed. The prisoners watched wordlessly as the guards died, until a wave of gore splashed over them like a red tide, severed limbs rolling to a stop at their hooves.

Then the screaming started.

The last guard had frozen in fear, far away enough from her path of destruction to survive for a few moments longer. The griffon’s courage broke, and he turned to run. A bladed wheel, with spikes like the rays of the sun, slammed into his neck, severing his spine.

“Cowards don’t deserve to live,” the warden hissed.

Pallas spat. “You’d kill your own soldiers?”

“If they run, they stop being soldiers,” the warden corrected. He tore the circular blade from the griffon’s neck, brandishing both at Pallas. “These are wind and fire wheels, and I was taught by Brise himself, one of the Four Directional Winds. You don’t have a chance against me, girl.”

Pallas tilted her head, looking at the camp, the prisoners, and the warden.

“Someone told me once that you have to be a true warrior to defeat a monster,” Pallas said.

“So you consider yourself a true warrior?” the warden snorted.

“No. But I’m a much better monster,” Pallas said, before roaring and launching herself at the warden. The warden brought up his weapons, crossing the spikes and catching the wingblade Pallas swung at him. Sparks erupted from the gap, and the spines sheared away, Pallas’ wingblade tearing a laceration from the warden’s shoulder all the way to his hip.

Pallas stepped back as the griffon clutched at the wound, blood spraying freely into the air.

“You might think you’re special, but you’re wrong!” the warden spat. “I’ll show you my secret technique!” He spread his back legs, claws gripping at the earth for traction as he spread his wings, wind and fire wheels spinning as he manipulated them with his claws.

Pallas watched them carefully, the sharpened wheels almost blurring as the griffon spun them.

“Now let’s see how long you last against the Schwarze-Rad-Tanz!” The griffon flapped his wings, kicking up a strong wind, a tornado forming around Pallas. The warden grabbed a flask from his uniform and threw it, a cloud of smoke erupting as it shattered, the thick black fog quickly getting sucked up into the zephyr and blinding Pallas.

The griffon jumped into the whirlwind, and sparks flew as his blades bounced against Pallas’ armor.

“Using the speed and rotation of the wind, the power of my attacks is tripled! And the pressure keeps you trapped in the center! You’re helpless against the Schwarze-Rad-Tanz!” The warden cackled.

“Is this all you have?” Pallas asked.

The warden crowed and banked back towards her. Pallas spun, bucking with both back legs as he came towards her. The warden was launched from the storm like a cannonball, trailing sticky black smoke and crashing into a wall.

“My name is Black Wind, and a technique like that is useless against a Lunar Dragoon.” Pallas turned away from him as blood fountained into the air from here her bladed hoof had impaled his chest.

“They’re still panicking a bit,” Shadow noted, stepping out of the darkness.

“Civilians are good at that,” Pallas muttered.

“Hey!” Bianca said, happily, as she landed. “Hello, everypony! We’re with the Night Guard! We’re here to rescue you!” Bianca turned to the two Dragoons. “Go check for more guards. I’ll make sure the prisoners are safe. You guys are kinda scaring them right now. Moth is watching from up above to make sure we don’t get into trouble.”

“Alright,” Pallas said, flicking a wingblade to remove some of the blood. She stepped up to the bound thestral and, carefully, untied her restraints.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“It was nothing. Those guards were pathetic.” Pallas snorted.

“They might be weak, but their leader is strong,” the mare said, obviously afraid.

“I took care of him,” Pallas said, nodding to where the warden was impaled against the wall, the impact having driven him into it hard enough to make the griffon stick, like a bug splattered against glass.

“Not the warden,” the mare whispered. She looked to a tall, dark building at the other end of the camp. “The warden’s master.”

~~~***~~~

“Fascinating,” the griffon said, watching from the thin windows of his tower. Behind him, two chained Zebrican shamans stirred a huge copper cauldron. “One of my students beaten in seconds. Finally, someone strong has appeared in this Tartarus of ours.”

He turned to the shamans. The zebras didn’t meet his gaze, looking away in fear. In the pot, the mixture turned bright blue, then green, then finally the dull black of tarnished silver.

“Perfect,” Brise muttered, as he gripped the edge of the cauldron, the thick copper bending in his grip. “I knew repurposing some of the fields for alchemical ingredients was a good idea.”

The cauldron was two paces around, heavy enough to require a reinforced floor. Brise lifted it above his head, letting the contents pour over his body, staining his feathers the same metallic black.

Smiling, he crushed the cauldron in his talons, tossing it aside.

“Now, to properly greet these interlopers…”

The Dry Season: Unflagging Vengeance Meditation

17th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Bianca carefully picked the thick ring of keys out of the bloody mud, trying not to get it on her lips. The prisoners crowded around her, all of them wanting to be the first released from their chains.

“It’s okay, everypony,” Bianca said, raising her hoof. “You’ll all be free soon.” She looked around at the crowd and knelt down to where a foal was chained. Other ponies backed away respectfully as she opened his cuff first, his fetlock red and raw around where he had been restrained.

“T-thank you, miss,” the foal whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Bianca smiled. “You’re a brave little stallion for hanging on this long. You’re in charge of making sure everypony gets unlocked, okay?” She passed him the keys, and the foal took them, smiling and nodding, and started opening the fetters on the ponies around him.

“How cute,” boomed a voice from above. The prisoners froze where they stood, the foal dropping the ring of keys in a silence so profound that the metal hitting the dirt echoed across the desert valley between the rocky bluffs.

Standing on top of the highest tower in the complex at the north end of the camp, a griffon half again as large as the others smiled down at the ponies with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. His feathers were a solid blue-black, gleaming like iron.

“I was hoping I’d have the chance to fight, but it looks like you’ve only brought a talonful of soldiers. Hardly enough to even make my time worthwhile.” The griffon, Brise, had a heavy accent, spitting half of his words with spite, the others dripping with false amusement.
Behind him, Fluttering Moth silently approached, apparently unnoticed.

“I’m not surprised you defeated the guards, but my student was at least halfway competent.” Brise considered, rubbing his chin with a talon. “I’ll tell you what - if you can even wound me, I’ll let all of these prisoners go.”

Moth reared up and flapped her wings, the air distorting in two semi-circular waves, crossing each other in a tight ‘X’ centered on the griffon’s back, the pressure waves hitting him with flesh-shredding force.

It didn’t even mess up the griffon’s featherstyle. The stone of the building cracked around him, a flag exploding into scraps of fabric, but Brise was totally unaffected. He turned to look at Fluttering Moth.

“That won’t do anything against the Eisentopf Body Technique,” the griffon snorted, before plucking one of his own feathers and throwing it like a dart, the steel-hard feather hitting Moth’s wing and knocking her out of the sky. She fell until another feather hit her other wing, piercing it and pinning her halfway up a wall.

“Such defenses are worthless against magic,” Shadow said, her voice coming from all around Brise. Tendrils of shadow grappled around his limbs, trying to tie him down. “Armor can save you from a sword, but even the toughest bone and flesh will fail against my curses.”

Resplendent Shadow stepped out of the darkness, her horn pulsing with energy. She launched a death curse at Brise, the spell taking the form of a horrific, skeletal pony, swinging a scythe.

It hit his chest, right above his heart, and exploded into sparkles and smoke.

“Idiot,” Brise snorted. “There’s no such hole in my defenses.” He rolled his shoulders, wings spreading and straining as he snapped the spell tendrils trying to hold him down. Shadow took a step back, too slow as Brise lunged forwards, using the back of his talon to bat her aside like a cat playing with a mouse, the crystal unicorn crashing halfway through a window, going limp.

Brise looked around, sighing and displeased.

“Is that the best you’ve got? Two assassins who can’t even manage to kill their target? I’m disappointed you all think so little of me.” Brise looked down at the ponies. “Well, how about this - in one minute, I will kill any pony that isn’t in hoofcuffs. You have that long to decide if you’re going to fight me or just lie down and accept your fates.”

“I have a counter-offer,” Pallas said, panting. She stepped out of the tower behind Brise. “I kill you and… well, that’s it. That’s pretty much the offer.” She took a deep breath. “And seriously, buck you for putting all those stairs in to get up here. It wasn’t half as hard back when I had four hooves.”

“You didn’t consider flying?” Brise raised an eyebrow.

“I thought attacking from inside would be more stealthy,” Pallas admitted. “But stealth didn’t work out so well for the others, and I’ve got my own style.”

Brise opened his beak to say something, and Pallas slammed a wingblade into the side of his face, his head snapping to the left from the force. There was a hissing, sputtering sound from where the edge of the sword hit Brise’ face, and he turned back to look at Pallas, forcing the weapon away as if it was no more dangerous than a blade of grass.

“Didn’t feel a thing,” Brise said, smiling.

Pallas roared, spinning to strike from below, wingblade rising from the floor to try and get through his defenses.

Brise caught it under his shoulder, the blade hissing against his feathers. A talon gripped Pallas’ wing, and the other grabbed her helm, starting to squeeze. She could hear the metal squealing against the pressure, the left lens cracking.

Pallas shoved, pushing both of them off of the tower. Her free wingblade slammed into him again and again, with a sound like a blacksmith’s hammer hitting hot steel.

They slammed into the ground together, the griffon underneath Pallas and hitting hard enough to bounce back into the air and through the roof of the mess hall, coming to a stop in the remains of a table.

Brise’ grip had loosened, and Pallas pulled herself free, stumbling to the side drunkenly, dazed by the impact. Prisoners who had been preparing food rushed out to look, the ponies’ mouths open with shock at the sight.

“I admit, that was a little better,” Brise said, flapping his wings and sending the debris he had been buried in flying across the room like shrapnel. “But it still didn’t hurt.”

“No?” Pallas turned to glare at him. “Then what’s that on your cheek?” She nodded to it, and he raised a talon to find a trickle of blood working its way down his iron-hard feathers.

“You… you actually managed to pierce my Eisentopf Body?” Brise whispered.

“From what I remember you screaming about, I think that means you were going to let all the prisoners free,” Pallas said, raising her head proudly.

“Don’t be stupid,” Brise spat. He lunged towards the watching kitchen workers, a cook screaming as he grabbed her, holding the pony in front of him like a shield as he kept his eyes on Pallas. “We need them to make food! They’re not going anywhere!”

“Put her down,” Pallas growled.

“Why should I do that? While I’m holding her, you can’t attack me!” Brise grinned. “You ponies are all the same. You don’t do what’s really necessary. That’s the difference between you and us. We deserve to survive, even if the world itself is trying to kill us, because we’ll fight for it!”

“If you don’t put her down, you won’t survive the next five minutes,” Pallas promised.

“You know, I read a book a pony wrote on war, once. ‘Commanding the Ideal Celestial Army’, by some armchair general named Sirocco.” Brise snorted. “It was a bunch of bullshit. You know what it was about? It was about logistics and all the planning to do before a battle.”

“Shut up and put the damn pony down!” Pallas shouted.

“Ponies always fight just to avoid losing!” Brise said. “You can’t win if all you focus on is your losses! Being a warrior means being bloodthirsty! It means being a killer! You have to fight to win, and not give a shit about what the enemy is doing!” He squeezed the pony in his talons, the mare squeaking in pain, the breath driven from her lungs. “You gotta fight with your life on the line!”

The doors to the mess hall burst open, and Bianca ran in at the head of a group of freed prisoners.

“Stay back!” Pallas yelled. In her moment of distraction, Brise threw a clutch of hardened feathers at her, the quills striking through the gaps in her armor and digging into her flesh, blood trickling through the hollow vanes like water in a pipe.

“Hah! Gotcha!” Brise sneered. “I don’t care how tough you are, you won’t be doing much fighting once you pass out from blood loss.”
Pallas grit her teeth, trying to ignore the small wounds. They didn’t really hurt, but her limbs were already starting to feel heavy.

“And you can’t even fight!” Brise laughed. “Once I kill you, I think I’ll string the three of you up so the rest of these ponies don’t get uppity again!”

“I’ll kill you…” Pallas growled.

“You can’t,” Brise said, confidently. “You’re too busy trying to avoid losing, so you’ll never win.”

“You sound just like… that arrogant beaky bastard…” Pallas growled, her stump aching. For a moment, all she could see was Chinook’s horseapple-eating grin, the gleam of his sword, how helpless she’d been against him. Red rage surged through her body, her vision focusing into a single point.

Pallas roared, slamming into a table like a bull and throwing it across the room, the destruction not even beginning to sate her. She charged the griffon, Brise taking a half step back to better hide himself behind the pony he’d taken captive.

Pallas couldn’t even see her anymore. It was just something in the way. She swung her wingblade with abandon, the weapon going right through the pony with a wet sound like a water balloon exploding before hitting Brise’ hardened feathers with the dull sound of iron on iron.

“No!” Bianca screamed, trying to run towards her and getting held back by the crowd of prisoners.

“She’s insane!” One hissed. “You can’t go out there! She’s even more dangerous than Brise!”

Pallas kept moving, picking Brise up with her blades and running him into the wall, the plaster and brick giving way as they pushed through into the kitchen. Brise stumbled away from Pallas, falling back through a table full of yellowing vegetables and to the floor while Pallas struggled to free a wingblade from where it had embedded itself in the wall.

“Beautiful,” Brise whispered. “So beautiful.”

Pallas jerked the blade free, flapping her wing once to lock the weapon back into place, and turned to growl at Brise, padding into the kitchen to circle the griffon like a wild animal stalking its prey.

She pounced, Brise catching the blade with a talon, the edge squealing and scraping before he shoved her back, the griffon several times stronger than she was. Pallas backed up into a cart of food, tipping it over as she scuttled away to avoid a strike from the powerful griffon.

“This is more like it,” Brise smiled. “A real fight. Not against assassins or ponies with some bullshit idea of ethics that holds them back! Give me everything you’ve got!”

Pallas charged, jumping up to strike from above, high enough that her armor scraped against the kitchen’s ceiling.

The wingblades slammed into Brise right at his wing joints, forcing him to the floor on his knees. Feathers bent and twisted with a screech of rending metal.

Pallas grabbed him by the neck with her teeth, a fang cracking as she threw him across the kitchen and into the stove, pots full of boiling water splashing onto the griffon and across the floor, the spilled soup washing away patches of blackness from Brise’ left shoulder and revealing the soft brown feathers underneath.

“You really are a monster,” he laughed, standing back up. Pallas howled and attacked again, shoving him back into the stove, Brise screaming as he fell onto the hot surface.

Pallas jumped onto the griffon as he tried to flee from the pain, hitting him right in the sweet spot where the water had washed away the sheen from his feathers. Blood sprayed into the air and Brise squawked in surprise.

“This is nothing!” Brise yelled, slamming a talon into Pallas’ chin, her head snapping back as she was launched back across the kitchen and through a rack filled with pots and pans, landing in a heap among them as they clattered across the floor.

Brise got up, taking a deep breath. The wound on his shoulder stopped bleeding, the spray fading to a trickle and then vanishing entirely.

“I’m impressed,” Brise said, calm again. “I like you, pony. If I could get a damn leash on you, I’d keep you around as a pet. Might have to break you in a bit so you learn not to snap at your master, though.”

Pallas exploded out of the pots and pans, tackling Brise and stomping on him hard enough to shatter the tile under his body. He opened his beak to say something, and Pallas stomped on his head again, bouncing it against the floor. Screaming in rage, she pounded again and again, the feathers deforming around her hoof, until her own fetlock broke, the bone snapping from the hammerblows.

“Y-you hit like… a… featherweight…” Brise spat, blood pouring from his beak. Pallas stomped one more time, switching hooves, and Brise went limp, a divot pounded into his head.

“Pallas!” Bianca yelled, in the doorway to the kitchen. Pallas spun at the sound, reacting like a cornered animal. Bianca’s eyes went wide as a wave of fear washed over her. It was like Pallas wasn’t there at all, replaced with a monster, a terrifying beast only vaguely in the shape of a pony.

Before Pallas could lunge, black tendrils wrapped around her, dragging her down against her own shadow.

“Calm yourself!” Resplendent Shadow ordered, as she pushed past the crowd, limping slightly. “Don’t lose yourself to the bloodlust!”

Pallas roared, struggling against the magical restraints, slipping as her broken limb gave out under her, unable to catch herself with both of her good limbs on the same side.

“Make a hole!” Moth yelled. Ponies scrambled out of the way, and she flew inside with a barrel clutched in all four hooves. As she passed over Pallas, the air distorted, and the barrel exploded into wooden staves, the water inside dumping out over the berserk pony.
Pallas sputtered and thrashed before lying still, groaning.

“Hah! Knew that would work,” Moth said. “That’s how we kept the sky-wolves from making little cloudpups back home.”

“I am certain sky-wolves don’t exist,” Shadow muttered.

“Pallas! Are you okay?” Bianca approached cautiously. The Dragoon groaned in pain, trying to get up again and collapsing even further into a limp mess.

“I feel terrible,” Pallas mumbled.

The Dry Season: Mending Warped Designs

17th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas’ armor lay scattered around her, the two Zebrican shamans treating her wounds, using a wide brush to paint a design onto her coat with a mix of herbs. The thestral kept her eyes closed, not reacting even as they set and splinted the broken bone in her forehoof.

The elder shaman turned to Bianca and Shadow as the two waited, one anxious for good news, the other watching for a loss of control. She spoke rapidly in Zebrican, Resplendent Shadow nodding along and replying in the same song-like language.

“What’s she saying?” Bianca whispered. “I don’t understand Zebrican.”

“Black Wind’s injuries aren’t merely to her body,” Shadow said. “There is a festering wound in her spirit, one that has languished for years now without being properly treated.”

“A wound in her… spirit?” Bianca frowned. “Luna said something about that once. It was why she had so many nightmares. But we helped! We fixed that!”

“It was like a scar,” Shadow said. “An old wound that pained her at times. But the loss of her leg, the dark magic of her binding to Nightmare Moon, the physical wounds of her battle with the dragon, all of that put a strain on her. When she was rendered helpless, the spiritual injury opened up again.”

“What are they doing to fix it?” Bianca asked.

“Nothing,” Shadow shrugged. “This is beyond their ability to fix. They can treat her physical wounds, but to cure her spirit, she needs to... “ Shadow paused. “There isn’t a word in Equestrian for what they suggest. It’s a type of… ritual journey, to the edge of our world and the realm of the spirits.”

“But if that’s what she needs we have to do it!” Bianca shouted.

“We can’t,” Shadow said. She held up a hoof as Bianca started to protest. “Let me speak. It isn’t about a desire to help her or not. I would go to great lengths to assist a fellow Dragoon. I know something of what she is going through. Dark magic has a similar effect on the weak-willed, damaging their spirits as a form of psychic recoil. But the type of healing they suggest, I am not sure exists in this land.”

“Why not?” Bianca pouted.

“Because this place is dead. Spiritually and literally. The drought isn’t just… bad weather. There are spirits in the land, magic that flows through it. Earth ponies can sense it instinctively.” Shadow nodded outside to where the ponies were working the fields, this time of their own accord. “They are the only ones who can grow anything here, because their connection lets them put some of themselves into the soil.”

“Maybe Luna can help! If we go and find her-”

“We can’t take Black Wind with us,” Shadow said. “Luna entrusted myself and Fluttering Moth with your safety above all else. While I trust she can take care of herself, she could kill you in an instant if she loses control again.”

“She’d never hurt me,” Bianca whispered.

“Shadow is right,” Pallas said. Bianca looked up at that. “I’m too dangerous to be around. I don’t even… I don’t know what to do.” She sat up, the shamans frowning as she moved. The younger shaman muttering in their native tongue.

The elder considered the group for a few moments, then said something in low tones.

“She says there may be something she can do,” Shadow translated. “She will ask the spirits for guidance. She is wary of what they will say. Something about Black Wind and I being creatures of darkness.”

“If there’s anything that can help, I’ll do it,” Pallas said.

The shaman nodded at that and said something else as she walked out of the room.

“She says she needs time to divine an answer,” Shadow said. “I suggest we busy ourselves investigating the camp while we wait.”

~~~***~~~

“...are you sure?” Bianca asked, tearing up. The mare they’d saved from the whipping post nodded. They were speaking outside in the shadows of the mess hall, the other prisoners busy cleaning up some of the mess the fighting had caused.

“Sorry,” the thestral mare said, as she scratched at raw patches of skin where she’d been bound a few hours ago. “I’m the only thestral in this camp. They sent me here because I said I was a farmer. They didn’t listen when I said I was a mushroom farmer, and I had no idea how to till a field.”

“Do you know where they sent the rest?” Bianca whispered. “When they attacked the northern settlements, they took most of us prisoner.”

“Well, if I had to guess…” the thestral considered. “Most of the ponies that couldn’t farm were sold to the nobility, what’s left of it, anyway. If you want to find your parents, you’ll have to find who bought them.”

“Thanks anyway,” Bianca said. The mare gave her a small smile.

“Hey, I’m the one thanking you. You saved my hide. Literally.” She laughed a little. “Do you know what you’re going to do next?”

“It’s safest if you stay here,” Moth said, landing, almost, next to Bianca. The Dragoon’s hooves hovered an inch above the dirt as if standing on a pane of glass. “We’re going to be going through the desert, and you at least have food and water if you stay here.”

“But what if the griffons come back?” the thestral asked. “We can’t defend ourselves, or we wouldn’t be stuck here to begin with.”
“I doubt they’ll bother,” Moth said, shrugging. “We plan on giving them something a lot bigger to worry about.”

“This place is foul,” Shadow said, holding a chunk of dried meat in her magical grasp. “Send someone to burn the east storehouse.”

“What? Why?” Bianca blinked.

“It’s full of this,” Shadow noted, throwing the meat into the dirt at Bianca’s hooves.

“Meat?” Moth asked, looking over the withered, salted strip of flesh. “Can’t tell what it’s from, though. Doesn’t look like fish-”

“Pony,” Shadow interjected. “It’s pony meat.”

Bianca backed up from it, eyes going wide.

“Are you sure?” Moth asked, floating away from the scrap.

“Very,” Shadow said. “I do not wish to discuss it. Tell the others not to enter. Burning it is the only decent thing we can do to cleanse it of the evil within. There is a danger in that the smoke will be visible from some distance. I recommend the three of us stay here until we are sure it does not attract attention.”

“Three of us?” Bianca frowned.

“Black Wind should go,” Shadow clarified. “She is a danger to herself and others in her current state.”

“We should go with her!” Bianca protested. “I’m not just going to leave her!”

“In this, the shamans and I are in agreement,” Shadow said. “She has to undertake this on her own.”

~~~***~~~

Pallas got to her hooves, ignoring the pain in her splinted limb. Moving slowly, and using the furniture liberally for support, she started strapping on her armor, until the two shamans trotted into the room, speaking to each other in low tones.

“Did you do your… thing?” Pallas asked, trying to get her leg armor on over the thick bandages.

The elder zebra said something that Pallas couldn’t follow.

“What?” Pallas looked around. Shadow wasn’t there to translate. She’d half-expected the unicorn to just appear. “I don’t speak Zebrican.”

The elder zebra repeated it, with an annoyed edge to her voice.

“I just said I don’t speak Zebrican!” Pallas roared.

“She said she has completed the divination, you fool of a mare.” The younger one glared at her. “To the east you must go. What you seek is there.”

“If you speak Equestrian, why didn’t you do it before?” Pallas frowned.

“Your language is ugly and base,” the shaman retorted. “It reflects your disregard for your place.”

“If you don’t like it, maybe you should go back to the griffons,” Pallas snapped.

“You are both guilty of abusing the land,” the shaman said. “You leave nothing to nature, even the weather is planned.” She gestured to the window. “Look outside to see the result. It is the result of this long insult.”

“The only insult here is you,” Pallas said. “We came here to free you and all the ponies the griffons are holding captive.”

“Your Princess came here with plans to take command,” the shaman countered. “If you think freedom is her goal, you gravely misunderstand.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” Pallas muttered.

“No,” the shaman admitted. “We see the results, not the mare. More war and death until the whole world will despair.”

“Great,” Pallas shrugged. “Whatever. So I’m going to the east. I don’t suppose you can be more exact than that?”

“You will find a range of mountains, and in them a pass. What you seek will be in a rare patch of grass.”

The elder zebra said something rapidly, the younger listening with obedient, respectful attention.

“She says you are intertwined with fate,” the younger shaman muttered. “Your destiny is twisted, and may be broken by your hate.”

“Yeah, well… thanks for the help, I guess.” Pallas shrugged. “You might want to try being nicer to other ponies. If we stop the griffons you’ll be better off, too.”

“And you should stop killing them,” the shaman said. “Or all of us you condemn.”

~~~***~~~

“Did they say how far it is?” Bianca asked.

“Nope,” Pallas said, checking her armor again, her helm at her side.

“Or how long it would take?” Bianca tilted her head, leaning down to look into Pallas’ eyes from where she’d perched on the bigger thestral’s shoulder.

“No idea.” Pallas shrugged, almost knocking Bianca off. “All I know for sure is that it’s something I have to do. If you can trust them, anyway.”

“They’re sworn to help those in need,” Shadow said, from where she looked on, seemingly at ease but obviously ready to move if something happened. “They wouldn’t intentionally mislead you.”

“But they might think the only way to help is to have me put down like a rabid animal,” Pallas said quietly.

“I doubt that,” Shadow shrugged. “They owe us a great debt. They dislike ponies almost as much as griffons. They’ll deal with us fairly just to be rid of us that much more quickly.”

“We’ll see,” Pallas said. “I’d be pretty impressed if they did find something that could kill me.”

“It would take a shadow dragon, or perhaps an angry alicorn,” Resplendent Shadow noted. “Neither are in great supply.”

“I’ll make sure not to steal Celestia’s cake,” Pallas said, smiling. The setting sun caught her eye. Luna’s moon would be rising soon. “It’s time to go. The longer I stay here, the more uncomfortable these ponies will be.”

“They did see you kill one of their own,” Shadow reminded her.

“I know,” Pallas muttered.

“Don’t return until you can control yourself,” Shadow said. “I do not wish to have to restrain you again. It was difficult enough even with you injured.”

“I won’t come back until I’m not a danger to Bianca,” Pallas said. “Where’s Moth? Isn’t she going to see me off?”

“She’s already in the air,” Shadow pointed with a hoof. “She intends to fly with you for a time. Fluttering Moth has some of the same misgivings you do. I think she’s going to ensure you aren’t ambushed the moment you leave the farm.”

“I better not keep her waiting.” Pallas stood up, biting back a groan of pain as her injured limbs took her weight.

“Come back soon,” Bianca whispered, hopping down and kissing Pallas on the tip of the snout.

“I will. I promise.” Pallas spread her wings, taking off with a powerful flap that sent dust flying around her, needing to use brute force to get into the air since she couldn’t manage a running start.

Bianca waved to her as she struggled for altitude, the dead air making the ascent even more difficult. She grumbled as she caught sight of Fluttering Moth, who didn’t seem to be having any trouble with flying at all.

“Need a hoof?” Moth shouted.

“I’m fine!” Pallas snapped. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Besides, you can’t follow me the whole way to the mountains.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t fine! Bianca sure thinks you’re fine!” Moth flew ahead of Pallas, backwards. Without flapping her wings. Pallas found a growing envy for pegasus magic. While thestrals could fly, it required a lot more flapping and effort than the way a pegasus would glide.

“I think that’s two different kinds of fine,” Pallas muttered.

“Maybe!” Moth agreed. “Look, I know Respy was probably pretty harsh on you. She’s super serious all the time. Speaking as a professional, killing the hostage was the right move. He would have killed her anyway.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Pallas said. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I’m a damn monster…”

“Maybe!” Moth nodded again. “I’ve killed a few innocent ponies in my time. Mostly because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? Goes with being an assassin. It’s not an easy job. What you have to think is, am I taking this life for me, or for my mission?”

“What’s the difference?” Pallas frowned.

“When you do it for the mission, you’re making sacrifices for the greater good. When you’re doing it for yourself, that's when you turn into a murderer. Ideally, an assassin kills only their target, painlessly and with mercy. Unfortunately, ideal things never happen.” Moth sighed. “There’s always a guard you can’t avoid, a whore in the warlord’s bed, a food taster who sips the tainted wine. I’ve had to weigh their lives against the good I was doing, and sometimes it meant they had to die. Sometimes it meant a lot of them had to die.”

“That’s the difference, though,” Pallas said. “You thought about it. You knew what you were doing. I couldn’t stop myself. I was just… I felt helpless. I felt helpless and useless and I had to break something and-” she stopped herself, biting her tongue.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Moth agreed. “Look, you know there’s only two kinds of problems. There’s the kind you can solve and the kinds you can’t. This is the kind of problem you can solve, and you even know what you have to do to solve it!”

“If the zebras aren’t just lying,” Pallas snorted. “They aren’t big fans.”

“You can either trust them and see what happens, or do nothing and not even try to fix things. I know which one is better!” Moth smiled. “Here, take this!” She reached into her armor and tossed a gem to Pallas. The thestral caught it in her teeth and gave Moth a look.

“It’s a kind of compass,” Moth said. “It’s part of a pair. Respy has the other half. She made it so we wouldn’t trip over ourselves when we were doing missions together. When you’re done with your spirit journey or whatever it is, use it to catch up to us!”

Pallas nodded. Moth saluted and flipped over, gracefully jetting back towards the farming camp.

Taking a deep breath and stowing the gem, Pallas redoubled her efforts, flying against the dead, thin air. She had a destiny to meet.

The Dry Season: Refining the Inner Blade

17th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas hit the ground and stumbled to a stop, tripping over her own hooves and landing in a heap with a sound like pots and pans falling down the stairs, coming to a stop flat on her back and looking up at a gray sky.

“That could have gone better,” Pallas mumbled.

She looked around, lowering her gaze from the sky to the peaks around her. “Mountains, check.”

She could feel the soft ground under her, and grabbed at it with a hoof, pulling bluish-green blades of grass free and looking at them before letting them fall across her face. “Grass, check.”

Pallas rolled over and got up. The grassy field was hidden in the mountain passes, only visible from above. She’d have never found it without actively looking, and even this close it didn’t seem very impressive. Just a tiny patch of forest and grass nestled between two sheer cliffs leading further up to the peaks of the mountains around her.

“And I’m supposed to find something to help here?” Pallas snorted, kicking one of the pines. “What a bunch of horseapples. Those shamans just wanted to get rid of me.” She paced in a circle, growling.

“Most assassins at least try to be quiet,” grumbled a voice from the treeline. Pallas jumped back, spreading her wings and arching her back like a cat.

‘Who’s there?!” Pallas demanded. “Show yourself!”

The brush parted, and a griffon walked out of the woods. He was old, old enough that his feathers were gray and ragged, his beak was chipped, and he walked with a wooden cane clutched in his talon to help support his weight.

“Hm. Not an assassin, then, or at least a very foolish one who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He glanced over her. “And a pony! Figures that I can’t even get some damn peace in the middle of the mountains. Get the feather out of here before I shove your harmony and friendship where your Princess’ light don’t shine!”

“Shut up!” Pallas snapped. “I’m here-”

“I don’t give a flying feather why you’re here!” the griffon shouted, slamming the tip of his cane into the ground hard enough that the air split with a crack like thunder. “Leave! I don’t want a damn pony here!”

“Well I’m not leaving until-” Pallas growled, until she was cut short as the griffon got up in her face, poking her in the chest with his cane.

“I told you I don’t care! You see that over there?” He pointed off to the side. Pallas glanced over, and he smacked the side of her helm while she was distracted. “That’s the way out! Don’t let the door hit your butt-tattoo on the way out!”

“Oh that’s it!” Pallas screamed, lunging at the griffon. He was, very abruptly, not there at all. There was a heavy impact against the back of her helm, and Pallas fell forwards, seeing stars.

“Bit slow, in more ways than one,” the griffon muttered. Pallas got up and twisted around, leaning to keep all of her weight on her good legs, trying to catch him in a sweeping attack.

The griffon prodded her shoulder with his cane just so, and she fell over in a heap, knocked off balance.

“No grace at all. We can keep this up all day, if you want. You can try to kill me, and I can make you look like the idiot you are.”

“I’ll tear you in half!” Pallas screamed, charging him. This time, he didn’t get out of the way. His cane came up, and her wingblade was neatly deflected.

“You weren’t kidding about those anger issues,” the griffon noted. He twisted his cane, and Pallas stumbled again before he swung it up to meet her chin, sending the thestral to the ground, the world going dark around her.

~~~***~~~

Pallas woke up with a start, surging to full wakefulness from a slumber full of nightmares. She was dripping with cold sweat, her armor gone, and the sun had set long ago. A small fire crackled in the clearing, throwing uneven light onto the griffon sitting on the other side.

“Finally awake?” The griffon didn’t look at her, staring at a pot over the fire. “Good. I didn’t want to have to clean up a corpse.”

“Where’s my armor?!” Pallas demanded.

“It’s over there,” the griffon pointed with his cane. The black metal was in a heap on a blanket. “I had to get the damn plate off of you to make sure I hadn’t cracked your skull too hard. I’d say you were a soft little thing, but you were beaten to Tartarus and back even before you picked a fight with me.”

“That goes with being a soldier,” Pallas snapped, trotting over to make sure he hadn’t damaged the straps.

“A poor one, maybe,” the griffon noted. “A decent soldier can avoid getting hurt, and a smart one avoids a fight when they’re injured.”

“Great, so I’m stupid and awful at fighting,” Pallas shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t care if I get hurt.”

“Good, because that’s about all you’re good for. I haven’t seen such sloppy swordplay in decades. I’m amazed you ponies win any wars at all with how awful you are at fighting. You were just throwing yourself around like a wild animal.”

“I was angry!” Pallas snapped.

“Then you fight like a blind cow when you’re angry,” the griffon snorted. “Now, I’ve had a chance to get properly drunk and a little embarrassed that I went and beat a mare like she owed me money, so you’ve got one chance to explain yourself before I throw you out. And by out I mean over the damn cliff.”

Pallas glared at him. “I’m here because some stupid feathering Zebrican shaman told me I had to come here if I wanted to learn to stop losing control when I fight.”

“Wonderful,” the griffon sighed. “Bloody shamans. I should have expected I’d get caught up in some kind of destiny horseapples. Well, here’s my advice - stop being an idiot. Problem solved.”

“Great advice,” Pallas rolled her eyes.

“Wish it was enough.” The griffon reached behind himself and grabbed a bottle, uncapping it and taking a long drag. “Fine. These shamans want to throw you at me? I’ll teach you a bloody thing or two. Your lessons start in the morning.”

“What lessons?!” Pallas demanded, taken aback.

“Your problem is that you get frustrated when you can’t kill someone. You get sloppy and even stupider than you are right now. We’re going to work on that, and maybe drill some basic sword skills into you until you stop being an idiot.”

“I’m not staying here,” Pallas frowned. “I was supposed to go one some kind of a journey to… find myself. Not to get berated by a sodding griffon!”

“You can’t leave until you can beat me,” the griffon said, taking another drag from the bottle. “Simple as that. You need to learn yourself something, and I have my own reasons anyway.”

“I’ll take you right now-” Pallas started, before the griffon was suddenly at her side, tripping her with his wooden cane and sending her to the ground, cane’s tip at her throat.

“In your condition?” The old griffon shook his head. “Being strong doesn’t mean anything if you don’t have skill to back it up. You can either try taking some advice, or you can learn things the hard way.”

“I… fine.” Pallas sighed. “If I can learn to put up with you, you old bird, I can keep my cool no matter what.”

~~~***~~~

“How the buck is this supposed to teach me about not being mad?!” Pallas shouted, trying to be heard over the waterfall crashing down around her shoulders. She shivered under the cold water, worse now that she’d gotten used to the heat of the desert.

“It’s tradition!” the old bird yelled. He was sitting on the side of the stream, cooking fish he’d plucked from the stream.

“I’m just getting wet and cold!” Pallas growled.

“Good! Maybe it’ll cool down that hot head of yours!” The old bird rummaged around in a bag he’d carried out to the stream and sprinkled a packet of something over the cooking fish. “You need to meditate, not just complain like a foal!”

“I don’t know how to meditate!”

“I thought you said you were taught by the best!” the griffon snorted. “And you can’t even meditate? It’s a good thing you don’t know much, because it’s pretty damn clear I have to start at the bare basics!”

“You could try teaching me instead of just making me take a shower while you slack off!” Pallas snapped, opening her eyes and glaring at the griffon.

“You’re worse than my useless son,” the griffon grumbled. “Fine! Just close your eyes and clear your mind. Just listen to the water flowing around you. Don’t think about it. Don’t let your mind wander to unimportant things. Just listen. And don’t fall asleep, you lazy ass.”

Pallas grumbled, trying to calm down. It was soothing for her burns, at least, even if the rest of her was freezing solid. She was starting to shiver from the cold. The discomfort was worst where her metal leg rested against her stump, the lunar titanium like ice after spending time in the cold water.

Part of her wanted to grab the griffon and drag him into the stream until he was as waterlogged as she was. It was a tempting, burning ember of anger that warmed her from within until a rock bounced painfully from her forehead.

“And stop thinking about trying to kill me!” The old bird shook his cane at Pallas. “I said clear your mind, not think up stupid revenge fantasies!”

Pallas growled, resisting the urge to rub the spot where he’d hit her, and tried to relax, letting the water flow around her.

~~~***~~~

Pallas sneezed, shaking and shivering uncontrollably under the rough blanket that had been thrown at her. She stared into the fire, edging a little closer to it in an effort to warm up.

“Stop overacting,” the griffon said, not looking at her. “It wasn’t that long.”

“It was six hours!” Pallas shouted. “Six feathering hours sitting under a waterfall that’s all glacier runoff!”

“Was it six hours?” the griffon frowned. “I didn’t think I was asleep that long.”

“You fell asleep?!” Pallas roared, standing up and looming over him. “You threw rocks at me when I started to fall asleep!”

“Well unlike you, I’m old and I already know how to meditate,” the old bird countered. “A teacher doesn’t do homework with his students.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Pallas mumbled.

“Shut up and eat a fish,” the griffon said, shoving a cooked trout in her face.

Pallas reared up, away from the meat. “That’s meat! Ponies don’t-”

“Ponies are perfectly capable of eating meat,” the old bird said, cutting her off. “You just don’t like it because it reminds you of how many of your ancestors were prey animals. Well, that’s done with now! Prey animals, they get cornered and go crazy. They start thrashing around without thinking, and they hurt everything around them. Tartarus, some will kill themselves just trying to get away. Happens all the
time when I hunt rabbits. They get snared, then they panic and snap their own spines.”

Pallas frowned and tried to settle down, looking at the fish in front of her.

“Predators are different. Prey animals, they don’t know how to handle a fight, because if they actually get into one, it’s usually right at the end of their life. A predator has to do it for every meal. It’s a constant struggle of life and death. The wind blows, the sun shines, and the strong eat the weak.”

“So what, you’re having me eat meat because… you want me to be a predator?”

“No, I’m having you eat meat because it’s all protein, and you need to eat protein while you’re training.” The old bird snapped up a fish in his beak, pulling it apart and eating it in just a few bites. “Taking a few lessons from predators might not be a bad idea, though. It’d be better if you fought without putting your life on the line.” He looked to the side, picking the fish’s spine out of his mouth and tossing it aside. “You do that, and eventually someone comes to collect.”

~~~***~~~

The old bird glared as Pallas balanced on the rim of a barrel of water, her hooves barely keeping her balance. The edge was uneven, slippery, and narrow. Below her, icy water drawn from the mountain stream. In her mouth, a long-handled ladle.

“Faster!” The griffon tapped the side of the barrel for emphasis. “Use the ladle to empty the barrel back into the stream!”

Pallas growled, biting down on the ladle hard enough to bend the metal. He’d had her fill it up while hanging upside-down from a branch over the stream.

“This is teaching you about balance,” the griffon said, catching her look. “You clearly didn’t lose that leg very long ago, because you keep stumbling when you try to use the replacement.”

Pallas rolled her eyes and dipped down to ladle more water out. As she did, the barrel got lighter and lighter, her weight on top unbalancing it. She’d been adjusting her stance as she worked, and when she felt the wood shift under her, she reacted the wrong way.

The barrel started to tip, the sloshing water throwing off Pallas’ expectations of how it would react. She spread her wings to jump free at the same moment the spur-blade of her metal limb sank into the wood to try and keep her steady.

She fell over, taking the barrel with her, pitching backwards into the stream.

“Well, when I said to empty the barrel that ain’t quite what I intended,” the griffon muttered.

Pallas picked up the barrel and threw it, over the trees and into a ravine, where it bounced between two rock walls. The old bird sighed as the mountain pass was filled with the crashing sounds of shattering wood and falling stone.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” he muttered.

The Dry Season: Storm-Outrunning Technique

2nd day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“You said you’d have a harvest ready by now,” Luna said, looking down at the papers spread out before her, scattered across the surface of what had once been a carpenter’s work table and had been pressed into service as part of her new office.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” Pear Necessities mumbled.

“Don’t apologize,” Luna said, looking up to the distraught pony. “I’m not blaming you. I just want to know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

“The land here has no life to it,” Pear said. “We’re doing well just to get anything growing at all. I could get you a harvest in a week, but it’s going to exhaust every earth pony we have.”

“What about unicorn magic or alchemy?” Luna turned to look at Silver Tongue. The unicorn’s robes were stained with dirt and sand, making them the same brownish-grey as everything else seemed to slowly be turning.

“Alchemy is out of the question,” Silver Tongue shrugged. “There are some potions that will allow rapid plant growth, but they rely on good soil and alchemical ingredients we don’t have.”

“But.. on the other hoof, our supplies will last a while,” Wind Dancer said. “We could send word back to Equestria, request aid from Celestia…”

“After the storm Zephyranthes created, I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk,” Luna said. “I would not wish to put lives on the line, and we can’t abandon the ponies and griffons of this city.” She got up and walked over to a window, the glass long since broken and gone, leaving only an empty frame.

“Out there,” Luna said, “Thousands are suffering, and it is worse than I could have imagined. The curse over this land has clouded my sight and hidden their dreams from me, else I would have come sooner to free them.”

~~~***~~~

12th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Lower the sails!” Luna shouted, using the royal voice to be heard over the raging storm. “The winds will tear them apart!”

“Princess! The waves are forcing the ships together!” shouted a sailor. Luna turned to see two ships crash against each other, hulls shattering in the collision. Ponies were thrown into the water, vanishing among the dark waves.

“We’re going to lose the whole fleet at this rate!” Luna hissed. She looked up to where Zephyranthes flew, his wings spread as wide as the ship’s mast was long. “Captain! Send up flares and order the fleet to break formation! The further apart from each other we are, the safer we’ll be!”

With that, Luna took to the air, a gust of wind nearly knocking her right back to the deck. While she’d once been a pegasus herself, the griffon above her was the wind incarnate, and even getting into the sky meant testing her power against his while giving him every advantage.

Tornado-force gusts pressed against her as she tried to ascend to where the Emperor flew, tearing feathers from her wings. Luna’s horn flared, and a magical shield pushed out around her, shoving the wind away but bending in the force of the primal surge of air, the energy trailing behind her like the tail of a comet.

Luna’s blue form bled away to the ebon coat of Nightmare Moon as she called upon all of her power, firing blasts of force at the Emperor. The beams deflected from their target, exploding like flak around his distant form.

“So a direct attack in this situation is impossible,” Nightmare Moon noted. “How unusual. Zephyranthes always used to prefer direct confrontation…” It was an odd change in behavior, something quite unusual to see in an immortal. In the past, he would have met them as they landed and fought with blade and spell, instead of trying to scatter the fleet with a storm.

It was a mystery that would have to be solved later, if Nightmare Moon was to salvage the situation.

“Come down and fight me!” Nightmare Moon shouted, the force of her voice causing a visible shockwave in the falling rain.

Zephyranthes flapped his huge wings, and hailstones the size of cannonballs surged down around the dark Princess. She countered with a wave of heat, melting them into raindrops before they could crash down into the ships below.

In a flash of lightning, Nightmare Moon saw something below that gave her pause. A reef, the wind and waves driving the fleet right towards it.

“So that’s your plan,” Nightmare Moon hissed. “Two can play at this game!” She froze in midair, a bubble of magic supporting her against the heavy weather, and her horn lit with the full illumination of the moon.

The Nightmare strained, doing something that she knew would send her sister into fits of screaming rage.

The Moon edged closer, and the tide surged up to greet it,water covering the exposed reef. The first of the fleet edged over the barrier, the ship’s bottom scraping against it. Nightmare Moon roared, pulling the Moon even closer, the silver light shining through the clouds overhead. The storm started to abate as Zephyranthes gave pause, the celestial display of power forcing him to stay his talon.

The fleet surged past the reef and into the clear water beyond. Nightmare Moon released her grip on the moon, allowing it to fall back to its normal distance.

Zephyranthes’ massive wings flapped, and he flashed away at a speed too great for Luna to pursue.

“The first victory is to me,” Nightmare Moon grinned, fangs gleaming in the light as the storm overhead started to clear.

~~~***~~~

13th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Is there any sign from the city?” Luna asked, having resumed her less intimidating form to avoid upsetting any of the civilians. The fleet, only two-thirds as large as it had been when they left Equestria, had taken shelter in a protected bay, holding position well away from a seemingly-lifeless city set into and above the cliffs on one edge of the calm water.

“None,” Silver Tongue frowned. “We’ve tried both flares and semaphore. It’s possible that there isn’t anyone in the city to reply to us.”

Luna shook her head. “I find that extremely unlikely. Some of the scouting wing made a few passes outside of bow range, and reported movement in the shadows.”

“Could be animals. Worse, it could be troops lying in wait.” Silver Tongue looked up into the gray, cloudless sky. “Zephyranthes knew where we were, and he could have sent a division to repel us.”

“It is… possible,” Luna admitted. “The wind forced us to tack towards the south, away from the capital. His attack might have been intended to force our hooves and enter this bay.”

“We could leave and try to find another port,” Silver Tongue suggested.

“No,” Luna sighed. “If he is truly watching us, he will be able to move his troops more quickly than we can get the fleet safely away from the reef and back at sea, assuming he doesn’t attack us while we are vulnerable. I do not wish to have to play with the tides again. Queen Plessie always gets annoyed, and we have little to gain in angering the seaponies and sirens.”

“So what, we land and hope for the best?” Silver Tongue snorted.

“I will go with the remaining Dragoons to evaluate the situation,” Luna said.

“There are less than a dozen left,” Silver Tongue frowned. “And half of those can’t fly.”

“I am aware,” Luna sighed. “Six perished when their ships were destroyed. Another five are unaccounted for. I can sense they have not died, but little else. The sole good news is that all those assigned as guardians for my student are still alive, though I dearly wish I could see her dreams.”

“If you’re going to go, be careful,” Silver Tongue said. “You might be immortal, but that doesn’t make you invincible.”

~~~***~~~

Nightmare Moon landed silently at the edge of the cliff, looking across the land beyond. Remnants of vineyards and orchards of scraggly, almost dead trees dotted the landscape. Rubble that had once been a tower lay at her hooves, four others having collapsed in the same way, leaving only a single beacon behind.

Streets pushed up all the way to the edge of the cliff, where a low wall was all that separated the road from the sharp drop into the bay. Buildings in various states of disrepair lined the road, the city itself shaped like a fan.

“It looks like this was mostly used by ponies,” one of the Dragoons noted. He pulled a lost horseshoe from where it had been left in the dirt and tossed it aside to clatter against the cobblestones.

“The griffons must have lived in the dwellings carved into the cliff face below,” Nightmare Moon guessed. “The fall would be far less dangerous to them, and it would be no more difficult to navigate than the streets here.”

“Why is everything so… dry and dusty?” the Dragoon asked.

“An excellent question,” Nightmare Moon muttered.

Before she could start to guess at the reasons, a cry went up from the half-ruined buildings of the city. Ponies and griffons poured out of the empty shops, a motley army of the malnourished and starving.

The Dragoons formed a barricade around Nightmare Moon, raising their weapons, the half-dozen ponies more than enough to slaughter them all.

“Wait,” Nightmare Moon said, stepping past them. “These are victims as much as the ponies we saved in Equestria.”

She cleared her throat as the surge slowed, the sight of the vastly superior warriors giving the stampede pause.

“Stand down!” Nightmare Moon ordered, her voice booming like thunder. “We have not come here for your lives but we will take them if forced!”

Weapons were lowered as the mob began to lose its nerve.

“If you wish to survive, kneel down and pledge loyalty to me,” Nightmare Moon demanded. “Those who do will be given rations and medical care. Those who do not are no longer welcome here.”

There was a moment of uncertainty, before a mare swallowed her pride and dropped to her knees. The action sent a ripple through the crowd, the tension breaking as they bowed before their new ruler.

~~~***~~~

“What happened?” Luna asked, leading Pear Necessities through what had once been an orchard. She stopped to scrape at the soil, which was little more than sand and stones here. She’d taken him aside while the ships were unloaded at the docks at the base of the cliffs.

“A curse? Poor weather management? It pains me to say, but I know little about farming.”

“Hard to say for sure,” Pear put a hoof on one of the dead trees. “This looks like an olive tree. They’re pretty darn tolerant of almost everything. One of the easiest things to grow. And the grapevines back there do pretty well in poor soil, too.”

“Good crops for such a harsh land,” Luna noted.

“Too harsh,” Pear said. “I can’t feel the soil at all. There’s no life in it at all. Never felt anything like it.”

“The sky is the same way,” Luna muttered. “I have felt this only once before. It is as though the clock has been turned back to the time after Discord’s reign, when the elements of the world were thrown out of their natural order and needed shepherds to rein them back in.”

~~~***~~~

Date Unknown
5 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“We cannot possibly agree to this request,” Celestia whispered, looking at the broad seaweed strands that had been given to them, letters tattooed into them with squid ink. They were almost like scrolls, though their composition made them almost immune to damage from water, which made sense, considering their author.

“It is what I demand if I am to undertake this suicide mission,” the siren said, glaring at where Celestia and Luna stood, their magic forming a bubble around them that allowed them to breathe and speak normally here, at the bottom of the sea. It took alicorn magic to withstand the strain of the water above, so far from the surface that they were plunged into an eternal night.

“It isn’t a suicide mission, Plessie,” Luna said, smiling at the mare as she swam around them, parts of the siren’s body glowing with bio-luminescence. “It is where the heart of the sea lies, the nexus of the leylines for all water in the world.”

“Do you know how deep the water is there?” Plessie demanded. “I could be crushed into jelly!”

“You won’t be,” Luna said. “It is your destiny.”

“Destiny or not, I don’t want my people starving,” Plessie growled. “It’s the only reason I agreed to meet with you in the first place. A message in a bottle? That’s awfully rude.”

“We weren’t sure of another way to contact you,” Celestia admitted. “The seaponies are difficult to reach at the best of times.”
“And this is hardly the best of times,” Luna said. “Sea currents have all but stopped. Reefs are dying all over the world.”

“I know,” Plessie snapped. “We can barely even breathe now. Without the waves and currents, the water is stale. There are places where nothing lives now, vast reaches of dead space where you slowly suffocate.”

“You can fix that,” Celestia said, quietly.

“It’s dangerous,” Plessie said. “And I won’t agree unless you sign the agreement.”

“It’s one thing to claim the salvage from a shipwreck, it is quite another to claim the sailors as well.” Celestia frowned.

“As I said, I don’t want my people to starve.” Plessie smiled, showing a mouth full of fangs.

~~~***~~~

13th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“It was a different world,” Luna said, sighing. “In some way, things were simpler. We were worried about our immediate survival, and everything else had to be set aside for that.”

“It’s gonna be a stretch getting things growing here again,” Pear Necessities said. “But…” He put a hoof on one of the bare olive trees and closed his eyes to focus. Luna could feel the magic flowing through him, out of him, and into the soil.

“I see. So you’re going to replace the deadened leylines of the land with your own,” Luna muttered.

“Old farming trick,” Pear said, as a single leaf grew at supernatural speed on one of the olive tree’s branches. “It’ll work better with plants that aren’t already almost entirely dead.”

“That is good news,” Luna smiled. “I intend to fortify this area, and having some ability to grow our own food will be necessary.”

“We’ll need every able-bodied earth pony to chip in,” Pear said. “That includes any soldiers you can spare. On top of that, we need to take it slow. The more you force a plant to grow, the harder it is on the farmer.”

“I suspect it’s similar to unicorn magic,” Luna said, nodding. “A small expenditure of magical power is replaced very quickly, but the deeper a unicorn digs into her well of power, the longer it takes to recover. If totally exhausted, it can take days to recover any magical strength at all.”

“Something like that,” Pear shrugged. “It might be a help if pegasai were able to do something about the weather. There’s no cloud cover at all, and carrying water by hoof is gonna be a burden.”

“That will be impossible.” Luna spread her wings, feathers feeling the air. “Clouds will not form naturally here, and I fear they will break apart without raining no matter how much pegasai intervene. In Equestria we would use a thunderstorm to clear the air of the ambient haze of weather magic, but here…” She shook her head.

“What about that Emperor?” Pear frowned. “He made one heck of a storm trying to sink us.”

“That is an excellent question,” Luna agreed. “He should be able to do something about… all of this.” She waved a hoof around vaguely. “Of course, he also went to war with Equestria, so it is possible his judgement is in question in more ways than one.” She paused, something familiar bothering her. “Even so… it is a mystery we will have to solve later.”

The Dry Season: Life Gets Worse Approach

5th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Luna paced through the streets, looking for any path an invader might take to infiltrate the city. Alleyways were blocked off with new walls reaching to the nearby roofs, entire blocks of stone and brick houses turned into the foundations for a new fortification surrounding the port city.

“Will these even be useful?” Wind Dancer asked, as she followed behind Luna, stepping lightly from rooftop to rooftop, fluttering her wings briefly with each short jump. “The griffons can all fly. Walls aren’t going to keep them out.”

“The primary purpose of fortifying an area is not to keep attackers away,” Luna said. “It is to give the defenders a common line to stand at and terrain that is to their advantage. The walls will protect them against ranged attacks and, as you said, the griffons will be forced into the air to enter the city, which will leave them exposed to our own arrows.”

“I guess,” Wind Dancer shrugged.

“Given your performance in Everfree, I expect you can hold off most of an army yourself,” Luna said, carefully keeping her tone casual. “Shooting crossbow bolts out of the air is hardly an easy task.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Wind Dancer said. “The crossbow she was using was as big as I am. I could see where she was aiming from a mile away.”

“And yet, since you were further from her target than she was, you had to fire first and guess at the moment she would take her shot,” Luna said. “Quite impressive, for a normal pony. One could almost call it impossible.”

“Obviously not,” Wind Dancer snorted. “I was just lucky. Some pegasus magic to help guide things a little bit helped.”

“Did it?” Luna questioned. “I wasn’t aware we were training ponies on how to do that.”

“I picked it up on my own,” Wind Dancer said, too quickly.

Luna smiled to herself and started walking again.

~~~***~~~

Silver Tongue shuffled the papers in front of him, as if rearranging them would change the numbers to something he liked better.

“It’s not bad yet, but it’s gonna get bad,” Quel said. The scarred thestral rubbed his snout with a hoof. “The griffons eat twice as much as ponies, so our supplies are going to have to stretch three times as far as we thought. Plus there’s basically no way to forage for food even if we were on the move.”

“Makes me wish we could just use magic to make food out of thin air,” Silver Tongue grumbled. “At least we have spells that can make the seawater potable.”

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Quel muttered. “If we were just here to take out the Emperor, it wouldn’t be that bad. We could run a successful campaign in a month or two as long as we’re willing to make this a headhunting mission instead of a conquest.”

Silver Tongue snorted. “If we waited a year or so, we could have just moved in. These people are on the edge of extinction. The griffons here were just barely hanging on by eating the fish in the bay, and even that is starting to fail them.”

Quel sighed and sat down heavily in front of Silver Tongue’s desk. “I wish there was a good answer here. If we let them starve, we’re the bad guys. If we stay here to help, we’re conquerors. It’s not even just griffons - there are still ponies living here too. Some of them were slaves, but most have lived here their whole lives.”

“There is one bright side,” Silver Tongue noted. “With most of their army dead, they have fewer mouths to feed.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to call that a bright side,” Quel mumbled. “I need to talk to Luna when she gets back. We almost had a riot when we were unloading the food. Some of the griffons were going berserk, and we had to tie them up to keep them from attacking the soldiers and stealing food.”

“She won’t want them killed,” Silver Tongue said. “Not if she wants to have any kind of loyalty from these people at all. They’ve already abandoned their old master to serve her. They’re like mercenaries. Bought loyalty is the weakest kind.”

“Just don’t let them know that,” Quel snorted. “They outnumber our soldiers two to one. If they really decided to fight for it, we’d lose a lot of ponies.”

The doors burst open as Luna walked in, looking at her hooves in thought as she absently used her magic to clear the path.

“Your highness,” Quel said, standing at attention.

“At ease,” Luna muttered, waving a hoof. “I do not intend to stand on ceremony here. I have been speaking with the farmers, and I am disturbed by what I have learned so far. From all indications, this was once a fertile land, if unsuited for many of the crops of Equestria.”

“It’s like the soil was salted,” Silver Tongue said, moving a chair so Luna could sit down. The Princess half-collapsed into it.

“Indeed. It brought back some rather distressing memories of the period after Discord’s reign, when the world nearly collapsed in on itself.” Luna sighed. “I have been taking lessons from the farmers on how to put my own magic into the land to replace what has been lost, but it is quite tiring.”

“It’s puzzling,” Silver Tongue said. He tapped on the desk in thought. “The water table seems fine. We could use a few more wells, especially up on the cliff where the farms were, but we need to fortify the area more than we need them.”

“For now,” Luna agreed. “Once construction of the walls is complete, we will have to shift focus to making this area more sustainable.”

“Why are we even bothering to fortify?” Quel frowned. “We never did this in Equestria. We kept on the move and just hit the enemy constantly. With no reinforcements, staying in one place is just going to thin our supplies.”

“As much as I dislike giving my sister too much credit, the Solar Guard gave us a lot of support in terms of supplies and providing fallback points for the rare occasions when our battles did not go as planned,” Luna sighed. “Here, we have nowhere to go if we fail. If I fortify this city, we will at least have one stronghold to regroup at should the worst occur.”

“It’s a weakness, too, though,” Quel pointed out. “Our enemy has an advantage with numbers and supply lines. We always avoided fair fights, but we’re gonna be forced into one if we have to defend this place.”

“You’re correct,” Luna admitted. “And in many circumstances, I would take your implicit advice and abandon this city to its fate. We could possibly defeat Zephyranthes and return to tame this land.”

“And we’re not doing that… why?” Quel asked.

“Consider what would happen if we left them,” Luna said. “They will all die in weeks, at most.”

“But that’s happening anyway,” Quel pointed out. “It’s not just a problem in this one city, it’s a problem everywhere in this country. The faster we resolve this, the faster we start saving them.”

“You’re correct about that,” Luna nodded. “We do need to resolve this. I am not convinced it is a problem we can resolve with the blade of a sword.”

“We’re vastly unqualified for anything else,” Silver Tongue muttered. “We’re an army, not a team of diplomats. If you wanted to solve things with words, that was something we tried in Canterlot, and failed.”

“It wasn’t our failure,” Luna muttered. “It’s clear that Xaaron was sent with the expectation that he would fail. Even so, I regret not giving him more of a chance. I was blinded by anger, something that is becoming unfortunately more common of late.”

The door opened, and Ryujin walked in, a tray balanced on his back. A metal pot and several cups sat on it, steaming with heat.

“It is a matter of opposites,” Ryujin said.

“You were waiting outside the door for the right moment to make a dramatic entrance, weren’t you?” Silver Tongue asked, smirking.

“You would find it quite difficult to prove that,” Ryujin said, smiling. “It is possible that I was waiting and listening, yes.”

“What do you mean by a matter of opposites?” Luna asked, as Ryujin set the tray down. The Princess started helping him serve the tea, the kirin not objecting to the assistance.

“The world is not balanced,” Ryujin explained. “Or rather, it is quite exquisitely balanced. Take this place, for example. The sky and the land are both barren of life, but water and fire are still as clear and strong as in Equestria. This is because the air and earth are opposites, with a delicate relationship.”

“If they were opposites, then shouldn’t one have grown in strength when the other weakened?” Silver Tongue asked, as he swirled the tea in his cup, not sure what the reddish-orange tea was made from.

“That is one type of balance, and the type most ponies think of,” Ryujin agreed. “That is the balance of scales, or a lever. One side goes down, the other goes up. But in nature, it is more like the balance of four hooves. When things are unbalanced, they eventually crash down to disaster.”

“And the griffons unbalanced things with their constant use of weather magic,” Luna said, thinking. “Which they used to make up for their lack of skill at cultivating crops.”

“Yes, and that weather magic has left a cloud of magic over this land that keeps normal weather patterns from forming,” Ryujin said. “The air was weak, and sought balance, so as the weather magic failed, the magic of the earth came down along with it, and left this land in the state it is in today.”

“And the curse some of the griffons speak of?” Luna asked. “I would not dismiss their concerns so quickly as mere natural order. Zebrican shamans are quite powerful, in ways not even I can match.”

“It is possible,” Ryujin admitted. “It is quite difficult for me to believe that this is entirely a result of natural processes. Normally, magic would move from the earth to the sky and the balance would restore itself.”

“And thunderstorms are used to clear the ambient weather magic,” Luna noted. “One of the reasons we cannot always have nice weather.”

“We can’t know for sure unless we spoke to the Zebricans, but…” Silver Tongue considered. “They might be able to use geomantic rituals, like earth ponies do. The right rituals could drain the magic from the land over a wide area.”

“There isn’t much information on how to cancel them out,” Luna sighed. “Earth ponies tend to keep their rituals as family secrets, and the last unicorn to study geomancy seriously…” Luna shuddered. “She nearly destroyed Equestria with the monster she created. I still can’t stand the sight of mud.”

“It would take hundreds, no, thousands of rituals,” Silver Tongue sighed. “I don’t know if it’s really possible.”

“The griffons have been at war with Zebrica for decades,” Quel said. “More than enough time for a few thousand rituals.”

“If I knew things were this bad, I would have sent an envoy to Zebrica to try and convince them to stop,” Luna said. “It has clearly become a vicious cycle. The griffons attack because they need to steal food because they have overhunted their lands. The Zebricans retaliate by making the Empire less able to recover from the environmental damage done to it with heavy weather management. The griffons are forced to press harder into Zebrica to feed their people, which increases the response from Zebrica…”

“Yes,” Ryujin agreed. “You cannot create peace with violence. You can only create it with peace. In giving your supplies to the griffons of this city, you have already turned them on the path away from becoming an army of raiders and enemies of Equestria, and you are instead making them allies. There is no greater victory than to take an enemy and make him your friend.”

“Yes, my sister said as much,” Luna frowned.

“You and your sister have also been out of balance,” Ryujin noted. “Wars are a great disturbance in the natural cycle of life and death.”

“It is not the war that has driven a wedge between us,” Luna muttered. “It is only our own actions. We both had very different ideas of how we wanted to handle it. My sister always plays the long game. She studies logistics and strategy, and she calculates the results of her actions without passion and without bias. She reduces lives to numbers, and cares more for what will take place in a hundred years than she does about tomorrow.

“I’ve never been able to do that,” Luna continued. “I focus on tactics instead of strategy, and I am willing to take risky options when I find safe options are not to my liking. All other things being equal, if she and I met on the field of battle, I would almost certainly be victorious, but she does not like things being equal.”

“She also doesn’t like fighting,” Quel noted. “She’d try and end things before it got to that point.”

“Yes. In this case, her plan was to remove me from power.” Luna frowned. “I understand her reasoning. She sees me as an element she cannot control, something she cannot calculate so easily, and so she wishes to minimize my impact on her little game. But even if I understand it, I gravely dislike it. We are supposed to be equal, but she is not treating me as such.”

“She’s treating you like a threat to Equestria,” Quel noted.

“Indeed,” Luna agreed. “And that is why we are here. Some day, ponies will look back on these trouble times and remember not just a war, but the founding of a new Lunar Republic!” She stomped a hoof in emphasis, overturning her teacup. “Once I am again in a position of power, I will make peace with my sister. This time apart may do both of us some good, and perhaps if we do not attempt to rule together, she will not feel threatened by me.”

“It’s certainly better than dividing Equestria down the middle,” Quel snorted. “And as much as I dislike some parts of this situation, saving the people of the Empire is a worthy cause. We might even be able to convince some of them to fight with us instead of just taking our supplies in exchange for not trying to stab us.”

“Well, there is no victory greater than turning an enemy into a friend, as I recall,” Luna smiled.

“I’ll see how many of them are willing to march with us,” Quel smiled, turning towards the door. “At least once we eventually start marching. They were willing to form a giant mob to attack you for whatever you were carrying, so I don’t think it’ll take too much convincing.”
Just as he reached the door, it burst open, Wind Dancer flying into the room.

“Princess! We have a problem!” The pegasus yelled, bowling Quel over.

Luna raised an eyebrow. “I don’t hear screaming, so I trust the citizens haven’t begun a revolt.”

“No, it’s worse than that,” Wind Dancer said. “There’s an army coming. Zephyranthes has sent almost all of his troops. They’re going to try and retake the city.”

The Dry Season: Wanting and Fearing Prayer

7th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Breathe!” The old griffin barked, as Pallas tried to hold an awkward pose on her two back legs. One back leg, really. Her wings were spread wide for what balance she could get, though she was having to fight to stay upright.

“I am breathing!” Pallas growled, almost falling over.

“Height gives an attacker an advantage,” the griffin explained. “Striking from above forces your enemy down and breaks their guard. Rearing up gives you that advantage even when you can’t take flight, and that means you have to learn to balance on your back legs.”

“It leaves my belly exposed!” Pallas said. “That’s the weakest point of any armor!”

“You’ve got front hooves!” The old bird slapped her forehooves with his cane. “Don’t ignore them. Strike with all of your limbs like the octopus who plays the drums.”

“I thought you were teaching me how to fight with a sword, not how to box!”

“A poor swordsbird only fights with a sword. I beat you with a stick, if you’ll remember.” He tapped her chest with the end of his cane. “If you only learn to fight one way, you develop weaknesses. When I was a young bird, I used to travel around and learn from other swordsbirds.

“One went on about how he used a longer blade, because it gave him greater reach and more power. He died when he had to fight inside, where his blade couldn’t be used properly.

“Another used two short blades, with the intent of getting inside the opponent’s guard to attack. She was killed when she had to fight several opponents at once.

“The wisest of the birds I learned from, he told me that he didn’t have a favorite. He’d learned the sword, the spear, the bow, and even how to fight with talon and beak, because they all had their uses and it was a poor craftsbird who tried to solve every problem with the same tool. He lived a very long time.”

“...But if you learned from so many flawed ideas, doesn’t that make your ideas flawed too?” Pallas asked, wobbling as she tried to keep her balance as she spoke.

“No idea of fighting is perfect,” the old bird shrugged. “I’ve heard masters boast of knowing a thousand sword strike, and masters boast of practicing one sword stroke a thousand times.”

“Great,” Pallas groaned.

“That said,” the old bird smirked. “There are a few things I happen to think are true. First, it’s extremely impolite to take more than one blow to decapitate your enemy. One thing I’ve always seen as a bad idea is when someone decides they’re going to cut their opponent more than once. If you’re intent on making multiple strikes, it means most of them are worthless. You should make every cut count. Your opponent should weep with the beauty of it, even as their head falls away from their body.”

“I don’t think fighting can really be beautiful,” Pallas mumbled.

“It’s as beautiful as any dance,” the old bird said. “Under all those bad habits and rough edges you’ve developed, there’s some actual potential. It’s something I don’t see in many, in this day and age.” His expression twisted into a scowl. “Don’t let it get to your fool head, though. Potential goes to waste sometimes.”

“Like a dance?” Pallas bit her lip, thinking back to a ball that seemed so very, very long ago now. When things looked like they were getting better instead of worse.

“Mm. Just like one. Sometimes you’re the leader, sometimes you’re the follower. A good dancer can make either work. You have to learn the flow. It’s how I beat you. You’re big and slow. If you try and set the pace like that, someone faster can run rings around you. When your opponent is faster than you, the smart thing is to be defensive, wait for them to overextend themselves, and strike when their speed can’t help them.”

“You’ve gotten a lot more wordy lately,” Pallas smiled.

The old bird frowned and kicked her metal leg. Pallas yelled in surprise and fell to the ground in a heap.

“And you’ve still got a lot to learn,” the griffon muttered. “Maybe I should make you stand on your front legs for a while. If you do a headstand maybe some brains will finally fall out.”

~~~***~~~

Bianca took a deep breath. She was trying to relax, despite the heat of the desert and the annoying stinging pain of her sunburns. Even with the cloak she’d borrowed from Resplendent Shadow, her sensitive skin had burned badly. They’d taken shelter in a half-collapsed building that had once been an inn, sunlight pouring in through a crumbling wall and over dusty seats and tables. Bianca sat in the corner, with the cloak over her like a tent, trying to get some sleep.

It reminded her of how Pallas had suffered with her burns from fighting the dragon in Everfree, though much less noble. Bianca was pretty sure there weren’t any epic tales about ponies who got sunburned, but there were a lot about ponies fighting dragons.

“Come on, Luna,” Bianca whispered, as she forced her breathing to slow. “I need to know that everything is okay…”

She could feel herself starting to drift away to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. As tired as she was, part of her wanted to stay in a restful, dreamless sleep. Using the dreaming for communication was almost as tiring as undertaking a journey in the real world. The body couldn’t recover, and the mind found no rest.

Bianca opened her mind’s eye, and looked over her personal corner of the dreaming. It was a bubble only as large as her own perceptions and imagination, a world that only existed while she was looking at it. To a dreamer, it would seem natural, the haze of the dreaming smoothing out the flaws that became obvious to a lucid observer.

Bianca’s dream started in the same place it always did, in her old home, built deep into the rock to shield it from the cold of the glacier outside. Bolts of bright fabric hung from the stone walls, showing scenes from around Equestria. The real ones had been drab and cheap, but here in the dream they were so bright that they were more like windows to tropical paradises, green forests, and fields of flowers.

“Luna,” Bianca whispered. This was the furthest she’d gotten into the dreaming since they’d gotten to the Empire. “I have to find her,” she said, out loud.

Bianca looked at the wall hangings carefully. Luna had helped her practice visualizing them as portals to other places, but she was still finding it difficult to enter the dreams of ponies she didn’t already know well.

A silvery light caught her eye. One of the hangings behind her was a scene at night, with the moon hanging low over the landscape. Bianca could feel a pull towards it, like a flow of water trying to drag her towards where she needed to go. It was something the Dreaming did, directing ponies to where they needed to go. Even Luna wasn’t sure how or why it worked as it did.

“Luna!” Bianca yelled, jumping into the image. She passed through it with a sensation like splashing into a pool of water, plunging into the new scene and sending ripples through it with her presence.

The dream changed around her. She was overlooking a steep drop into the sea. There was something solid about this dream, not the stability that a true dreamer brought, but instead the solid foundation of a memory, the dream building from it like vapor rising from ice as it sublimated.

“Does she suspect anything?” Asked a cold voice that made Bianca shiver. She turned to see a blurry figure, vaguely suggestive of Night Guard armor. She could sense it as the source of the memory, though it remained formless, impossible to identify. It was one of the main differences between a dream and a memory - ponies almost never thought about their own bodies in memories, while in dreams their forms were created with the same burst of imagination as the rest of the world.

“No,” said a voice, distorted and unfamiliar. It was probably the way the speaker heard themselves. “I have Luna’s full trust.”

“Excellent,” replied the second voice. Bianca edged closer, not wanting to disrupt the memory by interrupting anything. The blurry figure at the cliff’s edge was holding a small crystal sphere, and reflecting from it was a different scene, a mare’s face in a stone room.

“Sirocco Mandala…” Bianca whispered, recognizing the mare in the crystal ball.

“We have been in contact with Emperor Zephyranthes,” Sirocco said. “In exchange for disavowing Luna’s actions and providing him with intelligence, he is willing to sign the amended peace treaty.”

“He’s sending an army here,” the blurry figure said. “If we don’t do something, a lot of ponies will be killed.”

“It’s for the greater good,” Sirocco said. “Not every death is a waste. Luna would sacrifice them no matter what actions we take. All we can do is try to make sure the lives are spent well, to further the cause of Harmony.” Her tone softened, and she tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I know it has been difficult for you, Loyalty. You are the only one we could trust with this.”

“I don’t like spying on Luna,” the distorted voice said quietly. “She means well, even if she is misguided.”

“Celestia has decided that she needs to be allowed to walk her own path,” Sirocco said. “Her invasion will fail and she will return home without her most fanatical supporters. We’ve already brokered peace with Zephyranthes, and this will secure peace from her as well.”

“I know,” Loyalty hesitated. “I should go. If I speak too long I may attract attention.”

“Understood. Elements of Harmony guide you, Loyalty.”

Bianca crept closer to the shrouded figure. A hoof reached out to touch it and-

~~~***~~~

She was suddenly jolted awake. Resplendent Shadow was looking down at her.

“We need to go,” Shadow said. “It’s almost nightfall, and Fluttering Moth says she saw movement in the distance.”

“I almost had it!” Bianca yelled, pouting.

“Had what?” Shadow frowned. “Were you able to contact Nightmare Moon?”

“No, I thought I could sense Luna, but the Dreaming took me somewhere else. I saw something big, Shadey!”

“My name isn’t Shadey,” Resplendent Shadow muttered.

“One of the soldiers with Luna has been working for Celestia all along! They’re spying on her and she’s giving the information to the Emperor!”

“That’s impossible,” Shadow scoffed. “There’s no way Celestia would do something like that.”

“I know what I saw,” Bianca said. “I have to tell Luna. I think the soldier was on a cliff, looking out to sea.”

“That would mean Luna hasn’t gone north yet,” Shadow frowned.

Fluttering Moth landed quickly, ducking into the building, her hooves surprisingly heavy on the stone floor. She looked panicked, checking the sky behind her as she set down.

“It’s an army!” Moth said. “I thought it might have been ours for a minute, but it’s the griffons! I didn’t think they even had this many troops left! I don’t think I was seen, but I don’t want to risk it. We should clear out before they get close.”

“Are they coming this way?” Shadow asked.

“No. They’ll be close, but the bulk of the army is swinging west. Doesn’t mean scouts won’t spot this building and check it, though, and I don’t want be here if they do.”

“They’re going after Luna,” Bianca said. “I saw in the dream that Zephyranthes was using the information from the spy to send an army after her. Celestia is going to let him defeat us in exchange for a peace treaty!”

“If we follow the army, we can find Luna,” Shadow said. “We’ll need to be very careful and keep our distance.”

~~~***~~~

10th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas swung her blade through the waterfall, focusing on keeping her swing level despite the push of the falling water. It was relaxing, with the weight of the water against her wing and trying to slow her strike. The cold had stopped bothering her, and she hadn’t lost her temper and tried to kill the old bird in a while.

It had been at least an hour. Maybe even two. Practically a record, especially with the abuse he was still heaping onto her.

“Stop making all that noise!” The griffon barked. Pallas frowned.

“I’m sorry if I’m making it hard to hear a feathering waterfall-” Pallas started, though she shut up when she saw his expression. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking off into the distance, focused in a way she hadn’t seen since he’d beat the horseapples out of her.

Pallas looked back, trying to see what he was looking at. Her sensitive ears twitched as she heard it. A whistling of wind, distinct against the still air. She lept up, swinging her wingblade, and felt something deflect down and into the stream, a steel bolt as long as a pony vibrating where it had impaled itself into the rocky bed of the stream.

“I think we have a problem,” Pallas said, landing and backing towards the treeline. The brush was thick enough to conceal them, and the trees might be dense enough to shield them until they could come up with a plan.

“I knew I’d have an assassin after me one of these days,” the old bird muttered. “Last time it was some fool with a metal claw on a chain. I tied him up with it and threw him down the ravine.”

“Get to cover, you idiot!” Pallas yelled, as she threw herself behind a tree, a bolt slamming into the wood just as she got to safety.

“I’m not going to run when I’m being attacked in my own home!” The griffon yelled. Pallas’ ear twitched as she heard it again. She was too far from the griffon to protect him. He turned almost instantly, and Pallas winced.

The bolt vibrated in his grip, talon closed on it just behind the wide, crystal-edged head. Pallas’ jaw dropped in surprise.

“Not bad,” said a voice, tinny and with an odd ringing tone to it. An oblong crystal was lashed to the bolt near the fletching, glowing as the voice came from it. “Usually all it takes is one shot, but you need some extra attention. Tell the pony she should leave now. She got lucky last time I winged her, but she’s not my target today.”

“Arrogant little…” the old bird grabbed the glowing crystal before taking cover behind a tree. “Your surprise attack failed, girl. Give it up before I find you and shove your bow so far up your flank you’ll shoot arrows out of your mouth when you try to talk!”

“Cheeky,” the voice said. “I’d like to see you try. You won’t even get close. I’m not like the assassins your father sent before. My name is Abrolhos, of the Four Directional Winds, and I’m here to kill you.”

Author's Note

And we're over 100k words! It's practically a milestone!

The Dry Season: Any Direction Arrow

10th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas wasn’t good at staying still and quiet. She was good at being huge and violent and scary, and none of those things were useful when she was stuck behind cover.

“What are we going to do, sit here and wait for her to run out of ammunition?” Pallas growled, looking at the old griffon reclining against a tree near her.

“Hm. I doubt she’d be dull enough to do that,” he said. “She is a professional, after all.”

“I’m asking what you think we should do!” Pallas snapped.

“Well, I know my first choice,” the old griffon said. “Hey! Can you hear me?!” He yelled towards where they’d stuck the bolt with the message crystal into the ground, far enough away that they could whisper to each other without the sniper hearing them.

“I’d hear you even better if you stood up in the open,” Abrolhos said, her tone light.

“How much are you getting paid for this?” The old griffon picked up his booze-filled gourd and sipped from it. “I’d be willing to match it if you walk away and just tell my good-fer-nothin’ father that I’m dead.”

“It’s not about money,” Abrolhos sighed.

“So what is it about? Doing favors for the Emperor thinking he’ll give you some nice desk job? I don’t know how to tell you this, but there aren’t any.”

“It’s about revenge,” Abrolhos said. “Not on you, I’m afraid. This is just tying up loose ends. I would be tempted to let you go, but that pony with you, she’s more interesting prey. She evaded my arrows before, and her friends humiliated me in Everfree.”

The old griffon glared at Pallas. “Dammit, girl, I should’ve known you had enemies all over, from the way you tried to kill me as soon as you met me.”

“You were annoying,” Pallas mumbled.

“Fine. Here’s the plan. She doesn’t like you, so you’re going to get her attention. Once she shoots, it’ll take time for her to reload, and we can use it to move closer.”

“I don’t like this plan.” Pallas said. She glanced towards the peaks of the mountain. “She has to be up there somewhere. We can duck down into the ravine to give us cover, fly around, and come up on the other side of the mountains.”

“She’ll see us coming from a mile away. This is the only cover for a long way.” The old bird sighed. “It’s why I came here.”

“I have a better idea,” Pallas said. “We split up and try to flank her. She can only shoot in one direction at a time. Can you teach me to catch arrows?”

“Girl, you have hooves, not talons. You couldn’t catch a cold.”

“I’ll have to get lucky then,” Pallas mumbled.

“Fine,” the old bird agreed. “You go that way.” He pointed behind himself. “I’ll go the other way. She won’t expect it.”

Pallas nodded. The griffon held up three talons. Two. One.

She took off., flying past him, and broke through the brush. She looked back, expecting to see him coming out through the bushes on the other side of the clearing. Instead, he was waving to her from where he was still sitting safely in cover.

“That feathering old beakfaced-” Pallas swore. She strained her ears, wings going still as she listened for it. It was already close. Too close. She tucked her wings close to her body, dropping as the huge bolt closed in on her.

Pallas’ eyes went wide. She had no time to think. Her wings snapped in front of her in a scissoring motion, closing like a huge set of jaws. The bolt vibrated in the grip she’d made, holding it in her wings as she dropped from the sky, the tip only a hoof-width from her snout.
“I did it!” She yelled.

“Might want to do it again really quickly!” The old bird yelled. He raised his gourd up to sip from it.

Pallas dropped the bolt, flying towards where it had come from. Even with her camouflage cloak, there were only so many places the sniper could be hiding. Pallas pumped her wings, struggling for quick altitude and speed, two things she wasn’t good at. Another whistle pierced the air.

She could do it. She could catch it again. She tensed, readying herself.

The bolt crackled with magic, splitting into dozens of duplicates in midair, multiplying like well-fed parasprites.

Pallas made a strangled sound of frustration. She spun in a wide windmilling motion, knocking bolts aside. The wide spread meant most of them of them were poorly aimed, and she only needed to cut a path through them.

One slipped through her defenses, going through her left front leg. Another bounced off of her metal leg. A third scraped along her face, cutting open her cheek.

“BUCK!” Pallas yelled, trying to block out the pain as she rose towards the mountain peaks. She’d never seen anything like that before. An attack like that could wipe out a small army in one shot.

“You’re totally unprepared for this,” said a calm voice from the arrow embedded in her leg. “You don’t even have your armor on. You were a lot scarier when you were fighting Chinook, and he took you down without even trying. This time, you don’t have your pegasus friend around to protect you.”

“Your tricks won’t help once I get my hooves around your neck!” Pallas snapped, her blood boiling.

“Better hurry,” Abrolhos said. “Pretty soon you won’t have hooves left to strangle me with.” Pallas just barely saw it. A bright patch among the rocks, the same color but not quite catching the sunlight correctly.

She angled towards it, flying in a series of bends to try and throw off the sniper’s aim. With a triumphant yell, she dove straight towards it at the last minute, swinging her blades hard at the cloaked form.

She winced with pain as the edges hit solid rock, the cloak falling away to reveal a pile of rocks.

“Buck!” Pallas yelled.

“I didn’t think you’d fall for such an obvious trick,” came the voice from the bolt. Pallas grabbed it with her teeth, trying to pull it out, annoyed, but stopped as the wide head caught and started to tear. “Careful. You’ll bleed more if you rip it out like that.”

Pallas nipped at the iron shaft, unable to snap it. She swore and looked around.

No cover. Abrolhos could see her. And she’d set this trap to begin with. Why wasn’t she firing? Pallas looked down at the rocks. Something was leaking out of them. Something that was starting to spark and glow.

Her eyes went wide, and she jumped, taking to the air as the loose pile of rocks exploded.

Shrapnel tore holes through her wings as she fell backwards, coughing up blood. She could feel her ribs had re-broken in the same place as before. For a long few seconds, she couldn’t move, stunned, dizzy, her ears ringing and heart pounding.

“I’m impressed,” Abrolhos said, sounding amused. “I think you might have survived that. Did you even consider that it was a trap? Why would you stay there when you had to know I was going to try and kill you?”

“Shut up,” Pallas croaked.

“Ah, alive indeed. You’re lucky. If you hadn’t moved at the last moment, it would definitely have killed you. I suppose some of my supplies are aging, after all. It’s hard to get replacements ever since your precious little princesses destroyed my country.”

“What the feather are you talking about?” Pallas asked, trying to stand. She settled for crawling behind a small boulder, hoping it would provide some cover.

“I’m from the Crystal Empire,” Abrolhos said. “Do you know what your Luna and Celestia did there?”

“Sure,” Pallas said. “Resplendent Shadow told me. They stopped a bucking crazy pony from trying to sacrifice all of you to become immortal.”

“King Sombra wasn’t insane!” Abrolhos snapped. Pallas’ hearing was starting to recover. The ringing had faded. “He was a great leader! But you know what? That’s not even the issue. I was a child when your Princesses put all of us ‘refugees’ into prison camps while they were destroying the Empire.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Pallas said, looking over the rock to try and figure out where Abrolhos was watching her from.

“They called it a refugee camp, but it’s not like we were allowed to leave,” Abrolhos said. “There was barely enough food and water to keep us from dying. They wouldn’t tell us if there were other camps, if our families were alive, if we’d be able to go home again. Then, in the dead of winter, with all of us huddled together for warmth, we heard the howling.”

“Howling?” Pallas asked.

“Windigos,” Abrolhos said. “Coming with the cold winter wind. The discontent and fighting in the north drew them to us, and we were helpless against them. Have you ever seen a windigo? Not many who are still alive know what they’re like.”

“They’re winter spirits, right?” Pallas said. “They feed on disharmony.”

“They feed on fear and hatred, and we were stuffed full of it, ripe for the picking. They tore through the camp, turning ponies into frozen sculptures of ice as they ate their warmth and their spirits. My mother froze to ice around me, holding me in her hooves. I had to break her legs off to get free, and her flesh shattered like glass.”

Pallas closed her eyes. With the air so still and stagnant, it was easy to hear everything around her. She could even make out her blood dripping onto the rocks at her hooves, a tiny patter like a leaky faucet.

“I was the only survivor, in the end, because my mother protected me. But I had nowhere to go, you see? I lived among the ice statues for a time. A childish part of me thought they might thaw out some day. It was silly, of course. They were dead, and nothing could change that.”

“Cry to somepony else,” Pallas said. “We’ve all got problems.”

“True,” Abrolhos said. “But you know what? My story has a happy ending. Some ponies came looking for us. A guard relief force. I used the weapons that had been used to keep us in line and I slaughtered those guards. I found out I’m a killer, and good at it, too. I held that camp and everything around it on my own for years! When the Crystal Empire fell, I kept fighting! Until that hippogriff found me…”

“Chinook?” Pallas asked, her ears perking up.

“Oh yes. He heard about me, somehow, and he came to test himself against me. I doubt you could understand how it felt, fighting somepony - someone who I couldn’t beat. He was amazing. Your bladework is sloppy and stupid, but his… I could be happy dying to a sword like that. But he didn’t kill me. He beat me, and told me about his ideals.”

“So what, he told you some soppy story about how he loved fighting you?” Pallas asked, ducking back down. “Because if you’re trying the same thing here, it isn’t working. I’m going to cut you apart.”

“You’re a barbarian and you couldn’t understand. Chinook wants to change the world!” Pallas heard it now. An echo of the sound coming from the bolt in her arm. Abrolhos was yelling loudly enough that she could hear her, now.

And that meant she could find her.

“That’s too bad, since I’ll be killing him, too,” Pallas said. “Maybe I can tell him about my ideals, Luna’s ideals. We’re going to carve a new nation out of this dying sandtrap and make it a place where ponies won’t be manipulated or used.”

Abrolhos laughed. “And how do you plan on doing that, when you’ve been tricked into coming here already? Pretty soon, Luna is going to run back to Equestria with her tail between her legs, minus all of her annoying supporters like you.”

“What?!” Pallas hissed.

“Oh, it’s nothing for you to worry about. You’ll be dead long before that. It’s wonderful, though. Celestia thinks she’s using Zephyranthes to quash her sister’s growing resentment, to give Equestria a more stable power base. Zephyranthes is going to use this to demand war reparations to save his people. And in the end, it’s not going to go how either of them have planned it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll find out. Here I come!”

Pallas ducked, using the rock for cover. There was a flash of blue, and the whistle of a bolt cutting through the air. There was no way Abrolhos could hit her from this angle, not with the boulder in the way.

Pallas watched in terror as a bolt jumped out of the rock like a fish jumping out of a pond, not even leaving a mark from where it had passed through, missing her head by inches. The projectile had passed right through like the boulder hadn’t even been there.

“Oh buck,” Pallas swore.

“The next one has your name on it,” Abrolhos promised.

The Dry Season: Flawless Archer Discipline

10th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Abrolhos took a drink of the awful-tasting herbal mixture she’d brought with her, trying to keep her hooves from shaking. Crystal Berry bushes were mildly poisonous, and chewing the leaves could cause paralysis or even death in weaker ponies. She used the leaves to make tea, steadying her hooves and sharpening her vision.

Part of her distantly knew it was probably slowly killing her. She didn’t care.

What she did care about right now was killing her targets, which was proving more difficult than she had anticipated. It didn’t discourage her, of course. It made things interesting. Most of her targets had been far too easy. A warlord advocating for peace with Equestria here, Zebrican shamans there, a few ponies who were getting too close to the truth.

The action in the Everfree was the most she’d seen in years.

“I must find that pegasus again,” Abrolhos muttered. “I’d love to have a duel with her. How was she so good?”

Abrolhos looked at the crystals she had standing in front of her. One showed the griffon, still in cover. The other just showed rocks and dirt. Neither of her targets seemed to have caught on that her messaging crystals reflected what their paired crystal saw.

Not that it was helping, with the big thestral. The crystal didn’t have much of a view with the way she was hiding in cover. It was time to taunt her again. Abrolhos touched the crystal showing only dirt, and it rang faintly.

“Are you just going to hide there all day?” Abrolhos asked. “It’s not much fun when my prey just sits in one spot.”

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of killer, not an impatient little girl,” the thestral said, her voice a deep growl. “What, did you run out of special arrows to shoot through rocks at me?”

“No. You’re just not important enough to use them on,” Abrolhos grinned. “I like to save them for difficult prey. I don’t want you to die that quickly. I just want to have some fun!”

“You won’t be having much fun when I cut you in half,” the thestral muttered. The view from the crystal shifted, and Abrolhos watched it closely, using it to position her aim for the next shot.

“What are you planning? Waiting until dark?” Abrolhos laughed. “It won’t help. I can see in the dark, too.”

“I don’t care,” the thestral said. “I don’t need to wait until dark. I already know exactly where you are.”

Abrolhos froze for a moment. It was impossible. There was no way for the pony to have spotted her. She was perfectly hidden. It had to be a bluff.

“You’re a terrible liar,” the sniper said. “You don’t have any idea where I am. And the moment you come out, you’re going to have a bolt going right through your empty head.”

“I don’t think so,” the thestral said. “I think I know how you operate now. You’re completely reliant on all of your tricks and your gear and your traps. You couldn’t fight me for real if your life depended on it. And it’s going to.”

“I’m one of the greatest killers to ever live,” Abrolhos hissed.

“Sure you are. Just like that idiot with the iron feathers in that prison camp. He was pretty tough until I beat enough dents into his skull.”

“Brise?” Abrolhos asked.

“I think that was his name. He said he was a member of your stupid little club too. And now he’s dead. But you know what the last thing he said was?”

“What?”

The thestral mumbled something. Abrolhos frowned and turned up the gain on the crystal.

“What did he say?! Speak clearly!”

“He said-” and then the thestral screamed so loudly that the crystal actually started vibrating, falling over as it shook itself free from where Abrolhos had stuck it into the dirt. She winced, covering her ears and cursing, hitting the crystal and cutting the scream off.

She moment she took her hooves off of her crossbow, she realized she’d made a mistake. The scream echoed from the rocks around her. She grabbed for her crossbow again, cursing her stupidity. Abrolhos took quick aim at where the thestral had been and fired, the bolt exploding as it hit the rock, cracking it apart.

There wasn’t anything on the other side.

Abrolhos’ eyes went wide, and she grabbed for the crystal. There was movement and she could see-

Herself. From above.

Abrolhos fell back, just as a huge dark shape slammed down where she had been lying prone. The thestral glared at her, stalking towards her.

“I had a pretty good idea of where you were,” the thestral said. “My hearing isn’t the best, but I’m still a thestral. Echolocation comes along with the wings and, well, here I am explaining myself when I was complaining about you being chatty.” She smiled, showing fangs. Abrolhos was pretty sure thestrals weren’t supposed to have fangs like that.

“You’re right,” Abrolhos said, grabbing under her cloak and pulling out a smaller bow, a repeating crossbow with a large hopper. She pumped the lever in the back, firing a flurry of bolts at the big pony.

The smaller crossbow lacked the force of her main weapon, but the darts it fired slowed the thestral down, the pony knocking a few aside but yelling in pain as others dug into her shoulder, the barbed heads painfully tearing at her flesh.

“I’m no one-trick pony,” Abrolhos said. “Unlike Brise.”

“Shut up!” The thestral roared and charged her, shielding her face with a wing. Abrolhos fired again, bolts deflecting from the thestral’s wingblade.

She couldn’t stop it. Abrolhos lowered her crossbow, closing her eyes and accepting her fate.

~~~***~~~

Every step was agony. Three legs, one broken, one impaled by a javelin, and one sore from having to do all the work for the others. Darts in her shoulder, holes in her wing, burns, bruises, and scrapes.

Why couldn’t she ever get into an easy fight? Every time she ended up fighting, it seemed like it was against a stronger and stronger set of opponents.

But despite the pain, she was keeping control. It would have been easy to slip and fall, become a monster for a while, go to the place where it didn’t hurt and it didn’t matter whose blood was spilled. Her blood. Her enemy’s blood. Her friend’s blood.

Going there meant losing herself, though.

She slashed, aiming for the small crossbow the sniper was using. Her blade cut right through the wood, the string snapping. The edge sliced into the crystal pony’s leg, blood spraying into the air as she stumbled back.

“No more tricks,” Pallas said. She batted the pony away, the crystal mare grabbing at her wounded leg.

“You feathering…” Abrolhos said, groaning. “You cut me! Even Chinook never cut me!”

“Maybe he should have,” Pallas said, limping towards her and kicking her, ignoring the pain as she slapped her across the face with her broken hoof hard enough to make the sniper spit up blood. “Now, you’re going to tell me all about this plan.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Abrolhos said, glaring up at Pallas. “I’m not nearly done yet!” She pulled at her cloak, throwing it into Pallas’ face, the surface changing from a blurry copy of the rocks around them into a dazzling, clashing field of moving colors, blinding her with flashing light.

Pallas cursed, trying to pull the cloak away from her face. She got a grip on the fabric and threw it aside, just in time to see Abrolhos turning her huge crossbow, aiming it at point-blank range.

Everything seemed to slow down. Pallas had no time to move. Abrolhos pulled the trigger.

A dark shape appeared between them. There was a wet sound of steel hitting flesh.

The old griffon warked loudly as he fell to the ground, the javelin jammed into his chest. He fell to the ground.

“Old bird!” Pallas yelled, running to his side and kneeling. The griffon gasped for air, back legs kicking as he struggled, blood running into the dirt.

“Damnit, girl…” he groaned. “Don’t turn your back on an enemy!” He grabbed the gourd at his side and throwing it past Pallas. It impacted Abrolhos’ skull, shattering.

Abrolhos sputtered as the wine soaked her, shaking her head to clear it from her face. There was a sudden horrible feeling of wrongness, and she fell to the ground. She tried to get up, but something was wrong. She couldn’t feel her legs.

She opened her eyes, despite the stinging feeling of the wine.

She was upside-down, looking at something. A crumpled form, glittering in the light. It took her a moment to understand what she was looking at. Then she saw the cutie mark on its flank, and it suddenly clicked. She was looking at a headless corpse. Everything started to go black, and she closed her eyes, content that she’d still accomplished her mission in the end.

~~~***~~~

“Don’t die on me, old bird,” Pallas growled, shaking the griffon.

“My name ain’t old bird,” he mumbled. “And I ain’t dead. Just dying.”

“Well stop it!” Pallas said. “I still need to learn from you!”

The old griffon grunted and sat up, holding his chest with a talon. “I don’t got much of a choice. This went right through my lung. I’ll be dead pretty soon no matter what you do, and drowning in my own blood isn’t gonna be terribly fun.”

“I’ve been hurt worse than that and I didn’t die,” Pallas said.

“That’s because you’re some kinda freak, girl,” the griffon said. “I gotta say, after these last few days, I’m sure of it. You’re stronger an’ tougher than you’ve got any right to be.”

“I’m a warrior.”

“You’re closer to a monster,” the griffon chuckled, coughing up blood. “Look, I taught you a little, you’re gonna have to figure out the rest. You managed to keep your cool this time, which is good since she would have killed you straight up dead.”

“Shut up,” Pallas mumbled. “I’m gonna pull this out of you, then we’ll patch up the hole.” She grabbed the shaft of the bolt with her teeth.

“Stop it!” the griffon yelled, kicking her. “That’s keeping me from bleedin’ out! You rip that out and I’ll be dead in seconds.” He paused. “Tartarus, maybe I should let you. This is startin’ to hurt worse than I expected.”

Pallas let go, rubbing her eyes with a hoof.

“What, you’re sad now?” The griffon laughed. “I thought you hated me!”

“I do,” Pallas mumbled. “I was supposed to beat you.”

“Sorry. You’ve got something more important to do, though.” He groaned, trying to get up and failing. “Damn. Go and find your Princess Luna. I heard some of what she said, and it sounds to me like you have to save her flank.”

“I can’t just leave you,” Pallas said, scraping at the ground with her hoof.

“Fine, then you can stay here until I finish dying,” the griffon grumbled. “I always thought I’d die alone. Guess I don’t mind doing it with my biggest, dumbest student holding my talon.”

“I’m not holding your talon,” Pallas retorted.

“Just goes to show you we don’t always get what we want,” the griffon laughed. “Hey, since you’re here, mind listening to my final requests? I’ve got two. One’s pretty easy. The others are gonna be a mite harder.”

Pallas nodded.

“Good. We’ll start with the hard one. I want you to put my father in his place,” the old bird coughed. “You were probably planning on it anyway.”

“Tracking down some shriveled old griffon shouldn’t be hard if he’s even older than you,” Pallas said.

“He’s pretty easy to find,” the old griffon laughed. “Pretty sure most griffons can point you towards Zephyranthes.”

Pallas blinked. “Your father is the Emperor?”

“Yeah,” the griffon said. “And an asshole. As you might have figured out already, since he sent that feathering mercenary to kill me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because I failed him,” the griffon sighed. “He put me in charge of the invasion of Equestria, and I screwed it up. Not that we had any real chance to begin with. Overextended, with no supply lines and no support. Doomed before we even landed.”

“You’re the one who did it?!” Pallas growled.

“And you hate me for it,” the griffon shrugged. “I was doing my duty. It doesn’t matter if it was right or wrong. The difference between them changes from day to day. A professional soldier never brings that into the mission. Politics are fickle, they change with the times. So long as we remain loyal to our countries, soldiers like us need nothing to believe in.”

“My parents are dead because of you!” Pallas yelled, slapping him.

“Feel free to kill mine in return,” the griffon grumbled. “I never liked the idea of invading Equestria, but it was what I was ordered to do, and I tried to do as good a job as I could, for the sake of our soldiers.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Pallas growled.

“Good, because that was the other favor I was going to ask,” the griffon said. “Drowning in my own blood ain’t how I wanted to go out.”

Pallas grabbed the bolt in his chest with her teeth, and the griffon nodded and braced himself, screaming as she tore it free, blood spraying into the air.

The Dry Season: Ghost Leaves No Trail

12th day of Sun's Height
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

“Keep back from the walls!” Luna commanded, her voice booming. A silvery curtain erupted up from the patchwork fortifications, pushing back an incoming wall of arrows.

“This is insane!” Silver Tongue grunted, horn sputtering as he tried to keep the temporary enchantment from failing explosively. “Where did they pull this army from?”

Luna shook her head, not having an answer to give. The city was under siege, the enemy army numbering in the tens of thousands. Many were griffons, but there were ponies and other species in the mix as well. From the command tower where she and Silver Tongue looked out over the city, she had a good view of the army, a wide encampment pressing in from all sides.

“It’s not just the army I’m worried about,” Luna said. “They’re not pressing their advantage, and we have more supplies than they do. They can’t last nearly as long as we will.”

“You think they’re planning something?” Silver Tongue asked.

“I know they are,” Luna muttered. “These periodic attacks are just to exhaust us and keep us busy. With most of the Dragoons lost, we cannot break into their lines and disrupt their command structure.”

“We need some kind of intelligence,” Luna muttered.

“Harmony knows that,” Silver Tongue mumbled.

~~~***~~~

“What is that?” Bianca whispered.

“Stay quiet,” Resplendent Shadow muttered. “The more noise and movement you make, the less my magic shields us from detection.”

“I have to ask the same question, though,” Fluttering Moth said under her breath. The three were on a low ridge, hiding with a combination of natural cover from rocks and Shadow’s spellwork. They could see a city literally on the horizon, hanging on the edge of a cliff over the sea, flying the flags of Luna’s New Lunar Republic.

And in front of it was a wall of hostile bodies. Sneaking into the city would be all but impossible, if sneaking into a city under siege was even a good idea in the first place.

What had their attention, though, wasn’t the city, and wasn’t the army. It was something walking towards the front lines slowly, lumbering across the sands.

“I don’t know for sure,” Shadow said. “I’ve never seen one myself, but…” She became visible for a moment in the gloom as she focused on the huge creature. It was the size of a building, with crude iron plates hanging from a structure strapped to its back. The thing walked on two legs, dragging a long tail behind it. With every step it swung huge, clawed arms that looked like griffon talons large enough to pick up several ponies at once.

“But what?” Bianca asked.

“I think it’s a Behemoth. They used to live in the far north, beyond the Crystal Empire. It’s said they would hibernate for decades, then tear their way out of the earth and eat everything in their path until they were sated, only to fall asleep again.” Shadow narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s a big monster,” Moth said. “You’re not supposed to like it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Shadow said. “Look at it. It should be trying to eat everything around it! It’s just… like a trained animal.”

“It’s even bigger than the dragon,” Bianca said.

“Yes. And that armor.” Shadow shook her head. “They must have spent months putting it together. They planned this. And with how slow it moves, they even knew where we'd be.”

“Not necessarily,” Moth shook her head. “They might have used magic to get it here.”

“Well they have to be using magic to control it, somehow,” Shadow muttered. “But I don’t know anypony with mind-control magic that strong.”

“We have to stop it before it gets to the city,” Bianca said. “It’ll tear right through the walls!”

“Neither of us can kill a monster like that,” Moth said. “Not even Respy. Maybe we could slow it down a little, but not with an army around it.”

“We don’t need to kill the monster. We can use it.” Shadow narrowed her eyes. “Look at the top. It’s carrying an armored howdah. The pony controlling it has to be inside. If we take them out, whatever dark magic they’re using will fail, and the behemoth will begin to rampage, right in the middle of their army.”

“We still have to get close enough to do that,” Moth pointed out.

“I’ve got an idea,” Bianca whispered.

~~~***~~~

A small crate shuffled along slowly, trying to keep to the shadows of the griffon army’s encampment. It didn’t look out of place at all, except that it was moving, which was something very few crates did.

“Hey!” A soldier yelled, kicking the crate over to reveal Bianca. “What do we have here?”

“...This hasn’t worked out how I expected,” Bianca said, laughing nervously. “C-can you pretend you didn’t see me?”

The griffon reached for her with a talon. Just as he touched Bianca, he made a gurgling sound, falling over. Resplendent Shadow sighed as she pulled herself up out of his shadow.

“Perhaps a different approach?” she suggested.

“What did you have in mind?”

~~~***~~~

One more soldier among thousands didn’t gather any attention, even if she was a little short, and her shadow didn’t quite match her appearance.

“Which way is it…” Bianca whispered, lifting the edge of her helm.

“You looking for something?” A soldier asked, behind her. Bianca almost jumped right out of her armor.

“I was just- um- I was-” She sputtered.

He laughed. Bianca adjusted her helm so she could see him. He was a pretty average looking griffon, younger than most of the other soldiers.

“Let me guess, ditching guard duty to get a look at the Behemoth,” he said. “Don’t tell anyone, but that’s what I was doing too.” He smiled at her. “Hey, if we go together, it’ll look less suspicious!”

Bianca’s ear twitched as Shadow whispered to her.

“Yeah,” she said, repeating what the Dragoon had whispered. “I don’t want my commander to find out, but I’m stationed all the way on the other side of camp.”

“What, near the slave legions?” The griffon shuddered. “Guess it makes sense. They might listen better to pony commanders.” He gestured, and they started walking together. “I think it’s rubbish, just marching slaves in front of us to catch arrows.”

“Y-you mean the slaves we captured in Equestria?” Bianca asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah. Awful waste.” The griffon shrugged. “Maybe they’ll let us soldiers bid on any survivors. I heard the commanders saying it’s possible.”

Bianca’s ear twitched.

“But my parents-” she hissed.

“Huh?” the soldier asked.

“I mean, um, what’s your name?”

“Johann,” the griffon said. “This is actually my first deployment. I didn’t think the ponies would…” he stopped, looking at Bianca. “I mean, that the Equestrians would invade. Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re like them. You seem really nice.” He blushed. “And, um, cute.”

“Cute?” Bianca blinked.

“Sorry! I mean, um, forget it.” He blushed heavily, trying to hide it by turning away. “I think it’s coming through this way! They already moved a lot of the tents in back!” He led Bianca into a watching crowd of soldiers. Below her hooves, the earth started to shake.

“It must be getting close,” Bianca whispered.

“I can see it! Look!” Johann pointed with a talon. The behemoth lumbered into view around a low rise, surrounded by a cloud of dust.

From this low angle, Bianca could see glimpses of the beast under the armored shell bolted around it, a reptilian creature with a beard of bony spikes and thick, crushing legs tipped in long claws.

“That’s really… something,” Bianca said.

“I heard that General Draft is in charge,” Johann said. pointing to the enclosed deck on top of the Behemoth. “He’s supposed to be one of the strongest warriors in the world! The rumor is that he tamed the monster himself.”

Bianca tilted her head, blinking at Johann.

“You’re surprisingly helpful, Johann,” she said. “Um… you seem like a pretty good guy.”

“Aw…” he blushed. “Hey, I know things are gonna be kinda crazy for a while, but after the battle is over, let’s try to find each other at the mess hall! We can hang out, and I’ve got some rum rations saved up…”

“Y-yeah,” Bianca agreed, nervously. Johann’s eyes lit up.

“Awesome!” He grinned. “Hey, this is kind of embarrassing, but I’ve gotta go hit the latrines. We’ll meet up again later!”

Bianca waved weakly as he ran off through the crowd.

“What a strange griffon,” Shadow muttered in her ear.

“I hope he lives,” Bianca sighed. “He seems like he’s not so bad.”

“We need to focus on making sure we survive,” Shadow said. “With Moth trying to find a way into the city to warn them in advance, it’s up to me to defeat this monster.”

“Us,” Bianca corrected.

“I’d prefer if you weren’t here at all,” Shadow muttered. “This is far too dangerous for a foal.”

“I’m not a foal!” Bianca hissed. “Now how are we going to get to where the griffons are riding the Behemoth?”

“We’re going to slide in as shadows through the gaps in the armor,” Shadow whispered. “And you’re going to take cover until it’s over. You will be safest riding the behemoth, since it likely won’t be able to eat you then.”

“Okay, what do we do?” Bianca asked.

“This way,” Shadow said, and Bianca felt a tug as her silhouette stretched towards an empty tent, running along the ground like a puddle of oil, not quite pointing the same way as the shadows of the griffons and ponies around her. She stepped into the tent, and fell forwards, as if the darkness was a yawning pit.

Bianca looked around, trying to calm down in the ebon blackness.

“We are inside the shadows,” Resplendent Shadow explained, appearing from the gloom. “This is a between place, something accessible through the dark magic King Sombra taught me. Hold still. It’s difficult to hold another pony here for long without damaging them.”

Bianca went very, very still.

Light shone above them,and she looked up to see a rippling shape, like being underwater and looking towards the surface. The view came into blurry focus and started shifting, moving through a forest of legs and bodies.

The Behemoth suddenly lurched into view.

“Get ready,” Shadow whispered.

~~~***~~~

Fluttering Moth muttered to herself as she flew inches over the waves.

“What’s she thinking? I could have carried Bianca with me and still gotten into the city.” Moth edge up a little to avoid the swell of a wave, the water getting rougher as she got closer to the cliffs.

Familiar-looking, battered ships appeared through the mist as she turned into the protected cove of the city, torn sails lowered and snapped masts left broken.

Moth crossed an invisible barrier, and the temperature dropped sharply. Ice started coating her feathers in thick layers, and she lost lift from her wings.

She was going to say something clever, but then she hit the water and the breath was driven from her lungs, ending her quip before it could begin. The ice on her wings cracked, and the trapped air started to surge away before suddenly coming back, wrapping her in a veil.

Her wings flapped, and she continued, safely hidden under the surface.

~~~***~~~

Resplendent Shadow appeared in a burst of darkness and silence, depositing Bianca among the griffon officers around her in the confusion. She couldn’t leave her in the shadows unsupervised - the hostile environment would eat away at her. She’d have to take care of things before the griffons noticed there was an extra body among them.

“-going on?” yelled one of the griffons as the sound returned, silence popping like a bubble.

Inside, it was like the bridge of a ship, shaking with every step the Behemoth took under them. A glowing green crystal was set into a black, twisted plinth of some strange, black material that seemed almost wet. A unicorn in a more elaborate uniform stood at it, a hoof touching the crystal. His horn was oddly twisted, with a wicked point.

The griffons turned to look at Shadow. She reacted before they had a chance to even draw their weapons, dark magic crackling along her horn as she let loose, crystals growing from the metal walls and impaling them. The unicorn stood his ground, a shield of green fire snapping into place around him and shattering the crystals as they encroached on him.

“I see we have an unwelcome visitor,” he hissed. “How annoying.”

“I apologize for any inconvenience,” Resplendent Shadow said, as she snapped spears of crystal from the clusters growing from the walls and threw them at the leader, only to see them halt in midair, held back by the other unicorn’s surprisingly-powerful magic.

“You killed my soldiers,” the unicorn said. “That’s quite trying. They take so long to train properly. Oh yes, and we haven’t met. I should introduce myself. My name is Draft, and I’ll be the one killing you and destroying the city today.”

“You will do neither,” Shadow snapped, shattering the crystals into shrapnel and letting him keep holding onto part of them as the rest tore into his body, shredding his uniform. Cuts opened across his coat, and Shadow took a step back. The unicorn wasn’t bleeding. She could see deep furrows cut into his legs, but not a drop of blood fell from him.

“What are you?” Shadow asked.

“What? Not who?” Draft asked, his tone full of mock offense. “What a rude question. Isn’t it obvious that I’m a pony like you?”

“You’re no pony,” Shadow said.

“Are you?” Draft asked. “All those things you did in the past. She knows you’re only following her orders because you feel guilty.”

“What?!”

“Still stuck on what?” The unicorn brushed himself off, shards of crystal falling to the ground. “Well, I can’t blame you. It’s been a long time since you had to think about some of the really awful things you’ve done. Does your little friend cowering in the corner even know about your special relationship with Sombra? I suppose not. But you don’t like to think about it anyway, since you were just a replacement for-”

“Shut up!” Shadow snapped, losing her cool. She raised her head, a mote of red and black energy appearing at the tip of her horn. In an instant, it grew too big for the room to contain, the armored roof shattering.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Draft said, his twisted horn lighting up with green fire.

Resplendent Shadow threw the ball of magical energy, Draft disappearing from view as the death curse hit him. The plinth shattered, the strange black substance burning in the spell’s heat. Air rushed in as the cabin’s wall gave way.

“W-what was that?” Bianca asked, as she held onto a railing with both front hooves.

“I don’t like ponies bringing that up,” Shadow explained, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Now, we need to-”

The Behemoth roared. The deck pitched as the monster’s stance changed. Soldiers started screaming around them.

“Hang on.” Shadow finished, as they watched the monster grab a soldier with its jaw, tossing him into the air and grabbing him, huge teeth crunching through his armor as the beast ate him alive.

Author's Note

Sorry for the long wait! It's a busy season at work for me, leaving me with little energy left for writing. This isn't nearly dead, just going to be a little longer than usual between chapters until things calm down again.

Prologue: Arise and Slaughter

28th day of Sun's Height
Solar Calendar Year 1000
Several days after the defeat of Nightmare Moon

Sundae Best woke up in a start to the sound of breaking glass. She lived above the ice cream parlor and general store that she owned, and from the sound of it, somepony had just smashed her front windows. She got up carefully, not wanting to make any noise on the squeaky floorboards, and grabbed the crowbar she kept near her bedroom door ever since the Diamond Dogs had started raiding the town.

It was quiet downstairs, but not silent. Somepony – or something – was trying to be quiet about it, but she could hear boxes being moved, a door opening, and heavy hoofsteps punctuated by an odd hollow clop that rang like a dull bell.

Sundae Best took a deep breath, calming herself, and opened the door slowly, fear making her heart beat like a drum inside her white, speckled coat, so hard that she thought it was sure the Diamond Dogs or whatever other monster was downstairs was going to hear it.

There was a pause in the noise, and Sundae thought that was exactly what had happened for a moment, holding her breath as if that would help make her quieter. Then the silence was broken with groaning and a pained gasp. Sundae frowned, unsure of herself now. She let out the breath she'd been holding and quietly walked downstairs, avoiding the squeaky step near the top with some careful hoofwork.

The door to her stockroom was cracked open; there was panting and soft, almost subvocalized cursing from within. Sundae crept up to the gap and peered inside, her soft brown hair falling in her face until she brushed it away, her usual red beret still sitting next to her bed, forgotten in her fear and haste.

Within the stockroom, there was a huge, black shape. It was even bigger than the few town guards that had come through from time to time to keep the Diamond Dogs away, though the canines always returned the moment the armored stallions left. Sundae stepped in something wet. She looked down and saw a trail of dark blood, still warm. She looked back towards the windows. Something had smashed through them, dripping blood the whole way to her back room.

There was grunting and more muttering. Sundae swallowed. If it was wounded, whatever it was, she might be able to chase it off. She took a deep breath and slammed the door open, holding the crowbar high with her hoof to try and look more intimidating.

“Get out of-” She stopped, eyes going wide, as yellow, slitted eyes looked at her. The huge shape stood quickly and turned, heavily favoring one side and looking down at her. It was easily a head taller than the mare, only hints of a navy, almost black coat visible, most of the pony hidden by dull ebony armor that almost seemed to absorb the light, heavy and scaled like the hide of a dragon and nearly silent in motion despite the obvious weight of it. It spread leathery wings, the membranes scarred and ragged around the edges. Brighter metal gleamed along the bony joints, thick wingblades, long and heavy enough to cut through dragonhide, held tight against both wings.

There was a sweeping motion, a blur of speed that should have been impossible for something that size.

Half of the crowbar fell to the ground, the other half still held in Sundae's hooves.

One of the shelves collapsed, the supports severed. The shape lowered its wings, backing down.

“My apologies. I was startled.” It sat down heavily on its haunches, one leg splayed out awkwardly. It sounded like a mare, with an odd accent. Sundae hit the switch on the wall, the light switching on. It hissed and turned away, and Sundae's eyes went even wider. Blood seemed to coat its armor thickly, dripping onto the floor from every seam. The awkwardly splayed leg was, from the knee down, made entirely of a dull metal, like silver coated with a thick layer of dust, ending in a cloven hoof. Medical supplies, mostly bandages, were on the ground in front of it, along with a needle and thread.

“Turn it off!” The pony hissed, tufted ears folding back in pain. Sundae quickly turned the light back off.

“Sorry,” Sundae whispered. “What... what happened to you?”

“That is a long story,” the armored pony said.

“All that blood... you're seriously injured. You should go to the hospital!” Sundae slowly crept closer, hoping she wasn't about to be cut in half herself.

“No. No hospitals or doctors,” the armored pony growled. “I am not as badly hurt as it looks. Most of this blood isn't mine.” She reached down and finished wrapping one of her fetlocks in bandages. Sundae caught a glimpse of crude stitches holding a wound shut.

“That looks bad,” Sundae whispered.

“I have had worse.” The dark mare pulled her barding tight over the bandages. As she did, there was commotion outside, a loud bell ringing. She looked up, eyes narrowing. “No time for the rest. I apologize.”

“What's going on?!” Sundae demanded, as the large mare stood, wrapping a black cloak around her armored form, and pushed her aside to walk back towards the front of the store, her prosthetic hoof making that distinctive hollow clop Sundae had head before. The mare didn't answer, walking out through the broken window and into the streets beyond, a black cloak whipping behind her in the wind, the edges fading oddly against the shadows like it was barely real. Sundae could see light now, the flickering orange light of a huge fire. Her eye went wide, and she rushed to the door.

Outside, there were screams, ponies fleeing away from the fire, and the howl of dogs. Sundae could see them, getting closer and closer, eerie shapes against the flames.

The black-cloaked mare walked out into the middle of the street and waited, flexing her wings, the blades sliding free to their full length.

“What are you doing?” Sundae yelled. “Those are Diamond Dogs! They'll tear you apart!”

“Finishing what I started,” the mare said. She was outnumbered almost ten to one. Three of them raised crossbows. The dark mare calmly closed her helm, letting it fall over her eyes. it was a hideous thing that gave her the visage of a dragon, made in two parts with the lower jaw and its jagged teeth as the chinstrap. They fired just as it clicked into place, the eyes in the helm glowing a bright yellow for an instant.

The bolts were knocked out of the sky as the mare spun on them, her left wingblade swiping them away. Sundae watched in horror as the dogs got closer, circling around her, each of them armed and armored. The dark mare struck first, a blur of shadows as she seemed to loom large over one of the bow-armed dogs, a blade catching him in the side of the head.

There was an explosion of gore, blood spraying into the air as the wingblade cut entirely through his skull, the weight and power cutting cleanly through it. The dog slumped forwards, neck spraying in a fountain overhead, to lean against the mare. She lifted the entire dog up above her head with her wings, the dragon helm's eyes glowing like yellow stars, and tore the already-dead dog apart, ripping it in half.

Before the others could react, she dropped the two halves to either side of her and bounded into another dog, her weight carrying them through a window and into one of the burning houses. She grabbed his spear with her teeth, the helmet's maw moving with her own, and struggled with him for control.

Growling, the mare stomped on his knee with her metal hoof, the dog screaming and letting go of the spear. She pulled it free and stabbed the end into his eye, the dog spasming and grabbing for it even as he bled out into the ashes under him.

The dark mare roared with enough force to send the dogs closing on her stumbling back, jumping out the broken window towards the closest and cutting with a wide sweeping motion, catching the dog's arm and severing it near the shoulder. Sundae fell to her knees and trembled as she saw the dark mare turn around as she passed the dog and grab his neck with her hoof, twisting his head and pulling, putting her weight into it until, with a crack, the dog went limp.

Before the body could even fall, a flurry of bolts was launched at her. The armored pony held up the dead dog as a shield, throwing the corpse at the attacker. She limped forwards, lunging to attack, and her overextended blow was parried by a dog with a huge axe, protecting the crossbow-wielder.

The armored pony roared with a sound no pony should be able to make and slashed, sparks flying as the axe blade was cut apart. The dog stumbled back, eyes going wide. The black mare brought a wingblade down, catching his right shoulder and cutting deep into his chest, passing right through his armor as if it wasn't even there.

The dark mare shoved the mortally wounded dog out of the way just as the crossbow dog reloaded, diving in close. The bolt went wide, skipping off her armor with the sound of steel on steel. The mare cut sideways, her wingblade slicing through the dog's waist, completely cutting his body in half, the force of the blow sending his torso tumbling up and through the air, blood spraying in a wide curtain.

The red curtain parted as the armored mare jumped through it, her wings spread wide, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. She hit the next dog like a freight train, cutting down from her jump, blade ripping through his thigh and letting him fall to the side screaming and clutching the stump, bleeding out in a jet of blood that joined the river of gore trickling down the street.

The next dog tried to get the jump on the mare, grabbing her wings from behind where she couldn't reach him with the attached blades. The shadowy mare struggled against him, spinning around, but he kept his grip somehow, even as he was dragged behind her. She roared and kicked back with her prosthetic hoof, sparks rising from the road as a blade slipped out from where the hoof was cloven, stabbing the dog grappling her in the gut.

He fell to the ground and the mare reared up, spinning and coming down on him with her front hooves. There was a crunch as his skull exploded under the weight, just a splattered mess on the ground. The mare turned to the last two, breathing heavily, drenched in blood, her helm's grin almost seeming to grow larger.

The armored mare rushed at them, tackling one into the other, knocking both of them off-balance before they could flee. As they fell to the ground, she was on top of them, stomping with her bladed hoof over and over again, letting out a primal scream that made Sundae's blood run as cold as the dry ice she used to make her ice cream.

When she stepped away, there wasn't anything left of their chests except paste.

“Master will kill you!” Screeched the dog with his leg cut off, still alive, if only barely. “Black Pony will not escape again!”

The mare growled, the sound deep and with a ragged edge like a punctured lung.

“He comes!” the dog screamed, pointing to the sky. Sundae looked up and saw a dark shape against the starry sky, hanging against the moonlit clouds on leathery wings. It swooped, landing on one of the burning buildings, the flames beating against its iron-like scales, looking down over the street with gleaming reptilian eyes.

The drake sniffed at the smoke and bodies in the street, a long black tongue licking at the gore covered cobblestones for a moment. It was nearly the size of the house it was perched on, the timbers groaning under the weight and the fire.

“Master! This pony-” Before the dog could finish, the drake snapped it up in its teeth, the dog screaming as it was devoured whole.

The darkly armored mare watched impassively, turning and lowering her blades as she looked up at the dragon. Sundae could feel an aura around her, not of fear, but of a kind of perverse excitement, as if the beast and the battle was all that mattered in this world, a drink of bloody water to a mare dying of thirst.

“Useless,” the drake growled. “They can't even beat one pony.” It dropped down to the street, the house collapsing as it left. “You are the one that has killed my mate. I can still smell her blood on you.”

The pony growled, limping closer. The drake laughed.

“Despite how wounded you are, you still wish to fight? Let it never be said you lacked courage. I will enjoy devouring you.” The drake snapped forwards, and the mare reacted instantly, rearing and hitting the drake's snout with her forehooves, her rear legs digging into the ground as she fought for traction, being pushed back several paces by the attack as dirt and dust kicked up around them.

The mare snapped forwards with one of her wingblades, catching the drake's nostril and tearing it open, hissing blood sizzling on the ground as it roared in anger and pulled back.

“That stink...” it hissed. “You're under quite a curse.” It narrowed its eyes and turned around, whipping its tail into the armored pony and sending her into a brick wall hard enough to almost put her through it, the bricks cracking from the blow. A second swipe from the tail sent her the rest of the way through.

“Why do you stink like Nightmare Moon?” It demanded. “Answer me!” The black-armored pony pulled herself out of the rubble slowly and deliberately, either dizzy or badly injured. The dragon brought its tail around in another sweeping motion. The black pony jumped.

It was absurd to think that anypony with armor like that would be able to get off the ground for long. Even Celestia's Royal Guard only wore thin plating compared to the thick iron the black pony wore. It seemed like nopony had told her it was impossible, though, as she flew, her wings pounding at the air, a streak of armor and leathery wings with the black cloak trailing like an ebon comet.

She landed on the drake's back and slammed her blades into his dense flesh like a rock climber driving spikes into a cliff. The monster roared, throwing her free and tearing its own flesh as the wingblades came free in a torrent of dark gore.

The dark mare landed, blades sparking on the street as she rolled to a stop in front of Sundae. The dragon roared, and she and Sundae looked up to see it lunging maw-first, snapping her up in its jaws. The drake reared back, swallowing.

Sundae's eyes went wide, backing up a step as it focused on her. The dragon growled and lunged for her, stopping halfway with a choking sound, coughing up blood. It scrambled back, clutching at its throat, confused and afraid. Sundae was splattered with hot gore as a blade erupted from the dragon's neck.

The sword slid sideways, opening up a long tear, hooves appearing at its edges as it was forced open from inside, the black pony emerging from the wound like some terrible demon being birthed from the dragon's death. Jets of blood shot thirty paces into the air as the dragon fell, the black mare ripping free and landing on all four hooves, completely soaked in the sanguine shower.

The drake looked at her, the dragon's expression one of pure terror, before it finally expired, the beast's blood running in a river down the street.

The black mare locked eyes with Sundae Best. Sundae felt her breath catch in her throat as the mare took a step towards her. Before her body could go from paralyzed with fear to full-on fleeing in terror, the black mare stumbled and fell, collapsing in a heap in front of the store.

Sundae looked at the gore around her. The fires at the other end of town. The blood soaking the streets. The lunatic lying at her feet and barely breathing. She could hear ponies running around and screaming, though most were avoiding the immediate area for various, all extremely good, reasons.

“What am I supposed to do?!” She yelled, though there wasn't anypony around to answer her.

Author's Note

I'm going to include dates at the start of each chapter, with another entry in case of any significant time jumps. I'm basing the Equestrian calendar off of that of the Elder Scrolls (I like the feel), with a few minor changes.

Dates are going to be written as

(date) day of (Month)
Year
(Any Significant Notes on the Date)

Don't get too used to having the Solar Calendar there. After this we're going back in time, just a little over a thousand years.

Winter Court: Know the Soul's Price

19th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Zudah sniffed at a canapé. The fried bread was cut into a small circle, topped with herb butter and a sautéed mushroom, a spig of rosemary serving as a garnish. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, most of the subtle flavors lost on him. “Eh. I’ve had better,” he mumbled.

“You just have no taste,” Wind Dancer said. She sipped from a wine glass, then lowered it, swirling the contents around the tall flute. “This wine isn’t bad, but you’d probably prefer a few tankards of mead.”

“Of course I would,” Zudah snorted. “I’m a soldier, not a courtier. I can’t believe I ended up getting dragged into this. I don’t even like wearing my dress uniform.” He adjusted the tight collar of the black uniform. “Why didn’t you wear yours?”

“Because unlike you, I happen to have more clothing than just what the Quartermaster hoofed over to me,” Wind Dancer retorted.

“I’m surprised,” Zudah admitted. “You look good in a dress for somepony whose previous job involved them being naked most of the time.”

Wind Dancer blushed and resisted the urge she had to throw her wine in his face. She needed to avoid making a scene if she wanted to capture somepony and make a claim on him. Or her. She wasn’t too picky, as long as they had money and were willing to get married.

“They look good together,” Zudah said, changing the subject at the sight of Wind Dancer’s glare. He gestured with his chin towards Pallas and Bianca. The two were a dark presence on the dance floor, a shadow with flashes of white and red, swirling alternately slowly and with surprising speed to the beat of the music.

“I guess all that time spent in armor and practicing sword drills paid off,” Wind Dancer considered. “Pallas is so light on her hooves, and the way she’s moving… it’s almost like a fight. I think I recognize some of those moves. That one’s the Viper’s Tongue.” She watched as Pallas ducked low, spinning while Bianca’s wing swept high over her.

“She names her moves?” Zudah raised an eyebrow. “That’s so lame.”

“At least she has moves,” Wind Dancer said, blowing a raspberry at him.

~~~***~~~

“See? I knew you could dance,” Bianca said, as she led Pallas away from the dance floor. “Anypony can.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pallas sighed. “I didn’t like the way everypony was staring at us.” She trotted with Bianca out onto the balcony, the cool air a welcome change from the heat of the room. “It made me feel like I was doing something stupid.”

“They were staring because you looked quite good together,” said a heavily accented voice. Pallas turned and her eyes went wide, her broken wing flaring out on instinct to shield Bianca, despite the pain. The speaker was a griffon, with graying feathers and elaborate clothing, proudly wearing a sash with dozens of medals.

“Maybe this won’t be so boring after all,” Pallas muttered, narrowing her eyes. She couldn’t see a weapon on him, but it didn’t mean much. A griffon’s talons, claws, and beak were more than enough to make them a threat even without a sword.

“Stand down,” Luna said, gently, from behind Pallas. Pallas glanced back to see her waiting there, with two glasses suspended in her magical field. “Ambassador Xaaron is no threat. He is sworn by honor to do no violence here.”

“Then why is he here?” Pallas asked. She folded her injured wing back to her side, hiding a wince of pain as the still-mending bones shifted.

“He’s here to help with the peace process,” Celestia said, stepping out onto the balcony. She had her own glass, along with a plate of bite-sized cakes. “Working towards peace means that both sides have to speak with one another. The Ambassador here is representing Emperor Zephyranthes.”

“It’s a challenging position,” Xaaron said, taking one of the wineglasses from Luna’s grip and sipping at it with grace and restraint that Pallas hadn’t seen before in a griffon. “The Emperor is not used to negotiating from a position of weakness. And yet, here we are.”

“Indeed,” Luna said. “Ah, yes, I haven’t introduced you yet. Ambassador, Centurion Pallas Athene is one of my finest soldiers. At her side is Bianca, my student.”

“One of your finest soldiers?” Xaaron smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am always happy to meet another warrior. From the looks of you, you might even have seen action yourself. Tell me, what does it take to be one of the Night Princesses’ finest warriors? Thirty confirmed kills? Forty?”

“Over two hundred,” Bianca said. “She’s really great!” Celestia looked like she would have paled again at the reminder, if she weren’t already white.

“I didn’t think she was allowing any of her armored demons attend this little party,” Xaaron said, frowning slightly.

“The Dragoons are just normal ponies of exceptional skill and Loyalty,” Luna put in, shaking her head and raising a hoof when Celestia gave her a confused look. “They are not in attendance tonight. Centurion Pallas Athene is part of the larger Night Guard forces.”

“Ah, I see,” Xaaron nodded. “Perhaps we should return to the festivities before my own contingent begins wondering just where I’ve gone off to.”

“An excellent idea,” Celestia said. She shot Luna a look that Pallas could read from a mile away. She wanted to get her sister somewhere private and extract secrets from her.

“Yes,” Luna muttered. She nodded to Pallas and Bianca. “Enjoy the ball.”

~~~***~~~

“There you are,” Silver Tongue muttered, as he spotted what he was looking for. An old book, bound in black leather. The tome stood apart from the other volumes in the castle library, not only because of the grisly binding, but as if the other books were shying away from it, clearing room around it on the shelf.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” Silver Tongue froze at the sound of the old, tired voice. “That’s the book that got you into trouble in the first place, boy.”

“I suppose I just can’t help myself,” Silver Tongue said, turning to look at the speaker. There was a gentle tinkle of bells as the stallion stepped into the light, a gray unicorn wrapped in elaborate blue robes, with a wide-brimmed hat edged with small bells. His glare pierced the shadows from under the brim, as if his eyes were glowing with anger.

“Dark magic isn’t something to be trifled with.” The unicorn grabbed the book right out of Silver Tongue’s grasp and shoved it back onto the shelf. “Hmph. I should lock the thing away where nopony will ever find it again.”

“Next you’ll suggest burning it, Star Swirl,” Silver Tongue muttered.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Star Swirl snapped. “There’s no greater crime than burning a book! After Discord, the last thing we need is to lose even more of our history. We have almost no written records at all of the years before his defeat, and even now all but the last century is almost lost to myth.” He spat on the floor at the thought. “One of these days I’m going to go back and take a look myself.”

“You’ve always said that,” Silver Tongue snorted. “You’ve been saying it since I was a foal.”

“And if you keep playing around with things like that…” he nodded to the black book. “I’ll be saying those things long after you’re dead, too. And what in Tartarus did you do to your horn? It looks like some damn fool tried carving a book into it!”

“My special talent is enchanting objects,” Silver Tongue said, evenly. “I decided to put my talent to use. It enhances some of the most common spells I cast, and can store thaumatic energy for later use. It’s a bit like having a little extra in my wellspring, though after I use the energy stored in it, it reduces my own magical pool to recharge itself.”

“Clever, I suppose,” Star Swirl said, walking past Silver Tongue and picking a book off the shelf himself. “But I can tell you from experience that Clever means trouble. I still have a bald patch from when Clover decided she could safely overcharge a simple water heating spell and the bloody thing exploded. The only thing she was clever about was ducking out of the way faster than I did.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Silver Tongue raised an eyebrow.

“Old enough to be smarter than you,” Star Swirl snapped. He muttered something under his breath about time travel and age regression and having totally lost track. After a moment, he threw the book he’d grabbed at Silver Tongue. “Here. Take this. If you want to learn something useful, that is.”

“What is it?” Silver Tongue asked, grabbing the book out of the air and opening it.

“Fifty Habits of Highly Effective Wizards,” Star Swirl said. “I felt you might need it.”

Silver Tongue raised an eyebrow and read from the page he’d randomly flipped to. “’Lesson Fifteen: The longer everything goes according to plan, the bigger the impending disaster.’”

“Like I said, good advice,” Star Swirl snorted. “If you ever finish playing around with Moonbutt and her private band of thugs, swing by the Academy. They might let you back in if you agree to a geas or two.”

“I’m happy with where I am,” Silver Tongue said. “Do you know how many lives I saved in the war?”

“No, but I know exactly how many were lost,” Star Swirl retorted. “No one wins in a war, boy. Not us, not the griffons, and especially not the farmers caught in the middle. The only way to really win is to avoid the bloody awful business in the first place.”

“We didn’t start the war,” Silver Tongue said. Star Swirl shook his head and turned away, walking back the way he came. “We just ended it.”

“Nothing ever ends. That’s the point of the thing. The way they’re going to remember this is that some ponies killed a whole mess of griffons. Little griffon chicks are going to grow up without mommy or daddy, and when they ask why, they’re going to blame us for it. And then, fifty or sixty years down the line, someone who remembers being hurt by us is going to want to hurt us back.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Star Swirl looked back over his shoulder and huffed. “Don’t presume to tell me what I do or don’t know. I’m too old for all this politics nonsense. You stay away from that book or else I’ll have to get creative with finding a place to shelve it, and you won’t like the result.”

~~~***~~~

“I’m telling you, there’s just something wrong with that griffon,” Pallas muttered.

“Yeah, he’s not screaming and running at you with a sword,” Bianca laughed. “You should relax. Luna explained it all to me already. They’ve already got a first draft of the treaty. The only thing they’re discussing now is how to handle an exchange of prisoners.”

“Shouldn’t that be the easy part?” Pallas asked, confused.

“It would be but…” Bianca frowned. “Apparently a lot of the ponies were sold into slavery. They’re technically not property of the Emperor. There’s no way that Celestia and Luna will let them come to harm, but the Emperor says the owners have to be paid for their property, and they’re arguing about it.”

“Slavery is illegal!” Pallas said, shocked. “How could he-“

“Slavery is illegal in Equestria,” Bianca corrected. “In the Griffon Empire it’s perfectly legal. The minotaurs sort of have slaves too, but that’s more of a caste thing. Luna is pressuring the griffons to accept a clause in the treaty that would outlaw slavery there, though they’re definitely not fond of it.”

“Thief!” screamed a pony across the room. Pallas’ ears perked up and she stood up straight, looking across the sea of heads in the ballroom to where a unicorn mare was pointing at Zudah.

“Oh no,” Bianca groaned. “Golden Showers.”

“You know her?” Pallas asked.

“Sort of. Luna mentioned her. She’s a Duchess, and I haven’t heard one good thing about her from anypony.”

“Come on, let’s find out what happened,” Pallas said, pushing through the crowd. Bianca jumped on her back, Pallas barely even noticing the additional weight. Guards were already closing in around the scene, either to keep the peace or just cordon it off. Pallas cleared her throat.

“Zudah, what’s happening?” She asked, using her best ‘commanding officer’ voice.

“I have no idea!” Zudah protested. “She just came out of nowhere and slapped me and said I stole her purse!”

“He’s a liar!” Duchess Showers declared. “I felt him grab my coinpurse from my dress. Search him.” She waved to the guards. The golden-armored Day Guards held Zudah still, patting him down. As they felt the pockets of his dress uniform, they stopped, reaching in and extracting a small velvet bag that jingled with the sound of metal on metal.

“What? But I didn’t?” Zudah looked confused. “I swear I didn’t take it! I don’t know how that got there!”

“A likely story,” Duchess Showers said, as the bits were returned to her. “Guards, take him away.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Pallas said, shoving one aside. “As his commanding officer, I’ll deal with this.”

“I shouldn’t expect a commoner like you to understand, but I’m a Duchess,” Golden Showers said, raising her chin. “I far outrank you. They don’t have to listen to a thing you say.”

“Pallas, don’t get into a fight with her,” Bianca whispered. “We can just go get Luna and get this sorted out.”

Pallas huffed, glaring at Golden Showers, then looked to Zudah. “Zudah, we’ll get this cleared up. You just go with them and sober up for a bit.”

“Pallas, I mean it, I really didn’t take it!” Zudah hissed. “You can’t let them take me to the dungeons!”

“It’ll be fine,” Pallas said. “Just hang on for a little while. I promise.”

“I- fine.” Zudah groaned. The guards led him away. Pallas watched him go, and turned to look at the Duchess, who had already retreated away, smugly smiling and holding her purse. Pallas felt her blood boil just watching her, and almost ran over to beat the truth out of her before a hoof touched her shoulder.

Bianca was on the verge of tears. Pallas pulled her into a hug.

“Let’s go find the Princess,” Pallas said, still watching Golden Showers over Bianca’s shoulder.

Winter Court: Enemy-Castigating Solar Judgement

20th day of Frostfall
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Luna barely contained her seething anger as she looked down from the balcony to where a limp form hung from the gallows. It had taken all of her self control to avoid screaming at her sister loudly enough to shake the city to its foundations.

“I didn’t know until it was too late,” Celestia muttered. She was turned away from the window, unable to look outside. “I should have expected her to make a move like this.”

“You are a fool,” Luna snapped. “And it cost the life of one of my soldiers.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t provoked her at court,” Celestia said, staring into a cooling cup of tea instead of at Luna. “The Duchess either orchestrated this or took advantage of it.”

“Of course she did!” Luna yelled, turning away from the scene in the courtyard to face her elder sister. “And you had the power to simply deny her, and refused to use it! You are as culpable in this murder as she is.”

“Murder?” Celestia muttered. “It was a legal execution, Luna.”

“There is nothing legal about executing a pony without fair trial.”

“Then you shouldn’t have pushed so hard to make it so!” Celestia said, standing to look down at Luna. “You pushed for the law that would allow branded thieves like him to be executed without question or trial, and now that it’s happened to somepony you care about, you want to make an exception!”

“So what, you let him die to try and prove some kind of point?” Luna demanded. “What is wrong with you? You allowed an innocent pony to die!”

“I’m not convinced he was innocent,” Celestia said. The teacup shattered as a blue aura ripped it from her golden grip and flung it across the room and onto a tapestry, the tea staining the image of the founding of Everfree on the five hills it was built around.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of power play for you, sister?” Luna asked, eyes narrow. “Or are you just a tool for the nobility to wield against me?”

“Luna, you know I wouldn’t play with lives like that. Ponies aren’t pawns to be used in a game.”

“Tell that to the pony you killed,” Luna spat. “His blood is on your hooves. This is not the end of this.” Luna stormed out of the room.

~~~***~~~

“You!” Pallas snarled, as she shoved ponies aside, forcing her way through the crowd in the royal court as she advanced on Golden Showers. “I’m going to shove your snout so far up your own ass that even Celestia couldn’t pull it out again!”

The Duchess paled, taking a step back as the huge thestral closed on her. Guards in golden armor stepped between them, shielding the smaller unicorn.

“Get out of the way,” Pallas growled.

“Please calm down, Ma’am,” one of the guards whispered.

“I’ll calm down after I’ve gotten my hooves on her,” Pallas said, glaring past the guards to Golden Showers. “She is a vile bucking egg-sucker who framed one of my soldiers for theft and had him executed so she could try and cover her dirty little hoofprints!”

“That’s a lie!” Duchess Showers gasped, looking appalled. “He was a thief and a liar and got what was coming to him!”

“Oh that’s it,” Pallas shook her head. “You’re going to beg me for mercy before this is done. I’m going to get justice for Zudah even if I have to beat it out of you!”

“Guards, escort her to a cell,” Golden Showers said. “I don’t have time to deal with commoners upset that one of their dirty little friends got what was coming to him. She’s obviously just as bad, with all these threats. Perhaps a few weeks in the dungeons will help her understand her place.”

One of the guards put a hoof on Pallas’ shoulder. Pallas raised her good wing, as if ready to strike with a blade she didn’t have.

“Belay that,” Morning Glory said, as he pushed past the watching crowd. “Pallas, for somepony with only one good wing, you’re a hard pony to catch.”

“Tell these soldiers to get out of the way,” Pallas said, glaring at them. “Before I have to hurt them.”

“Pallas, calm down,” Morning Glory said. “You know you can’t just strangle her. Here, anyway. It would cause a scene.” Pallas looked at Morning Glory and huffed, lowering her wing. “Good. I don’t like what’s happened either, but we need to handle things the right way.”

“I wasn’t aware court had started without me,” Luna said, as she walked in the room. The guard at the rear entrance was surprised, blowing a horn to announce her arrival far too late. Her sister arrived a moment later, Celestia getting her announcement on time now that the guards were alerted.

“This peasant is defaming me in court!” Duchess Golden Showers declared. “I demand that she be removed from this court and thrown in prison for such slander!”

“Luna, if you can’t control your soldiers…” Celestia frowned. Luna’s ears folded back as she bit back a retort.

“Princess Celestia, things are already calmed down,” Morning Glory said. “And Centurion Pallas Athene’s accusations have some merit.”

“Do they?” Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she really is a vile bucking egg-sucker,” Pallas grumbled.

“I will not stand for such words to be spoken to me!” Duchess Golden Showers screamed, shoving a guard aside and slapping Pallas across the face. Pallas slowly turned to look at her, her head turning like a machine. Golden Showers seemed to realize her mistake as Pallas’ glare was turned on her again, retreating back behind the guards.

“I see,” Luna said. “Centurion Pallas Athene! Do you accept her challenge?”

“Her-“ Pallas frowned. She caught a look from Luna, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” Luna nodded. “A duel will quickly put an end to this.”

“A duel?!” Golden Showers gasped. “But I can’t fight!”

“You are of course welcome to have a champion fight in your place,” Luna said.

“Sister, I’m not sure a duel is really the best course of action…” Celestia said quietly.

“Nonsense, sister. You’re the one who so kindly reminded me that the law must be followed, no matter the consequences,” Luna kept her voice even. “Duchess Golden Showers slapped my Centurion in open court. This is clearly a challenge to a duel, as stated in the accords. It will also help to satisfy this question of honor. Regardless of who wins, the matter will be dropped.”

“I refuse to fight against a brute like her!” Golden Showers yelled.

“Then you concede the duel,” Luna said. “And as summary judgment, you will be stripped of your title and escorted out of the city.”

“What?!” Golden Showers screamed. “You can’t do that!”

“I can and will,” Luna said. “Given the nature of the accusation and your refusal to answer it, I feel it is only just.”

“Luna!” Celestia hissed, through clenched teeth. “This is not the time or place.”

“F-fine! Then I withdraw my concession. I will need… time to find a champion.” Golden Showers looked around the room, as if considering her options.

“You have until…” Luna considered. “High noon is most appropriate for a duel, I should think. Since this is a public matter, a public venue should do nicely as well. The courtyard, I think. Assemble there once you have your champion, and we will begin.”

Golden Showers looked uncomfortable. She bowed and ran from the room, Luna and Pallas glaring at her as she left.

~~~***~~~

“A duel?” Celestia hissed, as she paced around her sister. “Why, Luna? You know the law was never intended for that! It was supposed to provide a way to settle petty squabbles by two feuding parties, not to be used as trial by combat!”

“And yet the law allows it to be used as such,” Luna said. “She started this and you allowed it to get to this point. I will end it, the same way I ended the war.”

“With violence,” Celestia said, displeased.

“A wise pony once said that if violence is not your last resort, you have failed to resort to enough of it,” Luna replied.

“A wiser pony said that his greatest victory was a war not fought,” Celestia retorted. “What do you hope to do, Luna? The matter will be dropped either way. If she wins, there will never be justice for what she did. If she loses, you will have stripped her of her title without due process. And either way, the nobility will correctly see this as you being vindictive.”

“Perhaps it will serve as a warning for others, then,” Luna said. “I will not back down, sister. She has challenged me and I will answer. When she is run out of the city in a veil of laments and tears only then will I be satisfied she has learned her lesson.”

“Luna…” Celestia sighed. “Please. You just got back. You could use this opportunity to make friends and allies among the nobility. Don’t use it just to make more enemies to fight. As petty or awful as you might think they are, they’re ponies. They’re your subjects. You’re supposed to protect them and help guide them.”

“They hardly consider themselves my subjects,” Luna whispered darkly.

“They’ll come around,” Celestia smiled, sadly. “You know this happens in cycles. Before Discord, how many still blamed me for claiming the throne and called me a warlord when they thought I wasn’t looking? Back then, they looked to you for wisdom and succor. Eventually it will change again.”

“Perhaps,” Luna sighed. “But it is a difficult burden to bear, especially when we work at cross purposes.”

“I know,” Celestia said softly. “Luna, I don’t want this to come between us.”

“It would be easier if I knew the truth of the matter,” Luna said. “I’m sorry. It’s only been five years, yet it feels like we’ve grown apart more than ever.”

~~~***~~~

“This is never going to work,” Pallas said, flexing her wing. A set of Solar Guard issue wingblades had been strapped to her. “They’re designed for pegasus wings, not thestral. They don’t move correctly and the joints are in the wrong places.”

“You can borrow mine,” Quel shrugged. “As long as you don’t snap them. I saw what you did with your last set.” They’d gone to the castle quartermaster to get something appropriate for Pallas, which was proving difficult for reasons beyond her unusual size.

“A minotaur did that, not me,” Pallas said.

“You need something sturdier,” boomed a deep voice from across the room. The two turned to see a black, ominous shape looming in the shadows. It stepped into the light with the sound of jangling metal, the shadows peeling away to reveal draconian armor. A hoof reached up to open the visor.

“Hungry Ghost, what are you doing here?” Quel asked, frowning. “I thought you and the rest of the Dragoons were busy getting your beaks wet in private, or whatever it is you do when you’re alone.”

“Even so, news does reach me from time to time,” Hungry Ghost stated. “Pallas Athene, you need a weapon. These blades are insufficient. I would offer you mine for a time, though I do expect them to be returned.”

“Tartarus knows I need something better than these toothpicks,” Pallas said, tugging at the straps on the wingblade and pulling it free, tossing the light weapon aside.

Hungry Ghost shrugged his shoulders with a sound of steel scraping against steel. The blades and the straps securing them came free from both wings at the same time, clanging to the ground with a sound like a dull, ominous bell.

“Those aren’t wingblades,” Quel muttered. “They’re more like slabs of iron. They’re too big and heavy.”

“Lunar Titanium,” Hungry Ghost corrected. Pallas lifted one of the blades. The surface was blackened by charcoal and ashes, but she could see the finish on the edge of the blade, a dull silvery metal like a silver mirror with a thick layer of dust caked over it.

“It’s lighter than it looks,” Pallas muttered. She started to put one on.

“Wear both,” Hungry Ghost said firmly. “You will need the counterbalance, even if your wing is weakened.”

“If you say so,” Pallas said. Quel went to help her, his eyes bugging out as he felt the weight.

“Lighter than it looks my flank! You’re lucky these didn’t break through the floor!” Quel struggled to lift it before Pallas took it from him and started carefully strapping it to her injured wing.

“I don’t see how you’re supposed to fight with those.”

“You’re supposed to fight well,” Hungry Ghost retorted. “Their names are Wavelength and False Oasis. I have asked them to serve you as well as they have served me, until I return for them.”

“You… asked?” Pallas blinked. She shared a confused look with Quel.

“They’re centuries old and steeped in ancient magic,” Hungry Ghost explained. “Asking is wise when dealing with such artifacts. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will have a flight around the city. It’s rare that I have a chance to relax.”

“You might want to lose the armor,” Quel snorted. “Otherwise the Solar Guard is going to think there’s a dragon attacking the city.”

“It might be interesting to see how they would handle a dragon,” Hungry Ghost smiled.

“Just… try to stay out of trouble, okay?” Quel sighed. “I know I can’t give you orders, but the Princess is dealing with a lot already.”

“I will be… around,” Hungry Ghost said, turning to leave. He paused in the doorway. “Centurion Athene. I expect you to put up a real fight.”

“Yes, sir,” Pallas said. She stretched out her wing, the edge of the blade sliding outwards. “Thanks for letting me-” She looked up, only to find he was already gone. “…Borrow these.”

“You sure you can fight in those?” Quel asked.

“Yeah,” Pallas nodded. “They feel good. Let’s get out there and see what that vapid egg-sucker has managed to dredge up to fight for her.”

Operation Stardust: Unstoppable Juggernant Incarnantion

4th day of Moon's Rising
454 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas looked up at the beast. Six wings,each translucent and resembling a slice of the night sky. A flat face like a bulldog with leonine mane of leathery frills. An armored, scaled hide the color of a pearl. It was bigger than the homes around here, towering over the Low City. It’d be stupid for anypony to fight it alone, but Pallas wasn’t spoiled for choice.

“You’re one ugly mother-” Pallas was cut off by a bellowing roar that made her crouch, bracing herself as her spurs dug into the ground to keep her from toppling. A row of spines down the dragon’s back raised up like hair standing on end, before launching towards Pallas in a high arc.

Pallas’ tail slapped the ground with the sound of a bell as she jumped away, galloping to the side as spears of bone slammed into the ground, going right through the cobblestone and burying themselves into the dirt below, impacting with enough force to raise a cloud of dust.

“Ugly, but strong,” Pallas muttered. She closed with it, only to see the wings spread as the dragon jumped up, spinning in the air like a huge cat, its tail lashing around. Pallas’ eyes went wide, not expecting the sudden burst of speed. The mace-like tail hit her from the side with the force of a cannon, slamming her into a building and through the wall.

Pallas realized she should be dead. It was more than enough force to kill her. To kill any pony. Her ribs ached, and for a moment she wondered if shock was keeping her from feeling it.

She got to her hooves, looking back at herself. She certainly didn’t feel like she was dying from blunt trauma. Her armor was barely even scuffed.

“I need to remember to thank Silver Tongue once this is over,” she said. As she tried to shake off the disorientation from being put through a wall, a blade of purple lightning and fire tore through the home, inches above her head, so close she felt her hair stand on end from the static.

The building was abruptly open to the sky, and Pallas ran out as the blade edged downwards, rolling through the broken wall and back out onto the street as everything disintegrated in the stream of hot dragonfire.

Pallas ran. She was only a block away now. The dragon pulled its head up, obviously struggling with the force and recoil of its own breath weapon, like a firefighter trying to direct a high-pressure hose. The stream of energy cut off, sputtering out, and the dragon lunged as she charged, trying to bite her.

Pallas did something stupid, and tried to stop it with her blades, bringing them together. Her spurs dug into the street as the impact hit, keeping her from being knocked back. Somehow, impossibly, she held it back. The dragon’s head alone was the size of a small building, with teeth as long as her legs.

And she was holding it back, her wings and legs straining against the incredible force. She could do anything.

Pallas jumped, the restrained force of the dragon’s lunge suddenly released, the beast’s face slamming into the cobblestone. She landed on its forehead, clinging to its scales, her spurs tapping and stabbing into the dragon and trying to find purchase for her. The whole thing seemed to be as tough as stone, like it was made of several tons of angry rock.

Unfortunately for the dragon, Pallas was fully capable of shattering stone.

She slammed a wingblade into its face, scales exploding under the blow. A spray of white-green blood erupted over her, hissing with heat as it splattered against her armor. The dragon reared up, throwing Pallas from her perch, and flew into the air, flapping its six wings as it repositioned itself at the other end of the plaza, crushing several buildings with its bulk.

A crackling glow erupted along the dragon’s spine and another storm of spines was launched into the sky. Between that and the dragon’s breath, Pallas knew she had to get close and stay there if she wanted to have any chance at surviving.

The lenses over her eyes lit up, and her vision seemed to slow. She could see the spines clearly, like their edges were bright and popping out at her. The dust and smoke from the destruction around her seemed to fade to invisibility as she batted some of the deadly spikes from the air, their hardened edges raising sparks from her wingblades as Pallas parried them.

She jumped over an overturned cart of oranges, nearly slipping in the wide puddle of gore from what had once been the vendor. A shadow fell over Pallas, and she looked up to see the dragon’s talon slashing down at her.

Without thinking, she raised her wings to try and stop it. The talon slammed down, driving her hooves an inch into the cobblestones. She gasped with pain as her wing nearly popped from its socket. If not for her armor she’d have been killed instantly. Sparks rained down from her wingblades as she held the talon off, the serrated edge of the talon shearing away against the enchanted steel.

Pallas shoved, rearing up, and the dragon lost its balance. The crushing weight of the talon came free, and she jumped, spreading her wings. With the dragon reeling, there was a tiny window of attack. Pallas slammed her wingblades into the talon, chipping away at the stony scales before landing on it, using her full weight to buck with her back hooves, using the spurs in her armor like jackhammer points.

The dragon’s skin cracked and shattered like the face of a cliff, the scales exploding out and raining down on the street. One of its wings flashed towards Pallas, knocking the thestral back and out of the sky.

Pallas landed heavily, trying to catch her breath. The dragon howled, wounded. Dark, bleeding flesh was exposed where she’d torn apart its scales. She just had to hold out until the rest of the army got there.

The dragon spun, and Pallas saw the tail whipping towards her. She launched herself into the air, just barely clearing the bladed tip. It crashed into a store, reducing it to rubble. Just as her hooves touched the ground, the tail struck in the opposite direction. She didn’t have time to jump over the sweeping attack, and slammed her wingblade into the ground vertically.

The dragon’s tail hit the wingblade and parted before it like a wave breaking against the bow of a boat, the force of the dragon’s blow only serving to sever its own tail in a single motion, spraying Pallas with a powerful jet of blood, like a firehose of gore.

Pallas sputtered, coughing out a clot of blood as the dragon screamed in pain, retreating back to nurse its wounds. Her wing fell limply against the ground, blade scraping noisily against the cobblestones, numbed from the sheer impact against the still-tender bone.

“Okay, not a great idea…” Pallas mumbled, trying to force her wing to move. She could just barely pull it up. It didn’t feel broken, just deadened, and she had to watch it to make sure it was actually moving as she pulled it to her side to keep it from dragging and getting further injured.

Pallas looked up again towards the dragon just as it breathed a cone of crackling fire and lightning, the plasma streaming across the street like a flood of ball lightning. The street lit up with ultraviolet light, the gore around Pallas shining under it with a white glow, splashes and streaks of black from the blood of the murdered soldiers around the street competing with the spray of white and turning the plaza into a riot of conflicting shades.

There was no time to think. Pallas ran from the unnatural dragonbreath, the street burning in her wake as she tried to outrun the destruction behind her. Bodies crunched underfoot and she saw a guard open his eyes and cough up blood as she passed, only to dissolve into light a moment later as the plasma burned his body into ash.

She ran through a doorway, hoping the stone would protect her. A window exploded, and Pallas threw herself to the ground, ignoring the pain from the glass. The air filled with heat like the blast from an open oven, wood smouldering. The stone itself started to give out, and as the light intensified until it seemed the sun was right outside. Pallas screamed as a tendril of purple lightning crackled across her right side, her helm catching the worst of it. She could feel blisters raising on her cheek just from that moment of contact, the metal turning red-hot almost instantly.

And then it was over, the light fading. Smoke rose from the wood beams, their surfaces blackened. The smell of burning hair filled the room. Pallas got up, and tried to put her weight against the wall, only to find it was still burning hot.

“Feathering stupid dragon…” Pallas said, trying not to move the right side of her face. She took one step towards the door before the building collapsed around her, the dragon’s wounded talon coming down on top of her, smashing her through the floor and into the basement. If not for that, she’d have been flattened like a bug, but the drop down an extra story surprised the dragon, turning the lethal stomp into an overextended attack that made the beast stumble.

Pallas jumped out of the billowing clouds of dust and ash, latching onto the dragon’s limb as it raised it back up out of the rubble.

The thestral gave a primal scream as she raised her wings, ignoring the dull numbness from the injured one, and scissored into the dragon’s wounded talon. Without the protection of its scales, the blades sliced through muscle and tendon, both hitting bone at the same time. With a crack like thunder, the bone snapped.

Pallas fell away with the severed talon, riding it to the ground and leaping to the side as it crashed to the street. The dragon screamed in agony, clutching its stump, and fell over into the burning buildings on the other side of the street, going limp.

“One down,” Pallas panted. Part of her was pretty sure what she’d just done was impossible. The rest was in too much pain to care. Her ear twitched with the sound of running water, and she galloped towards the noise with a half-jerking motion, the spurs on her hooves fighting to stabilize her and keep the pony from just falling over as she ran wildly.

A broken pipe was spraying cold water into the sky like a fountain. Pallas groaned with relief as it fell around her, the water steaming on her overheated armor. The pain from her burns started to fade. She stuck her face into the flow for a moment to refresh herself slightly, shaking her head like a dog to clear the drips from her eyes as she pulled back.

“That hippogriff…” Pallas muttered, looking around. He’d only been using the dragon as a distraction. There was no sign of reinforcements yet. She’d have to go after him, despite her injuries.

Pallas spread her wings, gingerly testing herself. Feeling was starting to come back, and she was going to be sore in the morning. She beat her wings and flew up, landing on the roof of the nearest building that wasn’t on fire or collapsed into rubble.

It seemed like most of the Low City was ablaze. Ponies were screaming everywhere, and there was no time to help them all. There was no sign of either Guard unit, and the only soldiers she did see were dead.

A flicker of purple-green caught her eye, and she flew further up above the smoke to get a look. It had to be some kind of magic. It looked almost the same as the strange flare that the hippogriff had used to call the dragon. Pallas felt a sudden drop in altitude as a wing seized up. She was risking a lot trying to fly in her condition. At least it was her strong wing that was numbed, otherwise it would be even more uneven.

“I’ve got you now!” Pallas grinned, pulling her wings tighter for a dive. There was a flare of light from near the spell-circle, and a sputtering flare surged towards her. If not for the lenses in her helm, she wouldn’t have seen the bolt it was tied to. The spear-like projectile skidded across her armor as she banked to avoid it, the tip tearing through the membrane of her wing and the flare shattering into a burst of glowing crystalline dust.

Pallas was sent into a spiral, losing control. She tried to adjust, flaring out her wings despite the pain of the punctured membrane. Then she heard the roar, and the pale, doglike muzzle of the stout dragon erupted from the smoke below her.

“That damn dragon… it’s still alive?!” Pallas looked down in disbelief as the dragon opened its maw, an ultraviolet glow forming in the back of its throat.